All Posts By

Mark Christmas

Poetry

‘The Selfless Infantier’

Tolling noon on an August Day the cast dome struck forth, a call for a gathering of grief. Summoning a silence which was heard throughout the land as time ceased it’s meaning. A patriotic symbol draped the final carriage as comrades held him aloft in a dutiful acknowledgement of his…
Mark Christmas
28th October 2009
Poetry

Post war trauma

When he flew in to his home from his second tour of Iraq, the thoughts, lay in his mind, of never going back. The sights he’d seen, of children blown out of recognition and collecting body parts, surely, this was not his mission? His beret was replaced by a cumbersome…
Mark Christmas
25th October 2009
Poetry

The messenger

A young lad came knocked the door with a tap, he stood and he waited in blue jacket and cap. His attire was edged in scarlet red trim, from the seams of trousers to his cap and it’s brim. The lad stood and watched, as the door opened wide, it…
Mark Christmas
25th October 2009
Poetry

‘Advice from an Old Warrior’

Spewing into the aisles of the Roxy to watch ‘Groundhog Day’ but this is not the Hollywood version, with its glitz and glamorous stars, this is my version with no parallax in time, just the here, the now. The reel clicks into life, once more my eyes make me taste…
Mark Christmas
28th April 2009
Poetry

The Final Whistle

Reveille effervesced on the air. The Hope of a new day dawned. The soldier meekly walked to his parapet. There he stood silently waiting, thoughts buzzing. Tommy, next to him spoke out, “Is it possible, ‘The Nutcase’ is here?” “Not Likely”, the meek man said, “This is his idea of…
Mark Christmas
16th April 2009
Poetry

Robotic Analysis

A Soldier is not born he’s forged to be strong, he’s machine like, robotic, working hard, fast and long, but when machines break, they go terribly wrong. Their chassis are bent, broken, busted, Their control centres are short circuited, Their rhythm is lost, function diminished. They’re sent, to the scrap…
Mark Christmas
9th April 2009
Poetry

Intensity

The surrealism of war. Extremities reached of; Life and Death Seen by few, glimpsed by more, But only the few relive horrors of War. A situation so dense in its objective nature, though its subjective matter lives forever, in the ‘Few’
Mark Christmas
9th April 2009
Poetry

The Line

I’ve toed the line when on parade, I’ve walked the line of barricades. I’ve held the line during intense war, I’ve stood in line but what for? I am in line, when told to wait, I see the line, psychological debate. I stand in line, identity parade, Intravenous line, what…
Mark Christmas
9th April 2009
Poetry

The Soldiers Heart

I’m older now, not a soldier anymore, though my heart beats its strength in reminiscences of a youthful glow. The heart is the soul of life. When you have heart you have purpose, But what is your purpose? When your direction is misguided The plan has to be self made,…
Mark Christmas
9th April 2009
Poetry

Recessionary Sales

Recession here again, not seen like this in years, if ever. Sales Begin. ‘New Year 2009, Sales start New Years Eve’. If however, the recession continues, Does the price paid for the life of a soldier, go up or reduce? An inflationary piece of political collateral.
Mark Christmas
9th April 2009