New WW1 POEM by THE MOWDOG...

On Leave

Stone walls:

Permanence, confidence.

Ceiling falls:

Low, oak beams twist imperceptibly

Above rag-rug of dark red off-cuts,

Whilst fire-logs spit their anger

Beneath flaming abuse.

This sole source of warmth and light

In November’s room

Glares its defiance and very resistance… 

Life stalls:

Pretence, reticence.

Fear appals:

Sad, weary eyes falter deceptively

Over vintage of deep, red wine, but

Whilst fire-logs shift asunder

Beneath flames obtuse,

This soul, aglow with warmth and light

In furlough’s doom,

Shares its resilience and very existence…  

Pete Ray

July 2015

Ivor Bertie Gurney’s poem ‘Ypres-Minsterworth’ included the following verse, which affected me rather strongly. The feeling of pervading darkness outside a cottage, the glow of a log fire within, the delicacy of an expensive red wine and a defiance in conversation, all spurred me to pen the above.

‘To think how in some German prison

A boy lies with whom

I might have taken joy full-hearted

Hearing the great boom 

Of autumn, watching the fire, talking

Of books in the half-gloom.’

My wire and cutters...