Today I attended a remembrance service, my grandad fought in the second world war and died in August this year. My Grandad wrote poetry inspired by his experience during the war , here is one of them.
Who are these men? These quiet men , Who march with their heads held high, With the band a-playing and Standards flying, They march so proudly by.
They march to pay their quiet respect, To the comrades they saw die, Midst shot and shell at the gates of Hell, With their utmost they did try, To save the world for anarchy their sole and single aim But so many stayed in foreign lands, forever to remain.
These are the men who fought in tanks , And are of many ranks, For an Eighty-eight could see no stripe or crown, As it brought death and horror down.
So these quite man, who march today, And think of days gone by, Will think of friends long passed away , And say a sad Good-bye.
Like a yawning bird,
Spreading its wings through a cloudless sky,
A child reaching for its mother,
Waking up the nesting birds,
Your golden haze silhouetting blackened trees,
Whose bones are bare.
You stretch through the branches,
touching your awaiting audience spreading a rosy glow to their cheeks.
A beaming smile to their faces.
Day is finally here.
A beacon of hope .
Of new beginnings.
Light up my life,
Teach me to breathe.
Night is a blanket.
I need you to see.
Unmask the Darkness.
Cover the cold,
Through rays of sunshine;
My eyes to behold.
Scatter the leaves,
Into distant lands,
Majestic colours into childrens hands.
Through decay, keep things bright.
The night is drawing,
Out goes light.
Autumn you’re failing..
Hugging the cold.
Daylight more precious than gold.
Autumn be Summer.
The woman of madness.
of loose morals.
Blooming her flowery buds.
Protecting your children with tender care.
Instead you rot ,
Turn brighteness to decay.
You back stabbing beast.
No one wants you to stay.
Winter , the Ice Queen will get in your way
The power of icicles jabbing your heart.
The frosty breath killing your soul.
Leaving a trail of death as she walks through the land.
Autumn she’ll kill you if you don’t flee.
Go..Go away now!
Go be free.