Fights ahead

I came across a new word, Kuffarophobia.
This is the irrational hatred of non-Muslims by some Muslims.
Like all hate it has to be challenged and confronted and not appeased.
Sadly many leaders just do not think that way, until too late.
(And no, I do not hate the religions of others)


Fights ahead

Now who can debate with irrational hate
Discuss with old books from the past?
Alas, now too late it seems a dark fate,
So, we’re left here all sad and aghast.

We may feel lost, our fate, storm tossed
As we cope with the hatred and bile.
Through all the cost, we may seem, star-crossed;
The brave they stay true all the while.

While none may debate with irrational hate
Where madness possesses each mind.
Fate ever late will bring forth the Great,
Where life here had seemed so unkind.

We’ll turn and we’ll stand and face all at hand,
And drive back the hallowers of hate.
For we know that here, this is Our land,
Let the bigots of bile face their fate.

© Trevor Morgan, 28/5/2018


Sorties away

Long time ago I was in the operations room of a carrier as she turned into the wind and launched a whole squadron of her aircraft. As a radar operator I tracked them until they went below our radar horizon. Strange something as mighty as a carrier has to turn into the wind to launch a strike. This is predictable and ought to make them vulnerable, but they operate within a screen of escorts that are needed to protect them.

sorties away

Sorties away

Carriers turned into the wind
In distant deep wide seas
And now because some fools had sinned;
The world is out of ease.

And sortie after sortie went
To deal a hammer blow.
With a resolve that won’t relent
They’re sent to cause more woe.

The carrion of the deep will feed
Upon much mortal flesh
And madness will not yet recede;
We’re all caught in its mesh.

Carriers turned back on their course
Their sorties are away,
But actions done without remorse,
May cause yet more dismay.

Trevor Morgan 2015

From: “Saga of Sabah”

Laura’s Starlight

The vile scandal of child rapes in Rotherham is a horror story.
One of the survivors has written a book about this and the murder of her sister, Laura, in a so-called, honour killing.
This song lyric was inspired by one paragraph in Sarah’s book.


Laura’s Starlight

There’s a star in the night
High above all the spite
But the cause of great loss still remains.
The sun’s in the sky
And the song birds fly high
But a whole town is riven with pains.

Dark waters had hid
The dark deeds demons did
The day that dear Laura was slain.
Searchers had found
Some blood on the ground
And a shoe that bore a red stain.

Now Hope won’t elope
In the arms of despair,
There will be no surrender to fear.
The starlight so bright
Shines down its sweet light,
An Angel seems now with us here.

With strength, we shall share,
Here and everywhere,
The burdens of what must be done.
Till we set to flight
All lewd lust and spite
And justice and truth will have won.


© Trevor Morgan, June 2016


Tide Line

A walk along the high tide line of a shore reveals much.
I love to walk the tide line.


Tide Line

This weed at the tide line
Where flies are swarming near,
The flotsam and the grime;
The stink that brings no cheer.

The beach above the line,
There’s pebbles damp with rain.
They glisten in the sunshine
Around each little stain.

Below the dirty beach
The shore is washed more clean.
Where cleansing waves can reach,
At low tide there’s a sheen.

Below each rock or stone
Shrimps hide at low tide.
Worms heap up each sand cone;
Sand flats are wet and wide.

Here when you lift a rock
The shrimps will dart away.
They flee the sudden shock
Exposed to light of day.

The shore’s a varied place
Some of its full of mess.
But it’s so touched with Grace,
There’s more here than you’d guess.

By weeds at the tide line
The flies they swarming until
The storm clouds are a sign
And weather’s cold and chill

© Trevor Morgan, 2005

From: “Tale of a Half Dane Child”

The writhing of the grieving dragon

Vikings may have attacked monasteries in retaliation for attacks on them.
Christian zealots such as Boniface had been destroying sacred groves and the Carolingians had enforced conversion with a policy of be baptised or killed, the font or the axe, across their northern borders.
This was before the first raid on Lindisfarne in 793AD.
This makes for a more interesting interpretation of events.
In my narratives I chose this theory as it makes a backdrop for ripping yarns

The writhing of the grieving dragon

“A Dragon grieved beside his nest,
His young and mate lay dead.
His tender love then failed this test;
Cold rage burned in his head.

He rode the wave on that cold sea,
Found monks on its far shore.
There seemed a sad pre-destiny
To pains that their Church bore.”

Dragon’s wrath

“The rage, the wrath, the foam, the froth,
The Dragon stormed to sea.
His Love was fragile as a Moth
And now had ceased to be.

It seemed his fate to seethe with hate,
Strike shore of other lands.
He changed then from his natural state,
So, blood now soaks the sands.

Through wrath and rage he wrote a page
Of blood-soaked history.
Why he should fade from off that stage
Might seem a mystery.

But rage and woe will make a foe
Retaliate or die.
Their ebb may then return to flow,
Events then sweep all by.”

Dragon’s Decline

The Dragon’s rage did not abate,
With him grew fat the Raven.
A love that’s twisted into hate
Could well at end turn craven.

The plunder that dark vengeance brings
Would turn from need to greed.
There’s some things may come with such stings;
At end the Dragon bleeds.

Vengeance may start momentum up,
Great mischief has begun.
Like drinking from a poison cup,
All Hope in life is done.

