by Robert Carson | Nov 19, 2009 | Poetry
They waited at the busstop Boisterous with drink Casually dressed as if Going to the beach. I heard one mention Iraq. Three lads, probably eighteen years old Though looking much younger. ‘What bus’ll take me to Kirkhouse?’ I asked ‘You’ll...
by Robert Carson | Nov 14, 2009 | Poetry
At eighty-two, Hugh Hodge runs on He cuts a rather singular form. Although no Christian man should bet Hugh, had the wind upon his step. At the Glasgow marathon he ran to win True faith, within his heart, would burn. Away Hugh went like a puff of smoke- Let younger...
by Robert Carson | Nov 9, 2009 | Poetry
‘There are no atheists in a foxhole…’ The desert nights could grow so cold. By the River Helmand a prayer was said Some water sprinkled on your head. Though heart and soul you gave to Christ You, too, would pay the soldier’s price. Their happy...
by Robert Carson | Nov 4, 2009 | Poetry
To lose a book, you’ve truly loved The heart might like a flower be crushed. Though words once danced across the page With time, their memory too, would fade… Come the spring, the grass would grow The leaves away with winter blow… And you, another...
by Robert Carson | Oct 12, 2009 | Poetry
Haweswater’s drawn low by the long summer drought Tree-crested Wood Howe stands solitary now. The valley lies bare and untouched by the plough Chapel Bridge bows over a hollow of ground. Deer from Martindale Forest once reived your crops Though many would come,...
