arthur.cole


 

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Category: POETRY and CRIME THRILLERS

Edith Cavell


By arthur.cole, 2019-03-10

Edith Louisa CAVELL was a British nurse. She is celebrated for saving the lives of soldiers from both sides in the Great War. She did this without discrimination. She also helped over 200 allied soldiers escape over the Belgian border, from German troops, a truly brave and compassionate lady who was betrayed by a man named QUIEN, a German collaborator.

 

 

Edith Louisa CAVELL

 

Drawn into conflict, no fault of her own,
compassion her forte, to her, never shown.
Soldiers of all nations, were treated as equals,
betrayed in the end, by a collaborator evil.

 

Edith Cavell was her name, a woman so brave,
in that futile war, many lives she did save.
Not only by nursing, many others concealed,
she gave them safe passage, as was later revealed.

 

Many brave soldiers, to her, owed their lives,
conveyed to the border, a miracle to survive.
'Quien' the collaborator, brought this to an end,
Edith later arrested, a firing squad condemned.

 

Her time finally came, 'blindfolded', to the wall,
a patriotic heroine, angelic mercy to all,
With no hatred inside, bitterness cast aside,
heavenly dispatched, with passion and pride.

 

Even facing death, no hatred in her heart,
a woman of substance, a breed set apart.
Dying for her country, her soul was released,
though ravages of war, they never ceased.

War Horse


By arthur.cole, 2019-03-10

WAR HORSE

 

 I remember it well, as if yesterday,

 my master cried, but he had to obey.

 Uniformed men, they stole me that day,

 my future now destined, a land far away.

 

 Down to the port with thousands like me,

 winched on a ship, our fate history.

 We landed in France, not knowing our worth,

 paddocked together, no peace on earth.

 

 Shell blasts I hear, far away in the distance,

 all new to me, the night sky it glistens.

 That is the night, death hit home to me,

 a War horse my fate, that's how it would be.

 

 The following day, a task I was given,

 pulling a gun, it was so unforgiving.

 Mile after mile, slowly and tiring,

 shells bursting overhead, brave men lay dying.

 

 Once at the front, harness undone,

 back down the line, a hero unsung,

 Fed and watered, I lay down to rest,

 this foreign field, would be my bequest.

 

 Four years I toiled, carnage abounding,

 pulling the canon, gunfire resounding.

 I lost many friends to gas and shell,

 the smell of death, made heaven a hell.

 

 Peace came at last, it had taken its toll,

 horses and men, many lost souls.

 The stench of death, with me forever,

 brave men and horse in heaven together.

 

 We played our part in that abhorrent war,

 while enemy soldiers, spilled each other's gore.

 I was taken by men to follow this course,

 home I am now, a strong proud War horse.

Mametz Wood Remembered


By arthur.cole, 2019-03-10

MAMETZ WOOD REMEMBERED

 

That futile war, never forgotten.
the Somme a hundred years on.
Battle lines drawn, no man's land,
brave men preparing to die.

 

Birdsong fell silent, that fateful day,
slaughter, it surely did follow.
Machine guns nesting, deep in the wood,
barbed wire protecting the enemy.

 

The 38th Welsh led that fatal charge,
their orders to take Mametz wood.
Chaos abounded, their lives sacrificed,
like lemmings, to their holy maker.

 

The mortars rained down,
a shell hole, one's only safe haven,
Bodies piled high, deep in the mud,
as blood flowed, a deep poppy red.

 

Although stripped bare, by bullet and mortar,
Mametz wood will live on forever.
A graveyard for heroes, all Welsh to a man,
their sacrifice, never forgotten.

 

Welsh dragon today, faces the wood,
tearing at wire, where heroes blood flowed.
A memorial now guarding their souls,
its colour a deep poppy red.

 

"This poem is dedicated to the brave men of the 39th Welsh
who fought at the disastrous battle of Mametz wood during the
First World War. R.I.P"

Parc Slip Remembered


By arthur.cole, 2019-03-10

At 8.20am an explosion occurred at the Parc Slip Colliery, Aberkenfig, near Tondu. One hundred and twelve men and young boys lost their lives, may they all R.I.P.

 

PARC SLIP REMEMBERED

One hundred and twelve, at peace in heaven,

in their day the heartbeat of Cefn.

Parc Slip the mine where they all worked,

way down below, their destiny lurked.                                                      

                                                           

Men and boys taken that day,

firedamp and flame, the usual way.

Generations lost, without any say,

deadly fire and gas, took all air away.

 

Two miners were rescued, after the blast,

no hope for the rest, the future now past.

Hampered by falls, the rescue continued,

the following day, hope came to the village.

 

Voices were heard, deep in the mine,

a miracle, rescued, at least thirty-nine.

Some solace for those that were weeping,

heart break for those, loved ones sleeping.

 

Still to this day, Cefn mourns the begotten,

those lost souls, never forgotten.

Descendents reflect, heartache and sorrow,

their relatives felt on that sad 'morrow.

 

Parc Slip is now a nature reserve,

a memorial, those heroes deserved,

Birdsong is heard each single day,

lost souls at last finding their way.

Pit Ponies


By arthur.cole, 2019-03-10

PIT  PONIES

I was four when I started, my life underground,

stabled below, coal dust would abound.

Miners my friends, they treated me well,

for one, oh so young, the face was like hell.

 

The dust and the gas, the air putrified,

the miners would crawl on their bellies and sides.

