Poets Against War continues the tradition of socially engaged poetry by creating venues for poetry as a voice against war, tyranny and oppression.
Mark Murphy
38 years old
I was born in 1969 in England. I studied philosophy as an under-graduate and poetry as a post-graduate. I had a small book of poems, Tin Cat Alley published in 1996. I am now looking for a publisher for my latest manuscript, Night-watch Man & Muse.
Seven Day Eternity
Always, there is some inexpressible grief unfolding in the world that our bodies cannot wholly escape, beyond the apple orchard down the lane where a boy falls and breaks his arm stealing apples from the orchard's greedy owner, beyond the 'grand final' live and the greedy advertising on billboards, beyond the latest headlines and the 'war on terror', there is a list of dead insurgents, a list of dead GI's, and always, somewhere, there are those that will cry out: 'God, save us.' And then, 'God, revenge us.'
Sanctuary
Every night you open in me a fountain of forbidden words, words like love and sadness and freedom and though none or few (too few to make a difference) shall listen to those troubled words, the words must be written lest the present should ever be forgotten.
While the generals celebrate and the rulings of state empower the rich, we are never far from the troubled lives of the poor, or the boys in uniform, the uneasy killers – who write their final letters home. It is not possible to say when the war will end, or count the dead in such a way as to bring any comfort to the living.
You say, ‘get up, do not be afraid, write your poems, my love.’ And there it is again, the struggle to be one’s self, the customary carnage, the struggle to speak the truth. What man will raise his arms in defiance – raise his head above the hole he has spent years digging for himself?
Every night you free me from the disapproval of my fellow poets whose ancient belief in the natural order of things condones the ‘war of all against all.’ And so we return once more to forbidden words, words like peace and justice and brotherhood – even these words must be written albeit against the stream.
The Struggle
for Suheir Hammad
Sister of mine! Dream with me under the stars where the immense ceiling of night covers the land and all our fears.
We are the children of the struggle, we are the beautiful and proud ones - we will not be silenced by violence.
All this time, we stare loss in the face and our hearts are strengthened once more by the courage of the landless dead.
You enemies of the people - you know who you are - in whose name do you fight? We will not forgive you at the end of days.
Where there was already suffering and adversity, you have made deserts with your war machines. Soon you too will lie buried in the ground.
And in time even this land will be free. And the young will frown with indignation. And they will ask, 'what was it all for?'
