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Array
(
[sid] => 161943
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Carry on England
[time] => 2010-08-22 05:34:14
[hometext] => A Lament for my England past it might be yours too.Reflections upon a post war English birth and what these eyes saw growing up in the 1970's
[bodytext] => My England is all but gone She exists only in a ‘Carry on’ Or in a name carved on a memorial stone And locked in memories in an old folks home. My England was Sid James laugh It is the veterans marching past the cenotaph She is the defiant words of Churchill’s speeches She is long faded boot prints on Normandy beaches . My England lay in the bosom of Hattie Jacques She is 54896 names inscribed on the Menin gate She is the England of ’Blood and toil’ She is the bones that lay scattered beneath Flanders soil. My England is Kenneth Williams tragic camp She is the death of a poet in a D-Day tank She is the England of ’Tears and sweat’ She is Diana’s funeral. It is why I wept. My England is clumsy hero Jim Dale She is the ’Little Armada’ of ships waiting to sail She is in the hands that fought Blitzkrieg fire She is khaki strands blowing on Passchendaele, wire. My England was Charles Hawtreys eccentric clown It is a radio message from Goose Green ‘Sunray down’ It is our very cliffs that are crumbling with time It is in every note of Enigma variations number nine. My England will no longer ‘Carry on’ She is an afternoon matinee that no one turns on. AEWorricker, PLEASE: To help keep this site INTERACTIVE, please read and comment on at least 3 poems for each one you submit. Number of poems per author per 24 hours are limited depending on membership level and interactivity. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 281 [topic] => 28 [informant] => AEWorricker [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 15 [ratings] => 3 [editpoem] => 0 [associated] => [topicname] => Patriotic )
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