One of the ‘Haiku Plays’ produced during the ‘Write-on Ripon’ meeting of 28th February.
the black cylinders of automatic rifles bitter liquorice black burns the sore throat stinging flavour grasping breath gagging the stomach skin shred like flailed rags seeping scarlet oozing slow warm blood-flecked spittle peaceful people all must suffer at others' hands prey to constant greed trudging to freedom a long line behind are homes in front the unknown numb in the moment a new identity born with each stumbling step my friends are with me falling through the muddy trench fighting for their lives we lie under a field not forgotten but alive as crimson poppies rifles rust away memories of us will fade will we never learnIan, Phillipa, Nicky, Maggie, Carole, Lotty, Jo, Caroline, Mary
Ian Gouge - Writer 