#paulbaldrypoetry
The Eastern Gale
A Linked Tanka Sequence
***
Summer heat arrives—
across endless eastern plains
engines wake at dawn.
Steel columns move toward sunrise
through wheat fields unaware.
Thunder shakes the earth,
bridges tremble under fire
beneath crimson skies.
Villages vanish in smoke
before the iron advance.
Europe waits in fear
as the eastern front widens
beyond all borders.
Rumours spread through foreign lands
like sparks upon dry forests.
General Rain appears—
roads dissolve to drowning clay
beneath heavy wheels.
Field Marshal Mud takes command,
dragging armies to stillness.
Far beyond the Urals
silent frozen horsemen wait
wrapped in winter white.
Siberian knights gather strength
where icy winds forge survival.
Across distant seas
Japan turns her gaze elsewhere
toward America.
The eastern border grows calm—
Russia breathes for one moment.
Then the cold arrives.
General Frost walks unseen
through abandoned camps.
Rifles freeze in rigid hands,
engines sleep beneath the snow.
General Winter
descends upon the invaders
with merciless breath.
White forests consume the roads
where proud armies lose their way.
Frozen silence falls—
even steel bows to the cold
across shattered fields.
The eastern gale rises still
through drifting ghost-covered plains.
Snow buries the dead,
yet memory walks onward
through the scarred white earth.
From the ruins history learns:
nature too can wage a war.
7d ago
May 28, 2026 at 2:16 AM UTC
Knights of the Midnight Sky
A Lancaster’s roar
shadows drift through poppy fields,
old ghosts in the sun.
Wings bear the weight of stories
carried home on trembling air.
Clouds tremble overhead,
searchlights claw the midnight veil,
embers stain the dawn.
Young voices fade with the engines,
yet their hearts still take flight.
By Paul Baldry (LongJohn)
https://www.facebook.com/me/
May 21
May 21, 2026 at 7:04 AM UTC
The Truth and the Lie meet one day.
The Lie says to the Truth,
“It’s a marvellous day today!”
The Truth looks up to the skies and sighs,
for the day was really beautiful.
They spend a lot of time together,
ultimately arriving beside a well.
The Lie tells the Truth,
“The water is very nice.
Let’s take a bath together!”
The Truth, once again suspicious,
tests the water and discovers
that it indeed is very nice.
They undress and start bathing.
Suddenly, the Lie comes out of the water,
puts on the clothes of the Truth,
and runs away.
The furious Truth comes out of the well
and runs everywhere to find the Lie,
to get her clothes back.
The World, seeing the Truth naked,
turns its gaze away
with contempt and rage.
The poor Truth returns to the well
and disappears forever,
hiding therein its shame.
Since then,
the Lie travels around the world,
dressed as the Truth,
satisfying the needs of society,
because the World, in any case,
harbours no wish at all
to meet the naked Truth.
The Truth will set you free,
but you have to get to her first.
— Paul Baldry
The Boy Writes from Within...
https://www.facebook.com/me/
May 21
May 21, 2026 at 6:26 AM UTC
*****
A — sharp as a peak against the morning grey,
the first mark on a blank map.
Exploring new heights
where air thins and the world drops away below —
pine needles under boots,
stone cold and steady beneath our weight.
Trailblazing new paths
that weren’t there yesterday,
breaking through brush,
following only the pull of what might be.
With fearless delights —
laughter whispers off rock faces,
the burn in muscles that means we’re alive,
the quiet rush of standing somewhere no one has stood before.
A — the start of every story we set out to write.
Mar 16
Mar 16, 2026 at 4:55 AM UTC
Easter
Joyful, vibrant
Bunnies hopping, eggs hiding
Celebrating spring’s bright arrival
Springtime
Mar 21
Mar 21, 2026 at 4:26 AM UTC
The Mediterranean’s Call
Late summer fading—
Mediterranean winds
carry distant drums.
Italy waits by the sea
beneath gathering storm clouds.
Allied fleets appear
on blue horizons at dawn
with roaring engines.
Lion and eagle descend
toward the waiting shores.
September tides rise—
landing craft cut through the surf
toward burning sand.
Steel and courage meet at once
on Salerno’s battered coast.
Hills beyond the shore
echo with the clash of arms
through olive groves.
Slow steps carve a northern road
through Italy’s wounded land.
