David Bond

Living in Manchester, David writes short stories, poetry and flash fiction. He performs at a number of open mics across the city. When David isn’t writing he is, well, writing, in his job as a grants fundraiser for a children’s charity. See more of David’s stories and poems at wattpad.com/davidjbond. David has also strayed into the world of music at soundcloud.com/davidjbond92For no particular reason, David also has an Instagram account dedicated to canal boats: @canalboatgram

The Telescope

Now, finally, I can survey the skies
Through this mighty telescope.
I shall observe all space and time
I shall observe from afar

All that I survey, gone
Long since gone.
Their light has not found me
Yet I have found them

What is this I see?
From the corner of my eye
A rock, basking in starlight
My attention is drawn

I inspect more closely now
Not a mere rock; a miracle!
Water-based, pink meat, life forms
They use the air to breathe!

If I draw closer, what will I see?
Where will time take them?
Will they advance to Heaven?
Will they descend to Hell?

Edging closer, I see trouble. . .
Complex codes and symbols
Their world is made of words
With words, comes misunderstanding

Edging closer. . . 
They demarcate the land
From here, the land is one
Down there, the land is fractured

Edging closer. . .
They build up walls
Walls to protect themselves?
Protect themselves from what?

Edging closer. . .
Stocks of metal coins
With them, one rejoices
Without them, one suffers

Edging closer. . .
They attack one another
Sent by their masters
Who gain from their loss

Edging closer. . .
Their land exploited
In the name of ‘progress’?
They destroy what sustains them

Edging closer. . .  
These pink meat life forms
They have gone too far
The air is poisoned 

Edging closer, I see nothing.
No life forms
No life forms at all
A rock, adrift in space.


Before the metal rain
Countless tulips kiss the horizon
They silently await their fate
Countless bodies will take their place 

Before the long dark night 
Gentle hills, undulating without worry
Streams with no names, merely trickles
A simple and pleasant busyness

Before the noise and confusion
Church bells softly peel
Cows jostle, cowbells jingle
Shepherds call expectantly

The passage of time is slow
But outside forces now intervene
Tension accelerates 
Nothing will ever be the same

The birds of 1914 sing loudly
The last dawn chorus?
Tomorrow, noise never heard before
Tomorrow shall deafen them. . . 

. . . Deafened, dead.
The final curtain call
Hell has been performed
Earth, the stage

1913, a bittersweet memory
Poppies in place of tulips now
Growing rich on the blood and bones
Of strangers to this land

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