The Statues of Dresden
A poem about the statues that miraculously survived the allied bombings in Dresden, Germany, on the 13th and 14th of February 1945
Cinders cling to the fluted out streets
As single smoked covered figures pile the dead
Tilting their heads upwards to see
Grey god-like colossuses of stone with outstretched hands
Dying embers settling in the coils of their togas
And on the flat greyed stone of their bare feet
As they peer down at what was once the beautiful Florence of Elbe
Their solidified faces seem to say we saw it all.
Yet only the moon shows her grief
Clad in her alabaster light she is agape in her fullness.
Memories of Daisy Flowers
It was at the start of summer that the daisy flowers awoke,
Forgetting the blunt and uncomfortable vice of the winter just gone,
They tentatively emerged from their cocoons,
Each unraveling from bleached white satin sheaths,
To expose their yellow-breasted sex,
A flamboyant display of nakedness,
The flowers were full and indolent in their pregnant state,
As they turned to bow and nod at the sun,
Secreting secret musk to arouse the pollinators from slumber.
Almost a coagulated mass,
Each individual boasted her fertility,
Together they were feminine and mystifying in their grounded stance,
As they awaited the arrival of the newly roused honeybees,
Which hummed with anticipation for want of the mellifluous buds.