Forgotten German Ghosts
Dad’s leathery neck,
lathered with green carbolic
Peering through the
window to his sacred ‘pinks’
Towelling and raising
each eyebrow in turn
Reflecting his good
fortune in a kitchen sink mirror
It hung, defiant, in
the back-yard coal shed
A battlefield trophy,
memorabilia exchanged
For a packet of fags,
to carry home as hero
A dead man’s helmet,
scalped and looted
On the naked fields of
forgotten slain ghosts
Much later, when time
becomes the inevitable forever
My thoughts of Dad,
open with the mornings curtains
Down the back-yard,
past his boxes of carnations
To a plume-less pride
exhibited with a victor’s scorn
Hung at dawn in our
back-yard coal shed
30th December 2011 : Caravan
Nostalgic and Poigniant tale of a mans return from war! Harsh tones of the Prize won, followed by Harsh reality of humanity and i'll gotten gains..
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