Biography Firstly Nextly, just to prove I haven't wasted all of my time whilst being a Father. This is my son Cameron Moore, he loves all is well in my world. And this folks is really me. I have bared everything on this site except myself in the flesh. I have had people beg me to expose my picture ever since I came to WoL. When I first signed on I came using my real name (David Moore) I altered my writing name to Wolfgar but always kept my real name within my profile for all to see. I changed my name to Wolfgar because during a particular period of time I was working in horrible places with questionable people, consequently I did not wish my name to be readily thrown up in a web search. Obviously anyone serious could find me in an instant but I did not wish to make it overly easy. I had some nasty people on WoL accusing me of lying about my military service, questioning me about all kinds of things and calling me a liar and accusing me of "stolen valour" how disgusting for someone who served their country and lost friends in conflicts over a period of 30 years (at least) Disgusting specimens of flesh and bone who I would love to personally acquaint myself with, I doubt they would have the minerals. Then there were/are others simply accusing me of being deceitful, even when my real name has always been provided and a link given to my word-press site where a photograph of me has been displayed since its first publishing. If from this moment onward anyone wishes to question my integrity please feel free (do it with some courage and conviction if possible, no need to hide away or be snide about it) I have plenty of time on my hands. I will happily come visit you anywhere within the British Isles, we can clarify all that is needed to your satisfaction. SO NOW, ONWARDS AND UPWARDS TOGETHER INTO THE SUNLIT UPLANDS. I seem to have come to rest in South East England for now, a sedate peaceful job for the moment (which I have no intention of leaving) writing seems more sporadic than previously, which I am enjoying. Also taking the opportunity to read more..something I would highly recommend, more to some than others. Attempting wherever possible to avoid friction, although this is not entirely avoidable it seems. I have attached a picture of me at long last. I have exposed myself on here in every way except in the flesh. So here I am. "Just as I am I come" It would be nice to see a little more soul exposure from other contributors. I am not one to bully people into things they may not wish to do though. The reveal always comes, it's only ever a matter of time for us all. Now I have nothing and nowhere to hide, come join me. I doubt this revelation will change anyone's life, but surprisingly it may please and/or entertain those with too much time on their hands. Please feel free to visit my War and Remembrance series at the following link. I am in the process of updating it and will add to it over time. Many thanks. This bio has evolved over the time I have been on WoL. I have not deleted all parts of my original introduction as I think it helps to give some fluidity and sense of growing (or shrinking) but definitely the movable feast of life. Consequently the text may seem disjointed in parts. I now have a wordpress blog at the link below, please feel free to click and take a look. Most of the text below was written upon joining this site under the name Wolfgar, not too much has changed in respect of my day to day life since then. My actual name is David Moore. I had been working in Israel and the Occupied Palestinian Territories from early February 2018, it impacted on my writing somewhat. Specifically it meant many of my scribblings related to that place and my experiences there during that period up until May 2018. I am now back in the Motherland, for multiple reasons. Please feel free to contact me directly via WoL, or at Should you be the recipient of chatter/gossip from other quarters please feel free to approach me directly