by Len Payne | Apr 9, 2009 | Poetry
Stately Spanish galleon sailing so sublime, protected by her escorts, three deckers’ of the line, passing in false confidence on the Spanish Lake, for coming are the hunters, led by Francis Drake. The morning mists lay heavy when a voice calls from the shrouds, sail...
by Len Payne | Apr 9, 2009 | Poetry
A hush fell on the court where the Hanging Judge held sway, As he said with deliberation, this is your lucky day, The penalty prescribed for stealing another’s bread, Is to be hung by the neck, till you are dead, dead, dead, But his Majesties pleasure I now...
by Len Payne | Apr 9, 2009 | Poetry
The villages and towns that dot the Channel coast, Were once the meeting place of two opposing hosts, Where now pleasure boats bob gently upon silvered waves, Good then met evil to set free Nazi slaves. Gentle waves lap softly upon the pristine shore, Where a scant...
by Len Payne | Apr 8, 2009 | Poetry
Strolling down the Ginza, on a little R&R, Laughing with the Go Go girls fronting every bar, With back pay in our pockets and good times on our mind, We set out in earnest to leave the war far behind. Dropping in at Rosie’s to sink a beer or three, In...
by Len Payne | Apr 8, 2009 | Poetry
If you wear the “butchers apron” then you’re my kind of guy, for you were in Korea when the bullets began to fly, we were called to the land of the Morning Calm in 1951, to help put out a fire the North Korean’s had begun. We landed down in Pusan and...
by Len Payne | Apr 8, 2009 | Poetry
Armed at first with broomsticks, or handle from a pick, with cardboard tank, and milkman’s horse, sometimes just a stick, The Home Guard were the last resort should Germany invade, And to the amusement of the village, each Sunday held parade. They suffered much...
