In their memory

Wildness and gracefulness
Rewarded by
The perversion of spirit
As to a reason why
Such beautiful wild souls
Were targeted we
Can only imagine
Their iniquity

Brandishing air pistols
For cowardly acclaim
They ventured to
The water park
Looking for game
Hopeful of targets
And six swans appeared
As graceful as ever
And it appears weird

To us reading afterwards
What had become
In a haven of beauty
The whirr and the hum
Of the air pistols
Pointed at the six souls
Who clearly were targets
And who took up their roles

As victims pursued
By hunters who feel
The need to just slaughter and kill
And reveal
Their unmanly nature Nature
Skulking about
Spineless and spiritless
Without a doubt
Having no back bone
They hide in the reed
And abuse the wild angels
Who glide and who feed

Peppered with shot
And ball bearings we hear
Ill considered and thoughtless
It’s all very clear
They are ugly inside themselves
Louts I would say
Who need Some form of discipline
Throughout the day