Poppy Day

Pink tinted clouds, as the sun rises
In the East, as it always does and ever will.
A sparkling, sprinkle of frost on scattered leaves.
Crisp air of mornings first light,
Cold in the nostrils and on the lungs.
And the street sweepers sweep
From curb and pavement,
In preparation for today’s Poppy Day parade
As we remember the fallen.
Those who died in battle;
Fought wars and defended
Our nations from enemies.

At what cost? How many human lives lost?
Wives and families left behind,
While soldiers are sent to the front line.
They fight against an enemy,
Propagandised by media and government.
An enemy they do not know.
They do not understand.
And the government wheels keep turning
And churning money into this
Profitless pit. Weapons, technology, machinery,
Produced en mass at the expense,
Of we, the poor, at home, who cannot see.

The pointless nature of war,
This war that man creates.
Greed, need, power and control.
Every megalomaniac’s goal,
To rule the world!

So, once more into the breach
The young soldier fights
For country and Queen-dom.
For a government who doesn’t care.
For a family who are proud.
This is who he receives a bullet for in defence.

Remember, yes! Those who fell,
So we may live in peace and comfort.
But create not more war,
For we have seen, throughout our history.
War resolves nothing,
Between man and his maker.
Just fleece’s the pockets of the money takers.

Remember the fallen
At the eleventh hour,
On the eleventh day,
Of the eleventh month.
Two minutes silence,
In respect for the many who have gone,
Lost to the tragedy and travesty,
That is all war.
Remember the present,
The here and now.
And stop!

As I stand in silence,
A lone autumn leaf falls,
Above the heads of
The crowds who have gathered,
To honour the lost and fallen.
Around the Cenotaph,
Poppy wreaths are laid.
A tear falls from my eye,
As I remember a man I never met,
My grandfather, who died
So that I may live in peace and comfort -
But, for more war?

A short Poem I wrote, sat in the car one evening, in early December 2011


End of Autumn,
Sodium arc light orange
Skeleton trees and brittle leaves.

Early dark evenings
Bitter winter cold
Icy sparkles and foggy breath.

Inviting homes
Warm fires crackling
Hot chocolate and mince pies.


Last of the leaves,
Falling from the trees.
Scudding grey clouds,
Blocking out the skies.
The light.
The Sun.
The beauty of the bleak,
In my garden speaks
of long summer days.

December 2011

The Other Day

A weak silver disc of light
Misty in the grey sky
Hidden behind clouds
The sun appears
He’s still there
Not gone away
Just farther than he was
The other day.

He shines on the dew
As it sparkles on the grass
Through yellowing birch leaves
And bare branches
He’s still there
Not gone away
Just hidden from view, unlike
The other day.

The other day, he was bright
And balmy warm
Against flesh and bone
Golden magnificence way up high
He’s still there
Not gone away
Just warming other lands
The other day.

20 November 2011

10 Responses to Poetry

  1. Cenilda says:

    i would like to read your newer posts, so i will bookmark you. hope to see your updates.http://www.listasegmentada.com

  2. Homepage says:

    hi!,I love your writing so so much! 157513

  3. Do you mind if I shared this post on my web page? I would give you credit and a link back to your webpage. Thank you, and if possible let me know here!

  4. Pretty great post. I simply stumbled upon your weblog and wished to say that I’ve really enjoyed surfing around your blog posts. After all I will be subscribing in your rss feed and I am hoping you write again soon!

Leave a Reply