some poems

I Dream Of War

An unknown face, featureless and fading,
In a room with ruby doors,
Rests above a fending frieze.

'They come!'
The warriors, red tunics, gold trim.
With sun-tipped spears they tear onto a bloody field.

Once, sparrows tumbled through the trees
And the grass was filled with poppies,
Before the cavalry came.

Muscle-bound white horses,
With horns blaring high above the galloping hooves,
Have trampled poppies and birdsong into mud.