Fearwen

Higher flies the dove Circling free, gliding through zephyr Until the eagle bites

Sleeping softly, The dagger swooping to embrace your neck Goodbye This time, forever.

The Tempest The devil haunts the wretched rocks at Nogramost As ghostly spectres dance upon the sand And through the stormy straits of lonely Belechost The sirens wail and screech their harsh command The discordant cacophony of phantom sound Propels the maelstrom, rising in its fury To swallow all the steadfast, unforgiving ground And compel the earth to its tempestuous glory Sea swallows land, as lightning cracks its course The water painted pitch to match the sky The hell-rock heaving with the torrent’s force Foundations seething as each wave storms by The titans in their anger ride the feral waves Spume chariots resplen

Courage comes to those who dare Who travel long through fears untold To catch themselves a maiden fair Of hidden dangers, knights beware And heed the counsel long foretold: Courage comes to those who dare They come in valour to the lair Of Dragons, garbed in scales of gold To catch themselves a maiden fair Fear not what awaits you there And let your noble heart be bold: Courage comes to those who dare The ghastly serpents throng the air: They also wish, though cruel and cold To catch themselves a maiden fair And so below, to pass with care The path to happiness unfolds: Courage comes to those who dare To catch themselves a m

Ash Wednesday Today is the first day of Lent, and Jeannie and I have challenged ourselves to give up coffee for the next forty days. (Hopefully it will also cut down my coffee break expenses, though that’s not the reason I gave Jeannie.) Second Day of Lent So far, so good. Considering the fact that I usually have at least two cups of coffee a day I haven’t yet suffered from any withdrawal symptoms. Feeling ok apart from a slight headache. Saw Jeannie in the cafeteria – she looked as elegantly jovial as she always does. Third Day of Lent NOW I’m feeling terrible – I have a splitting headache and feel unreservedly

The Sniper Post The shell-shocked troops, exhausted from the days assault Lie spent upon the broken trench floor Or piled down in the dugouts with the rats And I, the lonely sentinel, watch over all Spying on the desolation amidst the darkness I do not sleep But, catching my mind dwelling on the outcome Of the fruitless, futile day that’s gone before I swiftly return my gaze to the mud pits Stretching out around me on all sides My rifle’s gaze drifts with snipers precision Across the fields of wire and mud and blood Towards the distant dugouts of the Boche Another twisted, ragged line, like ours Beyond the pockmarked

‘Will that be all?’ ‘Yes thank you, I only need a few things today.’ Zahra paid for her shopping then left the tiny shop, running over her mother’s list in her mind to make sure she had not forgotten anything. They had not had any of her favourite rose-scented incense, and so she had had to buy two bottles of vanilla and one of jasmine instead, but other than that she had been faithful to the short shopping list she had been given that morning. Zahra and her mother lived in a tiny cottage about a mile away from the nearest village, and so every morning Zahra would find herself walking down the narrow road to the sh

Our father, who art in heaven Wherever heaven may be Thy kingdom come, thy will be done What has it done to me? Give us this day our daily bread Our starved, obedient plea The daily, solemn ritual Displays of humble piety The endless chant from nameless mouths ‘Repeat after me: I believe in God the father…’ Whoever he may be Forgive us our trespasses And our wavering minds And lead us not into temptation Or into bold defiance Learned like Latin, note by rote The dull repeat, time after time Regurgitated words that try To keep the human race in line Whose dim echoes reverberate Inside my hollow, borrowed mi

Over The Top We go over the top tomorrow Into the fields of pain Mud up to your knees Blood’s stench on the breeze Will I ever come back home again? We go over the top tomorrow The generals' say we’ll be fine “The huns are all dead Or asleep in their beds” Well I won’t be sleeping in mine We go over the top tomorrow On cue; right after the mines That we hope will explode But you do never know Will they even blow up this time? We go over the top tomorrow And we’re sure to be met by the guns With a rat-a-tat-tat They’ll knock us all flat There’s no chance for anyone We go over the top

A long time ago, in a place far away A child in a meadow was busy at play Her mother was hanging out washing nearby When suddenly came a small voice from the sky ‘Hello little girl.’ The tiny voice called ‘What are you playing here all alone for? Sat in a field so far from your home – You should be playing with friends of your own.’ The girl looked around for the voice in surprise And couldn’t believe her emerald eyes When, sitting on top of a flower by her side She spotted a fairy, its wings open wide ‘Isn’t it lonely playing on your own?’ The fairy inquired. ‘Come with me to my