D (16.03.89 / Doncaster, England)


Sitting in a field of vivid, untamed
Flowers, deeply tinted in the sunlight,
Is a lonely soldier, clad in dirty
Warrior’s garb. Blood-stained blade beside him,
He draws in the fresh scent of wild pollen.
Strange, how something so beautiful can bloom
From the outcome of such a vicious War.


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Comments (1)

Lovely contrasts here Daegal. The juxtaposition of images make this a wonderfully visual poem with a resounding sentiment. Kind regards, Justine