OH, MOTHER

Deep in the shrouding mists of time I search for your smiling face. Mother, tell me, where have you gone and why did you leave no trace? Who will now hold my trembling hand in the dark of the dawning night; the thunder; the rumble of terror on high and the flash of unholy light?…

COLD RAIN

A cold deserted alleyway, dark as a desolate grave. Away off in the distance, dogs howling their dismay. A winter wind is gathering, blowing tattered old papers away. With tired forgotten faces and the news of yesterday. Discarded cans and bottles clatter on down silent streets. The chill night air is biting as he pulls…

THE SPOILS OF WAR. (Read by Alan S Johnson)

And the troops go marching proudly by as she wipes a tear from her weary eyes, the one that she seeks, she will never again hold for he died at his post; he was thirty years old.   The colours fly high on a cool autumn breeze as man and boy march with well practiced…