by Dave Stenhouse | Sep 3, 2009 | Poetry
Sitting on my bed, 4,000 miles from home, shall I write a letter, or finish off this poem. Just telling them that you miss them, and hearing their voice, keeps you going until next time, if you ever get that choice. Knowing that they love you makes you want to do your...
by Dave Stenhouse | Sep 3, 2009 | Poetry
The suicide bomber, with his explosives wrapped around his chest, has only got one mission, and that’s to put your life to rest. He is well prepared, and groomed to do his fight, you must be able to recognise him, so you can put out his light. He will never give up,...
by Dave Stenhouse | Sep 3, 2009 | Poetry
Hell’s highway in Helmand Province is not a safe place to be, if the Insurgents are not firing rockets at you, they’re planting IED’s. The road is covered in potholes, of explosions that have been, the people scattered along the route, won’t talk of what they have...
by Dave Stenhouse | Sep 3, 2009 | Poetry
Trying to weave these words, to create some kind of poem, reminiscing of the late Great War poet, Wilfred Owen. Yes the Wars are much different now, but the feelings remain the same, the battlefield is a deadly place, this is real, it’s not a game. The sweat, the...
by Dave Stenhouse | Sep 3, 2009 | Poetry
Staring at the desert sky, in the daytime, or at night, you feel like you’re in the middle of nowhere, you’re out of sight. You miss the simple things in life, like your family, hot baths and beer, over here you walk hand in hand with anticipation and fear. Waiting...
