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Click hereThey came a hundred and thirty strong
to thieve our heritage in a night,
scattering bright sparkling canisters
to fall in the eerie gentleness
of rustling autumn leaves,
A maelstrom to crumble stone,
melt glass and twist Wren's churches,
many destroyed in awful savagery.
Then came the bombs.
Fires leapt from roof to roof
illuminating fire workers wading
waist deep in mud,
struggling to reach fireboats
upon the Thames.
Our women fought beside the men
ferrying fuel through the flames,
as The City belched black smoke.
History destroyed.
so thanks to Vee for drawing my attention. There are some powerful images here. There were a couple of things: I would cut line 8, which felt too weak after the previous terrific line, and maybe line 9 is better at the end of the poem? And firefighters might be stronger than fire workers. Btw, have you read Nigel Balchin's wonderful blitz novel "Darkness Falls from the Air"?
A strong read, Annie x
but think the last line isn't needed. Poetry does not need a morale at the end. All is the poem. The wording is nice to my ears.
I gave it a four. I loved most of it but the last line killed it for me. It seemed to pat and you had already stated what has happen. I'm giving you a recommend though, cause I enjoyed the read anyway.
Boy, she's tough. I gave it a 5, relieved that you are breaking out of the dreadful forms, but I would listen to her.
because it is very well written but, for me, too prosey. It reads more like an article than a poem. Imo the problem is the more poetic stuff is weighed down by the prosey parts. I think you should rework it because there is an excellent poem in there: you just haven't chipped the sculpture all the way out of the rock yet. :-)