"airman" poems
*A long long time ago
Before digital took over the planet.
My grandfather was an airman in WW2.
He never dropped a single bomb
or even fired a weapon in that war..
He was a bit of a pacifist
live and let live was his way.
Instead he aimed camera lenses
at the Germans snapping their country
on his belly lay on the planes belly.
At the airbase in the UK he printed his photographs.
enough to cover an airfield.
He met an English lady in the darkroom.
They printed their photographs together
mixing fixer and developer.
She got used to his crooked smile and big hands
He got used to her being there.
When the war ended he returned to the states
and opened a camera and photography shop.
He built a darkroom by hand
when it was finished he went back to England
on a cargo ship
and found the lady from in the darkroom.
he asked her to marry him
and she accepted.
when they returned to New York
he showed her the darkroom he built for them.
On the door was a note
held by a thumbtack
It said I fell in love with you
in the dark
but I want you to follow the light
with me for the rest of our lives.
A year later my dad was born
with a crooked smile and big hands
and also his love of photography.
He had the eye for
color and shadow and light.
After I was born I did not follow the
love of photography.
But would get into trouble at school
for writing poems in the margins
of my work books.
I found grandmas note that was
pinned on the darkroom door
she passed a way a few weeks ago.
And I was moved to tell this story.
Follow the light Grandma love.
look for a big man with a crooked smile
and big hands hes waiting for you.*
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 5:17 PM UTC
*The man with a crooked smile and big hands
A long long time ago
Before digital took over the planet.
My grandfather was an airman in WW2.
He never dropped a single bomb
or even fired a weapon in that war..
He was a bit of a pacifist
live and let live was his way.
Instead he aimed camera lenses
at the Germans snapping their country
on his belly lay on the planes belly.
At the airbase in the UK he printed his photographs.
enough to cover an airfield.
He met an English lady in the darkroom.
They printed their photographs together
mixing fixer and developer.
She got used to his crooked smile and big hands
He got used to her being there.
When the war ended he returned to the states
and opened a camera and photography shop.
He built a darkroom by hand
when it was finished he went back to England
on a cargo ship
and found the lady from in the darkroom.
he asked her to marry him
and she accepted.
when they returned to New York
he showed her the darkroom he built for them.
On the door was a note
held by a thumbtack
It said I fell in love with you
in the dark
but I want you to follow the light
with me for the rest of our lives.
A year later my dad was born
with a crooked smile and big hands
and also his love of photography.
He had the eye for
color and shadow and light.
After I was born I did not follow the
love of photography.
But would get into trouble at school
for writing poems in the margins
of my work books.
I found grandmas note that was
pinned on the darkroom door.
She had it in the things
I had clear from her room.
she passed a way a few weeks ago.
And I was moved to tell this story.
Follow the light Grandma love.
look for a big man with crooked smile
and big hands hes waiting for you.*
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 4:20 PM UTC
Army, Navy, Air Force, Marine,
Air, space, land and sea;
Sailor, Corpman, Airman, Soldier,
Pilot, Ranger, Medic, SEAL,
or Merchant Mariner;
Barbary, 1812, American Revolution,
Civil, Spanish, Texan and Mexican,
WWI, WWII,
Korea, Vietnam,
Gulf, Iraq and Afghanistan.
Khaki, green, white and blue,
Ship, tank, plane... all boots.
Knife, pistol, bomb or rifle,
Weapon, bandage, or Bible instead,
Each one’s veins filled with red.
Hostage rescue, protect and shield,
Capture, conquer, overcome, never yield;
Freedom, heartbreak, loss and grief,
Foreign, home, border, sky,
Ocean, desert, mountain, plain,
Water side, hillside, bedside, grave.
Parent, child, father, mother,
Auntie, uncle, niece or nephew,
Sister, brother, spouse and lover.
May your sweat on furtive brow,
Rouse our tribute, take knee and bow.
Buried, missing... wounded all,
Respect, endure, honor, release,
Forever may you rest in peace.
