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​ Highly talented Military Poets on Veterans Families Radio

Sometimes it is easier to write things down than to talk about them. As many poets find, Poetry becomes their talent, skill and art and their voices can be heard throughout history alongside Thomas Hardy,  Rupert Brooke, John McRae, Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Dylan Thomas and so many more of the late, Great voices of text.
Please give thought to those who have been and passed, and those who remain, as you read the words written on this page, for their 'Art comes from their Heart.'
​

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Please Mute The Live Radio Player Whilst reading Poems to save distraction

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This page is Dedicated to Poetry by HM Armed Forces Veterans.


Our First Poem by kind permission of writer John Sullivan.

Below a brilliant Poem By John Sullivan, who has given us kind permission to present on our page, enormous thanks to John.

D Day
What awaits me on this foreign shore.
The frighting noise of an open door.
Sounds of screaming as men are falling.
Death is waiting, for some it’s calling.
Pounding waves all around me.
Blood is spilling on this dancing sea.
Shouted orders as soldiers start departing.
A wall of water as the battle is starting.
Dragging men down with heavy shoulders.
The smoke is all around me It chokes and smolders.
Bullets are flying from a chattering machine gun.
My only hope is get to that shore and start to run.
God give me strength to survive this fight.
And my comrades in their plight.
So we can come home and return on a better day.
When the war is over and where friends do lay.
To remember the time we fought for Great Britain.
To look on those headstones where,our memories are written
John Sullivan.
Reproduced with very kind permission of John Sullivan. Our Thanks To John. VFRADIO. LTD.




OUR SECOND POEM BY AUTHOR JOHN SULLIVAN POSTED WITH JOHN'S KIND PERMISSION, OUR THANKS JOHN.

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And a Third Poem from John Sullivan

Grumpy Grandad

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Drop the bottles and tread on the corks.
Blunt all the knifes and hide all the forks.
Break the glasses and crack all the plates.
That's what grumpy granddad hates.

Spilling the milk on the pantry floor.
Mucky fingers on every door.
Slamming the window and not shutting the gates.
That's what grumpy granddad hates.

Smash the eggs and tread in the fat.
Leaving mud on the hallway mat.
Using the phone at premium rates.
That's what grumpy granddad hates.

Shouting and screaming up and down his house.
When we have been told to be quite as a mouse.
Playing loud music and singing that grates.
That's what grumpy granddad hates.

However he loves us because we are his kin.
He does in the end, forgive our upsetting din.
Because we are his and only small.
​ We love our granddad best of all.
​
By John Sullivan.

Images in My Mind (written by Billy Little) 5th October 2012
I placed a rose at your grave today
I closed my eyes and cried
I looked in my wallet at your photo
It should have been me that had died

People see me and think that I`m fine
They can`t see inside my head
They will never know how I feel
Always wishing that I was dead

I awake from the same nightmare
I am sweating and hiding under the bed
I am seeing the same visions in my mind
Which are forever instilled inside my head

My mind is always wandering back
This image is trapped inside my head
No matter how much I try to forget
I will always see you lying there dead

How could I have missed that wire?
Why was I, oh so totally blind?
What the hell was I thinking?
What was going through my mind?

That fatal day will always haunt me
The horrific sight of what I saw
Will always be implanted in my mind
For now, yesterday, and forever more

​

© The right of Billy Little to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of these poems may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author.

We are so pleased to place this Poem by Barry Hill, thank you Barry for allowing a lovely poem

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For Those Who Gave
by
​Barry Hill

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                                                      For Those Who Gave. By Kind permission of Barry Hill, thank you Barry. © Barry Hill.
 

By Barry Hill

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By Barry Hill

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By Barry Hill

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Anonymous

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​Many thanks to a Good Friend, Author & Staff Member here at Veterans Families Radio,
' Kathleen Oakwood '.  For her Kind Permmission to Publish her work Below, on our VFRADIO © Website.

