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An Ode to Clearing in the Forest by Jason D’ebre

In days of old when knights were bold
and daring do was fun
When good fought bad and heroes usually won 
Then songs of valor through halls would ring
Telling of great deeds and other things

A time when England was fighting France
King John was breathing out his last
Battles were raging things looked grim
John was not a kindly King
Would Philip of France and Odo win

Into this three children came
Ella, John and Geoff their names
Things were scary it’s not a game
With witches, magic and daring do
They fight for survival and England too

Whether they won or lost I will not tell
But because of them England survived
How they faired I cannot tell you have to read the story

Read it to the final page to
Find the spell which still stands
Has saved England from many lands
Because of magic and some tiny hands

(c) C A Bosc

With kind permission of Jason D’ebre

Poppy Awakening

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When I awoke this morning
I did so with a smile
Last night I walked again with him
Along the poppy mile

We talked about how things were then
And how things were now
I did not cry at all last night
I am not crying now

I feel at peace and rested
But I really don’t know how
I can feel his loving hand
Soothing my poor brow

As I lie here thinking
A voice inside my head
Tells me to go make breakfast
The children must be fed

Today they seem more rested
Not so stressed anymore
We ate our meal together
Just like we did before

Then off to school they went
Leaving me behind
To tidy up the house again
I know I will be fine

To make the beds a new I went
And guess what I did see
From upon our pillows
A poppy stared at me

I gently touched each flower
And then I felt his hand
He had never left us
Now I understand

So this coming Sunday
We will all be there
Wearing our red poppies
Proud just like before

(c) C.A. Bosc

A Boar’s Lament

Where did we all go to
Where did we go wrong
Why are we still hiding
Why can’t we sing our song

Was it just the sound of guns
That made us hide away
Or seeing friends and family
Brought down in such a way

Now we are so wary
No longer safe and sound
Always we are listening
Always checking round

But come the summer we are sure
Things will change for us
The guns will stop once more
No longer hunting us

Once again we’ll sing our songs
Be free of fear and doubt
The forest then will be at peace
And life will spring about

The birds no longer need to be
Our eyes and ears we’re free
To wander through the shaded glades
Or scratch against a tree

Or wander down the country road
To the river cool and clear
Then drink our fill in the evening air
In peace and tranquillity as we have done before

(C) C.A. Bosc

Political Feathers

My name is Boris Blackbird London is my home
I have a brother Kenneth who just will not behave 
Sitting in the laburnum tree singing to my brother
Telling him how naughty he is according to our mother

He sits in the tamarisk tree singing and tweeting back at me
Calm as calm as he can be sitting in that tamarisk tree
Laughing at the world he sees and passing comments if you please
About my life of often ease whilst we sit here in these trees

Life for us is good he agrees for we have time to sing and tease
We fight with each other in front of others
But in front of mum we must be good brothers
Why are they so difficult these mothers

Ours was once a politician upset Ken oh what a pother
My wife thinks Ken is far too dull he’s still a bachelor and to her no fun
But between you and my mother I think he’s got it right by gum
Whereas me I just go out and have fun cheers up others who are glum

We have the odd words now and then when I chase him off just like a hen
We will keep it up you know so other birds don’t know which way to go
My shouting at him when he’s wrong is how we brothers get along
So here’s to Ken my wayward brother I love you ‘bro just don’t tell mother

(c) Michael Bosc

A Loving Son

The house is quiet the fire lit

His mother in the tin bath sits

The war has taken such a toll

He knows he has to take control

They have seen such devastation here

Friends and neighbours disappeared

Protection of his mother first

All other things are pushed aside

Her face is beautiful but worn

Her work is hard but not the norm

He’ll make sure no harm she’ll suffer

His love for her his own dear mother

He has killed to keep her safe

A man who was a waste of space

No more will he punch his mum around

He’s no longer on this ground

He’ll never push a woman around

Stanley neatly saw too that

The young man knows about his guns

He’s clever cunning cool as ice

To him no grey just black and white

He does not stop he understands

What must be done to when danger comes

Those who know him respect his skills

He’s often used to make their kills

His mother a prostitute loves her son

He does not condem whats she has done

It’s just a job and in the war work was work

It paid the bills and kept them housed and fed

No one crosses Stanley now his reputations clear

A word a gesture against his mum and you are dead my son

His skills are honed he’s fit a killer

He makes sure they respect his mum or deal with Stanley her loving son

She looks after all her girls so well she keeps them healthy

Reputation pays she knows all their clients ways

Her boy if trouble comes their way

Knows just how to make them pay

He helps the police with problems hard

They know that Stanley is well skilled

They’d really like him on their side

But Stanley’s only thought is mum he really is A Loving Son

(c) Michael Douglas Bosc