Poppy fields

Red it splashes
Through the wheat and barley,
Violent clashes
Of fiery colours, only

Marking the earth.
Lying on a flat map of patience;
Seeds give birth
To the colour of conscience.

Scarlet sky markers
Show the flowery way
To the earth's breast
From the fresh tilled day.

Rape only screams
At a yellowed sky;
Scarlet, the colour of dreams
Questions why

The farmer's curse
Is creation's delicacy?
As summer nears
Its own bright ecstasy.

The Saviour's hands
Touch this field and bleed
From deep wounds
Upon the waiting seeds.

The flowered year

Crocuses bloom when spring has sprung
And there’s no room for feeling glum;
But when church bells their rings have rung
The year moves to Chrysanthemum.

And as the winter chill draws near,
When mists and rain beset the hills,
And ring the end of the flowered year,
It's only weeks to daffodils.

Least said...

"You fool," I think but that's not what I say;
For I'd much rather try to keep the peace.
There may be angst here but there's no release
In saying what I know I want to say.

I really don't want to exacerbate
The situation that has risen here.
Nor do I ever want it to appear
That I was one who only could berate.

Instead I keep my cool and hold my tongue.
Sometimes I'll nod and sometimes shake my head;
For soonest mended is when least is said
And easier for us all to get along.

The byte beyond

I find it hard to find my way around
Computers and their difficult software.
It is the most demanding sort of ground,
Yet youngsters find it easy - it's not fair!
My hair is silver and my beard quite long
Perhaps that's why I get it all so wrong!

I've read the books and followed all they say
To no avail, it's like a foreign land.
I've clicked on HELP not minding the delay
And still it's difficult to understand.
I'll struggle on, of course, wasting my time,
Hoping at last these barriers I'll climb.

Bankers

I cannot think of what to rhyme with bankers
That I can publish. They are all such rogues!
If they were squaddies they'd all be on jankers
With bulled up boots instead of city brogues.

They take our cash but pay the lowest interest,
Then take their bonuses. It's so obscene.
There cannot be a heart within their pale breast,
It raises to the heights my angry spleen.

In future I will take my cash and spend it,
That way I'll get its value while I can.
I'll never ever more decide to lend it
To a cheating, greedy, breed of banker man!

The poor oppressed

In ancient times there lived a lord
Who ruled his lands with fist and sword;
This was a prince of fearsome mien
Hated and feared wherever seen.

He taxed his serfs and villeins too,
Freemen oppressed, and there were few
Escaped his fearsome evil ways,
The worst example of his days.

It chanced at last that some had had
Enough of him. He drove them mad.
Their bellies ached with hunger pains.
This Lord cares not. He just disdains

To think of what his actions cause
Or anything beyond his doors.
These few began to plot and plan
To get rid of this evil man.

Their plans sadly would come to nought
For spies of his the news had brought.
Skill to assassinate they lacked
So to his doors this bill he tacked.

"Reward of fifty crowns is paid
When these men in their graves are laid."
With such wealth offered they're betrayed
And all their dreams are thus gainsaid.

He took those men. Not looking back
He forced confessions on the rack.
Now haggard, battered, bloody, lean
They're never more from that day seen.

So that all men would them forget,
He cast them in his oubliette.
'Twas there they wasted, rotted, died
No history of them yet escried.

They never in their graves were laid
So no reward was ever paid.
By means so devious he proceeds
Throughout his life with evil deeds.

But many years would pass and then
Historians write about those men.
Their tale is told, their evil fate
Writ down - this sad tale I relate.

For such as this in ancient times
Was often told in bardic rhymes.
We think we live in happier days
Yet still oppression with us stays.

It's subtler now; from poorest men
They make large profits where they can.
The banks, the multinationals too,
And governments, to name a few;

They pay small wage to make large gain
Unheeding of the poorest's pain.
So goes the world forever on
Until the final day is done

And everything comes to an end.
Then long eternity we'll spend
Reflecting on the life that's gone
The good and bad we all have done!