*To each of you
Who’s paid a price,
With years, with limb,
With blood, with life,
For each of these,
Oh, warrior ferocious,
Wrapped around
A heart that’s precious;
My voice it sings,
Let freedom ring;
My heart, it bleeds,
My eyes, they weep;
My hand, it rises in salute;
And my soul is filled
This day for you
With pride that swells,
With love that beats,
A song of deepest,
Heartfelt
Gratitude!*
Oh Warrior, you this day I salute!!!
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 3:37 PM UTC
I pray the Lord their souls to keep
Make the days as short as sleep
My kid, an Airman, the time is nigh
Spread their wings and let them fly
Save the world and protect our land
In the air and on the sand
Teach them skills and plant a seed
To live an oath, the Airmans Creed
In their blues, us parents grin
Aim high, our Airmen, Fly, Fight, Win
-Duane Townsend
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 11:34 AM UTC
I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate,
Those that I guard I do not love;
My country is Kiltartan Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan's poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.
2.3k
I just need a way to vent, really quick
Man I promise
I need a little fix, I feel sick
To be honest
I know we're doing things for the best
Yea, thats what you told me
But just put my mind to rest
Take a breath, and just hold me
I dont want you to go
But I dont want you to know
Because you serving this time
Will help you prosper and grow
I'm just scared of the future
The only thing I'm not used to
But the past is the past
Wouldn't go back? I refuse to
So I'll just live in the moment
Without you, I feel homeless
I keep silently crying
And all these tears got me choking
Just give me your all
Before you go off
Promise me a week or two
And not just a call
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 12:33 PM UTC
I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate,
Those that I guard I do not love;
My county is Kiltartan Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan's poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.
1.9k
Burly bleak plumes roll out aloft corn
Where the dragon fell post spin and ditch
A wretched hulk of ruin splintered and worn
Amongst endless blanch green fields which
Arc with a gust and apart where he treads,
Dragging his silk cape afar from flame
Clueless and concussed to a near house he heads
With a tattered scarf that constricts yet ***** about his mane
Black fists of cloud had boomed around him as they soared
His beast spat metal fire whilst the pale sky turned dull
The zipping ballet of warfare smiled throughout as motors roared
Gnashing its teeth and making forgotten martyrs of them all
Shuddering not from demise rather conflict as a whole
He is as content with death as he is to survive
Just not burn the world and condemn his soul
A horror; men of rule seem keen to keep alive
An agrarian self-dines rancorous and crocked
Half sat, improperly perched from where he was shot
Monsters had come for him once before this day
They took his spouse and his daughter and then took them away
He can hear but does not hark to the battle aloft
It is now like the rain and the trees in a gust
But to the boom and the shake he stands with a cough
And as he cites the invader he sees he must do what he must
The grower limps out with a Chassepot in his arms
As the airman’s hands reach up and he falls to his knees
With beads on his brow the man pleads with met palms
The crofter sees naught but a Prussian blue monster disease
The pilot knows his death, ‘Ich bin nicht sicher, wo ich will gehen?”
The old Frenchman just sniggers as he thinks never again
With the rifle’s slug now spent and the horror sent back to his hell
The farmer mumbles to himself, ‘je dois me chercher une pelle,”
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 9:54 PM UTC
*A long long time ago
Before digital took over the planet.
My grandfather was an airman in WW2.
He never dropped a single bomb
or even fired a weapon in that war..
He was a bit of a pacifist
live and let live was his way.
Instead he aimed camera lenses
at the Germans snapping their country
on his belly lay on the planes belly.
At the airbase in the UK he printed his photographs.
enough to cover an airfield.
He met an English lady in the darkroom.
They printed their photographs together
mixing fixer and developer.
She got used to his crooked smile and big hands
He got used to her being there.
When the war ended he returned to the states
and opened a camera and photography shop.
He built a darkroom by hand
when it was finished he went back to England
on a cargo ship
and found the lady from in the darkroom.
he asked her to marry him
and she accepted.
when they returned to New York
he showed her the darkroom he built for them.
