Was it the yellow of your bright petals
or the way you danced in the breeze
that I brought you home from fields?
Was it the strength of your upright stalks
or the camaraderie, your solidarity?
There in the sun you sang hope,
songs that filled a mourning heart;
there in the wind you whispered
plaintive farewells on conflicted air-
fill this grieving with consolation.
Sunday 19th December 2010 1:32 pm
Will humanity ever learn? Europes worst war crime since World War II brought home the fact that its not just Cambodia and distant places where massacres occur, but anywhere that there is hate.
This time the Serb units in the area were in the wrong. Courts rules the Serb state as it was and is was not responsible. Last time it was the Utasha, Skanderberg SS an...
Sunday 11th July 2010 6:50 pm
This is not an anti-semetic poem, or anti - Israeli poem.
This is a protest poem, in protest at the violation of human rights in attacking ships laden with aid and medical supplies bound for Gaza.
Israel has the right to exist... fact.
So does Palestine... fact.
Israel cannot starve out the Palestinians.
A colauge of mine from the Iris...
Sunday 6th June 2010 3:59 am
Tags: aid,convoy,Gaza,Gaza Strip,Israel,Palestine,war
It wasn’t long before food replaced sex
in their fantasies. Conjuring carvings
of roast beef became a nightly reflex.
Rice cakes dished up by Scots Guards suggested
imaginings of meat. So they told tales:
Lancashire hotpot, black pudding. Starving
men lusting for shepherd’s pie, digested
air-raid (all-clear) stew, in their jungle jail
Wednesday 17th March 2010 12:02 pm
Tags: captivity,prisoners of war,war
My dad, no hero, didn't look
for punch-ups. When the call came
he signed for the pay corps.
But the look on his face
sometimes got him into bother.
He couldn't quite stomach the drilling,
or hide what he thought
of the shouts, the how's your father,
the moustache and tiny eyes,
the whole bloody rigmarole of the sergeant major.
Tuesday 23rd February 2010 8:37 pm
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In memory of Private Jeff Doherty of Airborne Parachute Reg.
Monday 8th February 2010 11:14 am
You know it well that feeling,
hating that you’re leaving.
You’ve GOT to go.
First your inhaled breath teases your lungs, not to be regained
till an ever so minute enlightened spark enflames
your tingling nerves endings.
The ach is unbearable as jealous hands squeeze tight your heart
They the same killers and spillers of poison from cupids dart.
Sunday 7th February 2010 10:10 pm
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