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William Bonilla, click here
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Cleat Booths
Listen! Listen!
Heed the sounds tormenting
Our Grandparents
Carried in the Wind
Of echoing Cleat Booths
Pounding Upon cobbler stones
AS They Huddled
In uttered fear.
By: William Bonilla
D'Artagnan
08/23/2012
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| Reviewed by Amber Moonstone |
10/3/2012 |
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Such a deeply moving poem my dear friend. Hoping you are on the way back here. I have misses you so much!
Peace and love
Amber |
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| Reviewed by Regis Auffray |
10/2/2012 |
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I can only imagine the fear. Thought-provoking words, William. Love and peace to you,
Regis |
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| Reviewed by Ronald Hull |
10/2/2012 |
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Yes, thankfully, those terrible days are gone for most. Today, the killers come far more swiftly and often, silently until they are upon us and that fear comes again as they beat down the doors or blow the building we are hiding in to rubble.
A chilling reminder.
Ron |
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| Reviewed by Annabel Sheila |
10/2/2012 |
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Frightening! My son just got back from Poland and he visited a lot of War Memorials while there.....I can hear the soldiers retreating footsteps as they huddle in fear.....well penned, William...very powerful writing...
Anna |
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