On the door was a note
held by a thumbtack
It said I fell in love with you
in the dark
but I want you to follow the light
with me for the rest of our lives.
A year later my dad was born
with a crooked smile and big hands
and also his love of photography.
He had the eye for
color and shadow and light.
After I was born I did not follow the
love of photography.
But would get into trouble at school
for writing poems in the margins
of my work books.
I found grandmas note that was
pinned on the darkroom door
she passed a way a few weeks ago.
And I was moved to tell this story.
Follow the light Grandma love.
look for a big man with a crooked smile
and big hands hes waiting for you.*
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 10:39 PM UTC
Carve this heroine from black polished Obsidian , begat by fire , tempered with beauty , charm .. Place her figure high above for all to see !. On a base of red Verona marble , defining strength and honor ! Surround this monument with honeysuckle and gardenia alongside a bench made of granite so that the weary may rest beneath her , cloaked in the reflected light of liberty and abiding love for country ! On watch for all eternity .....
Oct 13, 2015
Oct 13, 2015 at 11:37 AM UTC
*A long long time ago way
before digital took over the planet.
My grandfather was an airman in WW2.
He never dropped a single bomb
or even fired a weapon in that war..
He was a bit of a pacifist
live and let live was his way.
Instead he aimed camera lenses
at the Germans snapping their country
on his belly lay on the planes belly.
At the american airbase
in the UK he printed his photographs.
enough to cover an airfield.
He met an English lady in the darkroom.
They printed their photographs together
mixing fixer and developer.
working alongside each other
in the dark.
She got used to his crooked smile and big hands
He got used to her being there.
When the war ended he returned to the states
and opened a camera and photography shop.
He built a darkroom by hand
when it was finished he went back to England
on a cargo ship.
And found the lady from in the darkroom.
he asked her to marry him
and she accepted.
when they returned to New York
he showed her the darkroom he built for them.
On the door was a note in his handwriting
held by a thumbtack
It said I fell in love with you
in the dark.
But I want you to follow the light
with me for the rest of our lives.
A year later my dad was born
with a crooked smile and big hands.
And also his love of photography.
He had the eye for
color and shadow and light.
After I was born I did not follow the
love of photography.
But would get into trouble at school
for writing poems in the margins
of my work books.
I cleared out grandmas house the other day.
I found grandmas note that was
pinned on the darkroom door
she kept it in her souvenir box..
she had passed a way a few weeks ago.
And I was moved to tell this story.
So follow the light Grandma love.
look for a big man with a crooked smile
and big hands hes waiting for you.*
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 3:57 PM UTC
I've got that feeling once again,
After staying up til 3 A.M,
When insecurities start to creep,
And I curse myself for lack of sleep.
It seems I have no way of knowing,
Which way my thought process is going,
One day I'm happy, the next I'm glum,
And console myself with smoke and ***
I try to find a compromise-
Get blasted drunk, and close my eyes,
But the world keeps spinning round and round,
Bottle's empty- no peace found.
Like the Irish airman in the sky,
I seem to watch as other lives flash by,
Then I pass out, hoping I'll never know,
The places those tormented souls must go.
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 10:27 PM UTC
We were once just kids
With big hopes and big dreams and freckled faces in summer streams
We were once just kids
Making out on your bedroom floor, with no idea of what was to come anymore
We were once just kids
That skipped school to spend more time together and huddled up in the colder weather
We were once just kids
That snuck out past curfew so that we could dance in the rain, and that was our virtue
We were once just kids
That rode bikes around town and helped each other up whenever one of us would fall down
We were once just kids
But we are no longer, that's clear
From the day that you left, you told me "Our life starts here"
We were once just kids
But now you're a man in a uniform
And I'm his soon-to-be wife
With just our memories to keep me warm
We are no longer kids
You have our country to serve for now,
And I have letters every night to send out
We are no longer kids
And we have cares and we have worries and we have things to complain about
But we still have each other and that's the one thing that ever counts
We were once just kids
But now we're grown and our life began
And I'm still hopelessly in love with you,
My United States Airman.
