Eager youths, mature men,
As brothers or father and son,
We shared , we tried,
We dared, they died,
Not a tear was shed,
But we cried,
As they lay in their graves,
We shall remember forever.
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.
Lover at the opposite side of the road..
God , there’s so many things I want to say to you right now.
How the sight of you makes me dizzy, makes my head spin wildly like a glitter ball on constant. Even on your darkest days or the time when you walked into the lecture hungover with a black eye I found presence beautiful like a glowing angel, my eyesight not affected by the flaws in your facial appearance.Or what other people would consider facial flaws. Like your huge forehead for instance to me ,it’s not huge, to me it shows your capacity for knowledge.
What secrets lie inside there. What do you think when you look at me? Do you find my fried egg boob’s attractive or are you put off by the size. Do you even look there and even if or when you do you shouldn’t! It’s not gentlemanly of you. Do you ever think about me stripped naked? Would you like me to be naked in front of you , lying. Our skin pressed together , feeling our heartbeats intertwined. You skin would feel like gold to me if I ever got to brush my hand upon it once, once would be enough. Your mouth would taste like heaven sending me off to an erotic ecstasy.
My pain would be melted away by your soothing whispers, like chocolate dripping down sealing every crack.
And when your tears hit your cheeks, they would burn my body,
causing bullet wounds.
I would cocoon you in my arms protecting you with my armour where nothing would enter.
When I blink you’d disappear because you’d no longer be waiting for me.I could no longer say everything I wanted to because you wouldn’t be there to listen and even if you were there to listen I probably wouldn’t be able to get the words out.
Because I mean nothing to you..
Yet you mean everything to me.
Lover at the side of the road.