We Are Flowers | Stream of Consciousness

A field, full of armoured tanks and soldiers and guns – covered in beautiful, cut and wild flowers.

We march past, and people stop to take photos – turning war into Instagram.

We are flowers – once growing and beautiful but cut for the purpose of display and beauty, so we die. We add chemicals or dyes, we flatten and press them to try and preserve the life we have already taken. But we are flowers – once cut from our stem, we perish.

And as is the way of things. A beauty designed not to last. We are ruined by the spoils of greed and war – wanting more world than our home grown field. But one flower only needs one home to nurture it.

We long for youth and beauty and longevity- but they cannot co-exist. Time will make graves from us all.

‘T’ (a poem)

image curtosey of pixbay.comLet’s tick the time away

take back tracks anew

trail behind our dragon’s tails

talking trouble in the trench.


For more poetry, go to my Instagram page.

When the lights came on…

When the lights came on

we danced

When the stars shone

we stared

When the sun came up

we tanned

When the moon rose

we awed

When the darkness approached

we hid

When the explosions started

we ran

When the war was over

we rejoiced

When the pain started

we cried

When the confusion began

we lied

When it was all too much

we died.