We, Glorious Dead

We, glorious dead beneath the mournful skies, did march in ranks where now poppies softly weep, to battles where the iron tempest flies, and from death’s cold hand our fleeting lives would reap. We left behind the warmth of hearth and kin, to face the horrors that no heart should know, in trenches where the…

Anonymous Confessions..Tales of Quirks and Quagmires

There’s a  group on Facebook, oh what a sight, Where Newfoundlanders gather to share day and night, With tales of the weird, the wild, and the bold, From car salesmen judging to secrets retold. There’s a fella named Doug with a passion for Trump, Says, “Make Newfoundland great!” while he’s sitting on a stump, But…

Ode to the desolate

In the heart of St. John’s where the shadows lie long, Beneath a grey canopy, cold and forlorn, I wander the alleys where the lost are the throng, And dream of a hearth that I once called my own. Once I walked on cobblestone streets so well-known, A life spun of comfort, where warmth was…