The morning light creeps across the deck
Picking out the colours - Black becomes grey
Becomes a brighter hue, sparkling crystals
Reflections of salt flung spray

Witnessing the start of a new day
The beginning of a cycle of life -
Of death, success and failure.
Light pierces the eyes like a knife

The horizon line shifts,
Slitting sea from sky.
The detail defining as the light strengthens
Soon the trip below to be warm and dry.

Morning energy fills the upcoming crew, Those who have served the night
Slowly climb down the below
Anxious not to leave the day's new light.

Earbuds in, Sunglasses on,
Laptop out, Coffee cup ready
Full protective shield set to stun
Insulated travel bubble in place.

Ignore the good morning nods,
Pretend you can't see the old lady
standing, as slowly the train plods
To the station and the office you hate.

The Metro is SO interesting
Though the page hasn't turned for 2 stops.
Ticket check is a hassle - so boring
How dare the guard disturb

Pretend you're in a zen state
Where nothing can disrupt,
Whilst hoping there's something to make you late
To your office for the job you loath

Trains delayed, cows on the line
Will we make up the time?
So you can be at your desk by nine
Even though you've nothing to do.

Day after day, it's the same
Where did you lose your humanity
When did life stop being a game
To play, but rather to survive?

The wake trails behind
A fleeting mark on the ocean surface,
Myriad millions of sea creatures mark it's passing
Before life settles back - the waves roll on

A crew at ease on deck
Under the cover of the stars,
Ross' southern cross
As music plays to pass the time

Suddenly, A splash off to one side
An explosion of phosphorus light
A dolphin shape, propelled along
Scattering microbes with its tail

Like tracer through the night sky
A path to see it passing by -
A leap and return to the sea,
Disney cartoon effect for real.

A moment of connection
Of man and creature
One in its element, one passing through;
Both on a journey east to the rising sun

High on the Ridge;
Visible from miles around.
73 thousand names,
Of those with bodies never found.

Portland stone
And red iron brick.
The names of the dead
Lie heavy and thick.

Men who lived but silent now;
Preserved forever for all to see.
Now memories from a time before,
Those who Died to keep Europe free

With birdsong of lark;
And kestrel in hovered flight.
Rest in peace,
The long never ending night.

Overlooking a desolate moorland plain
Perched on the windswept *****
A memorial to a lost pilot,
The simple cairn - a remembrance of hope
Of a young man - a son and brother.
He lost his life acting beyond his scope.

The scars of what happened lives on
Affecting those left behind
The passage of time might heal
But the process is never kind -
Memory lingers, surfacing when least expected
To reinforce the ties that bind.

Greater love they say
For friends, then how about for a stranger?
Most people head the other way,
Only the brave head towards the danger -
Call it duty, call it stupidity
Whatever called that day, was a life changer.

You didn't come back to us.
You lie in the cold earth
Far from home, from family;
But everyday, people remember your worth
The life you lived, the love you gave,
your death; a memory gave birth.

In their millions they came -
From the the newest and the oldest lands
To fight, to make good on the claim
That they would stand when the empire called.

Those who have been left behind
many thousands never found again.
And those who returned home to find
A life forever changed, gaps in the familiar.

those who stayed, lie in europe's red earth,
It's warm, eternal embrace
Their final berth
That holds them safe for the rest of time.

Their passing marked by a simple stone.
A name, a date and a symbol of belonging.
Maybe a word from a beloved has shown,
A man once here but now no more.

The sun tans their faces in the morning
And warms their backs at dusk.
Those men who listened to their country's calling,
Forever Buried under the birdsong chorus.

That's one hell of band
They've got up there
Give them one last hand
To show you care.

The musical talent ;
The genius on high
Is clear for all to hear
For those playing in the sky.

Music makers and performers
Guitarists and drummers
Singers and song writers,
Some maestros, others just strummers

The Heartbreaker joins then now
A list that expands every year.
Impossible to think of the choir
Formed above, and not shed a tear

He huddles in the corner ,
Another bruise forming on his face,
The result of a fight, one sided at best.
Oh ****, how he hates this place.

He's not like the rest - his parents aren't rich,
they don't live in a country pile.
He's there because he has to be, circumstances conspire but it's not his style.

He knows he's different
But worst is, so do they.
If entertains them to bully him,
As some weird form of play.

He'd fight back but he knows how it ends,
A smack in the face, a broken lip
Pulled hair, clothes all messed up,
Everything put down to a slip.

does no one see it - what's in front of their eyes?
Does no one care how he suffers?
At home he's loved but here, not the same,
Body slamming a wall like train hitting buffers.

One day it will end.
He won't inflict it on others, he knows the cost
the pain will make him a better man,
More feeling for those, others lost.

Why do you hate me?
Why do you slate me?
Why do you bait me?
Why do you denigrate me?

Does it give you power?
Does it make you happy?
Does it drive you forward?
Does it elevate you somehow?

Whatever your motives,
Whatever your reasons,
You won't break me -
I am stronger than you

It eats away at me,
Telling I'm not good enough
Filling my head with doubt
Questioning my fitness to do
What you ask me to do
Telling me failure will follow
Yet on I go because you count
On my to do it - to deliver
And solve the crisis
But how can I when
I don't believe in me?