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The Absurd escape by Joseph Bednall

9/30/2007

I once,was a prisoner,in a cell bereft of doors,a solid iron ceiling,no windows and concrete floors.
Inside the cell,there was a table,sawn through the middle and in two halves,I was suffering from a sore throat and was wearing two thick scarfs.
My captor,thought me impotent,with no possibility to break free,I was determined,to prove him wrong,then from this place,I'd flee.
I took, the two halves of table and putting them together,made a whole,I clambered right on through it and quietly took a stroll.
Guard dogs were alerted and the garrison came out in force,
I shouted at the guard dogs,till I made myself a little hoarse.
I climbed upon the little horse and galloped fast away,I didnt want to stick around,for I knew they wanted me to stay.
I came upon a river,too fast flowing for me to cross, I knew I had a good headstart and waiting would be no loss.
I waited till 4.30,not a random time I chose, anyone who comes from here, knows this is the time banks close.
With the river banks now touching,
I rode to the other side, I came upon a stranger and told him of my ride.
He thought my story crazy,
he didn't believe a word,
how could I blame him,
even to me it was absurd.

NIMBUS by Joseph Bednall

9/27/2007

Drifting,so silently,
they float across the sky,
slowly,transforming,
this vision before my eye.
I thought, I saw a starship,
which morphed into a frog.
I thought,I saw a steam train,
emerging from a fog.
I saw,what looked like breakers,
slow moving on the tide.
I saw, a mighty Eagle,it's wings,
were out stretched wide.
Stars,were shining brightly,
as the moon rose in the sky,
it was then, I saw, a godly face,
with a twinkle in its eye.
Shapes, both grotesque and beautiful,
appear,then vaporize,
I could sit and watch forever,
this carousel,of cloudy skies.

Bobbie by Joseph Bednall

9/23/2007

In the Afghan war of 1878,
a British regiment,found out too late,
that the Afghan warriors,were all around,they had to make deffence and stand theyre ground.
A sacrifice,was to be made, for not all the regiment ,could be saved.
Of all those that stood,in the battles fog,the strangest of all,was a little white dog.
he belonged,to lance sergeant Peter Kelly,they were seperated in the ferocious melee.
Bobbie,was the little dogs name and on that day,he earned his fame,for he was with, the forlorn stand,the men who knew,they would never leave this land.
The 66th foot,fought with great renown,their colours stood and they rallied round.
Eleven men,who were the last, with only bayonets charged the mass,
none were spared and all there fell,with no survivor, this tale to tell.
Bobbie wounded,nipped and bit, as he ran to escape from being hit,
he ran and ran and ran so far,he ran all the way to Kandahar.
He could not have run any faster,
to be reunited with his master.
The British returned to the battle site,to gather up their dead,
from an Afghan general,they heard the story,or so,that is whats said.
Bobbie, now a hero,of the battle of Maiwand,returned with his regiment,to set sail for England.
He was honoured with a medal,from Victoria, the Queen, who said "my, what a little dog but the bravest,I have seen".
Alas, for poor Bobbie,his life was cruely short,run over by a hansom cab,while walking in Gosport.
The driver was a lucky man,as the soldiers dragged him down,they would have killed him there,right on the spot and left him on the ground.
Bobbie, still wears his medal and if,you would like to see him,
he is in the town of Salisbury,
in the regiments museum.

The dead can wait by Joseph Bednall

9/21/2007

We move across the battle field,
our heads we keep down low,
the medic with his bloody hands,
signals us to follow,
we hear the shouts,
we hear the cries,
"get hear quick,before this man dies".
We run into the clearing,
where many men are down,
they lay where they have fallen,
their blood seeps in the ground.
I kneel beside a soldier,
I know I am too late,
the living are demanding,
the dead can surely wait.

Everyone and someone by Joseph Bednall

9/21/2007

For every choice,there is another,
for every son,there is a mother,
for every life,there must be death,
for every right, there is a left,
for every wrong,there is a right,
for every day,there is a night,
for all the light,there must be dark,
for every fire, there is a spark,
for everyone,theres someone else,
dont be the one,left on the shelf,
life is better,when it is shared,
dont be alone, because your scared
to be rejected,make your move,
for everyone, theres someones love.

