Laughing lithe, pubescent nymphs,
Well fed flesh and lissom curves,
A glimpse of phallic spears,
Priapic thoughts of twisted love,
Faces flushed, mouths agape
Look askance at blades of trampled grass
And tempered bronze aflash
In fields of brutal rape.
Meadow flowers garlanded,
Wrapped around each pretty head,
A virgin ploughed and harrowed,
Entombed among the slumbering dead.
Such desolation wrought
Upon this once florescent place,
Sacrifice and favour bought
by nubile breast and comely face.
©Doreen Hopwood, May 2010