by Mark Christmas | Oct 28, 2009 | Poetry
Tolling noon on an August Day the cast dome struck forth, a call for a gathering of grief. Summoning a silence which was heard throughout the land as time ceased it’s meaning. A patriotic symbol draped the final carriage as comrades held him aloft in a dutiful...
by Mark Christmas | Oct 25, 2009 | Poetry
A young lad came knocked the door with a tap, he stood and he waited in blue jacket and cap. His attire was edged in scarlet red trim, from the seams of trousers to his cap and it’s brim. The lad stood and watched, as the door opened wide, it was Jack Starlings Mother...
by Mark Christmas | Oct 25, 2009 | Poetry
When he flew in to his home from his second tour of Iraq, the thoughts, lay in his mind, of never going back. The sights he’d seen, of children blown out of recognition and collecting body parts, surely, this was not his mission? His beret was replaced by a cumbersome...
by Mark Christmas | Apr 28, 2009 | Poetry
Spewing into the aisles of the Roxy to watch ‘Groundhog Day’ but this is not the Hollywood version, with its glitz and glamorous stars, this is my version with no parallax in time, just the here, the now. The reel clicks into life, once more my eyes make me taste the...
by Mark Christmas | Apr 16, 2009 | Poetry
Reveille effervesced on the air. The Hope of a new day dawned. The soldier meekly walked to his parapet. There he stood silently waiting, thoughts buzzing. Tommy, next to him spoke out, “Is it possible, ‘The Nutcase’ is here?” “Not Likely”, the meek man said, “This is...
