Colin Ward: Writer
Creative, Copywriting & Consultancy
Poetry & Stories by
Rebekah Humphrey-Bullen
Oh How the Bodies Did Burn
Oh how the bodies did burn
As they prayed for the end
But we will never learn
Each burning body in turn
Beyond capacity to mend
Oh how the bodies did burn
For peace and love we yearn
Yet the weak we will not defend
Why will we never learn
Some believe this is what we earn
It never happened, others pretend
But how the bodies did burn
Piles of bodies, no one can discern
As the piles of bodies blend
Yet will we ever learn
Is it any of our concern
What happens to our poorer friend
Oh how the bodies will burn
Unless we learn
Rebekah Humphrey-Bullen
...is a screenwriter and poet who dabbles in prose. She's a private tutor in both English and mathematics, and also an owner & CEO of LittleStreams - a company which makes resources for learning.
Conversion
The children were screaming
Tears running from eyes
As they were ripped from their parents
Soldiers ignored their cries
For they weren’t worth the hassle
Those who were ‘uncivilised’.
The women were violated
And though they fought
Every soldier took his turn
At every female they sought.
Of course, these were heathen women
So their lives and dignity, meant nought.
Men had their throats slit
Or were hung from the tree
Their bodies left rotting
Left for all to see
A warning to the ‘barbarians’
Convert to Christianity
Father watch rape of daughter
Anger surges, but nothing he can do
Mother torn from her precious boy
As he sees the horror too.
The annihilation of a race of people
Is this alright with you?
Rebekah Humphrey-Bullen
The Father
(a Kyrielle sonnet)
What made the father kill his son?
He claimed alcohol was his bane.
The lord watched the suffering of a little one,
Was he lonely, was he in pain?
The mother wondered how and why.
The man must be insane.
All the mother could do was think and cry
Was he lonely, was he in pain?
The father burned them both alive.
He cracked, it seemed, because of the strain.
Holding his son in his arms as they died
Was he lonely, was he in pain
What made the father kill his son?
Was he lonely, was he in pain?
Rebekah Humphrey-Bullen
The Bringer of Death
It is not in my nature
But it’s my purpose and desire.
I was forged from the earth’s minerals
And shaped by the fire.
Carefully, my head is laced with cloth,
My back is purposefully curved.
Markings, individual, chosen by my master.
It’s more than I deserved.
Majestically I am wielded,
Gliding through the air.
Yet seeing who lives and dies
My duty seems unfair.
Slicing through skin and muscles,
Cutting through human bone.
Battle rages, people dieing,
Until my master is alone.
I am built for brutal means.
Man made me to kill.
I was beaten into submission,
And act against my will.
He searches for new battle,
Yet finds more than he does seek.
Battle is lost, he is dishonoured,
For my master, it seems, is weak.
For his wish, I must betray him,
No will, I must comply.
In his mission, he has failed,
And now by my body he must die.
It is not in my nature,
But it’s my purpose and desire.
Since I was born to bring death.
From man’s created fire.
Rebekah Humphrey-Bullen
Unless stated otherwise, all content on this page remains Copyright © Rebekah Humphrey-Bullen 2016 All Rights Reserved