Kathleen Oakwood

Just another Dream, Just another Day

I don't realise it, but I am sleeping while I am awake.
   I reach out as if to touch their faces...
 A tear or two forms in my eyes and creeps out,
to fall wet on my heaving chest.
 Erratic breathing.... I sweat now as I hear the sound of blasts,
the crack-crack of automatic weapon fire,
 I am running. - We all are.... Dive down, pull each other to the ground...
Gripping on, as if to ensure we will not lose each other.... lay close to the ground,
hugging it close, as if it were our best friend...

Checking each other....ourselves...looking vigilant....scared.
 We do a count...two missing..."F---!!!" 
 My eyes are closed tightly, to keep out the un-welcomed grit and dust which is circling...

More ground shaking...awful sounds of screams of men,
which sink my heart so low it could disappear into the depths of darkness...
 Then comes the smell....

.....it hits me and I know right off what that is.
 Burned charred flesh, a sweet, pungent, nasty.....vomit-inducing mixed with the smell of iron-blood....
 It is all around me...I cannot escape it though I try...
I cannot run from it, for I am lost in a world...I am trapped....by body...by mind....
 Crack-crack (dagadagadagadah sounds) and then this whoosh sort of sound...ground shakes again, right close...so close....and another...."F---!!!" 


Then hearing those next to me's cries of “Christ Jesus!...He's on fire-...Christ help him!...Jesus Christ!”
but we can't help him....he's already gone and we know it..
then one of our lads struggles past in the blinding dust and we are trying to hold on to him,
to hold him back but he gets free, how he tries...but he doesn't understand "retreat f--- back back!" comes the scream of an order.
 

Two of us crawl now...pushing forward to where we saw him....trying to find the Cpl....
Then we find him and grab his vest and drag hard...
he's just sat there, stunned...shock hits him...
 ...he just sits there as we grab him....his face ashen, and he pukes all over himself as we pull him.....
we hold him down by sitting on him, because he doesn't know what he is doing...
he keeps trying to get away in delirium
....he keeps asking for his colleague-the one who burned...
another lad vomits next to me and I try and comfort him
while holding the struggling lad and there's puke and dust and blood and fire and ashes and strewn bodies and smells and sounds......
more noise.......

-They pray, I pray, I don't even have faith left but I pray...
 I thought I'd lost my faith when I saw Children murdered....
babies, teens, adults alike, men and women too...
 Some I never knew,
but some were my friends...colleagues.
 We're up now, the dust settling all around us and the air is becoming clearer
so we decide to move while we can, sounds of weapons fire died off,
we are running now, low, hearts beating so fast you think they might stop...
 “No Christ!” as we discover another of our own... There's no helping him now...
His head half-gone...but we know who he was....a fine lad....a cheery one...a friend..

The language cannot be re-told, nor re-mentioned...
for they were words of distinct miserable despair wrapped up in profanity...
   And then it begins again....with an explosion...
and in that explosion the sound of more weapons fire-
 
I thud hard....searing spiteful pain that cannot be explained,
I am down...
 ”Medic Down!” I twitch...my world goes fuzzy for a moment until I black out.....................................
In my mind, I am floating.....drifting...it is peaceful,
no pain, no tears...no blood.....no death...no war.....


I regain consciousness and I feel it again...
screams can be heard, ear piercing screams,
burning...hot hot now...so hot -I feel like I am in flames...
am I burning?
Screams still....
 Then I realise the screams are mine.........
I feel I am swimming in my own blood.....
...but it isn't blood...
...I am pooled in my own sweat...
.
..it was just a dream...
I shake myself free of this and calm my breathing....

I am standing in the middle of town....and people are staring....
​Oh my God NO.
 

...embarrassed I bow my head and fast pace away....
-just another dream...just another day.....

