Allan Murrell – poetry

DEFIANTLY

He stood petrified in the town square, facing south, facing the pending invasion. Unflinching he waited as all around artillery fire destroyed buildings, plumes of black acrid smoke billowed from walls and windows, debris lay scattered in the streets. In defiance he stood his ground as all around was turned to smoke and dust. Inhabitants had long gone, shops emptied, contents smashed, wrecked, or strewn. The town no longer in turmoil, just desolate, yet he still stood waiting. Then it came, with one almighty explosion, he was gone, all that remained was a crater surrounded by scattered rubble, his remains now just twisted metal in the dust. Ten metres away his sculpted head lay in the settling dust, no longer a monument to the history of this once proud town. Defiantly he still looked south, watching as the tanks rolled past, followed by Putin’s marauders.

POEMS

A l l a n M u r r e l l

UKRAINE

We see walking and running legs, rubble lying on the ground, smoke swirling, a glimpse of railings, ash and scorch marks. The camera image swinging, legs running in a park and on paving, bomb craters. Army fatigued figures stand motionless, mobile phones in hands. Women and children queuing to get on trains, their only possessions an overnight bag. These images beamed around the planet to every household TV, we sit watching in stunned incredulity, then we quietly start to weep.