Tag Archives: writing

Poetry, World War 1

Remembering Armistice Day: A Reflection on WW1

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Today is Armistice Day, the day when peace came to the world after WW1. It was said to be the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month. For convenience, I suspect, it seems to have been moved to the nearest Sunday,

As I’m having to spend a lot of time trying to get through checking the edited manuscript of my latest WIP, I’m unashamedly reposting the one I posted for 100years since the end of that dreadful war.

Britishtrenchww1

WE WILL REMEMBER THEM.

I’ll never truly understand
How World War 1 began.
The death of Archduke Ferdinand
Started the deaths of many more,
The young, the old, the rich, the poor.
All died with guns in hand.

02grandad

My Grandad went with Uncle Jim
And Our Poor Willie, too.
They sent them off, singing a hymn.
Grandad went to Gallipoli,
Uncle Jim left his love, Polly.
Gas in trenches did kill him.

I cannot see, in my mind’s eye
Grandad with gun in hand.
A peaceful man, sent out to die.
He fought for us, for you and me
So we can live and so that we
Safely in our beds may lie.

015gtunclewilly1

Grandad came home, and Willie too,
But millions more did not.
Their duty they all had to do.
They died in fear, in noise, in blood.
Everything was caked in mud.
Yet in those fields the poppies grew.

The War to end all wars, they said,
So terrible were the deaths.
The youth of Europe all lay dead.
Yet 21 short years to come
Another war. Once more a gun
In young men’s hands brought death.

One hundred years have passed since then.
What have we learned? Not much!
Too many men are killing men.
Wars still abound around the world.
Bombs and missiles still are hurled
At those who disagree with them.

My Grandma always referred to her brother as ‘Our Poor Willy’. No one knows why she called him that, though.

Please leave a comment. I love to hear from you and of your thoughts.

This poem, and others, can be found in Miscellaneous Thoughts. You can buy it by clicking on the cover in the sidebar where you will be taken to the online store of your choice.

The book is available in a number of formats.

Halloween, Holidays, Poetry

Halloween 5

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Halloween

Darkness creeps
Fear seeps
Human sleeps
Spirit sneaks.

Graves reopen
Dead awoken
Tombs are broken
Terror unspoken.

Ghosts do ride
Far and wide
Those who died
Will not hide.

Stay in bed
Shun the dead
This night of dread
Till dark has fled.

Happy Halloween Everyone!

If you liked my poems, this one comes from the book, From July to December. One Poem a Day, Book 2. You can buy it by clicking on the book cover in the sidebar.

Halloween, Holidays, Poetry

Halloween Poetry 4

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Samhain

Don’t go near the graveyard, darling.
Samhain is tonight.
Don’t go near the graveyard, darling. 
The dead will walk this night.

Keep your candle burning, darling.
Keep it glowing bright.
Keep your candle burning darling.
Be sure it gives you light.

The bonfires have been lit, darling.
To fill the dark with light.
The bonfires have been lit, darling.
Their flames reach such a height.

Put your home fire out, darling.
Be sure to do it right.
Put your home fire out, darling.
From bonfires we’ll re-light.

Put food by the door, darling.
Leave it in plain sight.
Put food by the door, darling,
For our dead to have a bite.

Do not be afraid, darling.
They see that we’re alright.
Do not be afraid, darling.
No harm from them tonight.

But evil spirits come, darling.
We must put them to flight.
But evil spirits come, darling.
Them we must try to fight.

Go and watch the bonfires, darling.
Stand in their bright light.
Go and watch the bonfires, darling
To keep us safe this night.

This is another poem from Miscellaneous Thoughts. The book contains poems of a variety of kinds and of different themes. Click on the image in the sidebar to go to your favourite online store.

Halloween, Holidays, Poetry

Halloween Poetry 3

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Hallowe’en

The moon has hidden her face tonight
Turned away from the Earth.
The clouds are scurrying away in fright
From what the night may give birth,
For tonight the veil is thin.

The wind is blowing the leaves around.
They hide in crannies and nooks.
Cowering, shivering, hope not to be found
By phantoms, ghosts and spooks,
For tonight the veil may tear.

Build a bonfire, create some light.
The spirits are afraid.
They like the shadows, shun what’s bright
And lurk within the shade
For tonight they cross the veil.

Ghouls and spectres, wraiths and shades
Return to Earth tonight.
We’re filled with dread as daylight fades.
The smallest sound will give us fright
For tonight the veil has gone.

If you like my poems, please comment in the comments box. This and the other poems can be found in my poetry book, Miscellaneous Thoughts. You can buy it by clicking on the highlighted text or the book cover in the sidebar.

Halloween, Holidays, Poetry

Halloween Poetry 2

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There were several festivals that were held by the ancient pagan Celts, one of which was Samhain (pronounced Sowain). In order to wean them away from their pagan worship, Pope Gregory III, in the 8th Century, established November 1st, which had been the pagan New Year, as All Saints’ Day, and November 2nd as All Souls’ Day (all those Christians who had died unknown).

Thus there was a link to Samhain because it was thought by the pagan people that the dead could return to their old homes to visit their descendants. Sometimes an extra place was set at the table and food left for them.

They also believed that devils, demons and the like could also come, and so they lit bonfires to scare them away. (UK residents note that we have a remnant of those bonfires on November 5th.)

This poem references the thought that our dead loved ones can visit us on this night.

This poem refers to my father who died when I was just three years old.

A Father’s Hallowe’en message.

I Died.
I didn’t want to go.
I left my wife and daughter so
I cried.

I thought
I could no longer see
All their future without me.
I fought.

I found
That each All Hallows Eve,
I could return—I need not grieve.
Not bound.

