Another Man’s War by Faymarie Morris

Through reddened, rheumy eyes the old man gazed
At a hostile face he didn’t know.
Why should he feel as defeated as this
When he overcame much worse, years ago.
He never sought thanks or glory, or praise
And he didn’t crave medals to prove it,
But a little respect might help heal the wounds
Or at least go a long way towards it.
But what did he get instead for his loss,
All those arduous years of devotion?
A pittance to last the rest of his days
In a world without warmth or emotion.
Oh how he longed for his life on the land.
All the heartbreak. The pleasure.The sorrow.
He would happily trade all his todays
Without even a thought of tomorrow,
For that sweet smelling soil, after the rain.
For those sunsets of red, gold and yellow.
For his mother’s laughter, even her tears,
And the way that his father would bellow.
But these were such long distant memories
Of some far away, more innocent time.
Before he decided to give his all
To another man’s war, in another clime.
He had fought for a world fit to live in
And despaired at the misery around,
As those other brave souls fell before him
And their crimson blood sank into the ground.
They were told that the world would be freer.
That their sacrifice would not be unsung.
That repression and terror were ended,
That the bells of peace would always be rung.
But the fact was, that angry young stranger,
Who had beaten his old face black and blue,
Lived alone in his own private war zone,
[And all he’d got was a dollar or two.]
Hadn’t cared who had fought for his freedom
Or the sacrifices that had been made.
And what was the point of remembrance,
When remembering only brings pain?

Faymarie Morris

THE FAKE MASK by Pete Brammer

THE FAKE MASK by Pete Brammer


I have turned my back on the ones I love,

Carefully closing the garden gate,

Tramping my way with a tear in the eye,

To where, my future awaits.

I turn and wave, then let my arm fall,

As family wave back, from beyond the wall.


In uniform proud, I head for the front,

To the battle that has to be won,

But will I join the ones who will die?

Those fathers, uncles and sons,

‘Pray God I be spared’ is all that I ask,

Since leaving my home, I have dropped the fake mask.


A mask that said, ‘I am not afraid’

For behind it lay fear, and great dread,

I have witnessed friends and comrades, so many,

Seriously wounded and dead,

So reverently, their remains, were duly sent back,

I don’t want to be a name, on a memorial plaque.