Silhouette Soldiers.

I have just published my third book of poetry called Silhouette Soldiers at the grand old age of 81 on the 6th of July 2019
When I look back, I realise now the impact that the Great War (1914-1918) had on my life even though I was born 20 years after its conclusion in 1938. My Father fought in the battle of Manchester Hill was shot in the head, taken prisoner and tended by the Germans. He was repatriated in 1919 to a hospital in Edinburgh. After he was demobilised, he suffered from the effects of that conflict until his death, the day after my 9th birthday in 1947.My mother always said that the man who came back from the conflict was not the same man who enlisted in 1916
I have written many poems about my childhood during the 39/45 war, my dad was on low wages, food was scarce and we were poor, most people on our Manchester council estate were in the same situation. I grew up without the influence of a father in my teenage years, my mother had to go to work and I became a “latch key kid.” The key hung round my neck and down my shirt. Money was always tight and if I wanted anything I either made it myself or did without.
I think quite a few of the many poems I have written reflect this, both in this book and in my other published works.
Two things helped me during this period .One was the local library and the other was the Boy Scout Movement, they provided me with an insight into other people’s lives, and also introduced me to the country side pursuits of rambling, climbing and pot holing ,I have a love of the open moorland that has stayed with me, I was a member of a mountain Rescue team for over 20 years.
I served in the Royal Air Force as a medic and when demobbed qualified as registered General and Psychiatric Nurse, rising to a senior Nurse administrative position before my retirement.
I have seen the best and at times the worse in the human condition, and some of my poems reflect this, though I must admit that this is at times tempered by my warped sense of humour. many poems from my 3 books published so far are featured on the blog I hope you enjoy them.

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Money Talk

Money Talk
Before we went decimal we had just £.s.d.
And a farthing was the smallest coin ‘twas there for all to see,
A halfpenny then followed, next up was the penny,
A large and very bulky coin so you did not carry many,
The threepenny bit was next, followed by the” tanner”,
Or sixpence as it was known, in the correctly speaking manner,
Our next coin was the shilling or “bob” as it was known,
And two of then a coin simply called a Florin,
A half a crown was next in this panoply of coins,
And shillings five made a Crown, not of the wearing kind,
Paper money it came next, the ten bob note for sure,
And twenty shillings made a pound our money now secure,
The odd one out in all of this, was a rare price called a Guinea,
Twenty plus one shilling its value, though rarely used by many,
A Golden Sovereign was a coin seen by very few,
The rich in vaults did keep them, away from poor folks view,
Now decimal coinage has made our maths easier to manage,
The maths involved in £.s.d make some people disadvantaged.

© Ted Morgan August 2019

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THe Lonley Man

So many older people feel abandoned by todays fast moving society
The Lonely Man
He sits near the phone, and hopes it will ring
For someone, to just say hello,
He’s been on his own now, for many a year,
So sad at what loneliness brings,
His past life was full, of excitement and joy
Felt fulfilled, in a job that he loved,
With a wife by his side, and children as well,
He felt blessed by the good Lord above,
The kids fled the nest, but that was just fine
His wife was the love that he craved,
Their retirement was grand, as they strolled hand in hand
Down a beach on some wild coral strand
But illness then took, the love of his life,
He walked behind her coffin in church,
Went home, to a house that was silent and still,
Not at all like his loved wife’s domain,
Everyday tasks were now his to do,
But the ache in his heart still remained
He knows he must try, as each day goes by,
To widen his view and his friends,
But still counts the cost of the love he had lost,
And loneliness is all that remains.
© Ted Morgan June 2019

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my memory stick

My Memory Stick
Someone’s pitched the memory stick that lay within my brain,
I know I’m getting on a bit, which causes some disdain,
But my stick it functioned perfectly as exams I did take,
I even got some letters, which would prove that I’m awake,
But as I I’ve reached my dotage now, a malfunction has occurred,
My memory stick’s gone walkabout, remembering’s not assured,
Someone asks a question and the answer I should know,
But the memory sticks malfunction deals me a mortal blow,
I do feel kind of stupid, in my head I see the thing,
But the word for it I can’t recall. my memory bells don’t ring,
I’ve put my keys down somewhere, I know there in the house,
I search in every room ‘cos I know there hereabouts,
I leave the room to do a task, my mind is so assured,
But when I get to the other room, my task is now obscured,
I went a walk the other day, and a friendly face I saw,
Chatted on this and that, but of his name I was not sure,
Folks tell you of the joys of reaching your golden years,
But losing your memory stick, leads to frustration and some tears.
© Ted Morgan June 2019

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Spring Dawn

Spring Dawn
Mists rise slowly from the dew-soaked grass,
The dawn breaks through the dappled trees,
Birdsong heralds the slow awakening of the day,
Whilst wispy clouds scurry across the red streaked sky,
A man walks slowly along the winding path across a field,
Deep in thought, enjoying this period of solitude,
Flowers raise their dewy heads towards the rising sun,
The first squirrels chase about in search of sustenance,
Crows strut about the grass like military sentry’s,
The kestrel hovers in the sky looking for an early feast,
The peace and serenity of the early morning,
Heralds the challenges of the day ahead, for both men and animals.

© Ted Morgan May 2019

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Children’s Nativity

Nativity
Parents they all gathered to see the nativity play,
The school had worked so hard to make sure ‘twas right today,
But the little junior players, were not sure of all their lines,
And Mary had the hiccups, and Joseph’s laughter was unkind,
The angels they danced on stage, but then disaster struck,
The fluffy wings upon their backs, fell off, as glue became unstuck,
Poor little angel Gabriel, began to howl and weep,
Which startled all the little tots, who were all dressed up as sheep
The inn keeper he took charge and yelled “you two had better scarper,
Mi rooms are all full you see, your room booking should be sharper,
Joseph then got shirty “Mi donkey he is knackered, and Mary’s not much better,
We’ll sleep in yonder stable, though the straw will mess her sweater,
Now William was the Bethlehem star, and held his stick up high,
But the heat on stage and all the din, made him start to cry,
The teacher rushed to comfort him, but tripped upon the stage,
And ended up upon the crib, where baby Jesus laid,
The three wise men viewed the scene and thought what should they do?
But then one said to Joseph “I’ve some Frankenstein for you”
The parents started laughing, The best line in the show,
But the crying chaos on the stage ,dealt it a fatal blow,
WE all look forward to next year, for none of us can tell,
What mishap will befall the, Nativity Clientele.
© Ted Morgan Christmas 2018

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christmas poem 2018

Christmas poem 2018

The Armistice was signed in Nineteen eighteen
And the Christmas that followed was joyfully seen
As a time for rejoicing; with the lads who came home,
From the battles and trenches; where they did roam
But in many people’s houses, there was a lack
Of the festive spirit, as their menfolk weren’t back,
For their loved ones in khaki; now lay side by side
In a graveyard in France; with their pals who had died,
And the bells did ring out, to greet the baby Christ birth,
Whilst their hero son’s lay; in a foreign lands earth,
Their presents of sorrow, were all that they had,
And memories of past times, made them feel sad,
At Christmas let’s think, of that time long ago,
And what we can do, to help all who feel low,
Invite them to share your meal, and your home,
And prove to them all, that they’re not alone.

© Ted Morgan December 2018

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