Saturday, 5 September 2015


THE BOY ON THE BEACH … Maureen Clifford © The #ScribblyBark Poet
In memory of little Aylan Kurdi – a child whose right to a peaceful future  was cut short.

So little, so small, quite tiny, not tall
and lying so still on the sand,
caressed by the waves – a young life unsaved
and cast there by fate’s stroke of hand.

Dressed up in his best, he lies now at rest
but peace in his lifetime not found
and now it’s too late – we bemoan his fate
aspersions are cast all around.

He was only a kid – just an innocent soul
brother Galip, Mum Rehan as well.
Freedom all they asked… a safe place, a repast
but we’ve now plunged a family in hell.

And that little red shirt, face down in the dirt
on the sand and the pebbles of Bodrum
never did any harm, he was young, full of charm
and now of his life we have robbed him.

From Syria they fled where years of war bled
a country dry – and all hope was fading.
And the island of Greece seemed to offer some peace
from a hopelessness all too pervading.

Rest in peace little Aylan – the world let you down
and for that none of us can atone.
It’s not too much to ask, for a life, for a chance …

a safe place that a child can call home.


Maureen Clifford © The #ScribblyBark Poet

Spawned in the backstreet brothels
and bordellos of Buenos Aires
the ballet –like dance
‘the tango of the compadron’
between consenting males

Men danced -
locked in symbolic mortal combat
in the steamy heat
– bodies brushing,
touching, embracing
in a dance of passion…

Until women were drawn
to the raunchy masculinity
of the predatory male
and wove their limbs sinuously
in syncopated rhythm
to the music of the guitars,
play acting the role
of pimp and prostitute
bodies pressed breast to chest.

Now sleek evening gowns
black tuxedos, top hats and spats
replaced the rough dress
of the compadron.
The argentine tango became gentrified.

But still on dark nights
on cobbled streets in corners of the old town
couples dance –
joined at the hip
beneath the light of the street lamps
to a guitar playing
with passion and fire

a syncopated  ostinato rhythm.