Temple
By Liam Ferney
Published 14 August 2026
Your God, why is he of war?
Memed blessed bombs bloom.
Where is mercy in this?
Button warriors dependant on a silent
machinery that calibrates deaths.
You haven’t settled little boy’s debts,
the daubed machismo of the coward.
It was one day when, suddenly,
everything was quicker than gravity.
Death was a foreign country.
All the while you sold your doves,
our majesty retreated from us.
Put on some music without words and write whatever comes into your head. Use whatever you've written – images, words, sounds – as the building block for a poem.
Liam Ferney
#30in30 #PoetryMonth
One of the things I will always be chasing is that thrill you get [...] you can look at something you’ve written in a poem and think, well, that didn’t exist before.