Jan 2, 2018
Jan 2, 2018 at 2:08 AM UTC
*The man with a crooked smile and big hands
A long long time ago way
before digital took over the planet.
My grandfather was an airman in WW2.
He never dropped a single bomb
or even fired a weapon in that war..
He was a bit of a pacifist
live and let live was his way.
Instead he aimed camera lenses
at the Germans snapping their country
on his belly lay on the planes belly.
At the american airbase
in the UK he printed his photographs.
enough to cover an airfield.
He met an English lady in the darkroom.
They printed their photographs together
mixing fixer and developer.
working alongside each other
in the dark.
She got used to his crooked smile and big hands
He got used to her being there.
When the war ended he returned to the states
and opened a camera and photography shop.
He built a darkroom by hand
when it was finished he went back to England
on a cargo ship.
And found the lady from in the darkroom.
he asked her to marry him
and she accepted.
when they returned to New York
he showed her the darkroom he built for them.
On the door was a note in his handwriting
held by a thumbtack
It said I fell in love with you
in the dark.
But I want you to follow the light
with me for the rest of our lives.
A year later my dad was born
with a crooked smile and big hands.
And also his love of photography.
He had the eye for
color and shadow and light.
After I was born I did not follow the
love of photography.
But would get into trouble at school
for writing poems in the margins
of my work books.
I cleared out grandmas house the other day.
I found grandmas note that was
pinned on the darkroom door
she kept it in her souvenir box..
she had passed a way a few weeks ago.
And I was moved to tell this story.
So follow the light Grandma love.
look for a big man with a crooked smile
and big hands hes waiting for you.
I miss you Darling
love
Jude*
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 9:43 PM UTC
One is the glider,
And one is the gust,
And the cliff is the question:
Trust land or trust ******
It depends on the wind,
And the wings,
And the rider:
Not their skill;
But their union -
One was built for the other.
But if the plane was built wrong -
Built wrong for the breeze -
(For the breeze it was built for!)
Then here's our message for the air:
For the love of your nature,
Give the glider to the sea!
Let canvas rip on water's flame,
And writhing currents cut
And fracture frame.
For you were conjured to fly higher;
And the pilot isn't fooled;
The pilot's watching other lovers
As they escape into the sun!
Grateful to be in flight,
But always with an eye
To greater, warmer height...
We know it's hard to let them fall,
For an airman dropped amongst the waves
Is left to die or swim to shore,
And if they make it to the beach,
You know the tattered remnants
Of their aircraft's waiting there,
Waiting to be built renewed
Built stronger on a memory
Of the time they flew on you
But let them fall
You must or you die
For the waters are coming
And also:
Death can fly.
Jun 22, 2017
Jun 22, 2017 at 1:58 PM UTC
A birdwatcher
A bus driver
A golfer
An airman
A man
With strong hands and a firm heart
And “the nosiest man alive”
According to his wife
A great-grandfather
A grandfather
A father
A friend
With unconditional compassion for all
Remembered by everyone who encountered him
The truest example of love and kindness
Now, may his legacy live on through the hearts he changed
For his soul is now at peace.
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 10:32 PM UTC
I spent hours walking, trying to thumb a lift, no one stopped. Near Slough, I caught the last bus going in my direction- at least it gave my feet a break- but not for long. In the early hours, near Marlborough I saw a car approaching, it's headlights cutting through the darkness along the otherwise unlit road.
It was two o 'clock in the morning and my weary spirits rose as the car came to a halt beside me. It was a Police car! The two policemen questioned me, checked my twelve fifty, (identity card) rummaged through my belongings and then drove off, leaving me to continue alone in total darkness.
At six thirty in the morning a motor cycle roared up and stopped beside me. He wore an airman's greatcoat! "Where are you heading for mate."
