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Ben Hamilton Poem
In silent air on silent wing
the deadly flight to one will find
unwelcome communion in the gloom
that hails the never-ending night
The heart shaped face belies the truth
imparting spiritual grace
a beating heart then nothing more
a flash of white then empty space
Copyright © Ben Hamilton | Year Posted 2015
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Ben Hamilton Poem
The blood spilled on the often fluid ground
and marked the place where young men ceased to be.
Until a time when birdsong fills the air
and crimson flags demand “Look, this is me”.
I am the souls of young men everywhere
anointed by the tears of loves and family.
Avail this place with all due reverence
and don’t forget the dead beyond Gethsemane.
Copyright © Ben Hamilton | Year Posted 2013
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Ben Hamilton Poem
UNSUPPORTED CODE
The "Pals", on the marsh the night before
had promised to come back
To reminisce and drink the health
of their colleagues, dressed in black.
The brigade had numbered forty souls
a community at arms.
They had left their wives and loved ones
their families, their farms.
Right from the start the soldiers knew
the battle plan was flawed
as well-fed brass, in ivory towers
moved pictures 'round the board
Knowing best, the top brass said
"Moral victory's at hand".
Then without debate they sealed their fate
and issued the command.
The men, calf-deep in blood-tinged mud
crouched 'till the whistle blew.
Bittersweet tones through the battle din
spurred on the gallant crew.
It took twenty-three minutes for the unseen guns
to slay the village brigade.
The "Five-nines" left hollow memorials
for the bodies, where they lay.
From time to time in Appledore
and towards the Saxon Shore
the brigade "it's said" can be heard again
heading off to war
Some have seen them and some have heard
the message that they give
“Our deaths have bought the freedom
that allows good men to live”.
Do not mourn our passing
but remember and be glad
and think of what you can achieve
not what you may have had.
Copyright © Ben Hamilton | Year Posted 2012
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Ben Hamilton Poem
Since you’ve been gone
I’ve seen your face a thousand times a day.
As vivid as the brightest star set in a sky so dark….
as a solitaire in jet.
Since you’ve been gone
I’ve heard your voice a thousand times a day.
As sweet as any lark could sing
Clearer than the Inchcape bell
proclaiming her presence across the mist draped rocks.
Since you’ve been gone
I’ve felt your touch a thousand times a day.
As gentle as the slightest breeze
As passionate as the deepest rose, blood red.
Before you were gone
My soul was touched but once.
That once that lasts a lifetime and beyond.
Outstripping even time itself.
Copyright © Ben Hamilton | Year Posted 2013
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