Rodder Rose
Within a wood a glade is to be found
a blossoming ocean of larkspur abound,
midst the blue hue a radiant rose grows
striking a dazzling picture perfect pose.
A strong slender stem stands small
as her vivid vanilla petals enthrall,
her emerald leafs glow with vigour and vim.
She shall shine forth even when the summer sun dims.
Blooming beneath the crab constellation
she is a stunning summer flower of jubilation
the night sky awash with shooting stars
as she sways to the sound of strumming guitars.
Rooted in a ruby rockery
she is winning life's lottery,
for even though she still has far to go
she'll live her life to the max... never to slow.
Being a wild independent flower
there'll be times her prickles will come to power,
but remember when ratty and riled up in revolution
it can be simply solved with a sugary solution.
08/12/2022-
Spitfire Santa
'Twas Christmas Eve 1940,
a Spitfire awaits its special sortie,
with snowflakes falling from the night sky
an aviator arrives eating a pie.
he is a man on a mission
with the kings commission,
for moral must be maintained
and tradition sustained.
With his hit list in hand
and his route planned,
clad in classic kit
he zooms into orbit.
To the good girls and boys
he will drop tonnes of toys
down into their abodes
by the bomb load.
For all the bad boys and girls
festive wrath he unfurls,
strafing sprouts into stocking
drenched in reindeer droppings.
As the pilot ends his patrol
the Spitfire salutes with a barrel roll,
a noise resonates across the snow
sounding something like "Ho Ho Ho".
(09/01/2022)-
Who needs a beer blanket?
When the winter winds come blowing in,
no person is better prepared than a publican.
Heating his head is a hooch hat,
while blocking the Baltic breeze is a boozy balaclava.
A vodka vest under a sherry shirt shields him from shivers,
whilst a whiskey woolly sweater insulates skin.
Tequila trousers atop layered limoncello long johns,
and a cocktail coat covering a gin gilet gives him a glow.
Concluding the costume a shandy shawl to shroud the shoulders,
with cider socks inside brandy boots and groggy gloves.
16/07/2022-
Cross Of Wood
Above my cross of wood
soldiers have stood
searching for friends
who have met their ends.
But little closure can I give
to those that live,
for my name has been lost
one of many to pay the ultimate cost.
Of my body of blood and bone
little was left after that shell had blown,
missing presumed dead
was the telegram my family read.-
Known Unto God
A simple stone standing in the sod,
“A Soldier of the Second War Known Unto God.”
Marks many a man's grave the worldwide,
where six feet under they all peacefully abide.
Who was the man who lies below?
Fallen whilst fighting the foe,
buried where his blood can't visit
in his private pine billet.
His name is carved into a wall
at a cemetery to be seen by all
along side the many others,
but his bones stay surrounded by blood brothers.-
11/11/11
Remember, remember the 11th of November,
the 11th hour, day and month.
Least we forget the men long gone,
who shed their blood for us.
A poppy red wreath is laid in memory,
In remembrance of every
man, child and woman,
missing, killed and wounded.
In paying respect to our serving soldiers
working home and abroad,
our heads we incline,
as they put their lives on the line.
So pray silence for just a minute,
cast a thought to heroes past and present,
and wear the poppy with pride
to keep alive the memories of those who have died.-
Wood War
When war comes to a wood
where for centuries trees have stood
artillery shells rain overhead
as death and destruction is spread.
Trees of bark and sap
turn to sawdust and scrap
as flayed splitters are sent flying
striking men down... dying.
Their flesh and blood
mixes into the dust and mud
while guts and gore is displayed
over the logs freshly laid.
With peace, coffins are carved from the fallen trees
encasing the men whom now appease
as their decaying bodies will nourish
a new forest about to flourish-
Your king and country needs you
so fall in and join the queue.
Young men answering their Kingdoms call
do so smiling, standing tall.
Mislead by jingoism
and naive patriotism,
a Commonwealths collection of men
fall foul to the poet's pen.
For in foreign fields they rest;
dulce et decorum est
pro patria mori. That old lie!
who believes it as they die.-
As a general rule
Life is crule
That supposed silver lining
Is mercury shining
The slow poison of hope
Just as effective as the rope
6/11/2017-
Hooves and paws pound
Across gruelling ground
Bitches baying
Dogs dashing
Nag neighing
Stallions snorting
The sacred sounds
Of the hunting horses and hounds-