"Innsworth I replied hopefully. "Me too, jump on if you want!" I did want, desperately! I arrived on camp twenty minutes late at eight twenty, They were nearly finished kitting out, I just made it in time. "Where were you when I called the C's.?" The sergeant asked. " I could have been in the loo"
I didn't sound too convincing but he let it go. "Take off your blue uniform and put this on, then bring your blues back here." I was looking at tropical kit. "There must be some mistake. I am going to the second TAF in Germany." (The Second Tactical Air force.)
The sergeant grinned. "You and six hundred others, you can get sorted out when you get there." I did what I was told and changed my clothes, and handed in my blues. There was quite a buzz in the accommodation block, Harry came to meet me. "What a monumental cockup! Harry said grinning. It must be ****** hot in Germany, that's all I can say! I spent the rest of the day resting my blistered feet, we were flying out tomorrow. I expected to fly from RAF Lyneham, in a Dehavilland Comet but I should have known better, life was never that simple! To be continued.
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 7:48 AM UTC
But where do you weep
When somebody you love dies
To the Earth or sky?
Jun 13, 2018
Jun 13, 2018 at 10:57 AM UTC
An Irish Airman foresees his Death
I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate,
Those that I guard I do not love;
My country is Kiltartan Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan’s poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 11:53 AM UTC
Night raids on Salt End
were legendary… It were a
giant chemical works with ship docks,
silos, storage tanks, fuel dumps,
an ideal 'drop off point' for Gerry…
But Salt End plant’s night raids
on Hedon Road
weren’t gonna daunt our lot,
they lived a mile or so down the lane to Preston
and seemed unafraid of gerri’n shot.
But they built a shelter across’t main road
in a field… On the outside It were a haystack
within the walls, six foot thick… proper beds
on hay bails to the front and back... cosy.
Down the middle was a ‘lounge’ with chairs,
lights, a radio - electric run from’t big ‘ouse
It’s better than being at’ome our Charlie used to say
For the eldest (and the architect) he’d not much nowse.
Me mam (then 19) told me she bussed it into Hull
****** the Doodlebugs” She needed Jitterbugs…
and they still danced at City Hall.
******** to Gerry and his mates.
Margie & her pal René,
dauntless, they had a right ball!
Last Bus to ‘Withernsea’ from town
dropped her off at the junction
by the Speedway on Hedon Road.
Just as her way was lit by fire bombs - all about
when Gerry dropped his final unaimed load
Maybe ack-ack’d sort him out.
She was 2 miles from home… every few seconds another blast.
Scuttling …dodging whistling incendiaries,
running fast, whippet like…
any second could’ve been her last
anything too close she’d have to jump in't ****
She couldn’t mek it t’t shelter or house so picked
the coal shed - instead… threw herself down
on coals…noise lifted - silence dawned… all clear
heavy breathing - not hers - she wan’t alone
What if it’s one of them - a downed ***** airman.
Nervous, terrified more like she let out a little shudder
a gentle cough… to test her nerve
“Is that you Margie?… You daft ******
It were brother Tom… He’d been t’t Nags Head
and he’d run the opposite way from the village instead.
Sep 7, 2021
Sep 7, 2021 at 12:25 PM UTC
The big man with a crooked smile and big hands
By
jude kyrie
A long long time ago
Way before digital took over the planet.
My grandfather was an airman in WW2.
He never dropped a single bomb
or even fired a weapon in that war..or any war.
In fact he was a bit of a pacifist.
live and let live was his way.
The only trigger he ever pulled
Was on his beloved camera.
Instead he aimed camera lenses
at the Germans snapping their country
From the air
Lay upon his belly and on the planes belly.
Back at the American airbase
Deep in the quaint UK country village.
he printed his photographs.
enough to cover an airfield.
He always had a faint odor
of fixer and developer chemicals.
He met an English lady in the darkroom.
They printed their photographs together
mixing the fixer and developer.
She got used to his crooked smile and big hands
He got used to her being there.
When the war ended he returned to the states
and opened a camera and photography shop.
He built a big darkroom by his own hands.
when it was finished he went back to England
on a cargo ship to save money.
He found the lady from in the darkroom.
he asked her to marry him.
Kneeling on one knee at her cottage doorway.