to clarify or qualify anything which may seem contentious. Malice is a common affliction which I am happy to expose wherever found. I don't list my favoured WoL poets, it isn't a helpful tool. I feel it only encourages comfort and restricts imaginations, it also subliminally begs favour, though some are happy to dispense with even the subliminal and beg anyway. Many thanks for stopping by. I have won few awards for my writing, so will not bore you with a list of them with which you can measure me by. Sorry for denying that pleasure to any who enjoy it, and well done to all trophy owning listed literary giants. Instead I have posted some of my scribbling's here, call them what you will. I lack the brass neck to refer to myself as a poet, that is a distinction to be made by others and not self. NB, I do not deny I may be a poet in the eyes of some (or not) I simply do not refer to myself as one, I believe that is a fairly straight forward concept to grasp, it is not meant as self deprecation which to my mind is something altogether different and easily identified by a well exercised mind. Such subtleties can be misread, misunderstood/misinterpreted upon a superficial reading, or by those who struggle to interpret meaning or even wilfully do so for their own purpose. It seems an unfortunate fact of life, hence the requirement for this retrospective clarification. Born in Scotland with English blood. I enjoy reading, music and recounting great military failures of modern times. I have benefitted from living in some places fractured by political and warring division, whilst there I met many people far less privileged than myself, I saw some of them behave in the most gracious and selfless of ways, on many occasions leaving me inspired and ashamed of my own self centered orbit. I have done good and bad as have most of us, as much as possible I now try and live in a way which avoids negative disruption to my fellow human beings. I have survived quite a few of my enemies, some are now friends. Some are simply forgotten. I am a Humanist, though independently, I do not like associations. I do not believe in a supreme being (certainly no god). I have not come to that conclusion in ignorance or without a real search, I respect the right of others to their beliefs, however irrational they may seem to me. I am respectful of nature and am resigned to the fact that it can crush me at any moment, a fact that probably demands more than a little respect. I was raised in a Methodist household, my father was a Minister, a circumstance which I am sure has greatly influenced my thinking and life. Despite the often dark subject matter of my writings I am generally happy in life. I often write from perspectives which are not my own, I find it challenging and a good exercise in coming to understand attitudes which may be at first repellent to me. That said much of my scribbling is based upon my own life experiences. I do not believe I am the sum of what I write, but accept I may be wrong in this belief as it is based only on my opinion. I dislike ignorance when it is willingly embraced, I dislike it irrespective of its roots, that said, I accept much of it can be mitigated by opportunity or blamed on the lack of it. I like to offer comments on the work of others, I interact on a basis of offering positive thoughts including constructive criticism, I am disinclined to suggest alternate wording and/or structure to other writers work, as I assume that a writer would publish what seemed correct in his/her mind at the time. I am of the belief that in most situations advice is not particularly welcome unless it is requested. On the rare occasions when I feel inclined to discuss possible alternatives to text of other writers work I feel it more appropriate to do so in a private and direct manner, fortunately WoL provides us with the tools. I have attached some photographs which I have snapped over the years, I hope they might be of interest. David.