© Trevor Morgan, 2018

From: “Tales of the Half Dane Child”


The dragon was carved on the prow of Norse ships of war.
It is strange that in Europe the Dragon is fierce whilst in Chinese myth they are capable of being kindly to folk.

Sonnet – Ragnarök

Poems about Vikings are a bit of a gift.
A gift that is to those who like hamming it up.

It also gives free range for narrative verse and ballads.
Shame the Vikings were real and they put England through long years of brutal wars.


Sonnet – Ragnarök

All know Odhinn and Loki are to clash
As order and disorder are at odds.
When each will cause the other one to crash
And bring about the twilight of the gods.
Then Lady Hel will open up her realm
And Balder and Blind Hoth resume their fight,
And each in turn will seize and hold the helm
As Balder rules all day and Hoth at night.
Then Fri will fall into a restless sleep
And all the Earth will face a sad decline,
Great monsters will sink back into the deep
With russet sunsets days will end so fine.
The Cosmos came from Chaos at its birth
And in the time to come all find their worth.

©Trevor Morgan, 2018

From: “Tale of the Half-Dane child”

Paying the bills

Strange we talk about the post war years.
New names are added every year of our young who have died in conflicts.
Every year since the 40s our people have died.
New names are added every year now to our national memorial and Alrewas.
As a veteran I feel the hurt.


Paying the bills

Death has long been drip-fed
Through all the “post-war” years
And one by one the dead
Cause some to shed sad tears.

There were few grand campaigns,
Just lots of little wars.
Yet still there are the pains
We feel beneath our scars.

Was any of the cost
Of every fight and raid
For those who are now lost;
Worth that great price they paid?

The book is open still
For more to pay that bill.

© Trevor Morgan 2018

Pre-destiny and choice

There are age old questions about free will and fate.
Strangely this seemed to have been resolved by the late Roman writer Severus Boethius in his book “The consolations of philosophy”. This he wrote in prison awaiting execution. It was unfinished.


Pre-destiny and choice

Things are just as they are.
Each ought do what they can.
Some say Fate’s in the hands of God
And not the hands of man.

Things are just as they are.
Some will do what they do.
They may think they’re the hands of God
And right when they wrong you.

When deadly deeds are done,
All ought do what they can.
For Fate’s not all the hand of God
Pre-destined in a plan.

Free will is there as well
In much of what we do.
That’s our Fate from the hands of God,
To choose is up to you.

To have choice is our Fate.
Each must do what they can.
Free choice is from the hands of God
Pre-destined in a plan.

Pre-destined then to choose,
We should not make a fuss.
Some may think they’re the hand of God
And right when they wrong us.

To have choice is not bad,
Nor good beyond our ken.
Badness is not the hand of God
But wrong choices of men.

Now what will be will be,
So, when we right a wrong;
We may think we’re the hand of God
And justice makes us strong.

But who are we to judge?
Each must do what they can.
Justice is in the hands of God
And we don’t know his plan.

For as we right a wrong,
New wrongs we may well do.
Vengeance is in the hands of God
It’s just not up to you.

Things are just as they are,
Each should do what they can.
Some say Fates in the hands of God
And not the hands of man.

Predestined then to choose,
With choice our destiny,
We don’t know if we win or lose;
So, what will be will be!

© Trevor Morgan 2004

From: “Tales of Aethelwulf of Lyng”


To Severus Boethius
An agonised thinker

Note: If you want his thoughts read his book!

Jesus Wept

I have written a lot about our heathen ancestors.
There was a long struggle between them and an imported religion from the Levant, that is Christianity.
From the time of Bede the English have been mostly Christian, but at times have used this religion in such ways as to ensure that Jesus weeps still.


Jesus Wept

Child Jesus walked the world of men,
He came here to bring Grace.
He’s here in each hill and fen,
In every smiling face.

But though he’s tried throughout the years,
Yet few have cared to know
And so his eyes they weep salt tears,
And through each day they flow.

This one son of the one true God
Has died to save each soul.
It was upon this world he trod,
So, souls could all be whole.

© Trevor Morgan

From: “Tales of Aethelwulf of Lyng”

The Hatred of “Heresy”

When Jesus brought light to the world,
Foul men would snuff it out.
Then Satan’s banner was unfurled
For his foul gift was – doubt.

“The light of faith may guide all to
Pure respite for the soul.
Foul doubt may leave us all to rue,
In Hell we pay the toll.

The light is here that all may see
The works of our good Lord
For Christ is there to set us free;
There can be no discord!”

© Trevor Morgan

From: “Tales of Aethelwulf of Lyng”


The Stream from the Holy Well

There are “Holy Wells” all around the South West of England
There may be nothing in this.
However, the nearby village of Holywell Lake has not war memorial.
This is because of all its men who went to the World Wars, all came home.
So, no memorial was needed.
Nice story that, sadly, Wellington has a memorial with many names upon it


The Stream from the Holy Well

The stream seems to chuckle
As it flows round the stones.
The foal starts to suckle
‘Neath pine with its cones.

The waters flowed here
Through the aeons of time.
The wagtails appear
And seem in their prime.

While water weeds wave
In these currents below,
The Wagtails won’t brave
The stream’s deepest flow.

They’ll feed by the edge
Or by every stone.
Then flee to their hedge
When they’re not alone.

There’s moths on the bark
Of the lofty pine tree.
There’s a song of the Lark;
It’s good to be free.

© Trevor Morgan

From: “Tales of Aethelwulf of Lyng”