Eyes gaze at daddy
One day he will outmatch me
Feet kick impatient


Muddy Puddle Muse

Where have you gone, muse?
What heights do you climb
Without me by your side?
I thought I had your love forever
At the tip of my pen
Your blood flowed
My dreams haunted
My life not my own
But with mastery comes peril
With strength, hubris
And from assurance, neglect
Now I take out my old trophies
And polish them for your reflection
Hoping in this muddy puddle
To see the sky

Let us remember them

Raw boys drawn from sleepy hamlets
From village greens and smokestack towns
Raised on dreams of glory
Charging to the fray
On fields of honour and fair play
Queensbury rules, not a knife in the back
Now they paint the muddy fields of France with their blood
Cut to ribbons by machine gun fire
Lungs bloody full of mustard gas
Ears pounded by the ceaseless shells
That fill their dreams now
Pound and smash, they never stop
Barbwire pins them into history
Dried butterflies of a genus lost
They died so we might live
We might say
With knowledge they never had
We do not know the future
But we know the penalty
Should we ever commit such folly again

The Diver

A diver falls straight for the sea
Is he a diver, did he make that leap?
Or is he just a man
Who woke up falling
And decided to fall straight?

(C) Copyright Mark B Williams 2014 Registered & Protected