Johnnie Dalton p.1

Johnnie Dalton

No Home

Bleaklow Head

People In A Boat

No Home

No home of bricks and mortar.

No palace or castle, cottage or

shack, nothing to hold me back.

Yet I long for a home to go to.

Not a palace or castle or cottage

or shack, just somewhere that one

day I may go home to, and

say I am back.

Copyright © 2016 Johnnie Dalton
No Home read by Johnnie Dalton
Bleaklow Head

Once long ago I walked to Bleaklow Head,
 This desolate place high upon the Pennine Hills.
Where I found those Wainstones as if they were about to kiss.
High upon this moor lie the remains of a machine from a war many years ago,
 Rusting away till one day nothing left of this relic.
Poppies placed here in memory of those who perished,
 When this mighty machine of the skies came here to its eternal rest.
In the distance towns and villages scar the landscape.
There I stood alone taking in the vista of the moors,
 Harsh and barren yet tranquil only the sound of the wind whistling.
One day I will go back again and walk to Bleaklow Head,
 Those memories of that day many years ago,
 Will be just as if it were yesterday.

Copyright © 2016 Johnnie Dalton
People in a Boat

In the dead of night, the sound of gun fire and artillery shells shatter the silence,
 blinding flashes silhouette people running through the darkened streets
  as they seek their escape from this living hell.
Hour after hour through streets filled with rubble
 from building once homes and shops
 reduce to nothing other than a shell.
Hurriedly, they make their way to the harbour
 To meet the men who traffic human cargo for nothing more than greed;
 their promise of safe passage to a foreign land and freedom, a pack of lies. 
Pushed, shoved and packed tightly into a boat
 then set adrift in the open sea
 slowly the land fades away and the sound of the gun fire is no more.
Through the night deeper into the blackness will they ever see land again
 or will the sea claim more lives.
Suddenly a shaft of light penetrates the blackness
 people scream and shout maybe at last this horror of a journey will end.
Hands are out stretched slowly one by one people are pulled to safety but these are just the lucky ones.

Copyright © 2017 Johnnie Dalton

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