Holding a small bunch of flowers
that looked even tinier in his huge hand.
and she accepted his proposal and married him.
At the old stone church in her village.
when they returned to New York
he showed her the darkroom he built for them.
On the door was a note
held by a thumbtack
It said I fell in love with you
in the dark.
but I want you to follow the light
with me for the rest of our lives.
A year later my dad was born
with a crooked smile and big hands
and also his love of photography.
He had the eye for
color and shadow and light.
After I was born I did not follow the
love of photography.
But would get into trouble at school
for writing poems in the margins
of my work books.
I received a late phone call the other day
Grandma passed away peacefully in her sleep.
She left her small apartment to me.
As I sorted through her belongings
I found the note that grandpa
pinned on the darkroom door
When she married him.
And I was moved to tell this story.
Follow the light once more Grandma love.
look for a big man with a crooked smile
and big hands he's waiting for you.
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 10:17 PM UTC
Letters in Wartime
Words on paper
Nothing more
Telling the story of a soldier
Or airman or sailor
Letters from the front
Sent home
To a sweetheart
Or family
First read by the censor
Telling of longing to see you
And hardship in battle
Seen thru with determination
And a love of country
Fighting for them
The loved ones
Far from where
He is stationed
Saying about his mates
Some who he misses
Killed in combat
Or worse still
Missing In Action
Maybe the Red Cross
Will locate them
All this told
By words on paper
Stay safe at home
I know the Blitz is hell
But we give it
Back to the ***
Avoid the talking
About sensitive things
For walls have ears
And aid the enemy
Follow the blackout
I send my love
And will write soon
Next time sending my photo
Till then my dear
Keep the fires burning
We protect our country
With untold valour
We will win
This awful war
Later my love
Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 9:14 AM UTC
Camouflaged Caskets
Best of a generation first to shout with passion, didn't stand idle ready to march to battle
Cemeteries more famous than the quarrel, become markers for its members
Personal diary lost in history, now next in line of people mixed in raw data
Mausoleum, crematorium even more buried at sea, just a mark on a map where they take their final nap, they lie alone in that zone whether airman soldier's or sailor's
Hearse did roll so silent , not a hint of anything violent, Tears flowing have a universal language, sounds like rain marking pain, form a storm covered by dark clouds
Paths of life mixed in strife, roads paved with headstones sealed with blood, marched on by friend or foe, they become a still frame in someone's mind
Real lives in disguise, their destiny not discreet, many tags moving, dog tags on top, toe tags on bottom, So many wars largest given numbers
Disturbing ritual never ending vigil, Final decision a true gamble, no trial it is final, certificate for family's wall is all that is signed, do those crosses stand as symbols
Who will know in the end what was right, under the scope does their life bring hope, does the death bring Peace with honor, are they now a new generations instructors
Does dirt disguise their demise, death mask worn like a fashionable veil, flag on a casket worn as a shroud hides a soul's pride, connects all cultures takes all comers, final march guided by deaths Angels.
R.C
May 30, 2022
May 30, 2022 at 6:17 AM UTC
She Defeated Death
She should have left the city when the chance was there.
Before the Nazis came, closing the noose.
She has so many regrets, except on her actions.
Now she's at the wall,... the reasons crystal clear to her.
Some things are priceless, unique.
Like you my dear, now against the wall.
Your dark brown locks hang by your shoulders,
your pretty eyes scan the heavens, still defiant.
Your lovely beautiful face stern.
With death bearing down upon you, victory is yours.
Crack go the rifles. Your ****** witnessed by the shot down RAF airman.
You, the heroine, when the others were silent.
Imagine your legacy and what you stand for fifty years from now.
That matters. Though I don't know your name, I remember you and what you died for. (dedicated to an unnamed woman that a shot down RAF airman saw executed by the Nazis)
out of our new book...
Europa – in the dark valley between the world wars
Out of the total darkness came a light brighter than infinite suns... Poetry on women (and men) in conflict
Nick Armbrister
And
Andy N
Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 5:42 PM UTC