Showing posts with label war. Show all posts
Showing posts with label war. Show all posts

Friday, 11 November 2022

Remembrance Sunday 2022

Some poems for Remembrance Sunday. In memory of family members and everyone else who has served or is serving in a war, at home or abroad.

Poppy seeds (WW2)
 
We rise as soldiers,
taken from our beds as youths,
stripped from the warmth of family
to lands we’ve never seen,
places never heard of before,
from conversation and cosy silences
to the roar of guns, planes, bombs,
scuff of dirt, splintered wounds.

We suffer it for the greater cause,
memories of loved ones we’ve left,
hiding in the bowels of the Underground
and hideaways not built for this.
We charge into the face of danger
not knowing if it sees us,
not knowing if it will turn its cheek
and let us return back home. 


 
Sunflowers (Ukraine)
 
We think on a thing that’s true,
talk of freedom, a reflection of the time
we cannot have, this yesterday of ours.
Boots stamp the hills of our country flat,
choke it with fire, wails and bullets,
black smoke, explosions splintering glass.
The snake rides its hide for 40 miles out,
carves a barren trench in our supple soil.
 
We hide inside our own shocked expressions.
This is not living. It’s a smothering of life,
this sharp shock to the consciousness.
He walks with death, this stickman, the usurper,
this mad dictator whose greed is his undoing.
The old women weep. They hug our hearts
to their chests. We are rag dolls. Sunflowers
nod beneath a pale blue, quaking sky.
 
Where are the saviours? Where are our rescuers?
We ask for our skies to be sheltered,
but we are pleading to the silence of fear.
People fight and people tower ever higher,
growing in magnitude to match their courage,
but we are small; the children are so small.
We ball our fists and scream into the dark,
wondering if our outrage will see us through.
 
The enemy is coming; he is close on our heels.
We can smell him through the smoldering wood
and he pretends to know our weaknesses.
But we are strong; we are united in our fight.
The sun may go down in our restless sky,
but we will never sink lower than the horizon.
We hold the sunflowers against our skin,
bathe in the golden glow they bestow.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone
 

The Sunflowers poem has been published in this collection of poetry and prose, raising money for Ukraine - https://books2read.com/StandTogetherUkraine


Thursday, 8 August 2019

A Poem a Day (103): Bloody rule


Bloody rule

We live to conquer, he says,
He informs us, whoever will listen.

This want is a parasitic scourge,
Blasting a hole through a country
Hungry for a hero and finding none.

Walls, bricks, mortar, where are we?
Is this placard too rotten to be read?

He bears a shield, but no sword,
Only words burned in a bitter pot
Offering daggers to paper people.

It bleeds. Something is rotten and
It is not the Bard. This voice lies
Instead, building barricades where
Only unity should dwell. His voice
Sours, his body sickens inside.

We live to conquer, he says,
But the letters are hollow and red.

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, February 10, 2019

Sunday, 13 May 2012

Sample Sunday: poetry



Poetry from Kaleidoscope & Travelling Light





Rain

She sits and dreams of making rain
In the dark, shadows dancing mimic
Colours of the aghast
Sights and sounds and murmurs
Still breathing
Watching over the edge
Of everything
The glass splinters into a million shapes
Cast in a myriad of lights
Bright and sparkling, dancing
In the spring sun
And she dreams of making rain
That tears and crashes
Washing away the shards of glass
Splattering the colours rent
With droplets of ice-cold nothing
Cuts and caresses
Shards of grass peeking through
Clouds gathering
Dust.





Moon beams

Distancing the days
In her fragile accolade
The moon reaches down
Towards coloured boats bobbing
Twinkling she shines
Lighting the way
For every stranger passing
And old friends returning
She travels the skies
In a silvery glide
Always remembering
The shortness of time






I don’t mind

I don’t mind
If you stare
Or paint the room in blue
While I sleep

I don’t mind
If you walk a while
Or smile in your style
And mimic your expression

I don’t mind
If the urge to be is too much
Or the strength to see is gone
While I dream




So we go

Into the night we go
Free as birds
Soundless and unseen
Trivial and green
Unknowing, unthinking
With no boundaries
No obstacles –
With wings, groundless



Ballerinas

Ballet dancers painted by Degas
Bright sweeps across a canvas
Lithe bodies captured in movement
On tiptoes, a fleet of lace

Swan Lake shimmers in snow
White tufts of hazy dew
Tap-tap tapping across the stage
Soaring then to sink and fly

Leaping skyward full of life
Jumping in motions eternal
Over again in a silent curve
Showering the empty stage

Danced out and spent
They sit and wait chattering
Dizzy with a bright energy
That leaves them laughing

Painted with a sharp compass
That scrapes across the skin
The model suffers for her art
But marvels at the result

Captured for an eternity
She shares an enigmatic smile
Standing tall and straight
As still as a porcelain doll



Moonlight

Moonlight remonstrance
Of a twilight dance
Sends shivers through winter
Blessing in disguise
Chills the epoch of time



Gothic

Gothic glimpses of golden ages
Stricken dumb in unseen places
Giddy up the days in faces
Come and see the wilder traces
Of days once lived and glances
Back.

