Death in a Foreign Land

 

As Sunday is a time of Remembrance, I wrote this poem for those who never returned.

DEATH IN A FOREIGN LAND

Age, not of life
They travelled of duty
Men of many
They answered
The call.

Far off land
Where guns and steel
Lay alongside
The many
Who had fallen
Their life
Devoid of dreams.
 
Rich in beauty
Allenheads by sight
Those who died
Remembered
Names for all
Who can spare a moment
Reflect of silence
War Memorial
This place
So proud.

As the sound of birds
Echo over the land
The sun, her rays
Awaken all
Who stop and visit
This land, so quiet
Only the birds in flight
As if on display
Fly past the scene
Of those who died
A death in a foreign land
We should never forget
Their names

By

Peter Preobrazhenskii © 2013

Irish Princess

I am the Princess

In my father’s place

Regal in status

My throne

A comfy chair.

All who enter

Must bid me greetings

For I shall not move

From this chair.

 

Born of Ireland

My status is evident

For all to see

Ruby in colour

Cavalier King Charles

Now, I shall expect

A bow.

By

Preobrazhenskii © 2011

Continental

Continental of vision

So to that of aroma

As wafting in the

Cold morning air

One can be forgiven

For thinking, you are now

In France, enjoying that

Continental theme.

 

Alas, all to soon

The realisation

As traffic in haste

Shouts and horns

All eager to find a space

In a make-shift car park

They always leave their trace.

 

Continental of vision

And so to, that of aroma

I remember you well

Thoughts flood back

Of enjoyment and taste

As the hurried life

Often passed me by.

By

Preobrazhenskii © 2011

The Way Home

The way home

Varied and full

Of sights and smells

Am eager to come again.

 

The park of many

We, so often see

Enjoying the scene

Just like me.

Leaves in abundance

Carpet the scene

With multitudes of colour.

 

Squirrels, frequently

Catch my eye

If only they would stay

Alas, they are gone

In the blink of an eye.

 

Exhausted am I

And my owner too.

Adventures in the park

Come and visit too.

By

Preobrazhenskii © 2011

Demise

Demise of hot days

Summer sunshine

Butterflies and bees

T shirts and ice cold coke.

** Kirra and friend **

 

Ice cream and strawberries

Salads, including cucumber

All now replaced by

Hot drinks and stew.

 

Sandals stored away

I now wear boots

Fleece coat and warm mittens

All essential as the cold wind

I often feel, shall,  bring snow.

 

Short days

And long nights

Walks are less frequent

Replaced instead

Hot radiators and tv.

Gone are the days

Of summer sun

Short and brief

It may have been

If only its demise

Had been delayed

How wonderful

It would have been.

By

Preobrazenskii © 2011

Dream

I dream of a distant past

Of a land where I was born.

 

Rugged hills

And windswept street

Atlantic ocean, often

At my feet.

 

This land of my birth

Perhaps I shall see once more.

As I gaze upon this

Forest of green

And smell the salt air.

 

It reminds me of my

Emerald Isle

The place where I

Was born.

By

Preobrazhenskii © 2011

COLD IS THE NIGHT

Cold is the night

On this a moon lit night.

 

Condensation on windows

No sleep this night

As aching bones

And bronchial disease

The need instead

Survive the night.

 

Damp are the clothes

Soiled of days

Discarded the many

Once neatly packed

Change of clothing, plus one towel

My cleanliness, is brief

As a mud soaked floor

And a shower of 50pence

Deprives me of all status

As Homeless, here you can find.

 

Days of cold and rain

Frequent of these British Isles

No place to dry

As the nights become longer

The urgency is apparent

Need to survive.

 

Viewed with suspicion

No friends in sight

Stench of damp clothing

This is my plight.

 

Black are the clouds

Of another rain filled sky

Black is the depression

That now soaks my eyes.

 

Gaze upon a moon lit night

From the comfort of your home

Think not of the homeless

Brothers and sisters

Cold is the night

They must endure the plight.

Stale bread and water

My diet of the night

Is this life?

You have status

Remember, so too

Once, had ‘I’.

By

Preobrazhenskii ©2011