Autumn shadows fall—
the long campaign moves inland
through rain and stone towns.
Yet the tide has shifted now
toward freedom’s distant light.
Now calm waters rest—
red poppies and white crosses
face the quiet sea.
Peace blooms where the guns once roared
on Mediterranean shores.
Mar 21
Mar 21, 2026 at 3:32 AM UTC
Monte Cassino: The Mountain’s Trial
Winter grips the hills—
Monte Cassino rises
above mist and stone.
Silent abbey on the height
watches armies gather.
January winds
carry the thunder of guns
through olive valleys.
Allied ranks climb icy paths
beneath shattered skies.
Rock and snow collide—
every ridge and ruined wall
fought inch by inch hard.
Through mud, shellfire, and bitter rain
courage climbs the mountain.
Months of struggle pass—
smoke curls round the broken abbey
above silent fields.
Soldiers press the narrow roads
toward the summit’s trial.
May rain falls at last—
the long battle reaches dawn
over ruined stone.
Flags rise where the guns fell still
on Cassino’s scarred crest.
Now the valley rests—
red poppies and white crosses
face the quiet hills.
Peace blooms where war once thundered
beneath the mountain sky.
Mar 21
Mar 21, 2026 at 3:34 AM UTC
The Dawn of Alliance
Autumn desert winds
carry distant engine sound
across golden dunes.
History gathers its breath
on North Africa’s shore.
November’s dark seas—
armadas cross silent waves
toward waiting ports.
Lion and eagle arrive
beneath one banner of hope.
Flames of battle rise
across sand and stone valleys
under desert sun.
Allied columns push inland
through dust and stubborn defence.
Storms of war persist—
every ridge and dusty road
fought with grit and will.
Unity grows in the fire
between distant nations.
Slowly tides will turn—
by spring’s warmer desert wind
victory appears.
North Africa breathes again
beneath calmer skies of dawn.
Now the sands lie still—
red poppies and white crosses
face the quiet dunes.
Peace blooms where war once thundered
across the desert horizon.
#OperationTorch #NorthAfricaCampaign #WW2History
#TankaPoetry #WarRemembrance #PaulBaldryPoetry
Mar 21
Mar 21, 2026 at 3:29 AM UTC
(June–December 1941)
The Eastern Gale
Summer heat arrives—
across endless eastern plains
engines wake at dawn.
Steel columns roll toward sunrise
through wheat fields unaware.
Thunder of war breaks
over rivers, towns, and roads
beneath burning skies.
Cities fade in smoke and ash
along the advancing storm.
Europe watches still
as the eastern front unfolds
wide as history.
Fear travels through distant lands
on whispers of iron tides.
Yet within the frost
a stubborn strength gathers slow
beneath falling snow.
Winter sharpens silent breath
against the marching armies.
Frozen winds descend—
ice grips tracks and silent guns
across white forests.
Invaders falter at last
before the bitter cold.
Snow covers the fields,
yet memory walks the ground
where shadows once stood.
From the eastern gale remains
a lesson carved in endurance.
Mar 17
Mar 17, 2026 at 4:22 AM UTC
Dawn of Valour
Quiet harbour dawn—
Pacific waters lie still
beneath soft sunrise.
Battleships rest in the calm
unaware of coming storm.
Engines pierce the sky—
dark wings cross the morning light
above Oahu.
Sudden thunder splits the peace
as fire falls upon the fleet.
Arizona burns,
smoke climbs through shattered blue air
over silent decks.
Men rush through flame and water
amid chaos and courage.
Across the waves spreads
shock that circles the wide world
like gathering tide.
A sleeping giant wakes now
to the call of bitter war.
Yet from broken steel
rises strength and unity
for battles ahead.
Memory keeps the harbour
where sorrow meets resolve.
Now calm waters rest—
red poppies and white crosses
face the quiet sea.
Peace blooms where the guns once roared
in remembrance of that dawn.
Mar 17
Mar 17, 2026 at 4:25 AM UTC
The Ballad of Wake Island
Pacific dawn breaks—
small coral shores lie silent
beneath rising sun.
War’s shadow moves across seas
toward lonely Wake Island.
Smoke still drifts afar
from Pearl Harbor’s wounded fleet
across restless waves.
Yet on Wake’s narrow runway
defenders ready their stand.
