by Robert Carson | Nov 21, 2016 | Poetry
While with a quiet, uncommon grace The Eden flows through time and place.. The park sits silent hushed and still St Michael’s stands upon the hill. How with a curse, a kicking goad Off into history they once rode. Where a garrison honed the art of slaughter A bishop...
by Ruairidh Bryant | Nov 18, 2016 | Poetry
The war is over, And now we mourn, For our friends that have fallen, We stand here alone. The poppies sway, On the scarred countryside, Torn by the battle, Where they laid, now gone. We remember them, For the blood that they shed, As red as a poppy, We will never...
by Judy Martin | Nov 16, 2016 | Poetry
He wanted to serve his country And do his duty as a man He signed up for the Army Just as soon as the war began He just had his nineteenth birthday And was at the start of his adult life He had found the perfect woman That was going to be his wife She asked him not to...
by Robert Carson | Nov 11, 2016 | Poetry
Once you played host to a Queen Who licked her lips and looked serene. And, now, you’re home to George and Laura And Brodie, the dog, whose coats so shiny She must be buffed-up twice times nightly, The regimental mascot she could be Like sunlight glinting through a...
by Anonymous | Nov 11, 2016 | Poetry
Sitting here with darkness wrapped around me my memories eat slowly through my soul I wonder if the light will pierce this darkness to heal the hurt and pain and make me whole I am pieces hiding in life’s broken jigsaw Those near me try to make me whole again I place...
by Stuart Burton | Nov 10, 2016 | Poetry
My poppy I wear with pride. Please don’t try and make it about politics or religion. This is why I wear with pride. Poppies are red for all the blood that is spilled on the battlefields. Poppies have green leaves to represent the grass where all the fallen are...
