Den (dewhitton) wrote,

  • Mood:

Ode to A Poppy

Small, delicate petals in shades
Of mauve and red
Wave happily in the breeze
As the poppy bobs its head

Such a tiny flower cannot know
The anguish it has wrought
As junkies use your life-blood
Which can be sold and bought

But you are such a tiny plant
A little weed in a yard
Life for you was looking good
But now it’s fucking hard

Soaking the sun and drinking the rain
That falls from the sky like manna
Really means bugger all
Under the wheels of a 30 ton Franna

The Franna came to lift some steel
A poly tank, some pipe and junk
It moved the 2 containers
And delivered a 45kw pump

4 wheel drive and rear engine’d
Air brakes that wheeze up dust
and bright zinc yellow all over
To cover up the rust

Extentable boom over cab
To lift 15ton it’s rated
And to steer it bends in the middle.
Hydraulically articulated.

Poor little flower in the yard
You were in the way, oh poppy
But you’re really just a toxic weed
So there’s no need to get soppy.

This started a poem to a flower
Whose sap makes people sickly.
And ended up a homage to a crane
That lifts and moves things quickly.

the end


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