Few against the many—
Marines and sailors hold fast
with steady resolve.
Civilians join the defence
on wind-swept coral sands.
Enemy wings fall
from bright skies in waves of steel
above burning reefs.
Still the island answers back
with fierce and stubborn fire.
Ships sink in the surf—
the first Pacific defiance
echoes far and wide.
Hope travels across the sea
to hearts shaken by war.
But storms gather soon—
bombers darken morning light
above shattered ground.
Outnumbered defenders stand
until resistance fades.
Now the island rests—
waves move softly on the shore
beneath open skies.
Red poppies bloom by white crosses
where courage meets the sea.
Mar 17
Mar 17, 2026 at 4:30 AM UTC
A boy in his chair, eyes fixed on the blue,
Dreams of soaring high, like the birds he once knew.
No wheels to hold him, no ground to restrain,
Just wings to carry him, through sun and through rain.
He'd dance on the wind, with effortless grace,
A feathered spirit, in time and in space.
The world stretched below, a vibrant array,
A symphony of freedom, to brighten his day.
In his mind's eye, he's already flown,
A bird in the sky, finally on his own.
Mar 16
Mar 16, 2026 at 4:44 AM UTC
Old rope creaks,
golden air hums,
tyre circles wide.
Sun warms hands,
dog waits close,
guardian at his side.
Dust storms rise,
tail thumps joy,
summer cannot hide.
He swoops low,
teasing his friend,
laughter bright as coins.
Dog barks back,
mock outrage shown,
bounding as he joins.
Grass wave’s part,
soft summer breath,
the moment gently enjoins.
Higher he drifts,
mind roaming far,
childhood’s endless sky.
Barns whisper tales,
promises drifting high,
dreams that never die.
Dog watches still,
world small, complete—
boy, rope, tyre.
Mar 14
Mar 14, 2026 at 5:03 AM UTC
The Thunderous Silence Echoes
May skies darken fast—
Europe wakes to marching steel
beneath storming clouds.
Thunder rolls across the land
where uneasy silence waits.
Armoured columns surge
through forests and broken fields
swift as summer wind.
Belgium’s gates fall open wide
as shadows lengthen west.
The Netherlands fades
beneath the roar of bombers
and shattered bridges.
Across the lowlands fear spreads
like fire through fragile walls.
France stands in the storm
watching iron tides advance
beyond the frontier.
Old defences crumble slow
beneath relentless assault.
Cities hold their breath
as the thunder shakes the roads
toward Paris at dusk.
A continent watches still
as history tilts toward night.
Across the Channel
Britain listens through the fog
to Europe’s last cry.
Alone upon guarded shores
hope steadies its fragile flame.
Then the guns grow still—
a silence heavier still
than the battle’s roar.
Through empty streets and lost towns
echoes wander without rest.
Yet within the dark
a stubborn courage takes root
beneath grey skies.
Soon fighter wings will rise
to meet the storm above Britain.
As history turns
through sorrow and sacrifice
toward the coming fight.
From France’s bitter downfall
resistance finds its voice.
Mar 14
Mar 14, 2026 at 4:40 AM UTC
The Sky-Bound Stand – Britain’s Finest Hour
Summer skies grow tense—
warm winds carry distant drones
across England’s fields.
War climbs high above the land
where clouds soon bloom into fire.
Luftwaffe wings rise,
dark specks crossing silver skies
toward Britain’s shores.
Sirens echo through the towns
as watchers scan the heavens.
Spitfires climb fast,
Hurricanes turn into light
against storming wings.
Young pilots carve through blue air
where courage meets roaring steel.
Dogfights twist and fall
through bright clouds torn by engines
and tracer fire.
The sky becomes battlefield
above the green English land.
Below, people wait—
eyes lifted from streets and farms
toward distant thunder.
In every silent doorway
hope listens for returning wings.
“The Few,” Churchill said,
holding the island’s thin line
against rising storm.
Their bravery lights the sky
beyond the reach of despair.
Day after long day
fighter wings guard Britain’s breath
through smoke and sunlight.
Slowly the tide begins
to turn within the clouds.
Autumn winds arrive—
enemy raids falter still
against steadfast defence.
Across the battered island
relief moves like quiet rain.
History remembers
that summer’s fierce Skybound stand—
an island unbowed.
From storm and sacrifice rose
Britain’s finest hour.
