by Derek Blackburn | Feb 4, 2008 | Poetry
Fifty years on The smell of death Still lingers in the autumn air Tourists look, chat, and take photographs And pass by without a care. They look at me This Scottish Jew Yarmulke perched on head I shake, they see me cry As I say Kaddish For the...
by Derek Blackburn | Feb 4, 2008 | Poetry
Darkness surrounds me Dampness chills me I shiver to maintain some heat, Serenely it shrouds me No sound to disturb me Alone, in the night with my thoughts Soul mates are close now Braving their duties No glow from the cloud hidden moon We listen for movement No sound...
by Derek Blackburn | Feb 4, 2008 | Poetry
As you lie there in your hospital bed Can you smell the cordite? Can hear the sounds of battle The yells! Of victory The screams of pain The weeping of young men Wondering WHY? As you hobble around on your crutches Can you taste the fear? Can you see the mortars...
by Derek Blackburn | Feb 4, 2008 | Poetry
On hearing an eight year old boy speak to a newscaster on the ITN news during the Kosovo crisis. He had carried his four year old brother over the mountains. May 23/99. “I’m a big boy now” The young man said He grew up in carnage His childhood, dead. “My little...
by Derek Blackburn | Feb 4, 2008 | Poetry
Can you see the horror in her dark brown eyes Can you smell the charred flesh? Can you hear the cries? This child has seen the bloodshed This child can survive Her eyes have dried of tears now Yet this child is only Five!
