The Weeping Angel

She passed this way and tended to our pain,

administered our wounds and eased our fears

telling us that we would be home again.

stayed by our beds and whispered in our ears,

She was gentle, but never weak or frail,

Remember Nellie Spindler from Wakefield

the only woman killed at Passchendaele

An angel weeps for her in Flanders Field

Once...

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The Unknown Soldier’s Prayer

I could be your husband, father, son.

The lost bones of another pointless war.

A flag to drape across my resting place,

transported from a distant, hostile shore.

I could have been a tinker, tailor, thief ,

lying here for a century and more,

those passing trades mean little to me - now

the angry guns have relinquished their roar.

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Elegy For A Ghost

Some say ghosts are chilling things

Ethereal and fleeting

But they’re not

They are the empty chair

The pint not bought in a round

The hiss at the end of a telephone line

The deleting of a mobile number

They are the sad spaces

That once held you

On the terraces

At the bar

In the conversation

Ghosts are sad things

They h...

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In Memoriam

The gravestones in this place are wet with tears

Of children, wives and husbands who have stood

Beside dark holes that swallow up their fears

Replacing ice water where once flowed blood.

November skies are grey and hold no lights,

The flowers flattened in a winter gale

That whips away dark thoughts the widow fights

To keep hidden behind her mourning veil.

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A Poppy In Winter

November mists come down in shrouds of grey

and folk remember, with their poppies red,

the loss of sixteen million war dead

and how the guns fell silent on this day.

So who are you to deem to have a say

on whether I should honour those who bled

by crimson colours? – or perhaps, instead,

in remembrance there is another way.

For I would guess that mo...

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Gave Me Up To Tears

"And all my mother came into mine eyes
And gave me up to tears."
— William Shakespeare, Henry V

The air tastes of mashed potatoes

When she looks into your eyes

And you look back at the fear and hurt

And she says she’s sorry for dragging you here

And you tell her it’s nothing

Even though you were complaining

That very same thing on the drive h...

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Red Poppies On An Autumn Day

Never forgotten – here to stay,

a symbol of the hurt and pain

where young men will forever lay.

The old man sells and we will pay

to wear a token for the slain -

never forgotten – here to stay.

Would they have approved? Who can say

If what was lost was worth the gain.

Red poppies on an autumn day

They had little choice ...

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a peaceful warrior

next week

I’ll make a mark

to show my choice

and there will be

no hate

no fear

no injustice

In that decision

it will be

for the future

for the greater good

it will not be

for brutal killers

bigots

racists

terrorists

from over there

or right here

it will be everything

but that

it will be

fo...

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Wounded.

Black bullet hole wound
blooms red November petals.
Blood and remembrance.

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Azrael

In hushed and reverent tones

we watched the daylight fade

until it winked out

in a final spark of twilight.

Heads bowed

we felt them slip away

all their bright energy

dissipating in the growing gloom.

Tears then

corroding and eating

at our souls

until there were

no more

saline teeth

chewing at

our memories.

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