Journey into the darkest hour
Murder wrapt and bloody sour
Into arms of grim dark ardour
Come and see the wilder fervour
Of days once lived of dusty glamour
Dead.

Scan all the yawning faces scowling
Poor and cold in the daylight yearning
For food and shelter in the dawning
While night unravels winter’s drowning
Of sorrows in ales and dark prowling
Woe.

The fine woman in furs slips her mask
In the light she regrets her one task
That night brings with a single cask
Forgetting numbness come here fast
Lest morning remembers this time past
Hell.

Gothic glimpses of fallen ages
Trembling across unwritten pages
Lived and dreamt on wooden stages
Fuelled by fire and unlocked cages
Come and see the magic of mages
Gone.



War

Acorns in the sand
Grow into bullets in the hand
Wedged still and deep
Bringers of eternal sleep
Smashing a world of hate
That reaps a many splintered fate


Copyright Vickie Johnstone








Friday, 11 November 2011

A poem for Remembrance

Poppies

Marching in formation
Across distant lands
Enduring the unendurable
For a distant cause

Marching in formation
Up long, steep hills
Crossing mudflats and seas
For a patriotic cause

Marching in formation
Forever forward
Seeing things never forgotten
For a government’s cause

Marching in formation
For this the poppies grow
In patches of red blood
For the worthiest cause


copyright Vickie Johnstone






Tuesday, 8 November 2011

Words with... Robert F DeBurgh







 
Thanks to Robert F DeBurgh for this interview

What is your day job or are you lucky enough to write for a living?
Up until six years ago I was a commercial/airline pilot and flight instructor. I also spent 18 years as an examiner and counsellor for the Federal Aviation Administration. Due to a heart problem I had to retire from aviation and now write full-time. I also do some photo work for a local newspaper, and restore and sell a few classic motorcycles.

What books have you written so far?
My current published books are Riders of the Wind and Winds of Fate. Both are adventure novels set against an aviation background from the 1920s to the end of World War II.

What works in progress do you have?
At present I’m working on the third novel in the ‘Riders of the Wind’ series. This takes place in post-WWII China and follows my characters through some of the most horrendous terrain in the world: the Taklamakan Desert and the Kunlun Shan mountain range. I also have a semi-fiction book in the works, titled One-eyed Pete and Other Stories (mostly true) – tales of two wheels. This is a collection of stories from my motorcycling days in the late 1950s.

How long did it take you to write your book/s?
Riders of the Wind took almost three years, including a lot of research. This included tracking down flying examples of many of the aircraft mentioned in the book and, if possible, flying them myself. Winds of Fate took about 18 months, and included a trip to India to visit the old flying fields of WWII and the site of the siege of Imphal.

Do you write linear, or jump back and forth? Do you plan or write by the seat of your pants?
I tend to write mostly linear, but find it necessary to jump back and forth when the scene changes or when I have to put in a flashback.

Why do you write?
That’s a good question. I find that writing is sometimes very painful for me, especially novels. Magazine articles or newspaper stories are no problem. I do enjoy writing about little known events in history; for instance, the heroic Hump operation during WWII when the US supplied China with essential material by flying this cargo over the Himalayas from India. This operation was so dangerous due to the altitudes flown, weather and Japanese fighters that one could follow the wreckage of the cargo planes on the ground all the way from India to Kunming, China. This is known as ‘The Aluminum Trail’.

How long have you been writing?
Since I was in my teens. I first started writing for a local newspaper when I was 18, and wrote a sports car column for one paper and an aviation column for another. My first magazine article was published when I was 19.

Where and when do you write? ­ Do you have set times?
When I was writing Riders of the Wind, I wrote mostly at night. I’d come home from a flight, eat dinner, and go directly to the computer where I’d stay until 2am or 3am, working on the manuscript. Now I have the luxury of writing during the day.

Which character from your books do you like most / are most like?
I think that I like Phil Haley the most. He’s an old pilot and manager of the airline who is quite a father figure for the rest of my characters. I’m probably more like Charlie Cross though. He’s one of the main characters in my stories and reflects my personality.

