The bloody poppy

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

In England’s fields, few poppies grow,
Chemical fertilisers have seen to that
The land is still owned by those same fey aristocrats
Who’ve plundered and marauded for untold centuries.

On the slivers of common land that remain
The common sparrow still bravely sings,
Scarce heard amid the empty political posturings.
No-one listens to the Glorious Dead. Lip…