by Gordon Smith | Apr 5, 2008 | Poetry
My turn on stag it’s cold and dark rain falls soft and chills the bone mates asleep in bed so warm distant guns no longer bark Muddy trench and broken tree all signs of strife and misery leaking boots and chilled to ‘bone chaffing uniform rough and hairy...
by Gordon Smith | Apr 3, 2008 | Poetry
Some years ago a cry was heard A cry for help from far away So we shoulderd arms and packed our bags Ne’er a questioning word did we say. To airport,dockside,by bus and train loved ones wept and waved goodbye Eyes front!dont look back Least we see yon watered...
