Autumn Sun

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The Autumn Sun is shining, and the people come out to play,
But this is just a silver linng, to the world that they dont display,
A world of sadness and sorrow, where people go out to die,
We always look at tomorrow, When really today is a lie.

The Autumn Sun is hiding, and the clouds drift overhead,
But there’s no-one to confide in, they’ve all left you for dead,
Why can’t we see these lies, this world has got so hollow,
It’s time to say my goodbyes, Live for today not tomorrow.

The Autumn Sun is dying, and the colour has all been drained,
Everybody’s been lying, All the truth has been stained,
This all comes as no surprise, can’t believe we’ve been mislead,
Now we finally realise, Our hopes are filled with dread.

I just wanted out of this,
Why can’t your eyes meet mine?
Some say ignorance is bliss,
But your sun will never shine…

– Josie Young



12th November – On This Day In History

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1929 Grace Kelly (Princess of Monaco and actress)



1035 Canute The Great, King of the Danes


On This Day:

1944 German battleship the “Tirpitz” is sunk off Norway


Have a good Thursday, 12th November

Autumn Morning Memories

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Mute and uncomplaining autumn comes around,
racing towards winters slippery snake heels,
when brown leaves fall to the shallow ground,
a change of equinox the landscape feels.

The magic season rend the wiry smiles from our face,
And something new shelter where autumn sprung,
spreading its might from trees lofty embrace,
Birds perch on the hill with lucid leaves clone.

Autumn morning memories embracing everywhere,
Express the winning leaves beneath the trees,
Blends with the seasons changing atmosphere,
with old age the crisping colors in beauty chase.

With icy fringe against the frozen compound,
autumn quench its caress and colorful splendor,
Wet with sweeping noises to adorn the ground,
autumn mourning lights the kindred lamp in the air.

– Gerry Legister


In Memory Of The Fallen

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To all those who have died, and continue to do so, to keep us safe from tyranny and oppression…

I Do Not Know Your Name

I do not know your name, but I know you died
I do not know from where you came, but I know you died

Your uniform, branch of service, it matters not to me
Whether Volunteer or Conscript, or how it came to be
That politicians’ failures, or some power-mad ambition
Brought you too soon to your death, in the name of any nation

You saw, you felt, you knew full well, as friend and foe were taken
By bloody death, that your life too, was forfeit and forsaken
Yet on you went and fought and died, in your close and private hell
For Mate or Pal or Regiment and memories never to tell

It was for each other, through shot and shell, the madness you endured
Side by side, through wound and pain, and comradeship assured
No family ties, or bloodline link, could match that bond of friend
Who shared the horror and kept on going, at last until the end

We cannot know, we were not there, it’s beyond our comprehension
To know the toll that battle brings, of resolute intention
To carry on, day by day, for all you loved and hoped for
To live in peace a happy life, away from bloody war

For far too many, no long life ahead, free of struggle and pain and the gun
And we must remember the price that was paid, by each and every one
Regardless of views, opinions aside, no matter how each of us sees it
They were there and I cannot forget, even though I did not live it

I do not know your name, but I know you died
I do not know from where you came, but I know you died.

– Kenny Martin


11th November – On This Day In History

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1974 Leonardo Di Caprio (actor)



1984 Rev Martin Luther King (activist)


On This Day:

1895 Bechuanaland becomes part of the Cape Colony


Have a good Wednesday, 11th November

Man’s Discontent

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White feet half hid in violets, small hands in a burden fair,
A burden of Spring’s first blossoms she wove for her neck and hair
Into wreaths, as she paused a moment on the threshold of maidenhood.
O my child love! hesitating, there I met her as she stood.
So I stayed till I grew weary—man’s discontent, I ween—
Then I thought I longed for Summer, with trees for ever green.
I tired of primrose blossoms and the budding boughs of spring,
And the chirp! chirp! of this year’s birds that had not learned to sing.

I thought her soft arms too slender, and the smooth young cheek too clear,
And the April eyes that loved me too ready with smile or tear,
Too ready to read my wishes in mine that she might obey
Ere I spoke; so in the springtime I went from her arms away.
I sought my love and I found her, when Summer days were long,
All the hedges bright with blossoms and musical with song,
But the eyes that saw me coming no answer to mine would speak;
The lids drooped till the lashes lay dark on her crimson cheek,
The hands I clasped for a moment would but struggle to be free,
As I tried to win her to speak of love, of herself, of me.
‘Hark! the young birds,’ she only said; ‘dost hear them sing in the wood?’
Love’s rosy wings had brushed her eyes as she passed to maidenhood.
So I stayed, but soon grew weary—man’s discontent, I ween—
And I longed for Autumn colours, not trees for ever green.

Cried I ‘Its sky at sunset is far more fair than this.’
Then I thought, my love’s cheek flushes too ready ‘neath my kiss,
That the gentle voice replying spoke love too timidly,
And the shy hands culling blossoms had no caress for me.
I tired of roses’ perfume and the song the wild-birds sung,
So I left her in the noon-time, when Summer yet was young.
‘Neath the sunset skies of Autumn, all the heath-clad hills flushed red;
Sweet the lark his matins singing in the blue sky overhead,

And the languid breeze was perfumed by a rose’s stolen breath;
‘Twas the last white bud of Summer that escaped the hand of death,
And my sweet, I feared to meet her for my yesterday of scorn;
Then I flung myself beside her as she knelt amid the corn.
She only said ‘To red and gold grew the green young leaf of Spring.
The rose filled the dead cowslip’s throne; now poppy reigns a king.’

Then she sighed, with blue eyes tearful and quivering lips that smiled,
‘And to womanhood’s perfection came the promise of the child.
But the rose and cowslip withered, and the poppy’s death is nigh,
For the changing leaf that lingers there remains nought but to die.
Through the bitter winds of Winter let me shelter by thy side;
Prithee, stray not with the Autumn, O my love! unsatisfied.’

So I stayed, but soon grew weary—man’s discontent, I ween—
Of the woods all clad in splendour, rarest red, and gold, and green;
Of the hands that toiling for me pressed the red juice from the vine,
And brought the fragrant peaches that I might not trouble mine;
Of the fawn-like eyes that watched me, ever speaking of their love;
Of the neck I once thought softer than the white breast of a dove.
So I rose up from my resting ere the Autumn days were dead,
And the oak, and beech, and chestnut had not yet their bright leaves shed;
While the birds were singing gaily from their shelter in the thorn,
Still the sleep-bestowing poppies lit their red lamps in the corn.

I sought my love in the Winter, for I sorrowed for the past,
And in the long nights of thinking I knew my own heart at last;
That mine were the imperfections that I seemed in her to find,
That happiness ever beside me made me to sorrow grow blind,
How I of God’s gifts grew weary—man’s discontent, I ween—
That to-day sighs for to-morrow, then to weep for what had been.
She was sleeping when I found her, O my love! in one hand lay
Spring’s young buds and Summer roses with their fair bloom passed away;
But the poison-breathing poppy on her lip was lying red,
Ah! the sleep-bestowing poppy had left me but the dead;

The calm eyes gazing heavenwards could not see the love mine bore,
And the pale brow ‘neath my kisses still its marble colour wore;
Till the snow that was not whiter hid the silent face from me—
Hid the lips that could not answer and the eyes that could not see.
Flake by flake came down and hid her from the cold sky overhead.
Thus, having all, I lost all, ere the Winter days had fled.

– Dora Sigerson Shorter


10th November – On This Day In History

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1925 Richard Burton (actor)



1970 Charles DeGaulle (French president)


On This Day:

1928 Hirohito becomes emperor of Japan


Have a good Tuesday, 10th November