Poisonous Beauty

The flowers grew from the craters where

The bombs ripped open the ground,

Back in that terrible time of war

When God in his heavens frowned,

I just remember destruction, piles

Of bricks where houses had stood,

And years along, new growth began

Where Airmen lay in the wood.

 

Their plane came down in the poplar trees

That had stood in a long, straight line,

Tearing a swathe of destruction through

Where we’d played in a former time,

And just beyond was the surgeon’s house

That had boasted a Roman Spa,

Now flat, and exposing the Roman Tiles

That survived the previous war.

 

I’d go down there with Priscilla, who

Lived out by the railway track,

We’d play our games in the cellars

That had lain open, since the attack.

I hadn’t taken much notice of

The flowers that grew in the weeds,

That sprang into life like mushrooms, when

The bombs had scattered their seeds.

 

Priscilla did, she would smell the scent

That had wafted up from the flowers,

And say, ‘I’ve never seen these before,

They’re new, they’re meant to be ours.’

She’d pick the flowers and take them home

And attempt to make them thrive,

But once removed from their sacred ground

They’d rarely stay alive.

 

I didn’t handle the flowers as much

So I wasn’t quite as ill,

When she went down with a jaundice that

The doctors couldn’t heal.

They tried their best and they traced it to

The flowers she’d taken home,

A level of radioactivity

Was the reason that they’d grown.

 

The ground has been cordoned off for good

With a special yellow tape,

While she and I are forbidden to go

To the place that was our escape.

They keep her tied to a wheelchair where

They attempt to hide her sores,

While I’m in a sort of cage since I

Grew skin like the dinosaurs.

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[William Gardner]

You are a successful poet. Strong voice. I like the not so split imagery of war torn lands and a poisoned girl. I also like the you in the story. You seem to get in trouble in the last lines of every stanza. It gets a little hitchy. I'm at work now but I'll look at some more of your work later maybe I can help. Nice job.

[patricia]

phew! This is superb. Rhythm, voice, ethical... a story in a poem. I was absorbed as if I was there.

[Abderrahmane Dakir]

I enjoy with it. Thank you for sharing this awesome poem.

[andrew mitchell]

Scary write David cos it does happen then its all covered up!

[Terrence Chang]

Beautiful writing Mr David

[A.marie.speaks]

beautifully written. I love the ironic ending. can't tell if this is aimed towards the past or the future, however considering the past always repeats itself- i guess it could be either or both. such a good read.

[R Smith]

a terrible tale that could easily be a path to our future, one madman with his finger on a button and poisonous ground will be all around us, good work David you gave us these beautiful flowers of death and one of your scariest tales ever :)

[L J]

Sorry, I just don't freaking get it, just ...........????????????

[B]

I am gonna write something you will think is super weird
your work is so unusual
and very interesting

you know i can read from the bottom to the top and enjoy all your writes
or take out some stanzas and read them separately and just think

Loving your work :)

[Valentine]

Wow, I was thinking of the war of wars, [WWII] and all of the countries over there devastated. Then you bring up something that could occur most places where war has been. So well written and told. Good one Mate. Valentine