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Best Poems Written by William Guile

Below are the all-time best William Guile poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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You Weren'T Even There

Do not dare
To form poetry of war
If you weren't even there.
Do not dare
To pin the medal
to an unblooded tunic.
They have never shone in glory,
Nor, even in reflected gore,
Shown death's feast.

It is not when death releases its rigid hold,
And the jaws of those lying drop cold.
It is when, with disbelief,
They hear respect and platitudes,
And the utterance of gratitude,
And bleeding hearts are shown bare,
By those who weren't even there.

And the pals, all gone now.
They marched in rank from the field,
And looked on their lost years.
No need for prayers,
Or the false tears,
As shed by those who weren't even there.

Think on, lads, as you march past Tommy.
Eyes right,
See those who sent him.
Eyes left,
See the cost.
Futures all lost.
Job done.

And the false medals dine with their host.
They never stood in the lines.
They never died on the mines.
They never screamed at the 5.9's.

Details | William Guile Poem

In the Rhythm of a Train

Inspired by : ‘From a train carriage’.  by Robert Louis Stevenson. In the rhythm of a train:  in 15 lines, 112 words. diddly dar diddly dar.  





START ENGINES, SIGNALS ON GREEN.



THERE’S SO MUCH YET, THAT NEEDS TO BE SEEN.



LEAVING GLASGOW AT A SLOW PACE.



SANDSTONE TENEMENTS FULL IN YOUR FACE.



ONTO THE BRIDGE OF IRON WE RIDE.



PASSING OVER THE ANCIENT CLYDE.



BREATHING SCOT’S AIR,  CRISP AND PURE. 



SOON TO ARRIVE AT HAUNTED DALMUIR.



WAS IT A PHANTOM THERE, WE SAW.



THE SIGNAL BOX AT GARELOCHHEAD,



EIGHTEEN LEVERS, IT IS SAID.



THERE TO PULL FORWARD AND TO HEAVE BACK.



TO GUIDE THE TRAIN ONTO THE RIGHT TRACK.


SINGLE LINE, NOTHING SPOKEN,



CANNOT GO THROUGH WITHOUT A TOKEN.



117 words.

Details | William Guile Poem

Autumn

THE SUN DOES LIE,

LOW IN THE SKY.

SHORT DAYS, 

SHADOW THE WAYS.

DIFFERENT, FROM MAY'S.      

SEE,

THE SLEEPY BEE.

THE HUM OF HIS WINGS, MADE HEAVY, BY THE CHILL,

WILL,

MAKE HIM SLOTHFUL.

I APPROACH, 

YET HE DOES NOT STIR.

I COULD CRUSH HIM,

AS HE SLUMBERS THERE.

TO YOUR HOME, NOW,

SLEEPY BEE.

THE SEASON HAS TAKEN YOUR FLIGHT.

FOR AS WELL IT MIGHT.

AND, THE MIDGES, AND THE DRAGONFLY

ARE OVER THE BROOK.

AND WITH SHORT LIFE, THEY DIE.

TO THE GLEE OF THE FISHES BELOW.

RIPE CATCHINGS, THEY WILL MAKE.

INTO THEIR EXISTENCE, THEY WILL TAKE.

THANK YOU,

FAILED WINGS.

THAT SUCCULENCE, TO THEM, BRINGS.

AND THE KINGFISHER SINGS.

Details | William Guile Poem

Betrayal

BETRAYAL

It was he,

Who was first,

And not we,

To know that his promise was at an end,

A life of confusion was his, now.

But we were allowed to be sad.

The dark road came with the night.

I took his hand, for he was just a lad.

And there, see, ahead,

No more dread. 

It is the light.

The road is paved.

At last,

We are saved.

We hurry and find the porch light, the church door.

I look down  at him.

It is not so bad

For he was just a lad.

We push against the door.

For our Saviour is within.

It is He, without sin

The door of putrid dust crumbles.

The vermin within, disturbed,

scuttles and grumbles.

We must go on then.

Nothing here for us.

I lead, he follows.

For he was just a lad.

We come by the river that we all must cross.
 
There is the boat.

Waiting. 

There is the sign.

No more life beyond this point.

Trimming the sail, I say,

Are you ready, Bud.

He replies, ready Bud.

We sail on.

For he was just a lad

and I was just his dad.

Details | William Guile Poem

Better You Should Forget Me Then

BETTER YOU SHOULD FORGET ME THEN, 

WHEN YOU SEE THE BLUEBELLS IN THE WOOD.

BETTER YOU SHOULD FORGET ME THEN,

WHEN YOU SEE THE TREES IN BUD.

BETTER YOU SHOULD FORGET ME THEN,

WHEN ALL YOU SEE LOOKS GOOD.

BETTER YOU SHOULD FORGET ME THEN,

WHEN YOU REMEMBER THE TIMES WE HAD.

BETTER YOU SHOULD FORGET ME THEN,

WHEN MEMORIES OF US MAKES YOU SAD.

BETTER YOU SHOULD FORGET ME THEN,

WHEN TO FORGET  WILL LET YOU LIVE ON.

BETTER TO FORGET ME THEN,

THEN YOU WILL KNOW, THAT I HAVE GONE.

Details | William Guile Poem

Pauline

A poem about a schoolboy crush.


PAULINE.

And her name was Pauline.

We were twelve.

We would meet on the swings.

In the park.

After school.

Before tea.

And before dark.

Passing each other on the swings one day.

I heard Pauline say.

"Will you marry me?"

One day I ran to our usual meeting.

But Pauline never came.

I swung on my swing slow.

To give Pauline time to show.

But Pauline did not.

It was all a long time ago.

Still, I have never forgotten her tho.