Ghosts

As we cross the ghost filled plains of  ancient wars
Which cover most of Europe with their scars.
How can I compare  my losing one I love
When screaming poppies  haunt  below , above?
The Jews reciting Kaddish   made to walk
To death chambers where  only Evil  talked
When gypsies ,gays and  women big with child
Died grotesquely  in a  Europe big on style

Advertisements

About Kate Thwaite

I love writing , conversation, art, wild flowers, music and air.And books
This entry was posted in Thinkings and poems. Bookmark the permalink.