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.
Friday 17th January 2020 6:44 am
James Boswell was the greatest biographer.
Samuel Johnson was his subject.
The task took our Bozzy time and toil
Until The Life was considered perfect.
And we can how Bozzy did revere
His great and giant friend.
For they were constant companions
From the beginning to the end.
But Boswell did write great journals too,
With many an astute observation.
Friday 23rd August 2019 8:32 pm
East Yorkshire Regiment
Drink and fists
Aunty Frieda hard working mam
Aunty Jenny shop boss
My dad Dave
In the shipyards
Mum a seamstress
Till I appeared
Ernie war hero
George boxing hero
Fred docking hero
Dad my hero
Sunday 3rd February 2019 6:26 pm
This Book Is Bound In Leather And Writ In Blood
once soft skin cover
now weathered and beaten
into cracked and ancient hide
that smells of cedar wood
once tightly bound
now coming apart
at the seams
its pages yellowing with age
with a tracing finger
on the memories
Monday 3rd April 2017 12:56 pm