by Robert Jenkins | Aug 30, 2007 | Poetry
Who, or what, is the Green Man? I’m glad you ask, my dear. The Green Man is within you, Though his presence is unclear. He stems from the time of mystery, When Mastodons walked the land And only nature’s wisdom Guided man’s pagan hand. You ask if you can find him?...
by Robert Jenkins | Aug 30, 2007 | Poetry
Summer’s end and autumn’s start, I walk alone by choice, Through rank upon rank of headstones, hoping to hear a voice. Sanctuary Wood they named it, though God alone knows why. It was anything but a sanctuary for the men that here did die. Yet, the Commonwealth War...
by Robert Jenkins | Mar 26, 2007 | Poetry
It’s early spring at Cressage, The days are warm and bright. There’s blossom on the blackthorn. Wild flowers bloom, left and right. A white bridge stands majestic, Astride the Severn’s flow. Old pillboxes keep their vigil, Still waiting for the foe. The trees and the...
by Robert Jenkins | Mar 22, 2007 | Poetry
Remember me at midnight, marching through the Menin gate, Out into that bloody salient where I lost me many a mate. Remember me at 7 o.clock on a splendid July morn, When I walked forth from my trench to have my body smashed and torn. Remember me at other times,...
