Robert Horton Poet Rhyme

Rows of Houses

Rows Of Houses 

Rows of houses, 
     line of sight, 
Helmet rooves 
     about knee height, 
Squinting windows, 
     barrel of gun, 
War in the garden 
     had begun. 
Traipsing boots 
     in blooming red, 
Spike the spear, 
     a rose lay dead, 
Gullies, trenches, 
     rows of fence, 
Dared the battle 
     to commence. 
Rambling thorn 
     and injured men, 
Muddied faces 
     in a badgers den, 
Shell shocked sycamore 
     fluttered dim, 
Love, the enemy 
     withered grim. 
Twigs and limbs 
     were neatly pruned 
Crazy paved, 
     the earth doomed, 
Smoky pires, 
     incendiary bombs, 
My love and spring 
     lay in tombs. 
Children digging, 
     banners waving, 
Mums and dads 
     under crazy paving, 
Rows of houses, 
     gone askew 
Yet in the garden 
     a poppy grew. 

© RJVHorton2016

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