‘Through The Devils Window’ © Joe Canning 2016. All Rights Reserved.

‘Through The Devils Window’
© Joe Canning 2016. All Rights Reserved.

Each of us have daydreams, I have just had mine,
Or was it just a vision of those now long claimed by time?
Upon a moving carousel were scoundrels on their knees,
The sight did not surprise me though, considering their deeds.

I sensed the smell of brimstone wafting underneath my nose,
I heard the devil laughing loud as from the flames he rose.
Oh how his laughing echoed in his Hades of a hell,
when he looked into the faces of the tyrants as they knelt.

One by one he sneered at them, praised them for their deeds,
stroked the warts and callouses attached on every face.
He pulled them, punched them, spat on them, meted out the pain,
speeded up his carousel and sent them to the flames.

I seemed to recognise them as they entered one by one,
through that red hot sizzling archway burning hotter than the sun.
In damnation crouched Lord Cromwell, severed head and all,
screaming out for mercy, Aah! but no one heard his call.

Then clinging to a handbag was that witch of sheer disgrace,
I saw the pain and terror on the Iron Lady’s face.
Trevelyan, Lucan, Russell, Gregory, Palmerston as well,
wailing in their whippings through that doorway bound for hell.

Lucifer still laughing, danced to mesmerising tunes; as
another band of sinners were delivered to the room.
Slavers and their henchmen, landlords boxed and crated,
travelling on that carousel to the furnace that awaited.

Beside me stood some starvelings, tall white angels held their hands,
witnessing the torture of the stained and murderous damned.
We watched as thousands trundled on that roundabout of pain,
as round and round and in and out they roasted in the flames.

The devil he sat down a while and drifted off to sleep,
but soon he was awakened by a courier at his gate.
A soldier man called Maxwell listed on the couriers note,
was dragged, all kicking, screaming, before the devils court.

“You say you followed orders?” to the General, Satan said,
“I did indeed!” the scoundrel quipped, “And that is my defence.”
“I know evil when I see it!”, said his gaoler with a smile,
welcome to my factory Sir! your transport has arrived”.

I came back to the real world then, but I saw through Satan’s pane,
justice being delivered by the master of the flames,
I know I shouldn’t like such things or sing the devil’s praises,
but I revealed in that daydream as I watched them go to blazes.

Joe Canning’s Poetry Page on Facebook

Painting: ‘The Harp of Erin’ by Thomas Buchanan, 1867 (The painting depicts a woman chained to a rock, which is amidst a vast ocean, playing a harp, is a symbol of Ireland. The viewer’s eyes are immediately drawn towards the woman. She is dressed in sheer white, and her skin seems to be glowing by an unseeing light source. Her bright figure is contrasted against the dark blue and grey hues of the sky and ocean, making it obvious that she is the focal point of the piece. The woman chained to the rock with a green shawl, the colour of her country, falling from her shoulders and shamrocks in her hair, depicted in the Harp of Erin, in fact symbolises Ireland and the rock she is chained to symbolise England)

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