If you think they're greedy now
wait until we're face to face,
when all that's left of our burning world
is a sampling of the race.
Do you suppose they will change
or go down ever scheming,
never admitting they were the cause
of mankind's cleaning.

Never did mind
doing the washing,
and I always pitch in
when something needs doing.
I slip on my work clothes
strap the tool belt on,
tie up my boots
there's work to be done.

Dogged is a Life

Real dogs don’t take their
shoes off at the door,
leave no personal footprints
on your pristine floor.
They slide through lives
like ancients on speed,
giving nothing, only sampling
to fulfil their need.

Their tales are never waged
to fit in any others suit,
but the tail always stands
tall with a solid root.
Never snarling unless a
snarl is so required,
in control, although they
at times seem wired.

I'm on my knees

Begging anyone please

But no one seems to see the storm

Beaneath the sea's calm facade

The twisted mishappen shapes

Dwelling below...

At the core

I'm afraid they will be freed

Unable to go ignored

I feel them seeking revenge

Hunting for fresh untried food

Prey and game

I want to warn others

Tell them to run away

Be wary of me

See me coming?

Run

But I need their help....

Now where does that leave me?
.

Beginning on October 19th, 1914, one of the bloodiest battles of World War One was fought near Ypres in Belgium. This poem, while written from a young German soldier’s point of view, is a tribute to all those who lost their lives during that terrible forty days.

Crisp the autumn breeze that combs this foggy air,
Slowly creeping through these Belgian fields;
A bitter breath of coming winter, we taste the morning dew
Whose frosty edge foretells harsh winter’s yields.