Eternity’s sunrise Are we not men weighed down by earth? though anchored firm by chains held fast, may no day pass to this, from birth that we not live as if our last. Fear not eternity’s cold embrace that crawling sift of withering, but lift our hearts and sunward face to greet the hope each day will bring.  A call to arms A bloody ball, a tissued knot, from busted sac and membranes snot. What joy! this spat out burst of life, bestows us all in midst of strife. Yet, Still some say they fear to give, breath to new life that it should live. And by so doing seal their fate a legacy, of joyless state. Let not the acts of earthly fools diminish natures founded rules, but steel ourselves to populate with those that love not those who hate. The Bishops Tale Dear Mother who's my dad? I'm curious who you've had, or alternately who had you dependent on ones view. My lineage now in question, has been challenged by suggestion that you when less than guarded, saw my bloodline set retarded. Now a man of sacred threads, I'm accountable to my flock so need to know the beds, in which you serviced cock. Crimes against mysanity (to an alter ego) Sycophantic, word-pedantic dictionary whore. Your literary vacuum leaves me wanting more. Your spewing words thick with rot, from something ill ingested tie my patience like a knot, intestines worm infested. You’re like a stain of afterbirth still born and flushed away, I’d write a book about you if I thought that it would pay. As it is, you’ve raised my hackles and forced my angry tongue, I’d restrained it under shackles until my hate you idly won. Please walk into an ocean, a propeller or a plague. If justice had a notion you’d be rendered to The Hague. In the forest of future words In the forest of future words branches expand ever upward, competing to tear the skies rich belly. From where a pour of inspiration falls, to drench the woodlands dreamy ramblers. Then on the forest floor, in the sodden earth of hope, wormy crawling. Evolving thought embeds itself, seeking seed. By chance to couple some dormant gift and sprout the chute that offers life. Where ancient bark is stripped from trunk to lie beneath what it once was, and slowly sink back to the mulch. Its only purpose, to rise again and fill the empty sky, reaching as before. as if to answer, why? This cycle of events uncoils, un-thought. Absent of conscious reasoning, it has no known agenda, no predictive text. The forest of future words, is mankind’s sheltered womb. From which all else is born, and to which all returns. Tilt Things seen unravelled from the sense they make, make non-sense of sense. Collected and reassembled they are merely the same thing repackaged, brand new shiny exciting exotically uncharted. though there is nothing new under the sun for she is ever static, yet falling it is the light she emits that alters the view and how prepared we are to tilt Black lung Nostalgic remembrance, cobblestoned thoughts sparking memories and nudging senses, of wide eyed fathers descending clean. The yellow helmet resurrected ascending home Black as the cavernous eternity that disgorged them. These happy few assaulting the faceless face, brothers in arms picking a seamless seam. A glory in labour and grime, hardship rewarded by fellowships respect. Sinewed muscled bodies, labyrinthine with tissue and tunnelling vein. Spit and blood as they dug and dug, black dust mined their souls Its vengeance silent A dormant insurgent. And then to the death, Of gasping, frothing and wheezing. Armchair’s torn and ripped, clawed by white knuckled hands. Clinging to life and breath cursing the owners who shoved them down, tear stained rage. Released back to the black cavern, back down, and down beyond the dust to cleansing fire and deliverance. Cap those pit heads, blow the shafts tear apart communities that canonised dead men digging. Bring on the shopping malls, the wind farms the nukes. Let the earth cough up its dead. To scream never again, scream never again. The Bucket ‘O’ Blood The Bucket ‘O’ Blood’s Cobbled yard Red brick walls Bottle scarred Toe to toe And ale ready Bets put down Nerve’s held and steady Weighty men Of lowly breed Heavy of hand Or quick of speed Thrust like dogs Un-leashed Un-fed More alive The nearer dead Snarling spitting biting Leap Its stand and hold Or lose your keep Its knees and knuckles Smashed and broke Its gouged plucked eyes Its throats that choke For all the combat on the floor Its those that watch that I fear more And throw their coin on blooded stone To ply their trade in flesh and bone Every Kingdom Comes Every kingdom battles through generations of its own blood, Leaves behind a footprint trampled deep in mud. Every kingdom rises in the sunlight of its wealth, Then vents its subjects’ children in honour of itself. Every kingdom adorns its martyrs and frames their sacred faces, High on walls, in statued squares they hang in hallowed spaces. Their judging eyes fixed on us To remind us where our place is. Every kingdom comes to know, That every kingdom dies. And In its mournful passing, See’s another kingdom rise. The Arc of the convenient Atheists, aren’t they scum? hating everyone, until their Kingdom Come. Swarming over deserts locusts on the land. Dropping bombs and purging those not in their plan. Burning books and temples, raising treasures to the ground, they are the non-believers for they the truth have found. They’re raising up whole armies with no God to go to war, those silly little people don’t they know what Gods are for? Slabs (reflections on Sachsenhausen) 2015 Cold white slabs stand stark in the room, an aspect of manicured lawn’s. Gun towers straddle the fence-line, two worlds divided by blood. Separated by the accident of birth. Come Kinder, come Oma, come Opa. Under the knife, under the hammer, under the gun. Come all you who are not us, lay yourself on slabs. When darkness falls they’ll sluice the waste, and wash the filth away but who of you bears witness, to the horror’s of this day.