Mar 14
Mar 14, 2026 at 4:43 AM UTC
Wings of Valour
***
Autumn clouds gather
over the narrow sea lanes
between rival shores.
Across the Channel’s grey span
an invasion waits in thought.
Harbours hold their breath—
barges crowd the distant docks
beneath iron skies.
War planners whisper of
a crossing meant to conquer.
The Luftwaffe climbs
through restless September air
seeking mastery.
If Britain’s skies should fall dark
the sea path might yet open.
But island hearts stand
steady against the rising storm
along guarded coasts.
Watchers scan the Channel tide
for shadows on the horizon.
Churchill’s voice resounds—
“Fight them on the beaches still,
never shall we yield.”
Words become iron resolve
in every waiting village.
RAF wings rise fast
through clouds torn by engine roar
above English fields.
Their courage writes in blue sky
the line no foe will cross.
Day by bitter day
the air war breaks the assault
before it can form.
Slowly the invasion fades
like mist over silent seas.
The Sea Lion sleeps—
a plan left drifting in time
upon history’s tide.
Britain’s steadfast spirit stands
unbroken in autumn light.
Mar 14
Mar 14, 2026 at 4:46 AM UTC
Winter War, Finland — 1939–1940
***
Winter silence falls—
snow settles across the pines
under pale moonlight.
Beyond the frozen border
the distant thunder begins.
Red columns advance
through forests of birch and frost
toward Finland’s heart.
Yet quiet hills watch them come
with unyielding northern calm.
A land carved by lakes,
cold winds sweeping frozen fields—
still the rifles rise.
Small ranks gather in the snow
with iron hearts beneath white skies.
Through the forest paths
Finnish skiers glide like ghosts
over frozen earth.
The snow becomes shield and blade
against the marching armies.
Night fires flicker
in valleys locked deep in frost
where battles ignite.
Each ridge and silent clearing
turns suddenly into war.
Winter stands beside
those who know the frozen land—
their fiercest ally.
Invaders falter in snow
lost in endless drifting white.
The watching world waits,
breath held in the bitter cold
as Finland resists.
Against impossible odds
their courage shapes history.
Though the war is brief
its frozen echo endures
in silent forests.
Tracks fade beneath falling snow
but memory walks the trail.
Spring loosens the ice,
guns fall quiet across hills
where frost once ruled all.
Yet the northern wind still tells
stories carved in winter’s steel.
Mar 12
Mar 12, 2026 at 4:57 AM UTC
A Tribute to Britain’s Resilience
***
Grey Atlantic winds
carry the breath of long war
across restless seas.
Convoys move through iron waves
where unseen hunters wait.
Dark U-boats linger
silent beneath shifting tides—
shadows under steel.
Every merchant hull above
marks a fragile line of hope.
Britain stands alone,
an island bound to the sea
by fate and courage.
From distant western harbours
lifelines sail through storm and fire.
Merchant sailors steer
through bitter spray and black nights
with steady resolve.
Each voyage risks the last dawn
upon unforgiving seas.
Sonar breaks the dark,
depth charges shatter the waves—
war beneath the tide.
Sleep fades beneath siren cries
as steel storms churn the ocean.
Torpedoes strike fast,
ships vanish into cold depths—
names lost to the tide.
Yet every loss steels the will
of those still sailing on.
Salt winds cut the face,
frozen spray coats silent decks
under moonlit watch.
Still the convoy presses west
toward the promise of safe shores.
Slowly war turns tide—
escorts guard the weary ships
through widening dawn.
Across the endless waters
resilience finds its voice.
Now the sea lies calm,
but memory stirs the waves
of that bitter fight.
Their courage sails history—
Britain’s lifeline held secure.
Mar 12
Mar 12, 2026 at 4:52 AM UTC
Dunkirk’s Defiant Cry
***
Dunkirk’s shadow falls—
May winds carry smoke and fear
across broken sands.
Steel rings close around the shore
where tired soldiers wait for dawn.
Guns shake the grey sky,
bombers carve the choking air,
harbour flames rising.
Encircled by iron walls
the path behind fades to ash.
Battle-weary ranks
stand silent along the tide,
boots deep in cold surf.
Outnumbered, yet spirits hold—
resolve burning in the dark.
Then a fragile hope
forms within the midnight hours,
a daring rescue.
