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Three Poems

I
The aching head, the singing eye.
The words like blades of glass,
Ride across the empty thrones
Bleeding as they pass.

Their horses carry them like wishes
Towards their longed for land.
On every side in field and town
Lie their murdered friends.

II
The sad flag of my oppressor
Unfurls in the evening breeze;
The flag of my enemy,
Perverter of my dreams.

The stretches drums of doubt beat tattoo
Within my weary skull;
As across the harbour
Evening shadows fall.

Looking out of windows that bind
My darkening room I see only
My own shadow awkward
As a broken doll.

III
England was Fifi
How she purred
On the Christmas tree.

First they said' No'
Afterwards they said' Yes'

Walking home in the dark
She let me hold her hand

At home she had her place
I had mine
She who never said much
Save when she was wound up.

O England O Fifi!
How you have left me alone!

Patrick Hayman