American Guernica

In a dream the guns came out
drowning out the voice of reason
unheard the cries of little children
no one cared who fired first.

One side killing all the godless
the other killing all the priests
both were hunting reason’s voices
the middle ground a no-man’s land.

No longer could we hear each other
above the roaring of the guns
listening only to our comrades
true believers in the cause.

And when I saw a little boy
eye his mother as he died
I knew that with him died the nation
my country would exist no more.

In my dream I took a brush
although I knew I could not paint
and on a shattered building’s wall
emerged America’s Guernica.



About toritto

I was born during year four of the reign of Emperor Tiberius Claudius on the outskirts of the empire in Brooklyn. I married my high school sweetheart, the girl I took to the prom and we were together for forty years until her passing in 2004. We had four kids together and buried two together. I had a successful career in Corporate America (never got rich but made a living) and traveled the world. I am currently retired in the Tampa Bay metro area and live alone. One of my daughters is close by and one within a morning’s drive. They call their pops everyday. I try to write poetry (not very well), and about family. Occasionally I will try a historical piece relating to politics. :-)
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3 Responses to American Guernica

  1. jfwknifton says:

    Another poem that is crying out for music to go with it!!

    Liked by 2 people

  2. beetleypete says:

    Nice work, Frank. Here is one of my favourites, ‘Ay Carmela’. The film of the same name is good too.
    Nice to see you back after your family celebrations. Pete.


  3. Takes me back. I went to a concert of Ana Bélen and Victor Manuel once. I particularly remember Asturias, another one that would make the hair stand up on the back of your neck.

    Liked by 1 person

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