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TO ALL FALLEN BROTHERS

To all courageous lives ended with sword, cannon or bullets of lead.

To all Brothers… No longer our enemies instead…

For Power and Ambition even Friends will part.

To silent fallen Heroes always true to a loyal heart.

To Courage always ready to fight for what thought right.

To Brave Men convinced Honour is being Victorious,

Now certain bones on battlefields are never Glorious.

To Sons taught to hate by greedy, ambitious men.

To many a young Mate we shall never see again.

To gallant Officers who believed what was told,

Always willing to give, but hardly getting old...

Eloquence never asking: “Parlez vous…?”

Or merely educated: “How do you do?”

On battlefields God was indeed hard to find,

And we wondered; is He on your side or mine?

Perhaps never wanting to be near,

Seeing what we are really doing down here...

Again infinite bones in rotting uniforms everywhere,

Whilst no one hardly remembers or troubles to care...

What we believed in, how we spoke or who we were.



People even snubbing whether whatever left of you,

Is in the rags of a Redcoat, in dark green or French blue,

But needless to tell… still much of a man,

For yet your bones in a muddy field give what they can.

Whether an arm, a leg or a scull… all just grounded up,

To raise a much better crop… for Life will never stop.

Just dirt to dirt... Man again fertilizing Mother Earth.

All the same, said never to be found lying around…

Bloodied buttons and buckles secretly hidden in hay,

Are polished and sold by those in need on a rainy day.

Again virility of spring...

Is in autumn quite a nourishing thing,

For Life still goes around and around in ring…

Even dressed in proud red, white and blue… more than two…

Maps and Rulers changed in less than a hundred years,

Ludicrous is our Hate and our Fears.

Do let us in memory of Confucius agree,

For seasoned veterans of war and intellect are we thought to be,


Saluting in attention with infinitely more comprehension,

We Honour You Forever still certain Humanity might never understand,

Honor, Glory and Victory are in Brothers holding out a Loving hand.



Col. RCEF Sir William Francis Willoughby Lindesay   England

KG GCB KP KT



Col. RCEF Sir Robert Eowan Lochlan McGregor          Scotland

KG GCB KP KT



1st. Royal Life Guards  1807 - 1810

13Th. “Jolly Ruffians “Rifle Company On Foot 1810  Portugal, Spain

13Th. Mounted “Wildman“ Rifle Company 1811-1814 Spain

1st. Royal Life Guards

Royal Cavaliers-Elite Force   Secret Intelligence Service 1814



                          Willowbee Manor, Lindesay Hall, Yorkshire 1814





                                      CONFUCIUS 551 - 479 BC

                                                Golden Rule
                                     Basic Rights for Humanity

      Do not do to others what you do not wish to be done to yourself.



Copyright©2013 by Kari M. Knutsen
A KISS...

Why such commotion for only a kiss?

Asking that do know this;

It was the most earth moving thing,

It was summer and winter, autumn and spring.

Something truly special many will miss.

It was Christmas and May and unending bliss.

It was heaven and earth, fire and ice,

Ten thousand fold more than only nice.

Eloquence without a single word,

Mad secret frenzy... never heard,

Warm lips even caressed by tantalizing fingers,

And a certain feeling that not only lingers…

Hurried urges up and down a spine;

"Be mine! Be mine!"

Both exuding passion and infinite charms,

Being close with much more than only arms.

It was me and you what else did we do…?

Indeed done too…

But with a kiss it all begun,

And now my Sweet Bessie we are One.



With Love and then some...

Always Yours,

Willoughby



Copyright©2013 by Kari M. Knutsen
They met in 1810... well, the first time in 1807... Once... when He was 17 and She a mystery... and a whole lot more... one foggy evening in a nondescript black carriage... Meeting again in 1810, still married Countess Jane Elizabeth Beaumont de Clair at 32... Ooops! Really 37... lying about her age... did not hesitate to "generously accommodate" young Willoughby... by now a Heavy Cavalry Lieutenant... IN... or Not in a Uniform... and who insisted "Love is an Art" and "Nothing is Impossible," falling flat on his face... and more... Again... and She... his former "Mystery Lady"... becomes his Sweet Bessie...this time meeting in a library due to a silly bet, but he comes back the next day, surprising her indeed presenting her with a poem he has written ... and she loves... kissing him even more... even seeing a drawing of her Willoughby has made as well... he has called "My Sweet Bessie."
LIFE…

Without doubt,

I often ask what life is all about,

And if I so may say,

It seems much like a theatre play.

With humor a comedy,

Without… a tragedy.

Hypocrisy we get for free,

Sincerity, costly for both you and me,

So many lies... religion, politics... false history,

Often made by needy greed of Humanity?

Not only speaking of divine faith,

Fanatics love to hate.

Does anyone have the nerve,

To give us more than we deserve?

Souls with bodies not a body with a soul,

To convenient music we dance one and all.

Wretched yet sweet the melody,

Life... banquets of morsels… what shall it be?

Laughter or tears... So much a mystery...

To be or not to be... Can anyone tell me...



Copyright©1995 Kari M. Knutsen






“Life is often a bumpy ride. Smile when a door closes. Open a window and let your heart and soul fly. They will find a remedy.” - Granny Kari

Copyright©2014 Kari M. Knutsen

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