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.

Audio entries by Wolfgar

On hearing news of murder (16/06/2019)

Ravi Shankar stopped me wanking (13/06/2019)

The management of savagery (12/06/2019)

Gently in the forest (09/06/2019)

Beyond the mirror (01/06/2019)

In Carlton Gardens (27/05/2019)

Ivanovka (thoughts on Sergei Rachmaninoff) (25/05/2019)

A cleansing by fire (21/05/2019)

Mickey Cupples (19/05/2019)

Burning in and burning out (11/05/2019)

More audio from Wolfgar…

Do you want to be featured here? Submit your profile.


Profile image

Cynthia Buell Thomas

Fri 14th Jun 2019 11:25

Much enjoyed your use of the word 'tempered'. I do clearly remember 'tempered steel' and the 'well-tempered clavier'. My mother, in fact, used that word 'to temper' often. I had forgotten. I have used it myself, but not in recent years. And yet, it is one of the finest words I know. Almost a philosophy in itself.

'my' crutch, as opposed to 'a' crutch?

Profile image

Wolfgar Miere

Thu 13th Jun 2019 20:06

I'm having fun Cynthia, taking the piss about me hiding behind the crutch of alcohol.

I'm having fun with all my photos.


Profile image

Cynthia Buell Thomas

Thu 13th Jun 2019 17:11

What are you DOING with your photo!

Profile image

Tommy Carroll

Fri 10th May 2019 18:10

Nice one (repost) 😉 for "password reset" Tommy

Profile image

Jonathan Humble

Tue 7th May 2019 20:25

David, over the last three or four years of uploading poetry, deleting poetry, deleting accounts and reinstating them, I have found a number of poets whose feedback I value greatly. I wanted to say thank you for all the comments you've made and the support you've given to the work I produce. Thank you.

Profile image

Cynthia Buell Thomas

Mon 29th Apr 2019 16:42

David, that is a fine picture of the 'club' in 1980. Thirty-nine years ago! You must value it a lot.

I actually have my kindergarten picture. I often wonder 'where' THE PAST actually is, or 'what' it actually is. But I never try to engage a discussion; it's too esoteric a question to make any sense.

Maybe 'black holes' will provide some answers!

There is no law to constrain what we think about. Common sense, maybe. Except there's nothing 'common' about 'sense'.

And I'm into 'nonsense', yes?

Profile image

Wolfgar Miere

Thu 18th Apr 2019 11:12

Haha Cynthia,

It's a well directed joke I can't deny that.

To be honest apart from when I meet close friends (infrequently these days) I don't really talk very much to people. I used to play a little game of "how long could I go without speaking to anyone" it was quite some time ago in darker days, I managed a good stretch once or twice. Of course it didn't stop me talking to myself because I was barking.

I do try and make things amusing or interesting, but I guess that is a matter of taste and opinion.

Thanks for checking in Cynthia.


Thanks for remarking on my photographs.

Profile image

Cynthia Buell Thomas

Thu 18th Apr 2019 09:49

David, have you ever actually 'talked' anybody to death?

HAHAHA! It's a joke, David, a joke!

Great photo. I'm too chicken to post a real photo. Besides, I don't know how! An early friend on WOL put that iconic picture up for me, and I loved it. Still do. It works.

Your other pictures are superb.

Profile image

Tommy Carroll

Fri 29th Mar 2019 18:43

"Good ideas Tommy" cheers David.

Profile image

Tommy Carroll

Fri 29th Mar 2019 18:37

David - re "Excuse my hand" (II) cheers. I appreciate the tiny (3 word ) point, really. Tommy

Profile image

Phil Kay

Fri 8th Mar 2019 01:01

Thanks for your words about my son David. It is as you suggest cathartic and sharing this means some sort of forward motion.
Nothing will ever be right again but short of taking the easy way out I need this.
My fear is the burden of imposition, people never know how to react and I feel guilt for placing people in the position of having to face my reality.
I hope that makes sense, if anyone can see it its you mate.

Profile image

trevor homer

Mon 25th Feb 2019 13:25

Really pleased you feel it worth commenting on my work. I love your blog and its uncompromising insights

Profile image

Phil Kay

Sun 24th Feb 2019 22:15

Thanks for your comments on "tonight" David. It is strange sometimes to hover in that zone of banality.
I'm a keen fan of Camus and hope he would have appreciated it. I felt keenly what you said about a grenade real or otherwise, I never drink just to get drunk although that happens although I often drink and wander why.
There are no keen insights on such nights just a strange disconnectedness in a want to/don't want to sense.
Watch out for grenades though mate of all kinds. Sometimes they're for the best. Phil.

Kate G

Sun 17th Feb 2019 06:10

Hi David, I just wanted to drop by and say thanks for your continuing support. 😁

Cheers, Kate

Profile image

Joe Williams

Thu 14th Feb 2019 13:53

Thanks David, glad to hear you liked 'American Girl'. Some people aren't quite sure to make of this one. I'm not sure if I know myself.

<Deleted User> (16837)

Mon 31st Dec 2018 06:32

Dear Wolfgar,

It takes an equally exceptional mind to understand the content of my poem [Earth - one nation, one mankind]...which is reflected clearly in your unbiased opinion.

