WW1 2

A fine figure of a man

It was said of him that

He could melt

Cami knicker elastic

At a hundred paces

The world was his oyster



Young and also of a

Certain age

Flung themselves at

His feet


He had few qualms

Be it the ripest fruit or

A little past its sell by

Any and all

Made for fine snack

Sometimes a

Gourmet meal



Those lothario impulses

He knew the delicacy of


Even had a sweetheart


Rose by name

Adored her

She him


His late mother’s wedding ring

Would soon grace her finger

If he played his cards right


Then one day

28th June 1914

The fragility of life

Reared its ugly head

In a place far removed


An assassination

Black Hand folly

In hindsight


An Archduke

Heir to a throne

Shot through the neck


Shortly thereafter

All hell broke loose


Our man

The lover

Took heed of

Kitchener’s words

Joined up

Went to War

Never did return home

His essence

Long since degraded

In the soil of Flanders


All that was to

Remain of him

Was the intangible

A mere name

Engraved in marble

In a foreign land


Back in Blighty

Many a girl shed tears

Rose more than most

She never married

Died years later

A spinster


23 thoughts on “SHE NEVER MARRIED

    1. Written thanks to you – the knickers from 100 paces came to me following your post just yesterday. Indeed poor form on my part for no crediting you – but then would you want to be credited for that line! I think perhaps not!

  1. Lovely, sad, funny, Mike – ah, Sue and the knickers inspiration! Now, why does that not surprise me?! Great line anyway! Wish I’d thought of it…

    1. Thank you and also thanks for the tweet thingy. I do have twitter but never use it – just that my blogs are linked to it so please forgive me that I don’t tweet you (that sounds awful really) as I have only the two followers and one of those is blind the other dyslexic. I suppose I should use twitter more but I’ve never got my head around it! Regardless, thank you so much.

  2. Fell in love with this one together with Rose. Alas, tears upon her lover’s death wishing to hug or hold her, so ‘real’ Rose was to me. Beautiful, this poem.

    1. Thank you – it is a funny old thing for you’ve said almost to the word what my wife said when she read it. I’m guessing you’re much too young to have lived it but when I was growing up there were loads of spinster aunts all over Britain. I think every kid had at least one. With so many millions of men killed during WW1 there was simply not enough blokes to go round. Truly sad.

      1. I see them in my ‘mind,’ Mike, together with widows and others who never had the chance to marry for one reason or the other. Imagination takes hold and then, well, you have a story there. Or, a lovely poem of “Rose.”

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