Against Nature

One isolated bloom
in an unseasonal sun
defies the depth of nature
ignored by travellers
that aimlessly look
through condensation covered windows
on their overcrowded bus.

Gods gift of colour projected
against the tired and regressed;
concrete slab kerbstones and
sparse, dog fouled grass.

For a moment forgotten
is their cattle class condition
the microwave meal for one; the cat:
the depressing television.

Palm swipes away the mist
but quick drowned in the distance
the solitary spray that illuminates
their own road to perdition.

© D. Archer October 2011

This Trench

This trench is no cenotaph
but filled with the fallen
for whom seconds ago
the whistle was calling;

Thank God to be missed
by an inch to the left
running not forward
but headlong to death.

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011

Cenotaph

When I am gone
heed these words
I do not want to be buried
in the cold with the worms.

Set me on fire
that my soul may fly,
and remember when I made you laugh
not when I made you cry.

Remember me
fat and happy,
caught off guard in photographs,
remember impoverished holidays
and shoes spilling from carrier bags.

Stand tall, tearless,
enunciate,
no broken voice should read these words;
pick a moment when I made you smile
and not the moment
I left this world.

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011