In just a few lines you have done complete justice to my intentions by appreciating it in your kind words.
"Peace n humanity" is the slogan we need today. we need to work for it in all walks of life in whatever little way possible.
my poem is an effort inspired by God himself, for all good is from God alone.

as long as a little hope remains for humanity...we should not be disheartened and discouraged. the failure is when there is no hope left.

divisions and drivels are all made by man and only man can break them. right effort in right direction with right intentions can do the work.

thank you for reading and leaving your precious comment💐

Profile image

Tommy Carroll

Sat 22nd Dec 2018 15:33

Cheers David re 'Nietzsche Declared'. I'm searching out my Ditties and finding them quite pleasing (non of this 'A poem is never finished, only abandoned.' Paul Valery malarcky😉) Tommy

Profile image

Tommy Carroll

Thu 20th Dec 2018 19:57

Hi David cheers for the 'reply' (chuckle)
You have lots of taste in verse (thinks: have I said that before)


Profile image

Ian Whiteley

Thu 15th Nov 2018 21:58

cheers David
I suspect that though our war experiences are miles apart with regard to war - we are very close on how we view its remembrance. My own experience comes from my father - and your own words reflect the sentiment I showed to his experiences and attitudes to the aftermath in my 'Bayonet In The Shed'.
I think you are also right about the glut of poetry that's surfaced this year on the poppy theme - in defence my own was a response to the manner in which people had criticised me for wearing a white poppy - even though I'd worn the red one with it - so this wasn't (necessarily) about the armistice remembrance - but of something that came about because of it - and my response to that.
Because my dad was a sergeant major - and even though he never talked about it - he brought it home in his manners and his attitude to having children. He was very regimental and expected orders to be followed. Looking back I get it totally now - not so much at the time :-)
I do appreciate your poetry on these matters - so will keep an interested eye on how you deal with the topic if you decide to do so.
Amid all the hot air and flak - and plenty of duds - that fly around on WOL - I think you have the greatest right to make the point above all of us.
Keep safe

Profile image

Wolfgar Miere

Thu 15th Nov 2018 16:58

Hi Ian, thanks for your response to my response 😀 I suppose that could go on endlessy, and why not? it’s good to talk. In many ways what you have said about soldiers being happy to be remembered whatever the colour of the petals, is what I was getting at. I think many soldiers would be happy to be remembered reverently and possibly quite silently, I sense many would not appreciate the clattering drums and blasting pipes, especially considering the crescendo and hell of their possible final hours. Who knows, and I can certainly only speak for myself on this, although I have spoken to many who reinforce that idea. Obviously there is a need for national remembrance and who am I to decide how that may be done? apart from being a surviving grunt of course. I just know I would never wear a medal or put on a uniform to attend such a parade if I ever went to one (which I will not be doing) of course I do wear a poppy (for one day only) Remembrance is for the dead and the suffering survivors of all nations (in my mind at least) not for the showing of regimental colours and medals. I find that indulgence distracting and somehow wallowing. And yes I have a string of medals, all lost in drawers and in the bottom of kit bags, they have no value whatsoever for me. I think this is an attitude many simply cannot conceive, which in itself speaks of an absence of understanding. All must be able to imagine when it comes to art that is what art is in its purest form for me, there has been a glut of poetry regarding remembrance this year, as it is the centenary of WW1 I am not surprised. Unfortunately for me so much of it has seemed voyeuristic in nature, that too is not unusual although it is disturbing to me when it is presented en masse as it seems to have been this year. I am in the fortunate/unfortunate position to be able draw on my own experiences of conflict and to have felt able to relate them through a medium of bad poetry and questionable prose, something I would not wish upon any other person but which I myself refuse to shy away from for the comfort of others. It would be refreshing to see the poetry of imagination suggest alternate images other than poppy fields and the same old churned out funereal inevitable imagery, I would have thought some of us living in this age might be able to translate our musings into hope of some sort. I will be attempting this myself hopefully in future. I very much appreciate your concluding words in what you have written Ian. I am very fortunate that besides Captain Jamesons I have a good network of people to sustain me during my now infrequent wobbles. Thanks again and have no doubt that whatever my misgivings may be about how we remember I would never deny anyones right to do it in whatever way they thought appropriate, or to write about it and express their emotions on it likewise. All the best mate.