What/who inspired you to write and still inspires you?
I was first inspired to write by my high-school writing teacher, who encouraged me to begin writing short stories and submitting them to various sci-fi magazines. I actually sold a few.

What do you think is the ideal recipe for a good novel or story?
Write about what you know. If you’re not knowlegeable in your subject area, your readers will soon pick up on the fact. Also, keep the action going and don’t let the reader get bored.

Have you ever based a character on someone from real life?
Definitely, Charlie Cross is based on my uncle, Charles A Cross Jr, who was a mail pilot in the 1920s and a pioneer airline pilot in the 1930s. Doretta Cross is based on my aunt, Doretta, who was a pioneer of women as pilots with the airlines and was a WASP during World War II. I wish I could say that the Forest Goddess was based on a real person, but unfortunately she’s just an Indian legend though the invisible tribes do exist in the Pantanal and the Mato Grosso.

Fave things: animal? food? drink? film? colour? band? song?
My favourite animal is the wolf – they are noble animals; intelligent and with a structured society.  
Favourite food would be pizza or maybe cheeseburgers. I’m not supposed to eat either of them.
My favourite film is probably Avatar, but I have so many films I like that it’s hard to choose the #1.  
Fave colour is red. I have no idea why.  
Fave band is Benny Goodman.
Fave song is the theme from the Broadway play Cats. Not the version by Barbara Streisand, but the one by Betty Buckley, the original singer in the show.

You’re walking in the forest and you bump into an alien librarian from Mars. He wants five book recommendations from you…
I would recommend The Old Man and the Sea (Hemingway),  Johnathan Livingston Seagull (Richard Bach), The high and the Mighty (Earnest K. Gann),  The Little Prince  (Antoine DeSaint Exupery) and The Pillars of the Earth (Ken Follett).

Who is your favourite character from any book and why? 
Saint Exupery himself in his book Flight to Arras. I admire his courage in completing a reconaissance flight over Arras during the early stages of WWII; a flight that had little chance of a safe return and the gathering of then useless information since the French Army was in full retreat at the time. He did what he had to do and survived to write a novella of profound philosophy.

Who is your hero / heroine?
I think my real-life hero would be Jimmy Doolittle and my heroine would be Amelia Earhart.

Which book do you wish you had written?
Doctor Zhivago, a wonderful story set in the most turbulent times Russia has ever known.

Which three authors would you like to take to the pub?
Hemingway, Carl Marx and Machiavelli. Can you imagine the arguments after a few pints? We’d have to call the cops.

Are you published or self-published? What is your experience?
I’m mainly self published. Riders of the Wind and Winds of Fate are published in ebook format with Smashwords and in paperback with iUniverse. This is going to change, however, since I’m canceling my contract with iUniverse and will republish my paperbacks with CreateSpace.

How do you find the marketing experience? Any advice for other writers?
The marketing experience, for me, is frustrating, but I am selling fairly well. Just promote your work anywhere and any time you have the opportunity. Price your work to sell, but don’t give away the hours you spent writing your book; after all, this was time spent out of your life and you need to be compensated for it. If you have a message or philosophy to deliver to the reading public, then all well and good, give your work away free or for 99 cents, but if you want to make a living out of writing you can’t afford to do this. 

Do you have a blog? What do you blog about?
No blog yet, but it’s coming.

What other hobbies do you have?
I restore antique and classic motorcycles. I ride ‘em too.

What would you like to achieve in the next five years?
I would like to have five more novels in publication and perhaps sell the movie rights to one of them. I think Riders of the Wind would make a great film.

If you won the Lotto or a major publishing contract, what would you do with that dosh?
Buy a new house with lots of property and much more room, so I don’t have to write in the kitchen.

Complete one of these stories in 100 words or less…
I’m not good at this!

What question do you wish I’d asked and, of course, what is the answer?
Do you write poetry? Yes I do! In fact I’m working on compiling a book of poetry, to be titled Blossoms in the Snow. I was hoping to have it out for the Holidays, but it will now be after the New Year.

Book links:
Riders of the Wind: http://www.amazon.com/Riders-of-the-Wind-ebook/dp/B0055PN0UW/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1320764189&sr=8-1
Winds of Fate: http://www.amazon.com/Winds-Fate-Riders-Wind-ebook/dp/B0055PN0UC/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1320764189&sr=8-2
Riders of the Wind: a novel (paperback): http://www.amazon.com/Riders-Wind-Novel-Robert-DeBurgh/dp/0595228313/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1320764189&sr=8-4