Seventeen, looking out to no man’s land
changed forever his heart now hard as stone
since stepping on a blood drenched beach of sand,
his boyish looks now lost, his smile a frown.
His father lied to get him his command
he said the boy was twenty and well read,
and here surrounded by such evil things
to the devils table he will be fed.
Waiting for the enemy to appear
from trenches where they too are serving kings,
and in this hell hole, nothing but despair,
the bodies from both sides rot and decay,
stripped of their dignity, their hearts laid bare,
and mothers rue the day they went away.
Mar 18, 2021
Mar 18, 2021 at 9:01 AM UTC
“Oh! Son it´s good to have you home
c´mon in, there´s a fresh brew on the stove,
we´ve missed you and we´ve worried so
did you get all our letters sent with love?”
Your rooms just as you left it, lad
c´mon in, I´ll get a dinner on,
your Dad will be home shortly, lad
he tells everyone he´s proud of you, our son.
What´s it like, the trenches, lad
and what´s it like this place they call the Somme,
it´s been a year you´ve been away
how long´s this madness going on.
Sorry to hear about your friend, lad
and about the way he met his end,
we keep praying for your safety, son
and for this ****** war to end.
Sit down and take your boots of son
I´ll go and bring your slippers down,
how´s your brew, is it strong enough
Oh! Lad, it´s so good to have you home.
Mrs Linton´s boy´s, John, and Dave
they won´t be coming home,
she got the telegrams this morning
must be the twentieth in this town.
You seem to be much taller, son
and your features seem much harder now,
you have the look of a man about you, lad
with those troubled lines upon your brow.
Did you get the cakes we sent, lad
and the gloves and socks we made,
do they feed you well over there, lad
come and help me get the table laid”.
“I´m only home for two weeks, Ma
then it´s back to the front for me,
it´s good to be back home again
I´ve really missed your cups of tea.
Our Regiment was two hundred strong, Ma
and now we´re down to seventy-three,
it´s hell living in the trenches, Ma
I´ve seen things young men should never see”.
Four months later, Ma received a telegram
the sixtieth in the town,
her lad is missing in action
and his remains have not been found.
“C´mon in, I´ve made a nice strong brew, Pa
it says our lad´s not coming home,
it was delivered here this morning, Pa”
and then the pair of them broke down.
Tom Balch ©
Dec 25, 2020
Dec 25, 2020 at 4:28 AM UTC
Now Harry it seems, has lost the plot
and said goodbye to his Royal lot.
Greta´s gone home, to isolate
Cos, Corona virus, won´t abate.
The bulk buying selfish, empty the store
even though they´re told, there is plenty more.
Branson has given, his workers the axe
he wants billions from, the payers of tax.
Social distance and lockdown rules
are being ignored, by arrogant fools.
People are dying, hundreds each day,
thank the co-vidiots, for not staying away.
Sheila Oakes, the mayor of Heanor,
said Boris deserves, the virus and more.
What a month it has been, for idiots and fools
those tossers and morons, breaking the rules.
What about good news, I hear you say,
what about something to brighten our day.
Well what about this one, it reads this way,
a ninty year old woman, survived covid 19, today.
Apr 10, 2020
Apr 10, 2020 at 12:04 PM UTC
The medics are working frantically
to stem the flow of blood,
sterile dressing’s crimson red
as they fight to stop the flood,
a boy just barely twenty
blown to pieces by a mine,
in a country far away from home
his life’s now running out of time.
“And the men back home who sent him there
they just don´t give a toss,
Cos there´s more where he has come from,
his death to them is not a loss”
The medics have not slept for days
as they tend the constant stream
of the wounded, blind and dying
amidst the crying and the screams,
the Quartermaster’s ordered
another batch of body bags,
plasma, blood and dressings,
and for the coffins, another twenty flags.
“And the men back home who sent them there
they just don´t give a toss,
cos their agenda´s more important
than the counting of the cost”
Mar 14, 2020
Mar 14, 2020 at 7:55 PM UTC
Another year is fading
so I think I´ll stop awhile
and think about the ones we´ve lost,
change the tears into a smile.
I´ll remember all the good times
relive the laughter, drink a toast
to friendships I have treasured,
to those who meant the most.
And, as I celebrate this Christmas
with family and with friends
I´ll keep the lost ones in my thoughts,
make sure the memories never end.
Dec 27, 2019
Dec 27, 2019 at 5:32 AM UTC
My first friend was my best friend
And still is to this day,
A cousin like a brother
I would not want it any other way.
From childhood through to oldagehood
We´re still both kids at heart,
We have a bond that can´t be broken
And have done from the start.
From scruffy kids to naive teens
We laughed through life together,
From working men to retirees
The bond remains securely tethered.
Nov 28, 2019
Nov 28, 2019 at 2:27 PM UTC
1
I could see him in the doorway
looking tired clothing frayed,
I really did feel sorry for him
would probably soon be in his grave.
“Here” in voice so gruff he summoned me
to his dingy doorway home,
lying on a cardboard bed
he said “Can ya spare a pound”.
I sat down on the step beside him
and asked him “Whats your name”,
and with a twinkle in his eye
he said “I am Donald James kilbain”.
