Smaller Artifice Poem by Naveed Akram

It was a cultural blessing, for the face of leaves,
Unwrapping themselves with a silent mind.
The face was upturned to relics, to artifice,
And to sentenced weaponry, the bleeders.

Then a smaller circle, an attribute of rate,
Spun its presence to win charismatic appeal,
The favoured ones diminished like a small tower
Raised by the cross helpers, the utterly cross.

It was an unshakeable bond of wooden legs,
Hardy folk were enemies from a far off generation.
The older anger was the subtle anger,
This blessed house had many years in the circles.