To and for My Grandson

When, in the twilight of your life,
feeling haggard, hard done by,
It seems that life has passed you by,
just when there were new fields to conquer,
new avenues to explore,
new opportunities to grasp.
Your eyes light up when you see,
a tiny, sprawled figure,
who only slurps, and sleeps, and poops,
and yet, and yet………… never fails to put,
a spring in your step,
a smile on your face,
a song in your heart.
You can spend decades with family and friends,
and yet, when a tiny hand,
wraps itself around your finger,
and holds you in its spell,
everything else appears to be,
just a blur.
Such an innocent, trusting face,
reminds you not of
what could have been,
but of what can still be.
Your aching limbs and battered spirit,
have found a new body to inhabit,
a new life, full of promises, to live.
Through him, I live on,
My grandson, ah, my little one!

An Eternal Query

All along life’s bitter paths
I have trod and learned,
The sole reality is God
So to God I turned.
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From Devonport With Love

My dearest darlings, here I am
Forlorn in a foreign land;
Sweet smells of life abound,
Colour and toys and chocs around.
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To The Submarine Newsletter – A Tribute

The SNL, we all agree,
To a relative degree,
Is a work that merits praise,
Even from those above the waves.
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Morning Watch

You see the varying hues
Of the sea and sky,
Mingle and blend
Like an alchemists potion,
Fruitlessly simmering
In this all-encompassing plasma.
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The Curse of the Skies

Gloves white shielding knuckles pale
Tautened like an iron rail
Gripping, gripping till it seems
Blood’s a–leaking at the seams.
Nimble hands keep at their job
Unmindful of an anguished sob
Stemming from the cerebrum
Spreading like the beat of drum.
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The Joy of Flying

The engines purred, the props whirred
The Cessna slowly stirred.
Pressure on the brakes released
It steadily picked up speed.
A tug so gentle on the stick
Gave us an upward flick.
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A Lesson in Trust

While on watch one wintry night,
My keenly roving eyes espied
A faint and faraway light
Fine on starboard side.

‘A boat engaged in fishing’,
The Captain said to me,
‘Looks like her bearing
Is more or less steady’.
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Experiences on a Minesweeper

The ship’s rigged for sweeping,
And that it never does,
While up and down the coast
It’s throbbing engines buzz.

Patrolling and patrolling,
That’s the game it plays,
With aimless to’s and fro’s
It’s a sport which never pays
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The Mighty Ship BABUR

Leading a valiant fleet
‘tis the mighty ship BABUR,
Whose deadly gliding sleekness
The enemy’s aims deter.

A greyish streak upon
The blueness of the sea
‘tis the mighty ship BABUR
Out on a hunting spree.
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