“Try again, lad…blow harder.”
“I can’t do it.”
“You’re not trying. Stand aside, Mother. You don’t want to get scorched. Try again, son. When I was young I could throw a flame a hundred paces.”
“Well, I’m not you and I can’t.”
“Won’t, more like.”
“Alright, won’t. I don’t want to breathe fire. It’s anti-social. Apart from scorching your friends when you’ve only stopped to chat, it’s damaging the ozone layer.”
“What’s he on about, Mother? I blame you for this, you’ve always been too soft with him.”
“It’s not her fault. My generation has woken up, we care about the planet. You lot are still smoking. The stink of sulphur makes me sick, and what’s more, I’ve decided to become a vegetarian.”
“Kids! But…I’ve caught you a virgin for your dinner.”
“Can’t I get it through your scaly heads?…they’re an endangered species…they’re almost extinct.

© Marion Sharville


The daylight and the night
take turns to tread Time’s wheel.
The rhythm of their cycle
keeps us on an even keel.

These twins, so un-alike
are always there together.
Our lives would be but
without one or the other.

We watch their beauty as they
upon a dappled pond
and need to go through shadowed
to greet the light beyond.

Without the darkness and the light,
what shapes could we define?
We wouldn’t see the obstacles
on your path or on mine.

Blank paper, with no pen strokes,
would not say what I’d like to,
in a letter that I long to send
to tell you that I love you.

The sun without the shade
and joy untouched by pain
might deprive us of the wonder
as we see hope rise again.

Light travels swift, in straight lines;
highlights substance everywhere.
Life for every one of us
is a distinct 3D affair.

© Marion Sharville

THE DIFFERENCE (written after our invasion of Iraq)

“We’re not your enemy,” we say,
“we really mean it.” But war,
once unleashed, careers
uncontrolled, indiscriminate;
all humanity is its foe.

As bombs drop and children die,
“We are your friends,” we re-iterate.
Baghdad has fallen to chaos;
war has no pity and no answers.

But this time, we did not hate.

© Marion Sharville

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