Seeds by Joseph Bednall

9/21/2007

Looking back, along my life,
regrets, they grow like weeds,
I have done so little, with my alloted time,did I forget to plant the seeds?
The seed of passion,took so long to grow,I thought it never would,
the seed of knowledge,recently bloomed,opening the gates to flood,
The seed of doubt,was the first to grow,it spread like falling rain,it strangled many of the other shoots,causing me so much pain.
I think my life, has to me shown,
you can plant many seeds but not your own,
you must plant them now, for those to come,so hearts and minds and souls are won.
Treat them well and hoe the weeds,
encouragements the food for seeds.

SQUALL by Joseph Bednall

8/8/2007

Fluid angry mountains,
arise from a monsterous swell,
colossal peaks of urgent seas,
which,no wish nor prayer can quell.

The hammer fall,of an ancient god,
brings thunder crashing down,
it reverberates like a thousand drums,
each one, a different sound.

A tempest wind with teeth like ice,
rips and tears around our mast,
our ship so small, is but a splint of wood,
in this ocean, oh so vast.

Dark boiling clouds of many hues,
down upon us press,
the rain in torrent stings my eyes,
then rain and tears coalesce.

How long must we endure this?
The answer we do not know,
St elmos fire,in the rigging above,
gives the ship a spectral glow.

At last the storm is broken,
the relief is plain to all,
the captain looks me in the eye
and says, "twas nothing but a squall.

The next bend by Joseph Bednall

8/31/2007

Everyone takes this journey,
the destination is the same,
we all take different pathways,
never to return,from whence we came.

For some,the journeys easy,
for others,extremley hard,
the length,is always different,
many miles or just one yard.

Though, to measure it in distance,
it's not, from line to line,
short and sharp or long and slow,
it's more, a matter of time.

This voyage,upon lifes ocean,
takes on, all shapes and forms,
for some the seas,are always smooth,for others, endless storms.

Then,theres the path,that runs inbetween and the one that runs between that,so,your having it tough and think enough is enough
and wouldnt it be nice, to go
splat.

No journeys the same,dont look back, whence you came,that part of your life is now past,
each day is anew and who knows,how many how few,breaths untill your last.

Ive, crawled through the desert,
where the sand has no end and have been brought to the edge of despair,when you feel so alone
and try to cope on your own,just hoping, that someone would care.

Hope, keeps us going,we push on without knowing,how,this journey
will end,we know not, whats in store,how short or how far,or whats around the next bend.

It's not the destination,you seek,
no matter,how hard or how bleak,
your path,on your journey has been,it's the ups and the downs and the twisting arounds and the people and sights,you have seen.

It's not, a race to the finish,
be bold, dont diminish, your life is a precious gift,dont take any shortcuts and be wary of strangers,
the ones who would offer you lifts.

Your journeys your own,take your time and look around,you never know,what you may miss,
laughter and tears,hopes and yes,fears and that brief moment of a lovers first kiss.

Be bouyant and brave,theres no rush to the grave,thats just the journeys end,travel your path but watch where you step, and see whats around, that next bend.

The Human Plague by Joseph Bednall

8/3/2007

How brief a story the human race,
as we glory in our misery,
plague and famine,death and war
all permiate our history.
Creatures great and creatures small, cannot escape our gaze,
how many species have we sent,
too early to their graves?
Recently weve turned our eyes,
upon our planets wealth,
to feed our fires and our desires
thinking nothing of its health,
too late now we strive to change,
on how we act and think,
as ice sheets melt and oceans rise
pushing us to the brink,
of climate change and all that holds,changing life forever,
will countrys act?
will people change?
as together we endevour,
to rectify our past mistakes
to recycle and be green,
I for one am not so sure
till these changes I have seen.
We are a plague upon this planet,
mother nature will find a cure,
theres only so much she will take,
so much she will endure.

