Passion For The Written Word (poem 25)

Letters on a page, words in ink.

I have a passion for the written word.

A passion to absorb the knowledge held in these little black characters.

The magical little marks have the potency to create worlds or topple governments.

They have the potential to enlighten the most ignorant among us.

They can set off an explosion of fireworks in the cerebrum of those who will but venture to turn a page.

Letters on a page, words in ink.

I have a passion for the written word.

A passion to absorb the knowledge held in these little black characters.

1865 or 2012 feather quill, pen, typewriter or computer the words are splashed on paper or monitor, but always just as effective.

From the Gutenberg Press to Project Gutenberg, from Shakespeare to H.G. Wells the greats come and go, forever leaving a trail of words behind them.

Letters on a page, words in ink.

I have a passion for the written word.

A passion to absorb the knowledge held in these little black characters.

Copyright © 2012, William Cody Winter.

I Just Don’t Feel Any More! (poem 24)

I Just Don’t Feel Any More!

I once felt the gut spin of nervousness.

I once felt the heart flutter for an ill-placed crush.

I once felt the sinking sensation of disappointment.

But now I just don’t feel any more.

Frankly I just no longer give a damn.

I once felt the rush of excitement.

I once felt the anticipation of hope.

I once felt the heat of anger.

But now I just don’t feel any more.

Frankly I just no longer give a damn.

I once felt that I needed Love.

I once felt that I needed Success.

I once felt that I needed Money.

But now I just don’t feel any more.

Frankly I just no longer give a damn.

I Just Don’t Feel Any More!

Copyright © 2012, William Cody Winter.

For Shame, For Shame (poem 23)

The Trumpets sounded, the flags waved.

The Men and Women said I care.

They died in the heat of the Crimea.

They died in the damp of the World War One trenches.

Now you don’'t buy poppies.

Now you burn the poppies in the streets.

For shame, for shame

They died on the British Isles.

They died on foreign lands, far away from home.

They return now to empty streets or vial protests.

They return to the media that spits like venom, it’s just a job like any other, there are no heroes.

They jumped to certain death, when you said jump.

When you say jump they say how high?, not ‘I’'d rather sit on my ass and watch some more TV’ like you and I.

For shame, for shame

You think you can say that soldiers, sailors and pilots are not heroes, I say get away from that comfortable seat and go die for your nation, then tell me again there are no heroes!

JUMP!

Copyright © 2011, William Cody Winter.