I’m dreamingly remembering my soldiers of the War
Imagining our boys and theirs, appalled at what I saw.
I’m dreamingly remembering my soldiers of the War
Imagining our boys and theirs, appalled at what I saw.
Words in sleepy night slip past as silvered fish in a heaving deep sea, effortless
Catch them lightly or a shoal quivers away in dreams, leaving me comfortless.
Note for Night Fisher 1 and 2: How often I find thoughts like flotsam floating through the disconnect of sleep to be caught at once or, left until morning, gone forever.
Asleep yet stirring, deep-water thoughts swim upwards from the ink-black ocean where all is blind
Bursting through jostling fathoms to hunt in shoals through the sunken valleys of my midnight mind.
The aforementioned had the strangest of feelings
That somewhere she’d been spoken about before.
I call on our PM to stop it
Before I troop out there and cop it.
2013
Still commenting on one of our campaigns, this time Afghanistan. Please note: in the
British Army of the 19th Century, a detachment of men would be chosen to make an
attack which all knew to be suicidal, thereby making it highly unlikely that any would survive. This detachment was known as The Forlorn Hope.