Property of RKB


We Should Thank Them All © Robbie Kennedy Bennett














Property of RKB


The Last Time I Saw Him © Robbie Kennedy Bennett










The primary stage of this poem was written while I observed the memorial at Methil in Fife. I thought of a friend of mine who would understand why I respectfully read every name on view instead of passing by regardless.


Memorial at Methil in Fife
Property of RKB


Ian Understands © Robbie Kennedy Bennett







An early morning picture of the memorial at Wemyss Bay, Scotland in 2004.
Property of RKB






















Strathkinness, Fife.





A MAN LIKE YOU ©
by Robbie Kennedy Bennett 2002

A man like you
Has stood here before,
A man like you
Has had to fight a war.
A man like you
Has hidden his fear,
A man like you
Has felt shame to shed a tear.
A man like you
Has been frightened in his boots,
A man like you
Fought for country and his roots.
A man like you
Has been strong while he cried,
A man like you
Wanted to live…but he died.

A Man Like You © Robbie Kennedy Bennett






Codsall.
Property of RKB




THE LITTLE SHIPS ©
by Robbie Kennedy Bennett 2005

Lots of fellows lay dead in the sand
Tobacco in a pocket and rifle in hand,
Inside their uniform
There's an old greasy comb,
Some were never leaving
And some were going home.

The Little Ships came sailing
Across the channel over sea,
They sailed to save those Allied Troops
Wherever they may be.

British forces were in retreat
On Dunkirk beaches
The Little Ships did greet.

Hitler's onslaught of Belgium and France
Those Allied men
Fought to stop his advance.

River cruisers, yachts and tugs
Anything that sailed
Like old tin mugs.

Lest we forget those Little Ships return
With soldiers aboard
And comrades they yearn.

When they saw that armada of vessels
They couldn't believe their eyes,
They swam to anything that stayed afloat
They swam to save their lives.

Lots of fellows lay dead in the sand
Tobacco in a pocket and rifle in hand,
Inside their uniform
There's an old greasy comb,
Some were never leaving
And some were going home.

The Little Ships © Robbie Kennedy Bennett





Ladybank, Fife.




THE NEXT GIFT TO LIFE IS FREEDOM ©
by Robbie Kennedy Bennett 1992

I always thought grandad seemed bothered
Although I couldn't think why,
So I went inside to ask grandma
And a tear then appeared in her eye.

For his country he became a young soldier
He was drafted to fight in the war,
'Possibly killed in action'
That man said to me at the door.

Eighteen months later a letter
Was somehow delivered to me,
'We have reports your husband is captive
In a camp so hurtful to see'.

All this time of being a young widow
Your grandad hung on to his life,
'Return him back Lord I said softly
Again I can be his sweet wife'.

I looked out of the window one morning
Through our gate this stranger did walk,
I called out 'sir can I help you?
I realised when he started to talk.

Three stone light with receding grey hair
The muscle had gone from his body,
He stood on the mat that said 'welcome'
His suit was shabby and shoddy.

He took off his coat in the parlour
His shirt was too big for his size,
He looked down and softly did whisper
'I must be a sight for sore eyes'.

I held him and said 'my heart's loving'
Be sorry to me don't you dare',
'I'll get you back soon good and healthy'
Our home is so full of care'.

My grandad is now in his greenhouse
He's tending and watering his plants,
He has put some stuff on the footpath
To keep at bay all of the ants.

He spends all his time in his garden
He doesn't often go out,
But most nights he wakes about midnight
In his sleep he loudly shouts out.

The suffering he had is a memory
And fellow prisoners did die,
'Has he ever told you this grandma?
'Yes he has son, but it made him cry'.

I'd like to think his thoughts are fading
With help of the healing of time,
A captive but fortunate soldier
Unlucky to have witnessed the crime.

By now I had to settle my grandma
Because she was getting upset,
They were blessed to recover their marriage
But for honour they still pay their debt.

A medal may hang on his tunic
In a picture I've seen in a frame,
My grandma she still has a letter
She's a widow because it bares his name.

'The next gift to life is freedom'
My grandad he told me one day,
Like others for Crown and their Country
There's a price for a family to pay.


The Next Gift To Life Is Freedom © Robbie Kennedy Bennett

















Ironbridge, Shropshire.





TELL HIM THAT THE WAR IS WON ©
by Robbie Kennedy Bennett 1994

Young men dying and there's widows crying,
Mothers sobbing 'not my son'.
Father sits alone on the garden bench,
Now tell him that the war is won.

Children singing and there's church bells ringing,
The vicar says 'the lord we'll praise'.
Father sits alone on the garden bench,
While the Union Jack they raise.

Men are drinking a dozen pints they're sinking,
The world's now full of fun.
Father sits alone on the garden bench,
How they made the enemy run.

His heart is breaking and his limbs are aching,
He wishes he could see his son.
Mother comes to father at the garden bench,
Now tell them that the war is won.


Dedicated to the families of any gallant soldier.





Grosvenor Park, Chester.







The Last Time I Saw Him and Ian Understands and Tell Him That The War Is Won © Robbie Kennedy Bennett

© Poetic Writing of Robbie Kennedy Bennett | created at www.mrsite.com