Day: April 18, 2018

An old man in the sun beside a tree

A man of peaceful face and pale blue eye
An old man in the sun beside  a tree
A pilot in the RAF  at war

He could have been a  Nazi, German spy
His Aryan appearance I could see
A man of peaceful face and pale blue eye

Men like him  flew from the other side
Mad blitz on London, blazes,poetry.
A pilot in the Luftwaffe for years

And who brought God in here,must Love be tried?
Was he the God of  Copper, broiling free?
The man had gentle face and kind blue eye

Was that life the one for which man’s born?
Was Jesus silent on his bended knee?
Is he  our pilot  in the inner war?

Up and down, the bells ring by the sea
Open up your arms,Lord, embrace me
Oh ,man of peaceful face and pale blue eye
A pilot in the RAF, dark Victory

 

 

I met a man who flew Spitfires in WW2

spits_aligned

http://www.world-war-2-planes.com/spitfire.html

 

 

I sat down in the town as it was so hot.A man near me who must be about 94 said he was in the RAF.He survived 2.5 years flying to protect Britain from German warplanes.
He said on his first flight he found himself face to face with a German plane.He had to pull a trigger and fire the machine guns on the wings.For a moment he did not want to but he did and all  the bombs on the German plane exploded in front of him and the crew were blown to bits.
Another time, again he was alone in the plane, he was hit by a German   and the tail fell off his plane.He managed to get out with his parachute,hoping the enemy would not  kill him by gunfire,They did sometimes
He seemed a peaceful person but he told  me he never sleeps well and has nightmares every night.But he married and had two children and has grandchildren.He was once in a pub in the East End when the Kray brothers shot a man and killed him.He worked for a company who supplied the marble for Euston Station.
So  we agreed that we never know the stories of the people we pass in the street.And he  might write his down

 

Until my invitation to the feast.

The bell rang on the ancient church at noon.

A sparrow flitted to  the Tudor wall.

Was this the knell  which brings us  damned gloom?

 

Perhaps there is no meaning here at all.

I read my unknown thoughts projected out,

And  in my rage, desire the walls to fall.

 

Like you, I am too  often stuck in doubt.

Betrayed by old ideal and vanished wish.

So what is in confuses that without.

 

Oh,pain, oh ,mind, oh agony, oh flesh.

I shall not cling to life and wait for grace.

I am, myself, a fish in net of mesh.

 

Was this my  destiny, my rightful place;

Alone besieged by sorrows on all sides?

I  err for  being sad is no disgrace.

 

So ,to my hopes, I’ll cling like drowning beast.

Until my invitation to the feast.