I must try to be strong now, my boy he is away
To fight for king and country, his boat sails this very day

To far off shores and places, of which I do not know
My heart it bursts with pride  but I am scared to see him go

I do not cry as he departs but smile with aching dread
As my boy, he marches strong and true to face what lies ahead

He will be be back here soon I feel, it will not last too long
But I will miss him every day and night that he is gone

I'll  look up to the heavens, and before the setting of each sun
I'll pray my boy comes back to me, and the war it will be won


From a Father

I'm cold
You have taken everything from me
Stripped me of what's mine
Left me curled in a ball of despair
You take what you want
Not even realising what you are doing to me
You turn your back on me
You ask for more I give you more
I ask for little I get none
Next time I'll buy a bed with the quilt nailed on!

Americano in the sun
So delightful
I think I'll have another one

Mother do not mourn me for I am not dead
I am well enough in this hospital bed

My leg it is gone in a Flanders field it lies
but some gave much more, paid a far greater price

My comrades lost, never to return
to England's shores for which they all yearned

I just want to see you Mother, again
and let you hold me, erase all the pain

So do not fret Mother, for me please be strong
till I’m home again Mother, where I belong

Your loving son

When the words won't come
I feel numb, empty inside
On a slow ride
Wanting to go faster

I sit waiting, for stimulus, motivation
Any sign of animation
in this head of mine
Waiting for the literary spark

My mind drips like a tap, drip, drip
Everything in slo mo
Need the words to grow
Blossom, bloom

Then

It hits me
A seed, a kernel
I feel the infernal rattlings
Of cogs that begin to turn

I feel it, a flutter, a thought
Emerging like a butterfly
Words multiply
I write

The words spill like a waterfall
Soaking my senses, breaking down fences
I am hydrated again

Fight, fight against the night
Race to the dawn
Far from home are we in this our billet damp and dark
Band of brothers, All for one, One for all
This will not be my end, you'll see.
Nor theirs, brave friends, strong and true
We rage once more against the enemy

Fight, fight against the night
The skies above scream with such thunderous voice
For us to go to fate unknown
No! No!
I will not fall, for once again dawns light I'll see
A flicker of the suns golden rays
Will save me from this hell, this purgatory            

Fight, fight against the night
My ears crave a kind whisper
My lips long for the gentle kiss of home
My hands to once again touch the door
And enter to warm embraces
And love
Ah love, I miss this most of all
Desperately clinging to memories of brighter days
Hoping, endlessly for peace to fall

Fight, fight against the night
My comrades with me,
Now my kin, together to the end
Spirits high we smile through adversity
We have no want to show our sorrow
For we are feeling, aching, longing as one
Duplicated in our grief and its severity

Fight, fight against the night
My hands they shake through cold and fear
Both bite through every layer I have
Tonight again we fight
For freedom, Fight for what we left behind
For loved ones waiting, praying, wishing
To see us back on England's shore
For we are men no more than that
But in our strength we will defeat
What lies beyond the barbs we see
Through mist and smoke
On, on to meet our destiny.

Purely my opinion
But I really have to say
I often don't understand it
And I just want to convey...
I feel lost in this world of "poetry"
Often floundering and splashing
In this ocean full of words
Against the rocks I feel I'm crashing
onto the beach that is the glossary of terms
A-Z my head I'm bashing
On the poems I often "heart"
Others I end up quietly trashing
Though I get a bit excited
when my lightning sign is flashing
That's when I start to think that maybe
poetry feels...
SMASHING!
:-)

Please tell me I'm not alone

Thinking about it, Forrest was right, life IS like a box of chocolates.
you don't know what you're gonna get
I mean it's all part of the game
If I get a box of chocolates I know
exactly what I WANT to get
But on the odd occasion that someone beats me to the soft centres,
I just curse softly
and try another.
I may not enjoy it quite as much as a good strawberry cream
but at least I had a chocolate!
Some people get to the box and they're all gone.
Quick or sorry

All my forgiveness is gone
I have no more love to give
No more happiness to share
I feel tired, empty
Feel myself slowly being devoured by your ignorance
Destruction and despair are your new masters
Hatred and fear rule you now
What happened?
Where did it all go wrong?
Did I not give you enough?
Did I leave you wanting?
I did my best, showed you the way.
Ungrateful, that's what you are
I must end it all to begin again
Start afresh, anew
Before it is too late

Is it too late?