I come
To them each Hallowe’en.
They do not know. I am not seen.
I’m dumb.

They live
And I surround them both
With all my love. I am not loath
To give.

Here ends my tale.
I will be filled with endless glee
When they come to dwell with me
Beyond the veil.

Halloween, Holidays, Poetry

Halloween Week. Day 1

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As it’s Halloween week, I thought I’d post a few of my Halloween poems. I’m going to post one each day until Halloween itself.

In the Haunted House

The wind it blows cold.
Like ice down my back.
I try to be bold, 
But courage I lack.
In the haunted house.

It seemed such a lark
When we set off tonight.
But now it’s gone dark
And we shiver with fright
In the haunted house.

Jane said. ‘We’ll have fun
On Hallowe’en night.’
But when slow footsteps come
She screams out in fright
In the haunted house.

‘Let’s take candles,’ said Pete.
‘More authentic for light. 
And something to eat
If we’re staying all night
In the haunted house.’

Jack thinks it’s a game
Till the candles blow out.
Not one single flame.
He gave a loud shout
In the haunted house.

The temperature sinks.
‘That means ghosts are here,’
Said Pete, who still thinks
There’s nothing to fear
In the haunted house.

The door starts to creak.
It opens so slow.
Our knees have gone weak.
I wish we could go
From the haunted house.

But nothing is there 
As we huddle in fear.
Not one of us dare
To get up and peer
In the haunted house.

All night there are groans.
We hear footsteps, we swear,
And the rattle of bones.
Something is there 
In the haunted house.

We laugh at our fear
As we make our way home.
In daylight it’s clear
No spirits do roam 
In the haunted house.

The noises we heard?
Just the sounds of a house
Cooling down, and a bird
Not one single ghost
In the haunted house.

Do you celebrate Halloween? How do you celebrate?

free book, Guest Post, history, novel, stories

My Visit to Mary Deal.

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First of all, before I begin this post, I would like to say that I tried to respond to the comments and suggestions that many of you gave for my story based on Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. For some reason, WordPress said they couldn’t respond. Apologies. I hope the replies get through eventually. I did try several times!

I have been honoured to appear on Mary Deal’s blog. I love Mary’s books, she is an excellent author of mystery and thriller, and all the books I’ve read kept me on the edge of my seat.

Mary has featured an excerpt from my historical novel, Vengeance of a Slave. This is set in Roman Britain and tells the story of a slave boy, ripped from his family at merely six years old, and how he builds up his hatred of the Romans in the hope of escaping and taking revenge.

There is also a link to an interview I did with Mary some time ago.

V. M. Sang

If you would like to be featured on Mary’s website, she is kindly offering to do so. You can contact her by clicking on ‘Write Any Genre’ above.

short story

I want to pick your brains.

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I’m writing a story inspired by the fairy tale of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, but I’ve hit a plot hole.

Briefly, a couple who want a child decide to have one by IVF. They have a little girl they call Molly. They are well off people, the father being a successful business man.

Sadly, Molly’s mother dies in a car crash. Her father, Michael, is devastated, but eventually, after a few years, meets and marries a beautiful, if selfish woman who has a child, a boy called Sean. Lisa, the second wife overhears Michael saying he’s going to leave the business to Molly, but will ensure that Lisa has enough money for her and Sean to live as they are used to.

Lisa is also becoming jealous of Molly as her beauty is growing as Lisa’s is fading. Lisa plots to get rid of her step-daughter and persuades Sean to take a boat to France and push Molly overboard in the middle of the Channel. But Sean can’t bring himself to do this and they land in Fecamp, France.

Sean grabs Molly’s bag and runs back to the boat, starts the engine and leaves.

Milly has no means of identification, no money and no phone as they were all in her bag. She is befriended by a young man who takes her back to the house he shares with 6 other young people.

Molly finds the British Embassy is in Paris but she has no money to get there. So she agrees to do cleaning and some cooking for the others, who are all working.

Now, here are the plot holes.

Why don’t the others lend her a phone to phone her father?

Why doesn’t she go to the police?

I thought of 2 possible solutions,

I could move the time from the present day to, say, 1960s and have them living in a hippy commune. No mobile phones.

Molly could fall chasing after Sean and bang her head, and has no memory of who she is or why she’s there.

Which do you think would be better? Although the first doesn’t explain why she doesn’t go to the police.

Do you have a better explanation for this problem? If so, please let me know in the comments box. I will be ever grateful to you.

announcement, fantasy, novel

Just a Quick One!

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I thought you might like to know that I’ve just signed the contract for Book 4 of The Wolves of Vimar series. It’s called Immortal’s Death. I’ll keep you informed as to the progress!

Uncategorized

AI writing

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I saw an advertisement for something called Designerr. They were saying ‘Publish a book in minutes without writing a single word’.

As a writer, I think this is disgusting. I emailed them to their help line, which was the only method of getting in touch unless you wanted to sign up, and got a reply asking how they could help me. I’ve just sent the following reply.

This is not a plea for help, it’s just me giving my opinion. AI ‘writing’ books is a terrible idea. It cannot understand what it’s doing, nor the underlying craft of writing. It only knows what words usually follow another.

AI knows nothing of people and their emotions, which are important parts of writing meaningful books. The stuff it churns out is dreadful, so I’ve been told.

AI can only learn from scraping books already published by hard-working authors who spend many months, or even years getting a book to a standard where it’s ready for publishing. Many of these books that are scraped are pirated, too.

To suggest that someone can publish a book in minutes without writing a single word is disgusting, and an insult to genuine authors.

And you are taking work away from real writers!

My opinion. I suppose you’ll have yours. I’d be interested to hear from you about it.