(Updated June 2001)
This page contains some of my own poems and other people's poems and reviews of particular books, especially those referred to in other parts of this website. |
Book Reviews |
"The OR's Story - Bomber Command other ranks in WW11"
My Poems |
| BOMBER DAWN | RAINDROPS | PLAYIN' SCRABBLE | LOVE IS... |
Other people's poems |
| How sad | Spelling Chequer |
"The OR's Story - Bomber Command other ranks in WW11"
by Eric Howell, Pub 1998
BJ & M Promotions (A Division of Newton Publishing Group)
PO Box 966, Swindon, Wiltshire, SN4 7TN
ISBN 1 901405 12 5
|
There have been many books about the aircrews of RAF Bomber Command during World War 2,
but hardly any about the groundcrews. Eric's book is a vivid portrayal of daily life on the bomber
airfields - servicing the Lancasters at dispersals in the depths of winter, the agony felt when
"their" plane didn't come back, the horror of planes crashing on landing, the joys and pain of
family life in wartime, the boys on the squadron, and the raids themselves. His book also contains
a list of the Lancasters, with Pilots names, of all 146 aircraft of 44 Squadron that were lost, and
details of the raids from Waddington, Spilsby and Dunholme Lodge in Lincolnshire. |
- the story of HMS Seal and Lt. Commander Rupert Lonsdale My Poems Raindrops in the Night (of God) I see you standing there, as you wait for your bus Love is..... For St Valentine's Day at Youth Camp, 1988
by C.E.T.Warren & James Benson
(authors of "Above us the waves")
Published 1961 by George Harrap & Co. Ltd
London, Toronto, Wellington, Sydney.
Staring out into the night
As the rain spatters into darkened puddles
Headlights reflected on shiny wet road
People all around hurrying home, lost in thoughts their own.
Oh why my people, do you look so sad?
You search for a reason and a purpose
As you rush through life's days
Oh why, do you look to the world?
For a love it cannot give
Or a hope it cannot promise
Look closer, my child, at the rain
Those raindrops coursing down the window panes
Do you not see?
Do you not perceive?
For those raindrops are my teardrops
As I weep for my lost and lonely world
A dark and gloomy night it may seem
Damp and forbidding
But my Kingdom is not such as this
Look beyond that which is far
Seek that which is nearer
And be watered by a love more certain
Than the rain which waters my earth
Look closer, my child, at the rain
Those droplets cousring down the window panes
Do you not see?
Do you not perceive?
For those raindrops are my teardrops
As I weep for my lost and lonely world
©Richard Caville 1988
Composed at Romsey Bus Station
Big cards, little cards
Soppy ones, and funny ones, too
Big hearts, little hearts
All to say love me do.
Splashed across the top
Love you forever, they say
While songs from world of pop
Beckon to love you night and day
Flashy clothes and glitzy cars
Eastend guys and Dynasty stars -
Come look to bright city lights
For empty promise of love and hope
Without which you cannot cope
Have you sent your card today?
To someone out far away
Or something out of reach?
In a world where love is all around
But can never be found
Look to a cross that says it all
There also splashed across the top
Love you forever, it stands tall
A love that will never stop
Or ever grow cold
God sends us a card each day
Two hearts entwined as one
Jesus and me, Jesus and you
A card which promises He'll stay
Forever to be your special someone
©Richard Caville 1988
There woz I, scratchin' me 'ead,
Playin' Scrabble wiv Ned n Ed,
Wot do I make wiv a Y an' a zed?
Oh how I wish I woz in bed!
Ned, Ed 'n me
There woz we
Twiddlin' our fumbs an' waitin' to see
What each uvver would do with 'is last E.
Here we woz sat
Ttryin' to spel splat
When there sat on the mat
Woz a grate big rat!
Oh wot a fright
We had that nite
As it took a big bite
'an jumped a great height!
But really it woz qwite cute
'An not a great big broot
So it woz quite a hoot
As it climbed up Ed's boot!
So we all had a laff,
Playin' Scrabble ain't all that naff
So me, Ned 'n Ed
Next time, we'll play wiv Ted!
Trubble is, ain't none of us wot can spel
- we just carnt tell
Weather weer rite or rong,
Or if weere wight or wong!
So wiv latitudinarianism we ain't got a hope
Thair ain't enuff letters in the bag
But with xiphoid or xerophagy we might just cope
I carnt spel hors, so I'll just put nag!
Up n down, left n write,
Quaere just won't fit,
Carnt put kite, bite or nite,
Perhaps its time to qwit?
But no! here I can put qua,
An' there put zymurgy.
Time to retire to the bar
Exclame Ned, Ed n Ted,
Let's not qwibble
Or all this Scrabble
Will give us the dredded lurgy
'an have to go to bed!
And so I won fair n sqware
But if it ain't for that rat
That they didunt then care
Even if they did smell a rat
An' see me lookin' in the dicshunary!!
©Richard Caville 1999
OTHER POEMS |
by Eric Howell, May 1989
Dedicated to the RAF aircrews of World War 2
The spirit gay and full of fun
The harmony of man but one
Then, call to duty so duteously one
The call that afffected everyone
How sad, that life had left at twentyone!
Bomber Command has called upon your name
And life from then was not the same
As yesteryear when man was sane
And life was held in high proclaim
The op was on, arrangements made
Airtest done and craft arrayed
The armourers weapons were displayed
And groundcrews efforts interlaid
The night was cold and tensions high
Preflight test complete, and why
The reason? that it was I
One of many, death to defy
The course was set, the aircraft trim
The sun was low on horizons rim
The eastern sky was dark and grim
And hell was beyond the coastal brim
The target ahead, raised by fire
Appeared as a funeral pyre.
The bombing run, the quick respire
The incessant flak and enemy fire
It was boms away and a climb to port
But searchlights held us very taut
And the flaks constant deadly report
Did send us on our way to mort
Completely futile was the attempt
The circumstance to prevent
The terrible spiral of descent
And the dearth of faith to pre-empt
Centrifugal force held us tight
Regardless of our striven might
The effort to redeem our plight
And eternal blackness put out the light
What of creed and duties sung
Was it the same for everyone
The sacrifice of the appointed son
Or? Did the fates decree it done
How sad, that life is left at twentyone!
I have a spelling chequer
It came with my pea sea,
It plainly marques four my revue
Miss steaks eye cannot sea.
When eye strike a quay, right a word,
I weight four it two say
Weather eye am wrong oar wright
It shows me strait aweigh.
As soon as a mist ache is maid
I nose it bee fore two late
And eye can put the error rite
Its rarely, rarely grate.
I've run this poem threw it
I'm shore your pleased two no,
Its letter perfect in it's weigh
My chequer tolled me sew.
Sauce unknown
