Guernsey Poets

Around the coast, grey watchtowers stand. Our island heritage, some say, while others fail to understand why they remain here to this d...

Hans was here last Tuesday He came in to talk with me He spoke about his mother Back on the farm in Germany I saw a tear as he talked of...

there's too many bank holidays in May they should be spread out more, I hear some say but to imagine that Hitler had held on 'til...

First Dornier arrives says the in flight mag it could be a headline from a different Tag and still produces a shiver of recognition some ...

There's something wrong these days with our transport links So many cancellations and complaints it all stinks If the Germans turned u...

Two old women stoop over handbags, Dowagers prominent humps blessing alternative vision. They gaze with opaque eyes at photographic images...

Born a bit later, I didn't suffer the war only witnessing the damage, left behind the wrecking of homes and families, the disease and...

If the Germans had won the war I overheard some one say We'd have no date to celebrate No Liberation Day If the Germans had won t...

Churchill planned to bomb our lands The stepping stones for German feet As jackboots echoed through the town Upon our cobbled street F...

It seems strange that we should talk of celebration To once more throng the streets for Liberation. Though I have heard first hand from ...

Freedom from the crooked cross The Field Grey unwanted boss Was Guernsey’s gain and Hitler’s loss Though he didn't live to pay The...

Originally published here in February 2012 A row of Poplar trees backlit by the afternoon sun Stand, like giants, impressing the young...

Originally published here in August 2013 A poem about a Canadian WW2 Mine that was found in the Bluebell Woods and subsequently detonated ...

Today's poem is a "Golden Oldie" and was originally published here in March 2012 There’s marching in the Guernsey lane, my ...

A poem about a Canadian WW2 Mine that was found in the Bluebell Woods and subsequently detonated off the Guernsey coast; as seen through the...

There’s marching in the Guernsey lane, my table’s bare, the pattern’s clear: they will starve us after curfew they will break us at the t...

A row of Poplar trees backlit by the afternoon sun Stand, like giants, impressing the young child While between each one, a man, wearing ...