by Mark Christmas | Apr 9, 2009 | Poetry
A Soldier is not born he’s forged to be strong, he’s machine like, robotic, working hard, fast and long, but when machines break, they go terribly wrong. Their chassis are bent, broken, busted, Their control centres are short circuited, Their rhythm is lost, function...
by Mark Christmas | Apr 9, 2009 | Poetry
Recession here again, not seen like this in years, if ever. Sales Begin. ‘New Year 2009, Sales start New Years Eve’. If however, the recession continues, Does the price paid for the life of a soldier, go up or reduce? An inflationary piece of political...
by Mark Christmas | Apr 9, 2009 | Poetry
The surrealism of war. Extremities reached of; Life and Death Seen by few, glimpsed by more, But only the few relive horrors of War. A situation so dense in its objective nature, though its subjective matter lives forever, in the...
by Len Payne | Apr 9, 2009 | Poetry
Stately Spanish galleon sailing so sublime, protected by her escorts, three deckers’ of the line, passing in false confidence on the Spanish Lake, for coming are the hunters, led by Francis Drake. The morning mists lay heavy when a voice calls from the shrouds, sail...
by Len Payne | Apr 9, 2009 | Poetry
A hush fell on the court where the Hanging Judge held sway, As he said with deliberation, this is your lucky day, The penalty prescribed for stealing another’s bread, Is to be hung by the neck, till you are dead, dead, dead, But his Majesties pleasure I now...
by Len Payne | Apr 9, 2009 | Poetry
The villages and towns that dot the Channel coast, Were once the meeting place of two opposing hosts, Where now pleasure boats bob gently upon silvered waves, Good then met evil to set free Nazi slaves. Gentle waves lap softly upon the pristine shore, Where a scant...