 ©Kathleen Oakwood 1998-2015

A Poem from Veterans Families Radio Webmaster
' Tom Mcgreevy '


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THE OTHER SIDE OF CHRISTMAS  

The pavements glistened wet and cold, the doorway dank and smelly
 No ‘Christmas’ cheer for this Man, Can’t even watch the Telly 
Just another day like yesterday, shivering from the cold
 Frost sores on his cracked lips, a ‘ tramp ‘ so he’s been told

Not for him the ‘ office parties ‘, Spilling down the Street
 Not by choice a ‘ down-and-out ‘, No family to greet  
His glazed eyes are like windows, to memories long ago
 Of Christmas past, and better times, His face near froze with snow
  
A drunk throws down a ‘ Fiver ‘, An inebriated stare
 But it isn’t cash he wanted, It's love, and home, and care!  
Alone again he starts to cry, His tears they roll and freeze
 He didn’t ask to be like this, His smell drifts in the breeze

Not long ago he had a Child, A wife, and fancy car
 Till ‘ Post Traumatic Stress ‘ got him, From Wars he fought afar  
His Family couldn’t understand, this strange and sudden change
 He understood it not himself, an illness out of range
   
One day he made a lonely choice, to stay, and hurt his loved one’s?
 Or walk away forever, forget their love, be gone!  
So by himself this ‘ Christmas Eve ‘, In a City far away
 He’ll sit and ‘ Celebrate ‘ alone, In despair he will stay

Now sitting in a doorway, He who once did dare!
 Just another ‘ Drunken Bum!‘, The Country didn’t care  
So if you at Xmas, See a ‘ Hobo ‘ in the night
 He might not be quite all he seems, For you and me he’d fight
   
He’s lost the will to live himself, His spirit all has gone
 This Xmas Eve no energy, Where once a spark had shone!  
In future try to help them, The ‘ Fallen ‘ of our land
 Don’t let them get unto this state, Support them in their stand!   


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A
Poem
by
Tom Mcgreevy
​
( Radio Station Manager & Webmaster at VFRADIO LTD © )
Written about my 12 Month Tour in The Jungles of belize, in Central America .

THE BELIZE SNAKE 
 
A snake crawled in my sleeping bag, I felt it on my leg.
I knew it was a female snake, It said its name was “Peg “ 

I held it in my hand, Its weight was next to ‘nowt.
I didn’t want it in here, So then I threw it out. 
 
But then I felt quite guilty, The snake could do no harm.
In fact it felt quite cosy, So slippery and warm. 
 
The snake came back and slipped inside, As I yanked up the zipper,
I cut the poor beast in half, I felt like “Jack The Ripper “ 
 
Now I’ve got two snakes in my bag, A tail and one long head.
All three of us together, To share my shrinking bed. 
 
Now they’re moving up and down, I hope they haven’t mated,
​ I suddenly got hungry, So then I ate it! 
​* * * * *

Another Poem from my Book
' Poems for Paula '

 
THE AFTERMATH  
 
My Wife she’ll never realize Just what I have been through
 For what I did endure For what I had to do   
Now I’m back in civvies street The fears should drift away
 But simple things that happen Bring instincts back to play
   
Walking past an alley An itching in my feet
 Thoughts of meetings long ago Another secret meet   
Sitting in a public House A normal thing to do
 A fear of being trapped there Known only to a few
   
A car ride with the kids Is all that I desire
 A back-fire in the distance Another gun for Hire
I meet a total stranger In conversation mode
 They do not understand me I talk to them in code
   
On Guy-Fawkes night it’s fireworks Bang-Bang, into the night
 Brings back thoughts of Ireland It fills my heart with fright   
Sometimes my hands tremble When opening a letter
 My friend that lost a hand He should’ve known better 
  
In crowds I’m claustrophobic From riots long ago
 And crowded pubs I used to love No longer I will go   
My instinct was survival Each job I had to do
 It’s hard to break the habit And start your life anew
   
So maybe if you see me Alert, and so aware
 You’ll understand the way it was Working over there     
Forgive me if I’m edgy And hug you when we meet
 I’m frisking you for weapons As we stand there in the street 
  
How many years I’ll be like this No-one really knows
 It’s all about survival Hitting highs and lows   
The aftershock affects us all In many different ways
 I keep mine locked inside myself
 Through nights and longer days 
  
Until they find a cure I’ll wander throughout life
 Helped along by no-one Except my caring Wife   
She’ll stand along beside me Not ask what I’ve been through
 She’ll never understand me But there again, Do you?
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From my Book
' I'm a Soldier...get me out of here ! '

