Category Poems about Life, Living and Death
His name is Bisan but they call him Dan
All alone in this world
His house for freedom he sold
But the key in his hand he still holds
Without saying good-bye.
My passport photos are my proof.
My precious ally has found a new face
Not touched by grief, lack of sleep
And broken dreams.
a flag of stars and a flag of strife.
The man encased there in pine
he was my equal, a brother of mine.
We met one night on a bus
because to training, it was for us.
We had both signed papers with words that said,
“I will protect my country, even ’till death.”
Through the shouts and the screams,
that persisted all day it seems,
my brother would smile and say,
“To me, it’s just another day.
I’m used to hollers and screams,
to being told nothing is what my life means.”
I would look at this man with a frown;
a brother from another town.
Then the day we became men.
Our families and honeys, greeted us then.
“My little boy is now a Soldier.”
wept my mother on my shoulder.
No picture does justice to the life on parade today.
Waitresses carefully place and disappear;
As faces cheer with greetings.
Another; Another.
Tracks are made for those coming after,
A life of white and laughter,
The milk of being.
Of a general pointing straight at me
And the words below shouted out
That a soldier I should be.
Yes a soldier now that was a thought
I’d never had before
I didn’t fight, I’d never fought
And I’d never been to war.
But myself, and millions of others
Decided to heed the call
And despite the tears of our mothers
We trooped off all proud and tall
Together as mates from our towns
All over these sceptered isles
We left young and happy, but soon frowns
Replaced our naïve smiles.
I was young and fascinated with the whistle.
The deafening sound that came from your mouth.
They weren’t birds, but they can whistle as the wind!
Whistling, whistling
I was fascinated, looking at my brothers whistling.
How can I whistle? My question came.
My brother teaching me, while my father screaming at me.
You are a girl! Girls don’t whistle!
Then my father whistles.
It is unfair or is it just me?
A girl who couldn’t whistle.
It’s the day for a wild whistle competition.
let Ciaos choke
under miles of steel.
The train won’t let me
memorize its trails
nor commit to memory
the secret pleasure
of sobbing wheels
when they hit the rails.
Then flogged em off behind the pub so I could buy some
bloody grub to feed the kids and wife.
They adn’t ate for firty arrs wiv rumbling guts ‘n’ aches.
Saw the tears roll darn the cheek
fer yet another bleeding week
wivart some bread or cakes.
Worked me bum off day ‘n’ night to make a bob or two.
Ad a shilling left for rent
wiv all the rest already spent…
didn’t know what else ter bleeding do.
Couldn’t bear ter see ‘em starve or ‘ear the baby weep.
So like a little ‘ungry mouse
I snuck inter ‘is Lordship’s ouse
while ee was fast asleep.
Some bastard at the Bull ’n’ Bush seed me do the deal.
Ee recognised the silverware;
ad the allmark to compare….
and so me kids never got that meal.
They cuffed me ‘ands behind me back and threw me in a cell.
They put me in the Bailey dock;
and kept me under key and lock,
then sent me darn ter hell.
They said I’d ang at Tyburn, but then they changed their mind.
Instead they give me seven years
of labour ard wiv sweat and tears…
cos they was really kind.
Wivvin a week I’m in an ulk ‘n’ off ter Noo Sarth Wales.
They beats yer ard ‘n’ whips yer bad,
sends yer nearly effing mad
inside them floatin’ gaols.
I gets there March of 1812 and lives me life in chains.
It urts to work ‘n’ urts to walk
and even urts to bloody talk,
so few of us complains.
Strong, controlled, all eyes are riveted to him,
He gives your eulogy, an acclamation of your life
As he understands it.
He boasts your beautiful smile,
And of that he speaks the truth.
In that smile is the love of God he says
And like a bolt of lightning I jerk up straight.
Shocked to my very core I am sickened.
‘Liar.’ I yearn to scream, ‘it is not as you say.
Behind that smile was abhorrence, fear and loathing.’
You are dead and now you are at peace
But what of me, the daughter you leave behind.
I am your flesh and blood, the one you were to protect
You allowed him, you knew and did but not stop him.
You forgave his exploitations by your omission
And in denial continued to smile at all around you.
