This page is dedicated to poems that veterans have written about their
experiences in their lives and is open to any one who wishes their work
and word to be seen by as many people as possible. So please email us
with any work that you like other sufferers and their families to be able to
see and to maybe help to understand a little of what it is like to be a
sufferer from P.T.S.D.
REFLECTIONS
I’ve sat in the sun. watching, reflections in the pond
Then a cloud crosses by, and, I see unpredictability.
Alien world, deadly to me; beauty and death flit in the weeds.
The cloud is destroyed by the sun; it rains on the reeds.
A lonely rain drop plops in the pool, creating circles of eternity
I hear a pheasant call, look up, and see nature and far beyond.
( Hymn, Bluesy Song, Prayer )I don’t know call it what you wish
Jesus Christ, who answers our prayers
Open our eyes so we recognize
All the glorious and subtle ways
These requests are met; teach us to praise
How, your response, combines with others
To a common good, the thread is love,
Creates bonds held together by care.
Oh Lord look deeply into our hearts,
Into our heart of hearts where you dwell,
So, our souls communing with our minds,
Banishes all evil and the devil.
Cleansing our bodies, purging spirits’
So, purified, no more thoughts of hell.
We can serve you with no limits.
These things we ask in recognition
Of what you did for all of mankind.
As parts of your plan - we beg response,
Allow us to be servants in kind,
To take pain from others in despond,
So, as a family, - united -
We salute - with love - God’s creation.
Written by Robin taunton 8 Years ago approx.
A further poem from robin
Allegoric, Metaphoric, Symbiotic, Anamorphic, Symbolic.
I’Mag’e’ic
And Only for fun (Cright RET)
The Summer that never was.
Was it the age of my innocence ?
Or was it the lost land of Oz ?
Was it only a foolish illusion ?
The summer that never was ?
Did I walk through the fields with the child in my arms ?
And the Golden wheat over my head ?
Did I feel my heart breaking under the weight ?
Was my sleeping (boy)child a burden like lead?
I remember him crying the day that he was born
And his hand like a spider that wouldn’t let go,
That wouldn’t let go, would not let go.
And the pain tore my heart out and filled me with woe.
Was I his God ? Infallible ? Damnable ?
I’m only human. Just want to be free
Not that kind of responsibility
But the Child wouldn’t let go.
Was it the age of my innocence ?
Or was it the lost land of Oz ?
Was it only a foolish illusion ?
The summer that never was ?
Can a dreamer take hold of reality
And become a responsible man ?
Can a killer become a lover
Or is he forever damned ?
There's a field and a boy and the tall golden wheat
and eternity held in a day
and it's so hard to reach
and forever rushing away
Was it the age of my innocence ?
Or was it the lost land of OZ
Was it only a foolish illusion ?
The Summer that never was
QUEST
I have looked into Dark Eyes, all over the world
Seen something so close, so evasive, gone in a blink.
Did I see Salvation or Death?
Reality or Pretence?
The Soul breaks through, so I watch a tear appear in silence
Roll down the cheek, stop on the lip, hovering on the brink
Hear it land, look down, take the hand offered and I am sold.
Reality acknowledgment to Joni Mitchell
I have seen, and continue to see,
the golden colours of sunset and sunrise,
Earth and Sky intertwines with nature,
shimmering,
with iridescent colours.
Blackness turning to grey;
changelings engulf whole spectrum of light;
SURPRISE Peace and solitude,
exploded by life,
asserts itself with no honour.
Spirits bound in Chemical shells,
clammering, creating dawn choruses,
AWARENESS senses something small and shy,
scuttling towards myriad shadows,passes unseen:
The unheard - life brushing against the living and the dead,
And I feel my bones through the flesh, yet,
my spirit soaring beyond my sorrows
Is snapped back into my body,
its needs dictated by dictates of ‘street cred’.
Everywhere, evidence of life’s impermanence,
gnaws bones, makes them hollow.
Free spirit released from your cell, where did you go?
Guide me please when I’m dead
Share with me every colour every feeling,
till the wheel returns us - ‘
The Perfect Circle‘.
COMPASSION FATIGUE
In memory of Major Peter Doidge Taunton whose family were presented
with the Elizabeth Cross posthumously on 1 March 2010 in London, 40
years after his death in Northern Ireland. His name 'will be proudly carved
in stone on the Royal Anglian Regiment Memorial on 12 September 2010 at
the Imperial War Museum, Duxford'.
Poem A Perfect Circle VIDEO The Fiddle and the Drum by
Joni Mitchell
In honour of my brother Major Peter Doidge Taunton