Dead of night just as rehearsed
so many times o'er England's green fields
D Company, show no fear
A band of brothers flying high
Families waiting, home fires burning
Hoping to see their brave men once more

Gliders silent, Deadstick begins
Pegasus and the Sword await their fates
Take bridge and beach at any cost
Enemy waiting, will not go gently
They must be ours
Must be taken

Battle hard, blood is spilt
Both sides lose good friends, brothers
Success is ours but at a price
But we all know freedom is
The most precious thing we have

Pegasus Bridge, Sword Beach,
just 2 of many places
etched on our memories today
It all began here, liberation
70 years ago this very night
Brave young men
Strong and true

We give our thanks, god bless them all

We did not come here on the orders of others
We came freely, our own choice, blown by the soft winds
scattered o'er many a mile
Landed upon Flanders Fields and rested a while

Then death came, disturbed the earth
Destruction hit the ground in which we slept so quietly
Awoke us from our slumber sweet
To witness tragedies and defeat

Now we are risen
and in our place beneath lie men and boys of courage, strong and true
Who fought valiantly but now lay slain
Our gentle roots entwine around their bodies that remain

Each dawn we wake for them and face the summer sun
At night our gaze doth meet moon
We stand tall and proud and dip our heads
And honour them that lie beneath with our petals red

Its Friday and school is ended
Home we run, both trying to win the race to the garden gate
Hot and red faced, my brother beats me by an inch
I tell myself "I let him touch the post before me"

Into weekend scruffs we climb, piles of school clothes left behind
For mum to gather, washing to be done
My brother and I have something more important to do
We need to make sure they are ready

And they are, all washed and clean and ready for 7-0'clock
When the pop van comes.

4 empty bottles, waiting to be handed back and reborn
4 empty bottles, worth 5p each off the next ones!
4 empty bottles to exchange for 4 full
But what will we choose
When the pop van comes ?

7-0'clock
4 bottles, 2 each
We march to where the van full of wonderful fizziness will stop
My brother and I stand in line, there are children all around with their bottles too
All waiting for their turn to swap
1 empty for one full
with 5p off!
When the pop van comes

My brother chooses first as he beat me to the gate (I let him win)
Raspberryade!
Now me, Shandy please, (I like to pretend its beer)
Finally mum joins us and chooses orangeade and a bottle of dandelion and burdock for dad
We take back our bottles, excited, thirsty,
Into the glass I pour my 'beer'
Glug glug, glug, glug, fizzzzzzzzzzzzz,
gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp.
Too much!
Bubbles tickle my tongue, I lose my breath, too fizzy
Buuuuuuurp!
I love it when the pop van comes

My wine demon called again today
To ask if I wanted to go drinking with it
Tried to tempt me with a chilled Chardonnay
But I said no.

Then the pipe burst in tbe kitchen, water everywhere
And everything just went crazy, especially the kids
So wine demon and I sat on the stair
And I poured myself a large one

A new day is born but the sun still sleeps
The room is dark, the curtains closed
A familiar kettles whistle calls me from my dreams
Of climbing hills on summer days

The whistle becomes a silence that stirs me from my warm cocoon
Of blankets piled on blankets
I feel the bite of jack frost as i tip toe from my room
Arms wrapped tight to hold the chills at bay
The glow from mothers lamp calls to me

The bed so big and welcoming I snuggle and wait
Wrapped now in mothers warm embrace
Father climbs the stairs, boots heavy, tea hot
And sweet, one for mother, one for himself
None for me
But that's the best part
I watch him lovingly, waiting, hoping, not knowing

Then the moment, the wonderful moment
He hands me the cup, can't drink it all
Would I help him finish it?
I smile, that happy, yummy, sweet tea smile
Its mine now, as it always is in the end

Then with a kiss he is gone, into the dark
His day begins, his walk is long, the tea will help sustain
I hug the cup it warms my small hands
I drink the nectar in two big gulps
The sugar kisses my lips and again I smile
That sweet tea smile

My forgiveness *** is a jar
That lives inside my heart
Filled with all the forgiveness I have
It looks like fairy dust, glittery and golden
When someone needs some of my forgiveness I take a little from the jar and give it to them
Sometimes a little, sometimes a lot,
Sometimes more than I feel they deserve

The jar is refilled by the forgiveness others give to me
For I too need forgiveness sometimes

Right now my jar is running low
I have given away far more than I should have done
And to people who I think should receive none at all
The cutting insults he made
The selfishness she showed
Were two this week alone which emptied over half my jar
But that's what we do, isn't it...Forgive?

I am now wondering what other peoples jars look like
What shape, what size, how empty, how full
And what colour is their forgiveness? Red, silver? Gold like mine?
Do some peoples jars never open?
Sealed forever, never giving, unable or unwilling to receive?
Do some people really not care about the importance of forgiveness?

I care
I take care of my jar
I hope that when it is almost empty it will fill back up with
The forgiveness others do not want
I like to think forgiveness isn't wasted
Finds a home, a jar somewhere.