Colin F. Jones

FOR YOU, POPPA…

God lives within the man,
Else, he is not there,
When soldiers under fire,
Are given to despair.

‘Tis in one’s self we find him
Or find him not at all,
That when we die from bullets
He does not let us fall.

Thus we pray for the other,
For we know that we are fine,
Hope God he will discover,
And pray for me and mine.

POPPA

IWVPA Double Tap Award for War Poetry: June 18, 2003
Awarded: June 18, 2003
I’m sure my friend that God doth know,
that you do suffer pain,
that from your heart such love doth flow,
where old memories sad remain.
He knows your thoughts and your regrets,
He knows your losses deep,
and knows when sadness casts its nets,
over the peacefulness of sleep;
He watches you with smiling face,
cast back to boyhood days,
wondrous thoughts made to replace,
those cruel and sad dismays.
For Poppa, the Lord, He let you live
because your heart is true,
that you will share your loving ways,
in everything you do.
What we are, are all our thoughts,
we are all our joys and rues,
and faith in God has always taught,
that we must see it through.
Have you not found that in your mind
there lives yet greater joy
far stronger than the woe you find;
your memories as a boy?
‘Tis always best to walk those trails,
where we once walked in joy,
for my friend where sorrow fails,
is where it can’t true love destroy.
Boyhood dreams – what better dreams
were e’er devised by God
to replace with laughter all those screams
now silent in the sod?

IT IS A TIME

Christmas is when we think, Jesus Christ was born,
The Saviour of all human kind, whom we all adore
It is a time when we all think, each one of us is good,
So we give each other presents, as everybody should.
‘Tis a time of love and happiness, for Christmas trees and things,
For children to unwrap with joy, what dear old Santa brings
Yet it is a time of sadness too, of pity for the poor,
And compassion for those who fight, for us in our distant wars.
Sincere pity for those people, who don’t believe in God,
Who do not share our happiness, as through their empty world they plod,
It is a time when we thank others, and receive shared thanks from them,
A time of love and friendship, when our foes we don’t condemn
It is a time when our good fortune, is realized in prayer
A time when Christ’s pure spirit, is felt almost everywhere.

TO YOU, DAVID

One need only meet an atheist who has no belief at all,
To make one turn to faith lest he, like the other, fall,
For ‘tis sad to hear his dreary, pathetic, mocking voice
Trying to push the point he doubts as though he has no other choice.
It is sad to hear him trying to put everybody down,
To crawl along at his level with an elevated frown.
Always growling and complaining, making out he doesn’t care,
Casting doubt and lack of hope, promoting misery everywhere.
Who would want to be like him? Well not many I would say,
Who is so in love with self, it would break his heart to pray.
Yes I am saddened by such people, for they are pathetic and absurd,
Who must be treated with compassion, like a wounded little bird:
For to be influenced by such people would be to calculate and deceive;
For you would not know of friendship, or in faith and trust believe.

I do test the faith in others; I try to plant the Devil’s seed,
And I confess I’m most unhappy, when in this I succeed,
For I know then that they are not what they claim to be,
For a man of faith could not be changed by the Devil nor by me.
And there is a striking difference when you meet a man of grace,
A person with a reverence who does not hide his face;
Who does not slander others, as would a lesser man of spite,
With lies that claim his rhetoric as being what is right;
Who does not claim perfection but is humble when he says,
“I am a simple man of honesty, and I follow Christian ways.
For I love my God in heaven, my maker, and my guide;
That when I stand before him he will know I really tried”
And I offer this description to you, my brother and my friend,
That you may, in some small way, this lost pilgrim comprehend.

DAVID

We’ll not walk together
as we had planned,
but with the change of weather,
I understand.
But on your porch steps
we will still sit
and make the very best of it.
I’ll still look deep into your eyes,
as you look deeply into mine,
for God, no friendship ere denies,
so where ever you are, will be just fine.
I’ll meet you there;
my dear, dear friend…
on that you can, through God, depend.

Col,

Although I have often considered myself a crusty ole man, I have tears in my eyes as of right now. I do not weep for myself for I have been blessed beyond measure, but for the fact that I know I will not in person meet such friends as you.

I have no words of eloquence, nor do I have words of wisdom, just a simple thank you my dear friend, to you and to all of my wonderful group(s) family.

God Bless you all with many years of friendship and love

David (aka Poppa)
January 6, 2006

DEAR DAVID

You live with us now;
you will live with us tomorrow,
I thank God for your friendship;
though I suffer this sorrow.
True valiant soldier,
true wonderful man,
I love you my friend,
as much as anyone can.
And when next I see you,
on the porch we will sit,
and count all the stars,
while God’s nectar we sip.
Peace ever be with you,
and mate, have a safe trip.

POPPA

You did not know me Poppa, as I knew you,
But you were aware that my heart was true.
And you spared no word for this outcast man,
But you accepted me just as I am.
Your strength of faith that I’ll never have,
The God you love that guides your path
Is something that my mind admires,
For the power of faith its goal acquires.
I still sit with you by your door,
Somewhere mid mine and your far shore,
And hope perhaps it will come true,
That day when I at last meet you.
Farewell David, farewell my friend,
For mate, this parting is not the end.

DAVID

Time moves on sweet man and soon
sleep to you will come,
Fair thy friends in this fine place
will weep when day is done.

It will be sadness mixed with joy
for we all know where you go,
But we are jealous like your God
we want to keep you here you know.

Dear man tis sorrow that I feel
I cannot with you pretend,
For you are and will be evermore
in this place a cherished friend

WE SPEAK OF YOU STILL
(A Memorial to Poppa)

We speak of you still; we remember you yet,
It was an honour my friend; the day that we met.
The friendship we shared one day we’ll renew,
We’ll sit on your porch with a glass of home brew,
You can introduce me, to the soldiers you led,
The soldiers who died; the soldiers who bled.
You can show me around this place you adore,
Where the tranquil oceans of peace are lapping the shore.
My friend you are missed; in our hearts we are sad,
But we know you’ve been rewarded for the life you’ve had.
Though the war took its toll you had loved ones with you,
To help you to cope; your demons were not few.
So if you can hear in your heart the words in my mind,
You’ll know my memories of you, are all joyful and kind.

REMEMBERING POPPA

When I tested in my harsh way Poppa’s truth,
He stood his ground and never was aloof,
And almost at the brink where still I tried,
He saw me as I was in truth inside.
Our friendship formed from being what we were,
Without pretence both honest that’s for sure,
That understanding blessed us with its peace,
That in our hearts all conflict soon did cease.
We did not let our difference spoil the way,
For we perceived what the other had to say,
Without agreement often, yet sometimes,
With warm embraces in our thoughtful rhymes.
It was a blessing that I knew this gracious man,
And a deep felt loss that he would understand.