I saw these birds Perched on the masts Of the final ships Alive In this land of sand Land Sand Land Sand Alive in this land of sand  

Well read But dead Dead Dead Well read But dead Dead as the migrating birds That passed silently Fleeting Sleeping Often weeping Sleeping I saw these birds Perched on the masts Of the final ships Alive In this land of sand Land Sand Land Sand Alive in this land of sand

I met these ghost-birds Who died in the Maltese skies Lies Lies Lies Lies They told me nothing but lies The silver knights In their coloured cloaks They told me lies Lies Lies Lies Nothing but lies These were the observations Of my teachers dead Well read But dead Dead Dead Well read But dead […]

The poem that I originally created for this special day perished when I accidently washed the leather purse in which the work was hidden As I had not kept a copy the contents were lost forever The poem was about a sculptor named Milkosko A freezing agent And the insects of Central Europe  

Was a play written by Kurt Vonnegut It is also the name of my wife Her birthday does not fall On the 29th of February A fact she shares With the above named playwright  

Your brother died many years ago He was part of the Dream Battalion And had been promoted Quite quickly as all the other officers were dead Until that fateful afternoon When he was shot in the head whilst drinking a cup of tea As you and I are doing now Maisie leaned forward and filled […]

Truman and his two sisters stood peacefully distant from the church Their father had been buried beyond its outer walls As he had lost his faith Near to his grave Wild heathers grew undisturbed These were the gifts of the angels  

I met two French girls Stranded in Torcross Until our meeting They had led separate lives   I met two girls Stranded in Torcross One French and one Polish Until our meeting They had led separate lives   I met two Polish girls Stranded in Torcross Until our meeting They had led separate lives  

In the summer of 1950 June and Carter took a walking holiday in Southern England They had three conversations   One I saw a heroine from one of his books Walking across a bleak moor She was trying to protect herself Against the bitter winds I was sitting opposite you Next to a warm fire […]

From a high vantage we watched the battle progress We watched as young men ignorant of delicate flowers Were torn apart by the confusion of war Each man slaughtered had experienced a childhood Whether idyllic or not this was of no matter It was their childhood Which now lay shattered in the mud of the […]