Markey Mark Symmonds army, Blog, Blogger, flash fiction, lost, Poetry, Uncategorized

ACROSS A DEEP BLUE SEA

There is a deep blue sea between Flanders and me, a sea of red lays beyond the blue. Poppies for soldiers who gave their lives for me and you. Between the crosses they still grow, a memory of veterans that never came home.

The last heroes left, pay homage in this foreign land where they once went as boys and returned as men. This corner of a foreign land, of bullets and grass and death on mass. This land where comrades fell and left men with harrowing stories to tell.

For those that came home, they had tales to be told but in their hearts the memories of the fallen they still hold. On battle fields so bloody and cold, of the horrors of war we should never ignore, those crosses row by row, across that deep blue sea, on a Flanders field where poppies grow, where people we never knew fought for me and you.

© All Rights Reserved Mark Symmonds 2017

Markey Mark Symmonds army, Blog, Blogger, bomb, Boots, death, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

D Day

Landing craft, fore and aft, full of men and boys poised to land guns in hand, close band of fine men. The start of overlord, the allied sword, men onboard to liberate a country, ready to maraud, engines hum in the darkness, thoughts turn to wives, kids and mums.

Landing crafts fall short of the beach, but still the aggressors they must breach. Ramp lowered boots pound first man out takes a round, into the sea, boots full of water pushing on, lambs to the slaughter. Guns firing everywhere, muzzle flash of yellow flair, everyone knows they are there.

 Soldiers topple into the sea like brittle skittles one, two, three. Single mind to win the battle to liberate these people treated worse than cattle. 4,000 allied soldiers die in the ensuing battle heavy guns pound and machine guns rattle, explosions all around, men cut down. Cold blood runs in the dark sea, bullets and shells rip them apart they know they are in hell and that’s just the start.

 

 

Markey Mark Symmonds army, Blog, Blogger, bomb, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, political, short story, Uncategorized, underground

Agents of Darkness

The agents of darkness strike again inflicting misery death and pain. Plots to kill injure and maim all don in a dark Lords name. The dark Lords weave their evil across their Web, recruiting its agents brainwash their heads.

Lords of darkness agents of death, wreaking havoc on the enlightened, running Scared and Frightened as the Chase To find The Dark Agents tightens, dark agents’ operations heighten. Lords of darkness creating a mess, from an unknown address, you send your agents to do your Dirty deeds up and down the country where ever they need.

Cowards in the extreme, make women and children scream how can they be so mean. Dark agents hoping they will never be seen, to die they are so keen, to be free they don’t know what it means, carnage and mayhem at the scene, under what stone have you been. Oh, agents of darkness who are in such a mess they cause such distress, now we have to clean up this mess.

Don’t snuff out the light, keep up the fight, the agents of darkness know their plight. Hunt them down, take their malice and spite. For we will not bow or give up the fight to live in a country the way we know is right. Lords of darkness you will get bored, why don’t you weald your own sword and stop preaching a fraud? |To defeat the agents of darkness light must come to shine on us all night

Markey Mark Symmonds army, Blog, Blogger, bomb, Boots, flash fiction, lost, love, poem, Poetry, political, short story, Uncategorized, underground

Deserted Street

Men and boys say good bye all know the reason why. Called up to serve in a war they don’t deserve on the front line, not reserves. Whole Streets fighting together as a regiment. Swathes of streets empty of men who will never return. Desolate streets no dads to greet, no sons to hug mums, just dear Johns, to all the friends you meet.

Workers side by side, they all came for the same ride, work as a team one unbreakable seam, and go down with a scream. Waste of men and boys who will never know life, but briefly met strife. No guns fired or fixed Bayonet charge, the enemy is still at large. Longing for home, their bed and clean sheets, seeing their families again and walking down those deserted streets.

In their heads, their family implanted safe return not taken for granted. Over the top their turn to drop, an entire street, downed by men from an unpronounceable town. Leaving heart ache in a deserted English Street. Mothers cry, children wonder why, when the officer drops by house after house on the same Street, tears and sadness at each one they meet, finally leaving the deserted Street.