Guernsey Poets

You poor young thing I know why you’re there, Forlorn and dejected In a field with your brothers, All dewy eyed I can feel your resigna...

This poem is my interpretation of an event which took place in November 1916. My source was a conversation with the son of a veteran of 51s...

The night was dark and ugly The crowd calling for blood. Out in the garden of Gethsemane Walked Jesus the Son of God. There too were His...

The wind a force of darkness, running its endless race, the moon a huge silver rocket, ...

Part I It wasn't until they saw him lying On the bottom of the pool that they knew My brother was in the process of drowning – He w...