In Gaza God Farms

Garden Of Weeds
By Mark Cantrell


Hate grows in the tended rows
Of coffins and body bags, all
Filled with its corpulent fruit.
Carefully planned,
The crop is
Meticulously nurtured
In the furrowed brows
And saline tears
Of despair’s thorny garden.
So flourish the tangled vines
Of petty prejudice, and
The foetid weeds of suspicion.
Foul rancour chokes
The lawns and flower beds of virtue,
Poison sours the becks and lakes
Of clarified reason,
Until the stench of bitter enmity
Reeks rank the air of sanity.
So we reap
The murdered harvest,
With crates of coffins, and fruits of bodies
Over-ripe to fertilise,
The next crop of hate and war...


Mark Cantrell,
Manchester,
25 July 2008


Copyright © July 2008. All Rights Reserved.

Category: POETRY