FORGOTTEN PEOPLE by Joseph Bednall

8/28/2010

Cold,is the night at winters approach
frost,leaves its sparkling spoor
a beautiful sight,to my eyes a delight
but not for the homeless and poor.
The streets are a desert,if you have not money
to spend and a doorways a home for the night,
their life is a tunnel,long and dark with
despair and hope is a flickering light.
They wander the towns,from doorways to ally's
their clothes are threadbare and torn,
they remember a time of family and friends
now they wish they never were born.
As children,they dreamt of better things
never thinking this was their doom
a half eaten sandwich thrown away in the trash
for them is a fortuitous boon.
We think"this could never happen to me"
the fall is too far and so great but losing
your job, your family and friends is something
to which we all can relate.
They are called a disease upon society
they are the dirt,when we say "clean up the streets"
but they are our brothers,sisters fathers or mothers
like you, their heart still beats.

Funny Farm by Joseph Bednall

8/25/2007

Old MacDonald had a farm,
on which he planted geese,
he planted ducks and onion rings,
and half a pound of cheese.

He planted eggs and sausages,
he planted bacon strips,
he planted bread and butter
and also fish and chips.

Old MacDonald had a farm
and you wouldnt call him lazy,
people called him lots of things,
like mad,insane or crazy.

Soon the men from the institute,
came to take him back,
they put him in his favourite jacket,
which fastens up the back.

The Mighty Wyrm by Joseph Bednall

8/21/2007

He slumbers deep inside his cave,
where brave men fear to tread,
the stench,the fumes,the broken bones,of the many,many dead.

He holds no malice,he has no fear,
he just deffends,what he holds dear.
Greedy men with spear and lance,
will try again at every chance,
for treasure is held,deep within,
protected by his scaly skin.

Fire he breaths and flesh he eats,
no surrender and no retreats,
to get past him,its to the death,
no man can live inside his breath,
but greedy men will never learn,
there is no hope,against this wyrm.

The most powerful dragon the world has seen,Ive seen him in a waking dream.

A shadow crossed before my eyes,
so immense,it blocked the skies,
as he moved, the ground he shook,
it took all my courage,just to take a look,
I didnt know whether,to laugh or cry,if he noticed me I'd surly die.

His head was huge,with many horns,
his teeth were long and sharp like thorns.
His dragon scales,were emerald green,with the reddest eyes I've
ever seen.

Suddenly, from out the bush,
men with swords and axes rushed,
they didnt realy stand a chance,
not even the ones,with horse and lance.

The dragon lifted his mighty head,
and with one breath,they all were dead,
roasted men and roasted horse,
he moved among them,to feed and gorge,
I watched in silence,for I am no St George.

Brotherhood of Man by Joseph Bednall

8/20/2007

Isn't it time,we found a new way,
to bring this world to peace,
instead of sending armies
and just hoping war will cease.
Violence begats violence,
hatred begats hate,
we must bring our world together,
long before,it is too late.
Children,are our future,
they must, be taught to see,
that only when we can live together,will mankind be set free.
Set free, to do the other things,
cure pestilence and famine,
to give everyone a descent life,
in this new world which we are planning.
Hope, is a begining,
let us use it, while we can,
so that in the future,
we have a brotherhood,of man.

REMEMBER by Joseph Bednall

8/2/2009

I thought of war,as a distant cry,
where unknown soldiers, fight and die,
now this war,is brought so near,because of two
brave lads,this town holds dear.
Craig and James, were only young,
their lives had realy,just begun,
they were soldiers,both brave and true,they were
doing,what they thought,they ought to do.
A Bombardier and a rifleman,both killed on
duty in Afghanistan.
Rifleman Backhouse was only eighteen,he died
fulfilling his childhood dream,
Bombardier Hopson was twentyfour,a father destined,to see his child no more.
Dont weep for them,for soldiers know,
death walks among them,where'er they go,
leave your flowers and thoughts so kind
and remember the ones,they left behind.

Squall by Joseph Bednall

8/10/2007

Fluid angry mountains,arise on a monsterous swell,colossal peaks,of urgent sea's, which no man nor prayer can quell.

