Simon tried his hand at poetry

Our daughter in law shared a book of cold war poetry - mostly blank verse - to us, and Simon reckoned he could do better. I think he did. 

Klaxon, a pantoum 

The howling banshee wail, like living knives 

It stabs the silence, prompting frozen still 

Intruding terror on the peaceful lives 

It is the klaxon, warning of a kill 

 

It stabs the silence, prompting frozen still 

Unnatural calm with panic burning deep 

It is the klaxon, warning of a kill 

The bombs are launched, to bring eternal sleep. 

 

 Unnatural calm, with panic burning deep 

No time for last goodbyes, with minutes four 

The bombs are launched, to bring eternal sleep 

Then stumbling runs for home, for evermore. 

 

No time for last goodbyes, with minutes four: 

The world moves slow, moves fast, comes to a halt; 

The stumbling runs for home, for evermore... .

..Thank God! T’was just a circuit’s fault. 

 

The world moves slow, moves fast, comes to a halt 

One day, we’ll live, and laugh, forget the pain: 

Thank God, t’was just a circuit’s fault... 

But watch the klaxon, lest it goes again. 

 

Ferret driver’s beloved brew [couched as a Sapphic ode] 

On exercise, and battened down 

Where home and family seem so far 

At least we’ve tea to sorrows drown 

In armoured car 

 

 No shower, no shag, no booze, and, too 

Must mind our elbows, room we’ve not: 

But what we have is our great brew

– Tea, piping hot 

 

 We know that it’s another drill, 

Preparedness to act, to fire our shot: 

But still, the frisson of fear’s thrill... 

In case it’s not. 

 

At last, we get the call we want, ‘stand down,’ 

Uncrack the hatch, and suddenly feel free! 

Now, what we need is hot, and wet, and brown

 – A cup of tea! 

 

No Duff Message 

 “This is no duff message,” words that chill 

“This is no duff message – THIS IS NOT A DRILL.”

 Your last meal rises in the throat with bile 

Yet settles heavily, in reaction vile 

 

This is no duff message: frozen shock 

Then moving to our tasks, with feelings blocked: 

Numbly performing in our well-trained tasks 

How do others feel? Nobody ever asks. 

 

I catch the sergeant’s eye; his face is grim 

Two kids, another on the way, for him. 

What kind of world will for them remain? 

If there is a world... he blinks, and frowns again 

 

 This is no duff message. Time seems slow; 

Or, maybe, it speeds up; I do not know. 

And then the message, like a dream so calm: 

“Stand down! Stand down!” it was a false alarm. 

 

The stupid jokes we use to break the jinx; 

“A sparrow farted in Warsaw, near the message links.” 

“Some Russki dropped a fag-end on the ‘all clear,’; 

He shorted it with Vodka, it shorts worse than beer.” 

 

We laugh and horseplay till the sergeant shouts, 

Just a short warning, he knows what’s about. 

To die another day, fates postpone the dread 

And so, we soon forget, go to the mess instead. 

 

there's a few more, I think these represent the spirit of carrying on carrying on, moments of terror, and the slightly forced humour to offset it