Tale of the Nestor
A hand, once held,
Reaches for the frosty sky.
Blue, battered, flaking,
A desperate struggle carved in ice.
Lost: blue in white,
Didn't make it through the night -
Caved in tent,
Frozen, uneaten beans.
I don't know why you led me here -
Misplaced trust, or misfired loathing?
The Nestor's just a spec, distant,
The captain's laugh a memory,
His cruelness just a caveat of a sailor's life,
So why mutiny?
Fields of Eton
On muddy fields, pigskin spins and flies,
From bullets to lugging leather and back again,
Fields of Eton turned to mud and waste -
Man's despoliation on shells and bombs.
Peace, for a time.
The daily racket of explosions giving way to adolescent laughter:
Friends, in a kinder world.
Time comes to bury the dead,
Half decayed juveniles left finally to rest.
The Deposed King's Bloodstained Shirt
The deposed King's bloodstained shirt,
An effigy behind glass.
‘Look upon my works and despair’,
Words said with warm breath,
Now cold.
Claret wine and bread,
A good exchange.
Off with his head.
Grassy Knoll
I rest on a grassy knoll.
A bullet flew from where I lay:
Where death came, now I lie in quiet and solitude.