Sunday, 29 June 2014

Just Another Morning

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I was thinking about the periods of separation faced by military families and in particular how the minutia of routines might mirror each other despite living in different environments.

These thoughts sparked the following poem, I hope you like it.

Just Another Morning

She ties laces on scuffed school shoes,
he shakes bugs from his boots.
She packs a lunch into a pink rucksack
he stuffs batteries and ammo.
She climbs into a family run-around,
whilst he climbs into a Mastiff.
Dodge traffic on a school run
dodge pot-holes, donkeys and IEDs.
Their radios play the latest hits
but in his world; the hits, hurt.
Kids dropped, weekly shop,
patrol through a crowded market.
walk the dog, back home for coffee,
canine sits to indicate,
time slows
and thoughts turn to each other.

John Carré Buchanan
29 June 2014

Friday, 27 June 2014

Tide Line

Image Source: John Buchanan

I took another trip to Moulin Huet today (yes I am that mad). Looking out across the bay it was impossible to miss the tide line on the granite cliffs, created by the rise and fall of the tides over millennia. This led me to write a poem, I hope you like it.

Tide Line

The granite bears a tide line,
black as black can be,
as if some dirty giant
took a bath in the sea
and left a scummy tide line
on the lichen covered rocks.
But, if you look closely,
take off your shoes and socks
and scramble on the foreshore
you're in for quite a shock.
For here in this narrow band
twixt lichen and the sea
limpets and anemones cling
like jewels for all to see,
and in the little rock pools
amidst the coloured weed
guppies, shrimps and little crabs
take shelter from the sea.
Yes the granite bears a tide line
as black as black can be,
a line which hides great beauty
the treasures of the sea.

John Carré Buchanan
27 June 2014

Monday, 23 June 2014

Just Sitting

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Whilst sitting at a the Moulin Huet Tea Rooms listening to some excellent live music, I looked out over the bay below and saw a lone skier.

I had been trying to write a poem about the music, but ended up with this one instead. I hope you like it.

Just Sitting

The bay laid out below
Rhibs, gin palaces, dinghies
their blue and white hulls
a uniform, reflected in the still water.
Further out a wakeboarder
wipes out, again.
I feel their frustration,
I know that frustration,
and knowing...

For there was a time...

There was a time
when I would cut the wake,
my rooster tail danced
from side to side,
a curtain of diamonds
which chased me
and Illuminated my life.

The boat curves gently
it's serpentine wake
envelops the skier,
returns the rope;
and building speed
the dance begins again,

and I,

I watch from my chair
with a tear in my eye.

John Carré Buchanan
21 June 2014

Sunday, 22 June 2014

Music With A View

Image Source: John Buchanan

I went to the Moulin Huet Tea Room yesterday to listen to the fabulous Ukuladeez launch their new album. They were joined by The Crowman and Esther Rose Parkes who had come over from Jersey.

The trip down to the Tea Room was very hairy (I was in my wheelchair and gravity was stronger than traction), as for the trip back.....

but what an afternoon, we even had a fly past from a Merlin helicopter.

While I was there I wrote this poem.

Music With A View

Strings vibrate the air,
the garden fills with music.
Cocked, sun-hatted heads,
listen appreciatively.
The perfect view,
constrained by the steep valley
opens to the bay,
guarded by granite cliffs
whose Jagged teeth pierce the horizon.
Within the garden,
bordered by hydrangeas
the crowd gathers,
and the excitement grows.
The band strikes up
harmonies fill the air,
heads nod, feet tap, shoulders sway.
Stunning view,
beautiful garden,
and foot stomping music.
A perfect end,
to a perfect day.

John Carré Buchanan
21 June 2014

Friday, 6 June 2014

D-Day ~ Ode to Heroes

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Today marks the 70th anniversary of D-day (6th June 1944). The day on which Allied troops landed by air and sea as part of Operation NEPTUNE which was the landing phase of the broader invasion of Normandy known as Operation OVERLOARD.

Of the 160,000 troops who crossed the English Channel on D-Day, approximately 12,000 were reported as casualties with 4,400 confirmed dead.

Most of these men would baulk at being called heroes. In my opinion these men, who despite all odds delivered troops, took bridges and secured the drop-zones and beach-heads that day, are all heroes.

“At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
we will remember them.”

D-Day – Ode to Heroes

Doors opened
commands flew
helmets surged forward
and the view cleared.
Darkness rushed past
and then a blast of air
tumbling…
Tumbling…
Check canopy,
kick out twists,
steer away,
and the ground rushed up
thud, roll, release, RV,
then push forward.
Capture, destroy,
clear drop zones,
gliders disgorged
as the push continued.
Capture, destroy,
bridges over Douve, Caen, Orne, Dives,
the battery at Merville
as their comrades fell
they pushed forward.

The ramp lowered
commands flew
helmets surged forward
the view cleared
sand, water, wire, smoke, bodies
stretching….
Stretching….
Push forward
into chest deep, cold water.
So cold.
Heavy battle dress; sodden
dragged down
stumbled forward
friends all around
with grim faces
over the hornet buzz of bullets
the crump of artillery and bombs
came the skirl of bagpipes playing
whilst sand laden water leaped
and men fell, torn apart
screams rent the air
and still they drove forward
on UTAH, OMAHA, GOLD, JUNO, and SWORD
they pushed on,
as comrades fell
they overcame the urge to hide
and ran, staggered and crawled forward

When their countries called
they stepped up
they paid an unimaginable price.
Some pay it still.
These men, Heroes all.
We will remember them.

John Carré Buchanan
05 June 2014

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