Remembrance

Talk not of glory to the dead
Talk not of brave battles led
Talk not of the freedom call
Talk not of remembering those that fall
Talk not of the national sorrow
The sacrifice for jam tomorrow

Care for the youth early returned
Care for disfigured badly burned
Care for the eyes that can not see
Care for those branded as amputee
Care for the mind that’s gone astray
Buy a poppy to give them jam today?

garage radio

At a garage I don’t normally go
I heard woman’s hour on the radio
Jenny Murray with opinions absurd
Had mechanics listening to every word
.
Such a phenomena, sowed seeds of doubt
Were they of the closet coming out?
I called the foreman a giant of a man
To explain the strange listening plan
.
Said the foreman gruff, in level tone
Scanning through channels as we’re prone
When we heard a woman state
Men only want two things from their mate
.
We thought about what the two could be
And listen to woman’s hour endlessly
Although it is dreary and we get bored a lot
We want to know what else women have got
Ω

natures field

The turn of turf no longer seen
In a wilderness so vibrant green
No hand to tend the rusting plough
No seed to sow no tending vow
No weeds to cut no vine to break
No labouring with muscle ache
No sweat to shed no curse to make
No controlling hand to partake
Yet the flowers show their heads
wildlife content is still well fed
From canopy to forest floor
From bright sunlight to fungal spore
Nature claimed where armies failed
The poppy fields of Passchendaele

remained

His hair so full of grease
Pass brown nicotine fingers stained
Lice bitten flesh and skin twitch
Under clothes blood and mud ingrained
Eyes red bloodshot straining
Looking out as trained
Nervous fingering of trigger
To fire shots never aimed
Behind always behind are officers
Whistles to lip orders proclaimed
Over the top time to attack
Another foot of territory gained
But he will not be moving on
His passing was ordained
Just a lad of seventeen
In Flanders muddy field’s remained

children light up a house

Children light up a house
With energy to spare
Flitting from room to room
Leaving lights on everywhere

common cold

As the winter nights draw in
And people congregate
The common cold will begin
To spread and mutate

From work colleges that you meet
In buses coach and train
And all the strangers on the street
In the chilly morning rain

From a hand shake given firm
Or in a sneezes path
The vindictive cold virus germ
Sends you for an early bath

Aches in chest head and throat
You still have work to do
It’s just a common cold you quote
To your partner with man flu

no record

Just a lad of sixteen years
He heard the call of war
With his pals and few fears
His courage in great store

Joining in the pals brigade
Kitchener’s bold idea
With village battalions made
With friends they’ll show no fear

So the boys with all their friends
Would not let their pals down
March to the bullets flesh can’t defend
To met in deaths dark gown

He was the last of his town
All the others had died
The final push he broke down
In disgrace he sobbed and cried

The court said it was cowardice
Orders he had refused
With no appeal or redress
For a broken mind abused

Marched to the firing squad
No blindfold to wear
Rejected the priestly word of god
Bravely standing there

Shot by the troops of his side
The orders of disgust
The firing squad later cry
For their breach of trust

On the war memorial cross
In the village square
The names of all the village loss
But one name was not there