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 Jun 2014 Annie Quill
Joe Cole
On this day 70 years ago they stormed across the sand
Boys of many nations to remove the tyrants hand
Heros all those boys so young who shed their blood for us
In that ****** fight for freedom

Across the sand they struggled neath a hail of shot and shell
Never glancing backwards as around them comrades fell
Fear was in their eyes, terror in their hearts
Many never made it and twas on foreign sand they died

Yes they died to give us the freedom that we have got this day
They died to free the world, for us they made the play
Boys from ever walk of life crossed the beaches there
Office clerks and farmers and the ones who cut our hair

Yes they were heroes all who gave their lives for us
But lets not forget the few who made it possible
The girls who made the shells, the men who built the tanks
They were the unsung heroes
They have also have earned our thanks

Without their dedication to the task they had in hand
Many more would have lost their lives on that shell torn blood stained sand
They to can hold their heads up high, they knew they did their bit
In bringing freedom to the masses when they broke the tyrants grip
Afternote... nearly all 4,400 allied soldiers died on those beaches 70 years ago today
 Jun 2014 Annie Quill
Enigmuse
Speed
 Jun 2014 Annie Quill
Enigmuse
I'm trembling, but who's to blame:
the dealer
or
the drug?
And, at this point, what's the difference?
I like the way the dealer warms me up, but I like the way the drug cools me down. I like the way they both make me crazy, but I love how they keep me sane. I love the way they whisper everything, but at night, they scream my name. I like the way the drug kisses my insides, and the dealer covers my skin. I love the way the drug feels like a virtue, and the dealer is nothing more than a sin.
I like the way this addiction is going, but I hate it all the same.
I wouldn't mind the dealer, if he wasn't the same place from which the drug came.
love poem
 Jun 2014 Annie Quill
Louise
My inner poet asked me
just the other day
what would I do if she left
would I feel alone and afraid

I begged her not to go
to think about it first
How would I arrange my
thoughts?
Where would I display the hurt?

All the varied emotions
that build up inside of me
wouldn't have a place to go
no haven to leave them be

I cannot store them all
inside my manic mind
they need to be released
and quite regularly I find

I love the arrangement
of words in line, after line
my thoughts are then clearer
creating space for me inside

In systematic order
they often gain new meaning
but when they are scrambled up
I'm not sure what I'm feeling

Penning everything in lines
for my inner poet to see
she gazed at the rows of words
and said poetically

I'm here with you now
and will probably always be
trust in you're thoughts and feelings
and reveal them for all to see
 Jun 2014 Annie Quill
Louise
~
Drinking hot tea together
at 5am
listening to the birds!
: )
My husband's gone to work but I had a cuppa with him before he left   : )
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