Depth of my loneliness
can you measure?
I know its difficult
Amid near one, amid plenty
It is difficult!
Last when we met
I remember it was seventh season
In that pain was the cause
See the irony, it was remedy even!
In life it takes no time
Appeared near thing, a distance reality!
See its other facet
Amid the turmoil, it has coped
To stay in
Life
in the depth of my loneliness
The voice I hear
Its of bygone days, yet it lingers
Is it you?
Is it me?
Who is the victim?
NO FROZEN SUPPER
The level crossing was closed long before;
Ringing bells continued to say overdue
It was a windy minus-ten wait for the 244.
-Seen afar blocked in the traffic queue
Idle as a painted ship frozen too soon;
Crabs in shells or turtles ashore and repentant
Under the smiling January moon.
-Clear and resplendent
Motionless for a half-hour unabating;
Hot-breath abandoned fog machines waiting
And stamping feet, home-hungry, muttering.
-Nobody ate anybody - but it was a near thing
Whistles pierced the air and trains rumbled out;
Traffic moved, unlocked the jigsaw on the bus
And a woman’s shivering sharp shout.
-Wheels turned and returned all of us
It took 2300 British pounds for the Germans to kill each Allied soldier
It took 7500 British pounds for the British to kill each German soldier
The Germans killed 35 % more men than they lost
And they captured 30 % more men than they lost through capture
But in the end they got tired of the Great War first and lost
It was a near thing but not a stab in the back as Hitler made out.
© Paul Warren Poetry
The facts, just the facts.
Lest we Forget
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