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Turning my back

oh ye men of so much faith

scattering your deadly wares

like confetti at a wedding

without an ounce of thought

for the innocents on the ground

where moments before was fun and laughter

is now become blood and slaughter

how do you sleep in your beds?

have your dreams turned to nightmares

and your hearts to stone?

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A Shattered Rose

A Shattered Rose

The slick cliff'd river smears shiny

blue-green sliding waters

across richly wooded chateau-lands;


hurrying through honey-scarred falaises,

cat-mouthed where toffee sandstones

arced onto sleeping innocents beneath.


A country blessèd and blighted both,

in equal measure (as aeons bequeath)

full with easy money, and its deadly past.


April ...

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