I CAME AND WATCHED MY FUNERAL 

I came and watched my Funeral 
The strangest thing to do 
With lots of friends and family 
Sitting in The Pews 

I looked down on my coffin 
An empty shell within 
A temporary vessel 
To keep my spirit in 

The casket lost my interest 
It’s purpose fully served 
A symbol now for Mourners 
Much more than I deserved 

My Wife, my Son, my Step-sons 
Sitting all together 
Crying at my passing 
They thought I’d live forever 

I stand behind my Wife 
My love for her still smoulders 
I kiss her on the lips 
And hold her crumbling shoulders 

Her crying halts, her breath is held 
A tingling on her lips ? 
She puts her hand up to her face 
With trembling fingertips 

The moment it soon passes 
Her shoulders turn back slack 
Just a breeze, blowing through the Church 
She knows I won’t be back 

I want to tell you “ I’m ok, 
I’m with you in your grieving. 
I haven’t got much longer, 
For soon I will be leaving “ 

But now we live on different plains 
Mine Spirit, yours on Earth 
Not able to communicate 
Just like we were at birth 

My Mother comes from out the mist 
“ Come Son, we must go, 
Just walk into The Light, 
And join us in The Glow “ 

“ My Earthly heart still loves you ! “ 
I try to tell my Wife 
It falls on silent eardrums 
I’m not now part of life 

The Light is like a magnet 
Still pulling me away 
I let her go, remove my arms 
It’s then she starts to sway 

My energy has drained her 
She faints onto the floor 
“ Good-bye my Wife, I love you “ 
She answers “ Love you more ! “ 

For one brief moment, we were one 
Our frequency’s combined 
She’s coming round now, getting up 
Our Souls no longer blind 

Although her tears still flow 
She has this knowing smile 
She now knows I’m ok 
Across those endless miles 

So now I go, with happy heart 
No longer need to stay 
She knows she’ll join me one day 
She knows that I’m ok 

She leaves the Church still smiling 
A friend says “ You must miss him ? “ 
A secret knowledge in her eyes 
She knew who she’d been kissing 

by
Tom Mcgreevy

See the above poem on a Large Site in California USA
Press Button to view

I came and watched my Funeral

***
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( As a thank you for visiting us, and for listening to ' Veterans Families Radio ' )

 I am Giving away ' Free ' copies of some of my Published Books,
In Ebook Versions ( Free... No Catch ) 
You will be able to ' Download ' the books instantly & Direct from me here, on the links below & to the left.

( Free with no Catch, to Visitors & Listeners of ' Veterans Families Radio Website ' )

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" I'm a Soldier...get me out of here ! "

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" Poems for Paula "

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Many thanks for Visiting us here at ' Veterans Families Radio '
Enjoy the Books
Tom Mcgreevy
Press Button to Visit Tom's Website
Tom's Army Website

A Fantastic Website for Forces Poetry
' Flow for All '
( Forces Literary Organisation Worldwide ' for All )
Press Banner to visit their Website

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Website Created & Designed by Tom Mcgreevy.                                                                                                                                          VFRADIO LTD ©

​                                         *** Please Note ***                                                  
​ Nothing must be copied from any of these pages without the explicit consent of VFRADIO LTD ©, and it's Directors. Any Infringement may result in Prosecution.



                                                                   ROCK FOR REMEMBERANCE.
A CONCERT ON BEHALF OF THE ROYAL BRITISH LEGION, SSAFA AND NLVCH ( North Lincolnshire Veterans Community Hub)

A concert especially to raise funds for the 3 organisations above, arranged by Mr Mark Goode of the group Gone Shootin.
featuring themselves and Rotherham based group OBSIDIAN, 
Venue: The Royal Hotel, Doncaster rd. Scunthorpe, North Lincolnshire.
Date: 16th November 2018. - Admission £6.00 also a Pie & Pea supper £5.00.
ALL PROCEEDS TO THE NAMED RBL,SSAFA AND NLVCH.
​Sincere thanks goes out to all concerned.