A very young girl so bereft now with none of her family left her world torn up and over turned with rules of humanity now all spurned. They came with the new day dawning the family shelter just a canvas awning the thugs with guns and machetes then slashed and shot and shot again. Unbelievable torture vented first on women, old folk and then worse children and babies killed out of hand their graves just scratched in shallow sand. Old Grandpa had bid the family flee surely the thugs would leave him be? But no they murdered this man too and what could this young girl do? Crying and powerless she clearly saw her gentle Grandpa sink to the floor. Across the world we heard her plea please, please Grandpa don't leave me .... BBC report of December 8th 2021 Massacre of Villagers in Myanmar (formerly Burma) by the State Army. SO Yet another killing of innocent folk no salvation - what a joke! Mankind hides till the threat has gone and again impotent Gods look on.
Tag: Children
Salute!
So rest young warrior In yon ditch or field And know that we are grateful For the might that you did wield. Rest easy in your graves For it's not you who sinned And we will always honour you Though you are but dust in the wind. The suited table talkers who fail Send our young to die But don't include their own children When they give war a try. It's the unemployed and poor who sign up for wars and adversity While the rich kids catch a jet To a foreign job or university. So many generous immature souls Come forward when the Bell is rung When the politician's remedies fail They pass the bile filled cup - To the young.
Summer
Dancing shadows, rushing streams Bring on, bring on, my summer dreams Muddy green seas only sometimes blue A red sky sunset for me and you. Harvested cornfields, shady trees Horse with flies and foxes with fleas A giggle of children running nigh bare Hazards abound but they don't care. Summer thoughts and summer highs Pull us through winter's pallid skies We who dwell in this hemisphere Need the summer every year. June 2004
Being English
Some men are slow to praise their children and unspoken words of love stay trapped in sincere but timid mouths. Is it just an English thing? To pass with affection unexpressed and have its importance grow with its rarity?
Robin Goodfellow A Man We Called Mann
What to say about you Mann? After nigh on 15 years We shared a lot you and I A few pubs, and many beers. You've gone now Mann You went without a fuss You "popped your clogs" so quietly And did not inconvenience us. I recall you could chat with anyone And find interest in what they said Put your views, hear out theirs, and Prejudice seemed never to enter your head. No doubt your time on the guns bred tolerance But the cost was high at El-Alamein Most of your friends died there And your hearing was never the same. War shocked and damaged a little You returned to the land of your Kin Rejoined the industrial giant you knew And climbed the ladder within. Marriage, children, dogs and humdrum Followed in family mode Early release from the shafts of work Meant more time for the road. And when your sight went finally The car and caravan had to go You were close to tears then But fought not to let them show. I was your son-in-law and I Miss you just about each day I miss your willingness to involve yourself And be ready with your say. Mann, when next you sit at God's right hand Sharing a pint or two You can get him to put the world to rights As you and I used to do.
Robin would have been 100 years old on 1st November 2020
British Reserve
Give in man - go on give in!
Let's drop the stiff reserve,
OK, so you are British - but give
Your children all they deserve.
Wrap your arms about your kids,
Do it often, good, and tight.
Hug them in the morning
Instead of just goodnight.
This lets them know you love them,
And you always will.
Too soon they will be gone from you,
Over life's nearest hill.
But if they carry memories
Of frequent hugs with you,
They'll walk on firm, emotional paths
And see their problems through.
Go on man, just hug them.
Now, this very instant.
Gather them close before
They are gone and too far distant.
As I See Things 