Two decades of uniqueness and joy so far and many more to come 

Her name means Life 

Who is like God is the name meaning of her mum

Father Paul ..small and Hansom according to the bible of name meaning 

Kind hearted tower of strength 

Wife Michelle ,because of her he's beaming 

Eve she keeps them breathing 

The heart and soul of her folks existence 

Such bond 

...

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Up on poppy hill they say, where no animal makes a sound.
No children wander off to play, just poppies all around.

If I recall between you and I, In that bright red field of flowers.
Like a crimson wave, a scarlet sea, hides stories full of powers.

For it was up on poppy hill, you know, in the red fields there yonder.
Where you might see the lonely widow, as she often starts to wander.

...

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A bronze, winged man holding an olive branch

emerges from his fountain and war-torn stance

Deco fence reflects St. Johns River ripples

Cotton tops reveal taut nipples

Weary jogger sucks the air

Bluejay announces his high-n-mighty affair

Golden Pup sniffs the grass for savory gems 

His human on her phone fights for amends 

River sparkles do a dance m...

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Turn not a blind eye 

to the homeless heroes 

among us. 

Give a voice to the 

desperate and downtrodden. 

Acknowledge their somber silence,

lend a helping hand.

Stand up, be counted. 

It’s about more than solos 

in the end. 

https://youtu.be/fgKxVx67VRU

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Belgium was beastly cold in December of ’44.  
Deep snow covered frozen ground as 
shattered forests crackled and groaned 
under the weight of ice. 
We barely felt our feet, 
even when we tried to warm them.
Frostbite was a constant threat.
The air was still; there was no wind.  
Dense clouds covered the sky
and snowfall lent a misty haze 
like falling fog. 

We hoped for a quick end t...

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Why I went back 

A posthumous poem in the voice of Walter Tull – 28.04.1888 to 25.03.1918

Until you’ve been under fire

hunkered down in some funk hole

you’ll never know terror, the horror

or the damage to the soul

that just one barrage can do,

before you ever hear the whistle’s blast

that, sadly it’s true

for all too many,

signals this’ll be your last.

So...

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There is so much pain and suffering,

For a land that should be free,

So much death and anguish,

For a place that many won’t see.

Yet of they march, they sail, they fly,

To fight for what is true.

Some to return, and some to die,

These brave men we never knew.

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Is the high worth the pain?

Or for the sunshine is the rain?

Stuck between this world and yours,

Both of my feet in different doors.

Quiet and desolate desert night,

My soul thirsts for your love's light

Restless and weary as I lay, Far away, Far away.

The whistling wind and blowing breeze,

The moon, it sets my mind at ease

The sun radiates through my soul,

Warming wh...

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Several times i was around you,

Several times in your heart.

You promised to love me forever,

And i did hold on to that thought.

So love hold me tight now more than ever,

Soon you will be gone and this time will be over.

Again there will be long days and lonely nights,

Without you being there by my side.

You will be far far away in the land of fire and fury,

Sa...

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Foot Soldier.

We were sent to fight a war
that we didn’t believe in,
knowing that there would be
civilian casualties.
Paid a pittance
to be on the front line
facing hostiles every day.
Privately hating
the faceless generals
who stayed hidden
in the bunkers
giving their orders.

Many were wounded,
left for dead,
injured in ways
that civilians
wouldn’t understand -
because some ...

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Snipers

was it out there
that I became a ghost?

I may be an unreliable witness
the constant stress does that to you
the days spent outside, unprotected
with a local population
that won’t look you in the eye
or when they do
they have the look of hate
that you are even there at all

if only the locals were less hostile
to my cause
if only I could count on my military team
to back ...

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But one single bullet, from barrel to throat,
Choked and opened the wounds of the world,
Unfurled in the seat of a phaeton,
Played on like the most tragic of tragedies,
Greek in essence but eastern in substance,
As Sophie wilts in the lap of Austria,
A single shot through the heart of a continent,
The blood racing fast to the carriage beneath,
Signals the start of relentless war lines,
It...

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The bayonet. I've had it a decade. There's provenance here... not written I'm afraid. My mate Richard, who I went to school with in 82-87, had a lovely sister. Lorraine. from a different dad. He was a soldier in the British army. He's dead now. He collected weapons, guns and knives. His wife asked Richard what to do with them. Some were real guns. I said tell any cops the guns are fake...

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She pressed her hand against the marble, felt its words,
Ran her weathered finger through the crafted names.
Many faces that had long since adventured,
Left for others lingering to bear the pain.

The autumn sun caressed its face and warmed the stone,
She drew it through her skin and let it stay a while.
Her silver head was bowed, her company her own,
To spend a few more moments...

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At the beat of a drum,
The world changed,
Blamed on many,
Caused by few.

At the still of a heart,
The world stopped,
Spun by many,
Ceased by two.

At the loss of a soul,
The world cried,
Tears of many,
All for you.

Dedicated to the family and memory of Drummer Lee Rigby, born July 1987, senslessly taken from the world, 22nd May 2013

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Entrenched
Behind failing lines,
These curtains of shrapnel and sharp steel
Conceal my misery,
So seamlessly, absently
I go on, numb, alone,
For sensation no longer blesses me.

Relentlessly, I force back my fear,
The absent tears never reach my cheeks
And thick blankets of earth and sand
Choke my cries, damp,  pitiful.
I fall to the boards clotted with death
As my bre...

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I lie and let the waves wrap 'round my feet,
As midnight skies perform the second act,
Where black and blue so effortlessly meet
And force the waters cold around my back.
I feel the sand bequeath my buried toes;
To let the grit defy my sodden skin
And as the open door to my soul grows
I let the frothy waters trickle in.

The moonbeams push my head into a daze
And buckle up t...

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This story is about the soldier, an ordinary guy

who wanted to live, didn't want to die.

He was a good friend, his classmates said,

the things he did were not a regret.

He lived and dreamed, breathed the same air with us,

he was so much naive and it was his plus.

He was the guy of ready sympathy and brave

just and ordinary guy who would never liked to be...

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Dusted off from 1968, probably my first serious poem with influences being mainly the news from Vietnam. I later used it as a song lyric with some variations, though eventually the music developed further into a fingerpicking instrumental that had a life of its' own, so the two have separated...

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