In the old cottage garden
it´s as though the flora has run riot,
stone walls covered thick with ivy
every plant bush and shrub is overgrown.

The rusted metal and rotting wood handle
of an old garden roller is only just visible
in the long grass, in one dark corner a
wooden shed appears to have been eaten
by this un kept jungle, the door forced ajar
by the crazed growth of Russian vine.

The years of neglect have taken their toll
on this once quaint and beautiful home.

A Robin pops over the fence and perches
herself on the top of a garden *****, making
sure its safe before flying into an old metal
kettle which she has used for her nest.

The silence is broken by the four squawking
chicks she has to feed, each with their wide
open yellow beak fighting for the right
to a regurgitated worm.

When I was young and in my prime
a lad of seventeen
they sent me off to foreign climes
to serve my country and my King.

A fresh faced kid without a clue
naive to say the least,
lined up with comrades brave and true
to be the cannons feast.

They told us keep yer rifles clean
and keep yer powder dry
and when we charge don´t be afraid
just look em in the eye.

I can still recall that mournful sound
of the whistle blown at dawn,
it was up and over and into hell,
that´s where we went that morn.

All around us bodies fell
as we pushed on through the smoke,
bullet and shell were rained on us
and the stench of cordite made us choke.

A grenade explodes can´t hear a thing
body burning, shrapnel stings,
fell face down in the mud and gore
not wanting to die in this futile war.

So I´m on my feet and charging blind
to the sound of machine gun fire,
body disjointed from the mind
**** the sound of machine gun fire.

Another shell, this time it´s gas
and another fifty fall,
so far away from the marching bands
where we answered to the call.

Coughing and spewing from the cloud
that´s burning my insides,
lying in mud that is stained with blood
and there is no place to hide.

The screams and pleas from fallen men
being riddled with enemy fire,
slowly fade and drift away
from this field, this burning pyre.

I see the flash from the enemy’s gun
and I know it must be stopped,
I throw a grenade as I scale the mound
and in their trench I watched it drop.

The explosion loud lit up the sky
and showered all with dirt and stone,
the firing ceased the smoke it cleared
and I found myself alone.

This haunting place, this field of death,
this place that no young man should be,
amongst the bodies of his friends
this sight will always stay with me.

How I survived I´ll never know
but I do know this for sure,
the way to peace I'm telling you
is not through some ****** war.

Now in my armchair next the fire
with haunting memories by the score
and a (thank you for your service)
worthless medal in the drawer.

1

I journeyed through valleys and over hills
I travelled my whole life searching for thrills.

I walked through forests and followed the star
from my humble doorstep I’ve wandered far.

I‘ve seen sunsets on fire that light the sky
white sand beaches where the palms grow so high.

I’ve seen the wild stag in dawn’s early light
dew covered flora magnificent sight.

I’ve crossed over deserts in scorching heat
sailed the world’s oceans and would not be beat.

Climbed snow covered mountains pack on my back
lived off the land there was nothing I lacked.

I followed the rivers and followed streams
the journey I’ve taken fulfilled my dreams.


2

The valleys were battlefields soaked in blood
nothing but horror souls drowned in the mud.

The forest was burning smoke filled the sky
I couldn’t see stars to be guided by.

My home is now rubble raised to the ground
I wander searching but peace can´t be found.

Red sunsets replaced with smoke blackened skies
war ravaged beaches where young men just die.

Oceans and deserts, just warships and tanks
guns on the high ground fire down on the ranks.

Rivers polluted fish dead from disease
they’ve killed all the wildlife cut down the trees.

This journey’s a nightmare of blood and screams,
War! So evil, it’s for peace that I dream.


3

I cast my eyes back from their autumn days
journey is over but memories stay.

I retrace and relive the sights I’ve seen
back through the forest as though in a dream.

Back to my home where I wish I had stayed
back to the junction where my choice was made.

Back with nature embraced in her splendour
choosing a path without any detour.

We all have a choice which path should we choose
we all choose the one with nothing to lose.

I chose goodwill, love and peace for mankind
t’was not the easiest path I could find.

The other path showed me what would have been
this second path war-torn, and so obscene.

Eve and Steve
love drinking sherry
getting merry so dose Mary
really scary, she has eyes for all the guys.

Jane told Wayne that Jim´s a pain
and then ran off with his mate Shane.

Gary is the one for Carrie,
the one she really wants to marry
and Doris who´s a florist really fancies Boris
whose older brother Norris
drives a nineteen sixties Morris.  

Now, Pat who lives in her own flat
has eyes for Jim because he´s slim
she really has a thing for him,
and her friend Sandie´s sister Mandy
is going out with a bloke called Randy,
whose friend is Wayne....Sandie´s latest flame.

Scary Mary longs for John who´s cousin
Peter is dating Rita, she´s Steve´s  youngest
sister, his older sister Pam is going to marry Sam
whose brother Terry loves drinking sherry............

The bowl filled with hot water,
the dishes and cutlery from lunch
await my attention;

But back then
in the days of sixties summers the
beaches beckoned

The glasses first
followed by the plates, careful not
to over-do the coarse green back
of the sponge on the china;

And us
hand in hand in our rolled up jeans
strolling where the sea meets sand

Knives followed by the forks followed
by the spoons and as I look out of the
window the martins fly to and fro
feeding their young;

I can still hear the noise of gulls
and the whooshing of
waves as we ran sideways up the
pebbles trying to avoid getting soaked

“Where are the clean tea towels” I ask
and you call out
“In the top draw on the right”

When I´ve finished this we´ll sit outside
with a glass of red;
Funny how our taste changes over the years,

in those days of sunshine
and sand in toes it would have been
Blue Nun or Mateus Rose
and the washing up
was probable the last thing on our minds...

We touched upon it briefly
in a moment passing swiftly
on a breeze so many years ago,

the words I whispered softly
drifted to you oh so gently
as the sun set on an ocean all aglow,

we were really young and carefree
we were that naive we could not see
that life would take and shake us to and fro,

those saffron days, those summer dreams
the plans we made alas it seems
had faded long before the autumns glow,

but at least we felt it briefly
for a moment that passed swiftly
on a breeze so many, many years ago...

Old photographs, five in all,
unknown faces in black and white,
a frayed and faded ribbon, the palest of greens
with blonde hair trapped tight within a knot,
coloured beads, and a stone with an hole in it,
probably picked up on some secluded beach
or romantic stroll.

Two ivory pegs, cribbage perhaps,
a silver locket and chain, hallmarked,
a faded fragile train ticket stating that the sum
of one shilling and sixpence had been duly paid,
where did she go on that day, I wonder.

A letter addressed to Emily from Sis, the
loveliest hand writing I think I have ever seen,
an art long gone, Sis is so sorry that she
could not attend Emily’s father’s funeral,
but sends her love.

Every item in this dusty box which had been
lovingly covered in a floral patterned material
must have held special memories
of treasured times for Emily.
I smile warmly, as I replace the lid,
keeping her secretes secret…..forever.