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Friday, 25 October 2013

"Why Do We Bother To Remember The Dead?"

Why do we bother to remember the dead
Of all those wars, that even in our lifetimes
Are almost forgotten?
Why do we watch mealy mouthed politicians
Lay wreaths and make speeches
While they deny the survivors a reasonable
Level of help, or treatment?

Better remember all those young men and women
As though they were alive.
What would they say about the state of the Veterans Hospitals?
The way the injured and traumatised are treated still?
What would they say about wars still being declared
By the rich and powerful who don’t send their sons and daughters
Into harms way?

Better remember all those executed
For cowardice or “Lack of Moral Fibre”
When they were suffering from Shell Shock!
No wonder they were traumatised
When their own country was determined to prove themselves
The real enemy that they had to fear!
Let us remember their families with nowhere to go!

What sort of countries would these young men and women
Have created had they not been thrown away
Discarded like the flowers of the forest
Before they had a chance of coming to full bloom
Would they have tolerated politicians and leaders
More interested in their own allowances
Than the welfare of veterans or serving soldiers?

If we are to remember our dead, not on one day
But on everyday. Let us dedicate ourselves
To making the sacrifice of the dead worthwhile.
Let us ensure that if we send our young men to war
It be a just war. Not to make money for the few
But to ensure the safety of the many.
So that at last we should have countries fit for Hero’s to Live In!

Copyright © Res JFB 31st May 2010

Thursday, 25 July 2013

"Qǐng chī mǐfàn"

"Qǐng chī mǐfàn"

Winnowing rice
Letting the wind work for you
Qing chi mifan

請吃米飯 =  Qǐng chī mǐfàn = Please eat [rice]

Words Copyright © Res JFB 25th July 20123
Picture from the web. May be subject to copyright.

Monday, 22 July 2013

"Fanning the Flames" (For Niall O'Connor)

"Fanning the Flames"

My new Fan
The Towering
Has broken
The heatwave.

Torrential rain
And lightning
Are forcast.

And my new Fan
Remote Control
Eager for
The next
Hint of

Copyright © Res JFB 22nd July 2013

Wednesday, 29 May 2013

"Another Young Friend Lost"

Photo Copyright © Jacob Cockle.
Dedicated to
The Loving Memory
Jacob Cockle
Who drowned yesterday
(28th May 2013)
whilst photographing
Whirlpools from Underwater.

“Another Young Friend Lost”

Another young friend lost.
We lose too many young people
Down here in the West.

If it’s not illness
It’s fast cars
On slow country lanes.
Or it’s the waves
And the tides,
And our youth
So brave.
So talented and
So very brave.

Better perhaps
You had saved
Some of your bravery,
For your families,
And saved your lives!

Better perhaps you
Had saved some of your
For  your Mothers
And your Fathers,
Sisters and Brothers
And all that loved you
Have greater need
Of that bravery now
Than you do.

By dying
You will now live
Forever young
In the hearts
That you leave behind.
Those hearts
In great need
Of your bravery
To sustain them
In their loss.
So brave but

Rest in Peace.

Words Copyright © Res JFB 29th May 2013

Jacob was a well known surf photographer.
One of his photographs is shown above.

Saturday, 18 May 2013

Wednesday, 15 May 2013

"Spring?" haiku

So cold this spring
Almost June and even weeds
Struggle to prosper

Copyright © Res JFB 15th May 2013

Monday, 13 May 2013

"The Wicked Witch"

“The Wicked Witch”

She told me she was a witch
And she did cast a certain dark magic
Painting herself with a false glamour
And a certain genteel need.

But eventually the magic blew away
Like stale chaff on the wind
Redolent with the smell of rot
Leptospirosis and dirty ashtrays

Revealing a face scarred with avarice
Carefully manicured nails grasping
The genteel need replaced by spite
And all consuming greed.

She told me she craved the company
Of old soldiers, loving the smell
Of sweet gun oil on sunburned skin
The faint whiff of cordite and adrenaline

But it was our stories she wanted
To steal them and adopt them as her own
So that the seven stone weakling appear giant
A ‘Rupert’…  a born leader of men!

When I gave her no stories of blood
She stole, instead, my money
Eleven Thousand Pounds credit
On which I still pay interest!

Eleven thousand pounds
Of my son’s inheritance, who never did her wrong
And she thinks herself worthy to lecture
On Honour and Integrity?

She told me in her own land
She was a Princess. But in my land
Her own words label her LIAR
Her actions brand her THIEF

I am only a crippled old soldier
And my sins are too many to name
But I never stole from comrade or lover
Give me back my “shilling a day”!

Like the pi-dogs of the desert
She scavenged behind the march
But she’s not welcome in the camp
And she is unfit
To sit
At my small fire

Copyright © Res JFB 13th May 2013