I asked him how a man so “dignified”
ended up this way,
he said “I lost me wife and children
then I lost me job and so here I am today”.
He reached into his pocket
and removed a ***** piece of rag,
slowly he unfolded it and said
“this is a photo of me Mum and Dad”.
Then he showed the other one
saying “this is....was! me wife and kids,
they all died in a fire
you see it broke me and put me on the skids”.
He then returned the pictures,
so carefully he folded up the rag
kissed it twice and told me
he would give his right arm for a ***
As I opened up my wallet
he leant across and said “who’s that”,
I told him it’s my family
he said “lucky man, mine were just like that”.
We sat there for a moment
quiet lost in thought,
and then he said “forget the pound,
come again tomorrow, we can have another talk”.
2
Well time went by, the weeks they passed
he was always on my mind,
I´d think about his life alone
and how life can be unkind.
So I took time out to visit him
armed with the thickest fleece,
the warmest coat and of course...
a few packs of his favourite cigs.
As I approached his doorway
my heart sank to the floor,
no sign of Donald James Kilbane...
Did he not live here anymore ?
I asked around the neighbourhood
and every one I met,
but no one seemed to want to know
or were even bothered where he went.
Time went by, the weeks they passed
I was down and feeling low,
but I would not stop in my quest
I´d find the guy somehow.
His words they echoed in my mind
as the empty streets I walked, his gruff
old voice kept telling me, “Come again
tomorrow, we can have another talk”.
Time went by and more weeks passed,
and I arrived back at my start,
I sat me down upon his step
my hopes now... were fading fast.
I sat there quiet lost in thought
upon the hard cold ground,
then a voice so gruff called to me
“Hey buddy, can ya spare a pound”
I stayed face down and to myself
I smiled the biggest smile,
Donald sat down next to me and said
“Hey friend, we´ve come a fair few miles”
3
Well time went by, the years they passed
and we became the best of friends,
the clothes I gave him kept him warm
and Donald James was on the mend.
He told me of his family
how they meant the world to him,
and how he missed the Christmas´s
and all the love that they would bring.
Ten and seven when they died
his daughter and his son,
his wife died trying to save them
when fire destroyed their house of fun.
He spoke about the loneliness
and the never ending pain,
he told me things from deep within
how he nearly went insane.
So in his mind he closed the doors
and simply walked away,
the bitter cold that stung his face
somehow kept the pain at bay.
Twenty years he´d lived the streets
and each long year alone,
the freezing winters were the worst
cold and soaked through to the bone.
There was only so much I could do
to help this man get by,
he was so set in his ways you see
he would´nt even let me try.
There would be no talk of doctors
no talk of getting off the streets,
no sleeping on a matressed bed
or the feel of freshly laundered sheets.
But I worried so, his cough was worse
his breathing got so shallow,
the years outside had took their toll
his frail old body out of ammo.
4
I could see him in the doorway
as I approached him that next day,
lying motionless and quiet...
in the cold of night he´d passed away.
It hit me hard I´d lost a friend
one Donald James Kilbain,
who really did deserve a better life
a life without the hurt and pain.
I often think about him
and that twinkle in his eye,
and what his life could have been
if his loved ones had´nt died.
We had him buried with his family
and now he´s resting safe and sound,
but before they closed his coffin
in his right hand....I placed a pound.
Nov 19, 2019
Nov 19, 2019 at 1:13 PM UTC
Your eyes give it away,what saddens you,
what has stolen that sparkle from your face
that zest for life, your beauty that is true,
it saddens me, where is your charm your grace.
You´re so forlorn unlike the one I know,
could it be a lover that you have lost,
has your heart been broken by one so low,
your future now cold as the winters frost.
Or could it be you’re in too deep want out
of a love that is going nowhere fast,
a lover that you want to lose no doubt,
have you found another you think will last.
Are you playing a lovers game of lies
was that a glint I saw... in those wide eyes.
Oct 5, 2019
Oct 5, 2019 at 6:17 PM UTC
In the warm spring sunshine looking out
over the beauty that is the Mediterranean
and with a perfect view to the Balcon
through freshly trimmed and vibrant palms
we were talking my friend and I
about the use of words and of the use of rhyme.
I could see as he spoke the signs of their pain
and the enormity of their loss, a loss that I
thankfully can not comprehend.
Within those six verses of rhyme
there is no respite, only the marking of time
and their memories of Mel, in the warm spring sunshine.
Apr 16, 2019
Apr 16, 2019 at 11:41 AM UTC
We spoke of things we cherished
and told tales of deeds we’d done,
sat round a fire on the beach
we sang and watched the dying sun.
We talked of singers and their songs
discussed the meaning of their worth,
we questioned all the wrongs in life
we were at peace with mother earth.
We spoke of love of loss and greed
and of the war in Vietnam,
we sang the flower power songs
and how we hated uncle Sam.
We spoke of things we cherished
we talked of singers and their songs
we spoke of love, of loss and greed,
but we could never right the wrongs.
Apr 9, 2019
Apr 9, 2019 at 3:06 PM UTC