POEMS FOR PAULA

SHOT AT DAWN BY DEFAULT




I’m standing here alone

My back against the wall

My body is a trembling

I’m slumped, but once stood tall



My blindfold wet and cold

Sticking to my tears

I search my mind for future life

Beyond my 18 years



My knees transformed to putty

Can’t support my weight

My hands tied by my Country

Which once I thought was great



They said I was a coward

They never asked me why

Court Marshalled here in secret

I know I’m going to die



I can’t see what is happening

My blindfold bound so tight

The silence now is killing me

As Dawn appears from night



Get it over, get it done

Why do they make me wait ?

I really need to urinate

Can’t they see my state ?



A clicking from the Rifle Bolts

A stream runs down my leg

I only have but seconds left

“ Don’t kill me “ now I beg



The fear it makes me Vomit

The birds they start to trill

Then suddenly go quiet

The eerie Dawn stands still



The birds they sense a Death is near

Life ends right here for me

A ‘ Crack ! ‘ from all those rifles

In perfect harmony



Send a message to my loved ones

Don’t listen, what they said

I was young and frightened

I shouldn’t lie here dead



The young and the Brave of World War 1

 


 

PICTURES IN MY HEAD




Somewhere deep inside my head

My memories filter through

Filed away forever

But not for you to view



I play them back like video’s

Not always on demand

They seem to come up random

Exciting, never bland



I wish there was a pause control

To stop the nasty scenes

I want to watch the nice ones

Not wars, nor death, nor screams



A screen behind my eyelids

Shows pictures from my past

It’s viewed to me in widescreen

Old comrades in the cast



The memory is a lovely thing

None of us should lose it

I only wish that I’d a choice

Just when, and where to use it



Untold tales of long ago

Go playing through my head

If I don’t wake up ‘for the end

I’m sure I’ll wake up dead



My brain is getting older

But wiser as it grows

A catalogue of films

And re-makes of the shows



They say we lose our memories

As our bodies wilt with age

The good ones always seem to go

The bad ones still here, caged



I’d love a happy ending

Where all men end up equal

But for now I’ll have to sit and watch

Waiting for the sequel



Perhaps one day I will forget

The things that happened then

But just now, in the meantime

I’ll expel them with my pen



My poems they help me “ Come to terms “

“ A problem shared “ they say

So I’ll carry on my writing

Then perhaps they’ll go away

MY FATHER


( Burma WW11 )


I wear his Dog-tags round my neck

His “ Burma Star “ hangs on the wall

My Dad he was a “ Chindit “

A long, and a Short, and a Tall



A member of “ The Special Force “

The Mule became his friend

Deep within the jungle

A hero till the end



A telegram to my Mam was sent

Missing, killed in action !

His Patrol wiped out behind Jap lines

Ambushed with their packs on



My Dad the sole survivor

But no one knew this then

Wounded in the leg

Losing all his friends



Three month through the Jungle

To get to friendly lines

Surviving on his instincts

Hacking through the vines



A look of shock on my Mam’s face

As Dad knocked on her door

Her Husband’s Ghost returning

His wounds now healed, but sore !



He never spoke about the war

His eyes they told the story

Bottled up inside himself

Not seeking any Glory



I joined the Army like him

To serve before The Crown

In Honour of his memory

Tried not to let him down



His Dog tags still hang proudly

From a chain around my neck

But I’d hand them in tomorrow

If I could have him back !




 

THE OTHER SIDE OF CHRISTMAS




The pavements glistened wet and cold

The doorway dank and smelly

No ‘Christmas’ cheer for this Man

Can’t even watch the Telly



Just another day like yesterday

Shivering from the cold

Frost sores on his cracked lips

A ‘ Tramp ‘ so he’s been told



Not for him the ‘ Office Parties ‘

Spilling down the Street

Not by choice a ‘ Down-and-Out ‘

No family to greet



His glazed eyes are like windows

To memories long ago

Of Christmas past, and better times

His face near froze with snow



A drunk throws down a ‘ Fiver ‘

An inebriated stare

But it isn’t cash he wanted

It’s love, and home, and care !



Alone again, he starts to cry

His tears they roll and freeze

He didn’t ask to be like this

His smell drifts in the breeze



Not long ago he had a Child

A wife, and fancy car

Till ‘ Post Traumatic Stress ‘ got him

From Wars he fought afar



His Family couldn’t understand

This strange and sudden change

He understood it not himself

An illness out of range



One day he made a lonely choice

To stay, and hurt his loved one’s ?

Or walk away forever

Forget their love, be gone !



So by himself this ‘ Xmas Eve ‘

In a City far away

He’ll sit and ‘ Celebrate ‘ alone

In despair he will stay



Now sitting in a doorway

He who once did dare !

Just another ‘ Drunken Bum ! ‘

The Country didn’t care



So if you, at Xmas

See a ‘ Hobo ‘ in the night

He might not be quite all he seems

For you and me he’d fight



He’s lost the will to live himself

His spirit all has gone

This Xmas Eve, no energy

Where once a spark had shone !



In future try to help them

The ‘ Fallen ‘ of our land

Don’t let them get unto this stage

Support them in their stand !

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