If only Scarlet Poppies could talk……..

Scarlet Poppies

Stern, ancient yew trees stand as cynical observers;

Enclosed within ancient walls of learning; secret desires:

Booming organ peals buried in mazes of silent subways,

Echoes of knights battling; clamouring broadswords:

Deep wells of mysteries; overflow spent murderous intent.

Incense and antiquity pervade this monastery garden,

Scattered with scarlet poppies, innocently attentive:

Coffee robed monks glide through on stealthy, scuffed feet;

Absorbed in mute obeyance; knee deep in obscure prayers: Leaning bell tower reaches skywards; aspiring immortality

Yearning for freedom from yoke of cloistered strife:

Unpardonable sins cloak the brass bell with loathing;

Unclean, it rings: unclean, untrue.

The scarlet poppy heads sway in unspoken agreement.

Stained glass windows cast biblical warnings; shading chapel floors:

Trails and snails of red choirboys; voices raised in jubilation,

Snake through shaded cloisters; trammelled by pilgrims heavy tred;

Often never to leave, enjoy life’s simple pleasures: here for eternity;

Marked by Latin inscriptions chiselled deep on crumbling tablets,

As tombstones slide sideways in abject, weeping, despair.

If only scarlet poppies could talk………

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