Dynamo begins to turn
despair toward uncertain light.
From battered piers
and shattered docks scarred by fire
they gather and wait.
Smoke drifts slowly over sea
where distant engines appear.
Little ships arrive—
fishing boats and humble craft
braving restless waves.
Courage sails the narrow strait
where fear once ruled every heart.
Across Channel winds
thousands cross uncertain seas
toward England’s white cliffs.
Fate guides every fragile hull
through storm and shadow alike.
Three hundred thousand
lifted from the edge of loss—
a miracle born.
From the jaws of bitter war
hope rises on salted wind.
Though the battle raged
far beyond Dunkirk’s long shore,
the story remained:
when darkness seemed absolute
courage answered with resolve.
Now memory stands
beside that wind-beaten shore
where waves softly break.
Echoes of that daring hour
still whisper through history.
Mar 12
Mar 12, 2026 at 4:43 AM UTC
Invasion of Poland, 1939
***
September shadows
gather over Poland’s fields—
morning torn by war.
Steel wings darken quiet skies,
thunder falling without mercy.
Blitzkrieg strikes the land,
cities vanish into smoke,
roads fill with fleeing.
History turns without pause
into its most brutal page.
Across distant seas
Britain listens in silence—
news carried by wind.
Homes grow still with quiet dread
as Europe trembles in fear.
The world holds its breath,
uncertain what dawn may bring,
storm clouds spreading wide.
Fear walks through every nation
as war’s shadow lengthens.
Then a steady voice
rises strong above the storm—
Churchill speaks of steel.
Courage kindles in the dark
within a nation standing firm.
“We shall defend still—
on the beaches, fields, and skies,
through every harsh storm.”
Hope answers the gathering night,
steadfast hearts refusing fear.
Poland’s fall remains
a scar written into time,
pain the world must bear.
Yet from ashes courage grows
where unity takes its root.
Years would test the world—
oceans, deserts, frozen towns
echoed with the war.
Still the flame of freedom burned
through sacrifice and endurance.
Now we look behind
through September’s drifting dust
toward lessons learned.
Lives once given shape the path
we walk toward fragile peace.
Mar 12
Mar 12, 2026 at 4:39 AM UTC
The cup stays half full,
not from lack, but from knowing
how thirst can deceive.
Balance is a quiet flame
that warms without burning down.
Measured breath returns,
desire softens into calm.
Enough is enough.
In the middle path we find
peace that excess never knows.
Mar 7
Mar 7, 2026 at 6:04 AM UTC
No map, just the stars—
I walk where I cannot see,
trusting the unseen.
Hope is a kind of anchor
tied to something beyond fear.
Night stretches ahead,
yet the sky keeps quiet watch.
Steps follow faint light.
Though the road hides in the dark,
faith remembers where to go.
Mar 7
Mar 7, 2026 at 5:28 AM UTC
***
Winter does not win.
Beneath frost, the seed still dreams
of a green return.
Hope is the breath before spring,
the hush that believes in bloom.
Soft light stirs the soil,
roots whisper beneath the cold.
Patience holds the day.
Soon the quiet earth will wake—
and colour will find the air.
Mar 7
Mar 7, 2026 at 4:59 AM UTC
A Linked Haiku Sequence
***
Silent shadows loom,
lightning meets the thunder’s roar—
strangers face the storm.
Wary eyes linger,
quiet doubts drift in the air,
unspoken whispers.
Through uncertain tides,
two hearts test the restless waves—
fear walks beside hope.
Careful steps forward,
laughter softens guarded walls,
trust begins to rise.
Storm clouds slowly part,
two wandering souls now aligned—
friendship finds its path.
Mar 6
Mar 6, 2026 at 5:40 AM UTC
***
In the realm
of gracious souls,
a tribute
to the strength we hold—
a gift woven
into our humanity
the simple grace
of offering kindness
whenever we can.
I pause
and ask myself—
can we not choose
kindness?
For love
reveals itself
through kindness.
It echoes,
it reverberates,
spreading its message
from heart
to heart.
A warmth
so inviting,
overflowing
with generosity
and care.
It nurtures
uplifting moments—
from quiet conversations
to meaningful connections,
sowing the roots
of lasting bonds,
until harmony
ripples outward
across our world.
Mar 6
Mar 6, 2026 at 4:47 AM UTC