Splendour and grandeur!
Mountain crest, castle.
Uprisen but to unite
For awing purpose.
In himself secure.
And for a german
Striking with dauntless aspect.
Further down below!
For proud speck a vain shadow
Twixt each of those.
"After Auschwitz, there is no poetry" - Theodor W. Adorno
hope nailed to the cross
mankind at its darkest hour
there's no forgetting
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
My love for my dad, this is how this pen goes, I often
speculate often to myself about his whereabouts? My
love for my dad.
Vague memories, and his lack of presence in my childhood
Dad, I'm sure you attempted to do your best. My love for
My dad.
Overwhelmed with questions about the unknown of uneventful circumstances, situations beyond's a innocent
child I plead not guilty, A letter to my dad
I often question myself was I at fault? Why wasn't always
in my life, My love for my dad.
My childhood I was very curious and say to myself
that I could fix my parents situation and play the game
Parent trap that backfired, My love for my dad.
Life has been full of challenges and defeats dad did try.
My love for my dad.
Our recall our last conversation he mentioned to me that the Bible stands for basic, instructions, before leaving, earth. My love for my dad.
Then I received a dreadful phone that my dad has transitioned, that still reminds me until this day. My
love for my dad.
Planes like dragonflies
skimming over the pond*
~Pearl Harbor
*Japanese torpedo aviator remembering December 7, 1941
female collaborator,
passionate romantic lover,
despicable and unforgivable traitor
or cringing victim of horrendous war-rape
they know not.
shave her head
in a grotesque ceremony
of humiliation
they do
nevertheless.
such are the ways of the human,
despicable morally
in group
as she is.
It was 1942 on the Kokoda Track
And the Diggers were holding the Japanese back
Keith Irwin of the 2/2 nd battalion was in a slit trench
With a mate alone, dirty and fully drenched
They had the jungle in the back
And the Japanese in front marauding as a fact
It was Christmas but not for these Aussie men
Nearer to Hell than Heaven it was for them
They heard a noise from behind that put them on alert
When challenged they heard the following retort
It’s only me the padre don’t worry about a thing
As he popped into the slit trench with some rustling
I’m Padre Cox from the 49th as he opened his communion set
And he brought out the wine from the inside of it
The Good Lord won’t mind it if we took a swig each
On this his day when other celebration is out of reach.
© Paul Warren Poetry
The sea spray hit my face
As the ship sailed into the storm
The movement up and down of the deck
Had me holding the deck railing
It was my job to look into the mist
And look for the enemy who were looking for us
We were in and out of snow squalls
The danger of the sea and the Germans were all around
There was ice hanging from everything
And the cold penetrated everything I wore
But it was vital the convoy went through to Archangel
To defeat the Nazis and what they stood for.
© Paul Warren Poetry
The moon casts shadows of deep cold glare
Grumbling engines roll and tear through the quiet loss of silence in the evening air
Practice over the walls of dam
For a mission that will change the fate of man
See giant birds with still wings soar
Listen to the dinning engines roar
Feel the presence of courage and cunning and dare
For heroes in winged beasts soaring through the air
A squadron of men and science will deliver
Something that thought of now makes me shiver
The Derwent rehearsal for the wings of war to soar
Now honoured as heroes and will be forever more
617 may be a number to me or you
617 is something way more than cool
They broke the stance of mankind’s most ruthless killing machine
They tore through the flesh of the nazi regime
For the men of ‘Operation Chastise’ with badges with these numbers on
You’ll be remembered as the best of men as the years, decades and centuries go on and on.
Damien Parer was an Australian cameraman
Who went to war with the 2nd AIF in WW2
In the desert sands of Libya at Tobruk
And Greek mountains he filmed the Australians
But his best work was on the Kokoda Trail
Where his “Kokoda Front Line!” won an Academy Award
He went with the American Marines on Peleliu Island
And was shot dead by a Japanese sniper
Australia and the World lost a talented cameraman
But he lives on in his film work forever
Telling the world at a time about this war
When the truth was not being told about these men.
Triggars clicking,
Men shooting,
aeroplanes flying,
bombs dropping,
bones breaking,
trees snapping,
people dying,
letters sending,
women crying,
peace starting,
children learning,
earth changing.
Look back on the war
All that corruption
Caused by a world,
A world of destruction
All the men
Who gave their lives
And left their home
Their families, their wives
Hear the guns
Trilling out death
And through their helmets
All smell is their breath.
Into the muddy trenches again
Their retreat, their haven
With rats running over the dead
And flying over head is a lone raven
At the crack of dawn
The brave soldier awake
To the cry of guns
Enemies collecting every life they can take
They are everywhere
All their spies
Your friends, your neighbours
With evil in their eyes
Watch your mouth
Watch your back
If you do
You’ll remain intact
No real funeral
Only a shallow grave
On the battlefield
For one so brave
And what of the families
They left behind
To do good
For all mankind
Eventually we won the war
But at what cost?
For now we wear a poppy
To signify the ones we lost.
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