I am but an old man that lives in the past
I'm all alone and my years will not last
Of precious time, I've nearly spent it all
For soon I must give up life's precious cup
Sind my way to heaven or not wake up
Those dear meoraies now come flooding back
A strange childhood in midst of world war
When some foreign fools chose a battlefield
As this boy saw strange bombers in the sky
And grieving aunts for dead husbands did cry
Now food was scarce on our dining table
But gardens were planted with vegetables
I ate the leaves hedgerows to fill me up
Government gave free milk to kid at school
And a pre-war adverts us boys did drool
Crockery was chipped could not afford more
Such is the impact of a long lasting war
Once went to grandma's to see roses flower
Glorious yellow and pink blooms, such flair
Beauty that us boys were quite unaware
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I woke with a start, I'd been dreaming
Back being that seven year old boy
So many years ago in wartime
Dad grew vegetables in the garden
We were hungry as food was rationed
Parents both at work we helped ourselves
I chewed on last crust from the bread bin
Mother worked at grocery shop in town
"Behave yourselves" she said when leaving
But that was never my brothers way
For he did eye my prize jealously
But I ate it up which made him cross
Our job was to start cooking the meal
That Mum had prepared much earlier
But we had been too busy playing
Or checking Dad's vegetable garden
Pity they were not ready to eat
That is when my brother checked the clock
Both open mouthed stared at each other
For Mum would be back home very soon
As we were supposed to light the gas
Food should be cooking when she arrived
We had eaten every scrap of food
Delving in each corner of kitchen's realm
Onion and peas sandwich just for a start
Three last biscuits each from the tin
And cheesy breath from Dad's Camembert
Pungent not to teens untrained taste
Which improved our knowledge of food store
Part peeled green apple chucked in the waste
And so it was Ma did her head in
On seeing such an unholy mess
Worst of all was finding the poor cat
Miaowing sadly in the bread bin
Mum cried at seeing such a to do
And we were sent straight upstairs to bed
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This is a mostly true story of a memory of mine from WW2 when with both parents working two pre teens were left at home to manage with not unexpected results, we weren't fed until the next day!
What is war like for children?
I'll tell you as I was there
When bombing, sinking and fighting
You'd think that would engender fear
Lived but an hour from London
Knew well when sad siren called
The drone of bombers overhead
You'd think that kids would be appalled
Our house at back led to woods
Through fields of ripening corn
Where us kids would live our lives
Planes overhead since we were born
We'd climb the trees and wade streams
Lived our lives in chosen world
What better to live our young lives
Than in the dank bomb shelter curled
Kids see though different eyes
As parents worry with the truth
The delight when back home we come
Forgetting their own days of youth
Recall the delight on Ma's face
At bunch of bluebells brought home
But now happy all in one place
Before nights fear of bombers drone
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When I think of childhood I think of me
Seven years old wading in the cool stream
My socks and shoes under the willow tree
Playtime for boy in wartime...but was free
The bombers raided in dead of night
Dropping their loads indiscriminately
Didn't have shelter so hid under stairs
Or kitchen table sleeping, without cares
Thankfully in daytime bombers were few
Walked to school or caught bus if had fare
But when we were let out at half past three
We'd run down to the river happily
There we would play for hour under the bridge
Despite barefoot we'd all get soaking wet
But dried off on our long walk home for tea
I loved playing by that bridge happily
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I still dream of her
But she is long gone
There was a war on
I crossed the border
She stayed, my Evonne
Would not leave her kin
'Suppose that was right
I cried that cold night
Just to save my skin
For a future bright
What a future is this?
Without one I love
We were hand in glove
Living life of bliss
She my turtle dove
I still dream of her
Safety sucks you dope
I fret and I mope
She was my true love
I have lost all hope
Many years later
We met up again
Seeing her was a pain
She's safe but not mine
My loss, other's gain
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How I remember stitches when as a child growing up. My brother's mended clothes were worn by me when he grew out of them. Yes, this is a story of the war and vivid is my memory of those days. Nobody is proud of poverty but then all suffered. Mum had to stitch our worn clothes together. Dad repaired our shoes holes as we couldn't afford a tradesman to do it.
My brother was lucky he was older so most of the new clothes went to him first and then handed down to me as he grew out of them so I benefitted by looking pretty ordinary! If you wore something new you might be teased or pushed over into a puddle so that you looked like the rest of us...dirty and poor as church mice.
My brother didn't like me. He thought I had stolen mother's breasts from him when I was born. I was five before he let me play with him and his mates in our street. Still he kept the upper hand by pushing me in the stinging nettles on the way home to show me who was boss.
However by that time I was making my own friends at school so we tended to play separately there so I was bullied by kids my own age...which seemed fair! Boys are adventurous and I was better at climbing trees than my brother; so I could shimmy up a tree and grin stupidly down at him, so he threw stones at me.
Once I fell out a tree and broke my wrist. When I showed my mother her immediate question was "Did your brother do this to you?" Sadly I said "No...I did it myself".
281 words
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Boys are horrible and I should know
I caused havoc wherever I'd go
With a whipping stick in my right hand
I'd join my mates on the farmers land
We'd play hide and seek in the ripe corn
Acting the fool as we'd done since born
The war had been on for a few years
We played and laughed while mum's were in tears
Most kids dad's were overseas at war
She struggled to cope as we were poor
She had to work hard to make ends meet
So she served in a shop down the street
We kids went to school five days a week
I got bullied of course 'cos I was meek
Soon I was with a gaggle of friends
But we'd all meet up at the weekends
Sometimes there'd be a gap in the class
We'd pray for him, he was not the last
Summer we'd walk to school on fine days
Mum came too "It's good for us" she says
We had to be careful what we spent
She's worried where all the money went
Kids minds are ever on other things
Like hearing the songs Vera Lynn sings
We were mad keen on spotting the planes
Or hearing news on Army campaigns
Watching convoys with soldiers aboard
Tanks and trucks now being sent abroad
How we collected such useless things
Like fag cards and feathers from birds wings
In wartime you rarely had a thing
I still recall my mother did sing
She was frightened but hid it from us
With her smiling face we caught the bus
So the war went on we were not afraid
"Your Dad will be home next week" she said
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Note: This was the situation for many families inn WW2 in Britain however I was luckier as my father who worked in London did come most nights of the week because he was what was described as being in "Reserved Occupation" as he ensured the Electricity supply was maintained there. Most of my cousins dads were in active service in Britain or abroad, but almost nobody was well off with the rationing and shortages at that time.
I woke up, I was four years old
We were at war, so I was told
Were bombed at night, shelter did seek
Daddy came home two days a week
Mummy was boss, did everything
Took us to school, sometimes did sing
Then off to work, most mums did then
All took bus home, number fourteen
Spoke to manager, he agreed
We'd go there after school, good deed
Then play in the boxes out the back
Sometimes even given a snack
The shop where she worked closed at five
Caught bus home at six did arrive
Switched on lights she then cooked a meal
Blackout blinds drawn, cosy did feel
Bombing started the war was real
Hid under table scared did feel
I could feel her shaking with fright
And sometimes we stayed there all night
Was better when Daddy was home
Once when doodlebugs did moan
Said we're safe if we heard them drone
Mum's head shook hated being alone
But she managed she was a star
Now twinkling at us from afar
For everyday she showed her love
Bet that is her shining above
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