Poetry Blog by I'm not a poet

Cold Steel 1982 Falklands Finale.

War. Going to war. Been at war. Guns, death, killing, been killed, destruction, explosions, maimed, digging holes, living in the ground, eating bare cold rations, craving a hot cuppa, changing your socks, trench foot, fear, flying in helicopters, de-humanisation, freezing, dead, scared, bad jokes, jets and bombs, losing friends, taking life, walking miles,...

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I Dance With The Ghosts. Falklands 1982 Eight

I dance with the ghosts

Of those long past

I can’t remember their names

I just know that their time

Far too early they came.

I see their souls  still 

Standing proud

As they battled till the end

And I wish I could remember

All their names.

As they danced the game of death

I see each one ...

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The dead man Falklands 1982 Seven

I looked in the dead mans eye

There were maggots crawling.

Soon flies would be flying

surrounding the poor mans head.

The smell of death scoured my brain

All I could think was “what pain”.

So I looked again. And looked again.

And drawn like the flies I looked again.

His lips drawn back in that dead mans smile

I wanted t...

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There's danger near Falklands Six

Stop! Stop!

There’s danger near.

Maybe right here.

A careful bending 

of the knee.

Maybe a hundred bodies.

Maybe more

All along that

Bloody shore

From a distance looking 

Like potato sacks.

Helmets, FN rifles,

Machine guns,

Helmets and packs

Anything to lighten

The load upon that bloody road.

T...

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White Flags Over Stanley. Falklands Five.

We sat and cleaned,

We sat and polished,

We sat and oiled,

We sat and checked

The action.

We sat and checked

Our mags.

We counted spare mags,

Filled them with caress.

We counted grenades.

We looked to the horizon.

We looked for the airport.

Changed our socks.

We were cold,

We were battered

And we we...

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Face Down. Falklands Four.

I saw him face down in the dirt

We turned him over softly

Almost covertly.

Three small holes

All we could see.

Sightless eyes

Looking at me.

Farewell my brother

We’ll always love you.

We’ll carry you gently

And lay you to rest

That awful black bag

Does you no justice

For the times you 

Laughed and brought

Us some freed...

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A muddy fucking hill. Falklands Three

The hill.

Just up

the hill.

Need it.

Right flank

Cover for centre.

Ghurka’s on our

Left flank,

That’s good

They’re good.

Then advance

Fast and hard

Bound.

Don’t take

A round.

Fix bayonets

Shit 

That means close.

Please no mines!

Please no mines!

Rounds buzzing

And cracking.

Fuc...

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Check the bolt Falklands Two.

Check the bolt

For action

Hands slip and slide

Mud and sweat

Sweat and mud

“Alright mate”

“Aye”

“Alright mate”

“Aye”

“We’ll be alright”

“Aye”

Said a thousand times 

a thousand times

“Alright mate”

“Aye”

Check the bayonet

Check the bolt

Check the mag.

Fucking hands

Shake

And sweat

Fucking ...

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Ah' Chris mate. 8th June 1982. Falklands One

Ah’ Chris mate,

What a fate,

We’d laughed 

and cavorted

Before the fun.

I’d had sex

In Pompey

And lots of rum.

It’d take a lot

To make us run.

You in your engine room

Me in mine.

All seemed well

All seemed fine.

Your ship

Was knightly

Mine was grey.

As we both looked

Out on that mis...

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Vomit City

I was stumbling home

the rain had turned to hail.

Ahead staggered a woman

Spewing in the gutter

Looking very pail.

So I lifted her from

The sodden ground

and said I’d walk her home.

She pointed out and mumbled

And off we went on her trail.

We came to a dark door

Behind was sounds of cheer

She asked me in

“Come and have a beer”.

The house...

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I’m a barfly.

In bars I fly.

I slap tenners

On the wet 

Bar top.

People stand clear

Waiting for me to flop.

But I don’t drop.

“Whiskey, double”,

“Erm Jamisons please”.

“Water?”

“NO” and “no bloody ice”

“You’ll kill it”.

“Unless it kills me first”

Wish I had a tab

Just in case.

I don’t fight.

But sometimes

I glare, at those

Tho...

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