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At the heart of poetry is inspiration. A force

That may take many forms and has no limits

It covers a soldiers pain that no one sees yet

Cuts deep and does not heal. It covers lost

Love, broken hearts and all the anguish of

Sudden tears and lonely nights and above all

It covers birth, a new life coming into the world

Into the arms of a loving mother


Somewhere amongst the stars there is another

Poetic calculation, a romantic calculation in

Which dreams and sentiment play a central role

What is imagined and written about in this context

May not exist and may never have existed and

Yet, for the reader it is a true and as satisfying

Had they been one half of the party


And for this purpose I have a scantily clad lady

On the wall next to me. A model who once graced

The busy streets of Paris in the1900s. Her white

Shoes as up to the minute as tomorrow, her figure

Unforgettable. She models, I like to think, for the

Finer things in life. Her image regularly found in

The breast pocket of soldiers in the battles of the

First World War. Her clothes are new and her

Shoes purchased 'only yesterday' still have their

Shoe shop shine. There is however, a tear in her

Eye, shed for her poilu who will not be coming

Home to claim her...


She often features in my writing and I know

Her well and I like to think she knows me too

Although that is highly unlikely. Nonetheless, I

Keep her with me and if there is a heaven

From which to look down I hope she sees me

And approves of my work

God bless our Soldiers and Veterans

©Joseph G Dawson


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