Where is Tommy Atkins?

Where is Tommy Atkins,
Is he sleeping in a shed,
Or huddled in some cardboard,
And waiting to be dead?

Where is Tommy Atkins,
All traumatised and bleak.
His body once was strong,
But his soul is now so weak.

Where is Tommy Atkins,
Alone and cast away.
Seeking some oblivion,
Until he dies one day.

Where is Tommy Atkins,
Banged up in some cell.
Ruined by those cockscombs
Who sent him out through Hell.

Here is Tommy Atkins,
Our leaders passed him by.
He's dead upon a slab,
And old mothers sob and sigh.


© Trevor Morgan, 21 February 2023

Liars!

"'Oh, you don't believe what people tell you, why I haven't for years', said Miss Marple"
Agatha Christie



Truth is I'm a Liar

Now listen to the words I say
In the warm beside the fire,
Believe me now 'till my last day;
The truth is - I'm a liar.

When I tell you I say no truth
It is in this I tell you true;
I've been like this long since my youth;
The truth is - I'm a Liar. 

So there's a truth that's here to stay
As we snooze by the fire
That all's contrary every day
And truth is - I'm a Liar.  


©  Trevor Morgan,  15 March 2021


The Dullards' Dance

He's told a great long string of lies,
He's done it since his youth.
He's never tasted humble pies,
Now he's allergic to the truth.

Before he ever speaks at all
First he works out 'the line'.
He'll treat all at his beck and call
And in no way is he now benign.

You get on best if you're a fake,
Pretending what you're not,
Disguising that you're on the make;
We're ruled by fools all misbegot.

Now acting is a useful art,
They rise who lie the most.
Most of the time, they play a part
Relying on each empty boast.

At end some fall and all because
Some truths may have oozed out
When looking back we know it was
When Fate first sewed a doubt

Past lies well told they have a way,
Like ghosts returned to haunt;
It's then the Fake has had his day,
Retreating pale and gaunt.

They cry that others were to blame,
For inside they're rarely strong.
Now each decline seems much the same,
For few admit a wrong.

New oafs perfect the art to lie,
They'd practised since their youth.
They'll never taste true humble pie,
And are allergic to the truth.

The talented dwell alone and wan;
For them life is a chore.
This dullard's dance goes on and on,
Just like it did before.

©  Trevor Morgan, 23 January 2021 

The Shell Burst

The shell burst

The shell flash was so burning bright,
I lay besides my Bren.
The noise next came, with dreadful fright
The shock wave hit us then.

I felt a trickle down my face,
The ground began to spin.
I seemed not to be in that place,
And ceased to hear the din.

I'm told it was most half a day
That I lay limp and still.
My mind it seemed had gone away;
I walked on some green hill.

So while I lay there in the mud,
My mind wandered away.
Unconscious, matted with dry blood,
I seemed a child at play.

I wandered with a childhood friend,
A boy that I once knew.
That happy dream came to an end
I woke mid blood and spew.

Reality seemed a garish dream
And sad as it may be,
For there I heard a dreadful scream;
The screamer, that was me...

© Trevor Morgan