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.

[ANTO]

Once again (I don't know why I sound so surprised - given how often you have pulled the poetic wool over my eyes) - you got me with the twisted ending.
This is horror - this is war - and so full of imagery that this is nightmare fuel for me.

Where other poets take us on the roller-coaster on emotions only you it would seem, always include a big loop-the-loop DLP.
Class.

[VALORMORE DE PLUME]

Humorous and sad. Appalling and endearing. Unseen residue, prolongs the horror of wars, amid a new generation who's innocence falls victim too.

[Barbz]

This poem touches my heart, as it brings to mind the past and current events regarding the infirmities suffered by the men, woman, children and animals due to nuclear activity and meltdowns that contaminated the environment in various parts of the world. This is a very well written and important work, as we, of course, expect from you. Adding it to my favorites.....Barbz

[Relic]

So, it seems the war has still created havoc years later. Who would think something as beautiful as a flower could create such damage. I do remember seeing something on TV about an island that has been vacant for decades because radiation is till present in the area. It's a fact that it can stay in areas for many years after.

I love the detail throughout, told in your methodical rhymes. Your knack for rhythm is impeccable.
Your story poems are always interesting to read David. Great job.