by Nicholas Lutwyche | Mar 31, 2011 | Poetry
Decades later, there are days when it is forgotten, until some flickering image or incoherent sound commands an unwanted replay of the old news. Silent whispers in the dead of night recreate those moments when images of family flash past, preceding playback of combat...
by Nicholas Lutwyche | Mar 31, 2011 | Poetry
The final re-union will be here soon enough; all those long tables set with candelabra and gleaming plates. The chairs empty; silent and untended. No more cold Remembrance Day parades in gray November rain, with mournful bugles calling across lowered flags for those...
by Nicholas Lutwyche | May 20, 2007 | Poetry
I watched the burials in the cemetery overlooking Ajax Bay, grieved with their companions; thought of families far away. There is a lonelier ground than this, so I’ve heard tell, but where was it to be found? Nowhere this side of Hell. T.V and newspapers have...
by Nicholas Lutwyche | May 20, 2007 | Poetry
The final re-union will be here soon enough; all those long tables set with candelabra and gleaming plates. The chairs empty; silent and untended. No more cold Remembrance Day parades in gray November rain, with mournful bugles calling across lowered flags for those...
by Nicholas Lutwyche | May 20, 2007 | Poetry
It looks old, suddenly, slack-skinned and veins raised – the back of his hand which rests on the sleek fur of the sleeping cat. She purrs, curled upon his legs, the surety of youth runs in her veins, blue eyes not clouded by cataracts; while he sits in the silver,...