The hammer fall of an ancient god,
brings thunder crashing down,
it reverberates like a thousand drums,each one a different sound.

A tempest wind with teeth like ice,whips and tears around our mast,our ship is but a splint of wood,in this ocean oh so vast.

Dark boiling clouds of many hues,
down upon us press,the rain in torrent stings my eyes,then rain and tears coalesce.

How long must we endure this?
The answer, we do not know,
St elmos fire in the rigging above,gives the ship a spectral glow.

At last the storm is broken,
the relief is plain to all,
the captain looks me in the eye
and says "twas nothing but a squall".

One of the few by Joseph Bednall

7/6/2007

Sat beneath my fighters wing
I hope not for the bell to ring
for if it does,then we must fly
to meet our enemies in the sky,
they come in swarms as thick as flies,to drop death and destruction, from our own beautiful skies.
We are not many,we may be few
but we all know what we must do,
shoot them down or turn them back,
we have no choice but to attack.
We do not think of the men inside
as we try to stem the incoming tide.
Friends we lose daily,that is for certain but we dont say theyre dead,they have gone for a burton.
(pint of ale)
We do not dwell on the friends we have lost,for they have done their duty and paid in full for the cost.
My time,may come, the next time we
ascend, into the blue o'er my country I am here to defend.
I would rather it be,one of them and not me but I'll take my chances and do my duty.

Slaves by Joseph Bednall

7/31/2007

You are a slave and so am I,
we will all be slaves
till the day we die.
Just a second,wait a minute
does this concept have a limit,
a day a week a month a year,
the lack of it is what we fear.
We split it into many fractions
to see how fast,how slow our actions.
Am I too early or just too late
as we count,control and regulate,
how long an age?
How long a season?
It dictates our lives and gives them reason.
We think it started with a bang,
how can we measure such a span?
Into the future we cannot see
it could last forever,into eternity.
Slaves we are and will remain,
our descendants will ever be the same.
Its no dishonour,it is no crime
for everyones a slave to time.

The soldiers dilemma by Joseph Bednall

7/28/2007

Another day,another patrol,
another chance to die,
we are bathed in sweat
as were beaten down by
the furnace in the sky,
our eyes are keen
our nerves are raw
as we pass on down the road,
be carefull and be vigilant
and be ruthless we are told,
a shot is fired,a round comes in
we turn to see from whence it came
but how can you pull the trigger,
when insurgents and civilians
all look the bloody same.

Empty space by Joseph Bednall

7/27/2007

Believe it or not,when you look all around,
at buildings,trees or even the ground,
all this before you,is empty space
inside an orange you could fit the whole human race.
I know what I say is hard to believe but this isnt a trick
and theres nothing up my sleeve.
Lets think of the Atom and its incredible size
one tenth of one millionth of a millimeter wide,
if you think of the nucleus as the size of a ball
soccer or basket makes no difference at all
the nearest electron or proton say
would be in its orbit eight hundred meters away,
another fact on which I wish you to think,
as you raise that glass of water to your lips for a drink,
there are more atoms of water inside that glass which you hold,
than there are glasses of water in this whole water world.
Now if we reduce all that space from the atoms inside,
so everythings touching and theres no place to hide,
you would shrink to the size of a tiny salt grain,
although your weight would remain exactly the same.
I tell you the truth and now rest my case,
about inside the orange,
the whole human race.

The last song by Joseph Bednall

7/24/2007

Farewell to you who moved my heart
to heights I never dreamt,
I thank the stars and universe
for you were heaven sent,
an Angel with her wings removed
to stay here by my side,
to be my love my confidant
to be my wife my bride.
The mother of our chidren
their teacher and their nurse,
I would give my life and all I am
to lift this, deaths dark curse.
I know we'll be together
when my life has run its time
and I lay down beside you
once more knowing you are mine,
but till that day,
I must stay strong,
not for me but for our young,
your voice still sings inside my head,like the last song ever sung.
So farewell to you my darling
my heart, my dreams, my love,
I know on me your smiling
from your place in heaven above.