War does not determine
Who is absolutely right
Or speaks for the minority
That miracles have saved,
But courage is remembered
When its heroes are dismembered,
And bravery will be engraved
In stone for all eternity
To recognize its bloody fight
In trenches rife with vermin-
But the Poppy Fields of Passchendaele
With its Men of Glory will prevail.

There should be no powers
Who are justified to crack
The fragile Peace we instigate
To safeguard humankind,
But Spirits who ascended
Into Heaven were commended,
And in the darkness of the mind
So many lives would contemplate
Upon their journey back
To Peacetime’s Sacred Hours-
But the Poppy Seeds of Passcendaele
Will endure and flower without fail.
                                         

Yes, I am the first one to admit,
I’m not tall, dark, or handsome,
Nor am I a millionaire playboy,
In the very first flush of my youth.

I’ve served my time, a graduate
From school of hard knocks,
The university of life,
Where wisdom, experience is all.

They say there is someone for me,
A living, loving soul mate waiting,
To be found, and ease life’s journey,
But where, where are they today?

Am I really so unlovely, unlovable,
The whole world must take flight,
Before word is spoken, or even
My face is seen, or presence felt?

"Lessons will be learnt,"
Said the Social Service
Chief looking suitably contrite.
As another tiny coffin
Is lowered out of sight.

Apples tumble temptingly, approaching harvest time,
Balmy autumn breezes break late summer’s humid clime,
Coasting currents of warm thermals, a bird of prey may tarry
Downward swooping, swiftly scooping up his tasty quarry.
  

I know that without friends,
   the world can seem a dark and lonely place.
It means so much to reach out and feel someone is there,
   when you need a helping hand, or someone to care
that your day is all out of kilter, 
      the car won’t start, the freezer’s broken,
or simply that you can do nothing with your hair.
 ...   Friends can help you through.

Sometimes it’s not the big things that bring you down,
   when lots of little things go wrong,
they seem to hang together in a voluminous cloud,
   that envelopes your mind and you begin to live in the fog
of uncertainty.  It’s at times like these when you have
   to cry out, “help me!”.
A friend can be as a lighthouse is to a stricken ship,
   ...   a beacon.

 You were such a friend to me.
 You were my shadow.
 When the time came to day goodbye,
 I had to let you go.

 You lay in your bed.
 Tired, but no fears.
 I kissed you gently.
 You licked away my tears.

 You then lay still
 and heaved some sighs.
 I stroked your head
 and you slowly closed your eyes.

 Now your pain is gone
 and you whimper no more.
 You've gone to doggy heaven,
 through Gods doggy door.

 No more will I feel

I deeply resent the
Passing of the years.
As wrinkles, and etched lines
In this once silky smooth skin,
Confirm my worst
Fears.

Once I had passion, an
Eagerness to begin.
I knew the thrill
Of achievements,
Born from dreams
Nurtured deep within.

Now there is anger
And frustrated tears,
As the pain in my
Joints, and weakness
Of once firm muscles
Confirm my advancing years.

No longer the centre
Of my own personal
Universe, I have travelled
Far. And I deeply resent,
That in the human
Firmament.
I am becoming, just
Another fading star