.
The Fall of Babylon
Come hear the footsteps march at warlike pace,
Come see the merchants weep and craftsmen flee.
The vengeful grin on every stranger’s face;
The angel’s cast the millstone in the sea.
Behold the fate that’s shortly to befall
This queen of whores who rides a scarlet throne.
It’s all been written on the palace wall:
Her tower shall be shattered by the stone.
The kings of all the nations quake with fear,
Each priest and temple harlot tears their gown;
Their metal idols cannot save them here.
With violence shall Babel be thrown down!
.
.
The Coming Winter
The Earth is growing dim before our eyes,
The stars are fading, yet the sun won’t rise.
All life is slowing to its final crawl,
The few remaining pillars start to fall.
The weeping sky rains down her frozen tears
As all the ground beneath us disappears.
I’ve never walked in my most hellish dreams,
A road as hopeless as our course now seems.
.
.
William Harrison is a professional photographer from Oklahoma. He is currently based in the area around the city of Lawton, where he photographs the many endangered species of animals there while doing general freelance work on the side.
Deep and dark and delightful, William!
“Babylon the Great” seems next to fall
Dark, and seemingly prescient.
Thanks for the reads, William.
Both of these very artfully describe scenes and feelings of doom and misery. The last couplet of “The Coming Winter” is profound and memorable.
Thank you for these two amazing poems William. “The weeping sky rains down her frozen tears”, is such a sad yet beautiful description of perhaps what many people are feeling these days.
“The Fall of Babylon” has always fascinated me since childhood when I was shown beautiful images of the tower collapsing. I loved your presentation with the images of tearing gowns and metal idols that fail to quell the destruction. The final couplet of “The Coming Winter” completely changed my initial impression of this being a nature poem and took it to a deep level of thinking and portent. Well done!
That final couplet got me as well, William. Perhaps so many people won’t always feel that way, but sadly, it’s hard to envision an about face at this juncture. Fine work!
I really like this. It sends me in many directions.
No one will ever confuse you with Mr. Sunshine. I liked the mood, but I don’t like what the mood is a reflection of. Telling it like it is is more important than painting a rosy picture, and you have done that.
I know all too well what you mean in “The Coming Winter.” But maybe the fact that such a poem can be written and published is in itself a cause for hope.
Czelsaw Milosz. Here is his poem SECOND SPACE
How spacious the heavenly halls are!
Approach them on aerial stairs.
Above white clouds, there are the hanging gardens of paradise.
A soul tears itself from the body and soars.
It remembers that there is an up.
And there is a down.
Have we really lost faith in that other space?
Have they vanished forever, both Heaven and Hell?
Without unearthly meadows how to meet salvation?
And where will the damned find suitable quarters?
Let us weep, lament the enormity of the loss.
Let us smear our faces with coal, loosen our hair.
Let us implore that it be returned to us,
That second space.