by Mark Christmas | Apr 1, 2009 | Poetry
“I made the Papers today, Page six, last column, Right hand page. That’s me there, yes, Twenty three, young wife, Two beautiful daughters. I know its only eight lines, But what do you expect? I’m not that famous. Just a young man, A Father, a Son, a Soldier, Killed...
by Mark Christmas | Apr 1, 2009 | Poetry
Monday 7am Mr Humphries radiates from the Roberts. A man dies. No ordinary man, Purportedly he was fighting for his country. But what was the country fighting for? Helmand? Where? Khyber Pass? Why, we should ask ourselves? Who is next? Your Son? And for...
by Mark Christmas | Apr 1, 2009 | Poetry
In the Press today I was reading how, To the USA we seem to ‘Cow Tow’. Our Nation the World, they used to call ‘Great’, Has now become the ‘51st State’. A Nuclear Deterrent we cannot use, Unless we ask Bush, to light the fuse. Eurofighter on sale, We’ll sell to the...
by Mark Christmas | Apr 1, 2009 | Poetry
The pair scoured the land for prey. Mouths wide open, Dragon’s teeth revealed. Spotted. There. Moving Slowly Across the landscape. A glance exchanged, the plan was pre formed. One plunged Earthward from the Heavens, Diving towards its quarry, Spitting fire and wrath...
by Mark Christmas | Apr 1, 2009 | Poetry
We’re the Iraq Dodgers Out in Afghani, Always on the Vino Always on a spree, Is that what you all do think of us? A holiday, without a fuss, Cos we’re the Iraq Dodgers out in Afghani. Mr Blair you sent our boys Out on combat tour, Half the boys you sent, Don’t know...