After pulling the journeys for eight hours a day,

I lay in my stable, on soft and warm hay.

 

Fifty weeks of the year we'd work together,

think what I'd give for fresh air, fine weather.

Then it would come, two weeks on top,

roaming the fields, a nice gentle trot.

 

The air I took in, so fresh and clean,

the weeks would fly by, then back to the seam.

Ten years I would work, with the brave men below,

but my time it did come, up top I would go.

 

Up in the cage, to the top of the pit,

they patted my head, you deserve it.

Checked by the vet, then down to the field,

where for two weeks a year, always spring heeled.

 

A pit ponys life was hard and so tough,

I made many friends, took the smooth with the rough.

Life in the field, is the way it should be,

for ponies who started out young, just like me.

Pen-Y-Fan


By arthur.cole, 2019-03-10
Pen-Y-Fan

'Pen-Y-Fan'

She's a jewel in the crown, a snow covered peak,

a stairway to heaven, though in winter so bleak.

An everlasting reminder, of a glacial past,

formed out of sandstone, dark shadows cast.

A Bronze age cairn, on her summit stands proud,

elements defied, mystical views they astound.

'Ashes of the dead' long ago there entombed,

meadowsweet flowers, now sadly exhumed.

She's a sight to behold, when shrouded in mist,

when covered by snow, she's a peak to resist.

She's a taker of life, when her spirits are stirred,

hail, rain and snow, killer elements converge.

To modern day pilgrims, a muse she's become,

a bucket list challenge, erosion succumbed.

'The Beacons' she rules, such a majestic sight,

on a fine summer's day, one of pure delight.

  

MinIng Poetry


By arthur.cole, 2019-03-09
MinIng Poetry

My Coal Mining Poetry book 'An Industry Now Lost'

World War One Poems


By arthur.cole, 2019-03-09
World War One Poems

This is my World War One Book of Poems

Aberfan Poem


By arthur.cole, 2019-03-09

At 9.15 am on Friday the 21st October 1966, a colliery spoil tip collapsed into many

homes, and the Pantglas Junior School, killing 116 children and 28 adults.

This poem is dedicated to them.  May they all Rest In Peace.

 

ABERFAN

 

Slag and slurry, the devil incarnate,

robbed a village of lives and didn't abate.

On that early morn, the sun fell from the sky,

a giant black shadow drowned their small cries.

                                                           

Teachers’ and children fighting for air,

the slag and the slurry laid the school bare.

Completely covered by the river of black,

many souls lost, if we could only go back.

 

The village would come, with all haste and speed,

digging with hands, miners taking the lead.

Mothers wailing, where is my child?

the black stuff still sliding, a torrent so vile.

 

The number it took was one forty-four,

if only God had allowed a few hours more.

Half term it would be later that day.

souls that we lost, would have been on their way.

 

The survivors they numbered one forty-five,

sad and heartbroken, however, alive.

God bless you all, please rest in peace,

never forgotten, our love will not cease.

POET FOR THE COMMON MAN


By arthur.cole, 2019-03-09

I WAS BORN IN CAERAU A SMALL MINING VILLAGE AT THE TOP OF THE LLYNFI VALLEY, MAESTEG. MY DAD WAS A MINER, AS WERE ALL MY CLOSE FAMILY.I JOINED THE POLICE SERVICE IN 1967 AND SERVED OVER 30 YEARS, RETIRING AS A DETECTIVE SERGEANT.

AT THE END OF 2015 I BEGAN WRITING POETRY, THE GENRES BEING COAL MINING AND THE FIRST WORLD WAR. IN FEBRUARY 2016 I WROTE A CRIME THRILLER TITLED 'UNETHICAL CONDUCT' WITH THE HELP OF MY NOW CO-AUTHOR NIGEL WILLIAMS.

I NEVER INTENDED WRITING ANOTHER BOOK, IT WAS JUST A BUCKET LIST EFFORT, HOWEVER NIGEL AND I THEN BEGAN WRITING TOGETHER. WE SELF PUBLISHED THE NEXT 8 BOOKS ON AMAZON, DONATING THE ROYALTIES NEARLY £2,000 TO CHARITY.

IN MAY LAST YEAR I WAS LUCKY ENOUGH TO GET MY POETRY PUBLISHED BY 'WORDCATCHER PUBLISHING' CARDIFF. OWNED BY DAVID NORRINGTON.

AS WEL AS MY POETRY DAVID THEN DECIDED TO RE-PUBLISH ALL OUR BOOKS, GIVING THEM BRAND NEW COVERS, BUT KEEPING THE SAME TITLES, SO THAT READERS WOULDN'T RE-PURCHASE.

THE FIRST BOOK 'UNETHICAL CONDUCT' HAS JUST BEEN RELEASED ON KINDLE AND THE PAPERBACK SHOULD BE AVAILABLE IN A FEW WEEKS.

WE HOPE TO RELEASE THE SERIES AT REGULAR INTERVALS.

I HAVE MY OWN POETRY PAGE ON FACEBOOK WHICH IS PUBLIC, SO ANYONE CAN VIEW AND JOIN, THERE ARE OVER 280 POEMS ON THE SITE 'ARTHUR'S POEMS AND ANECDOTES.

NIGEL AND I ALSO HAVE A SEPERATE PAGE FOR THE THRILLERS TITLED 'THE TERRY MCGUIRE THRILLERS' AGAIN A PUBLIC PAGE THAT ANYONE CAN VIEW.