My grandfather, Harry Gouldsborough, prepared to fight at the Somme in Heaton Park, Manchester. He contracted TB before being sent to France, was honourably discharged from the army, and died of his illness in 1922.


To whom it may concern

This morning,
Before the general's
Grandfather clock
Had chimed the half hour
After seven,
I yawned myself awake
And had a fag for breakfast.
Near here still stands a wood
And inside its green cloak
A pair of collared doves nest;
I hear them often, fluttering
From tree to tree, singing their
Distinctive notes of togetherness:
'Coocoo, coo, coocoo, coo'.
This morning,
I heard them as before,
But today they spoke in my tongue:
'You're stupid, you know,
You're stupid, you know'.

Then I heard a whistle.






Poetry by Christopher Fernie The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 681 times
Written on 2016-07-01 at 11:36

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Kathy Lockhart
Chris, this is so intriguing and so moving and sad to me. I get a troubled sadness from this scene and how it all fits together with the war, your grandfather, TB, death, time ticking away. Those last lines regarding the message between the doves and the message to the writer is so profound! And what the sound of the whistle does is like the judges gavel pronouncing finality. I find this extremely powerful! Applaud👏👏👏
2016-07-01


Kathy Lockhart
Chris, this is so intriguing and so moving and sad to me. I get a troubled sadness from this scene and how it all fits together with the war, your grandfather, TB, death, time ticking away. Those last lines regarding the message between the doves and the message to the writer is so profound! And what the sound of the whistle does is like the judges gavel pronouncing finality. I find this extremely powerful! Applaud👏👏👏
2016-07-01