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This poem is a departure from my more usual style (humour) and was written as a 'homework' for my writers' group.

Rust

Cimg2232by Robert E. Wilson17 Mar 2016

(Cogitation on corrosion in a car breaker’s yard).

Grotesque beauty
blossoming in fields of death;
fading radiance
dimly flickering in the drabness of decay.

And does the bed where it takes root,
that great metallic corpse
still stand amongst the wrecks
in haughty contrast, as in former days?

Disuse, decline, decomposition,
respecting neither status nor distinction.

Advancing, non-discriminating leveller,
its appetite insatiable;
a microscopic terracotta army
consuming all that lies within its path.

And is the tarnished fragmentation of the dying hulk
a visible reminder of past glory
now sinking in the quagmire of lost memories?

Before the oxidation –

did notables or nouveau rich,
inspired by pride or passion
consider this a sign of privilege,
or mere toy?

The chariot
that carried warriors and wizards
to veritable conquest
now bids a slow adieu;
the reddening glow
its setting sun.

© Robert E. Wilson.