Profile image

Ian Whiteley

Thu 15th Nov 2018 14:01

thanks for the comments on 'a poppy in winter' David - as always I appreciate your very unique perspective on some of the topics I write about.
I wasn't quite sure if you were 'having a dig' about using imagined thoughts of dead soldiers - but I wasn't trying to do that if you were. It was more of a musing on my belief that they wouldn't have objected to the use of the white poppy as a way to remember them and set a precedent for peace. Surely some of them would have thought that amongst all the other feelings they were having at the time.
Just completed a 6 date mini-tour of the WW1 album I produced in 2014 - the response from the public at the gigs has been humbling and interesting. Many just want to ensure that the stories from the war are not forgotten and that in remembrance people learn the lessons from history. It ahs been an emotionally draining experience to share these moments with people - and they whole heartedly back the soldiers role in this.
Thanks again for the comments - and with regard to another post I noticed you had made - I don't know you well enough to 'intervene' if you have personal issues - but I certainly know you well enough through our messages to offer you my thoughts and the promise that if you reach out at dark times I will be there to listen (via the media of messaging) and offer you some soundboard for your thoughts

Profile image

Ian Whiteley

Tue 23rd Oct 2018 16:38

Thanks for the insightful comments on 'Blood Brothers in Arms' David. Glad you liked it. The fact it struck a chord with someone who has far greater insight with the topic than I have means a lot to me - and I'm glad you shared your own perspective
Peace & Love

Profile image

M.C. Newberry

Sat 13th Oct 2018 09:57

Hello WM - apropos your comments about Frank Capra on
"Doom And Gloom". I totally agree about his film "It's A
Wonderful Life" and was given a DVD for Christmas a few
years ago. Capra enjoyed a very successful Hollywood
career but you appear to confuse him with photographer
Robert Capa (an assumed name with a most interesting
history) who was the only civilian photographer with the
forces landing on Omaha Beach. Of his total of over a
hundred images, all but 17 were lost in a laboratory
failure in London - a tragedy in its own right! He covered
5 wars and was killed when leaving his jeep in Indo-China
(as was) and stepping on a landmine - aged 40. He did
have his own Hollywood contacts/friends...John Huston/
Humphrey Bogart - and was intimately involved with the likes of Ingrid Bergman. His Wikipedia entry online makes
fascinating/involving reading.

Profile image

Tommy Carroll

Wed 12th Sep 2018 03:01

Wolf sometimes I think that you have a clue ;- ) xx

Profile image

Ian Whiteley

Tue 11th Sep 2018 19:50

thanks for the comments on 'Sister Magdalena' David - I know what you mean about the nuns - trying to get a google pic of a nun with a cane led me to some very strange places :-)
Glad you liked it - a true story that's been 50 years in the writing.
Hope you're keeping well mate

Profile image

Wolfgar Miere

Sat 8th Sep 2018 13:29

Thank you Marie,

I enjoyed your poem very much, and as a debut piece on WoL it was very refreshing.

Thanks for your comments on "I see you everywhere" it is indeed a very sad piece and was written about a real event in 2016 in Kabul. I discovered two of my colleagues dead, they had died overnight in suspicious circumstances. It was a terrible event and I still see their faces everywhere, on occasion.

Thanks again.

Profile image

Marie Alyza

Sat 8th Sep 2018 03:44

David, thank you for your feedback on my work Triptych #1: Coffee, Paper, and Storm. Your comment made my day. I've listened to "I see you everywhere" and I enjoyed listening to your voice although the story you told made me sad.

Profile image

Matthew Nicholson

Thu 23rd Aug 2018 16:14

Hi Wolfgar,

Thank you for the comments on 'Total Tosser' - very much appreciated. The use of the c word is often contentious I agree. It was not used lightly, but definitely appropriately in this guys case. I was a little surprised that more objections surrounding its use where not added to the comments.

Sorry for the slow reply.


<Deleted User> (19836)

Thu 23rd Aug 2018 06:54

Just a quick thank you Wolfgar for reading my poem "It is Inevitable". Nice to meet you. 😊Jane

Profile image

Jon Stainsby

Tue 21st Aug 2018 19:10

Thanks for the like, David.

View all comments

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message