by Martin Hopkins | Oct 2, 2009 | Poetry
The shadows I discovered on a garden wall resembled soldiers from the Great war, escaped from the poppy fields of Northern France. They were dressed to attention with their rifles slung and stood proudly in the wall with military precision. “Thank you for my...
by Martin Hopkins | Oct 2, 2009 | Poetry
They stand around the grave of the man who left them early, damp eyed all of them and as grey and chalky as exhaust fumes. It rains quietly, dropping somnolently without fuss and birds watch silently from wet oak limbs. The faceless lower him into the earth and...
by Martin Hopkins | Oct 2, 2009 | Poetry
On a mountainside in southern Spain tall trees in full greenage climbed silently in single file. Marching with military sturdiness like a long forgotten battalion of Republican soldiers, still ceaselessly advancing towards General Franco. Branches swaying in the...
