Electrician, Soldier, Electronics Engineer, Quality Engineer
(Part-time playwrite, writer, poet, Scholar, Historian,)
Married to Rosyanne, one son, Simon, (flown the nest)
I'm too big, the house is too big, Rosyanne is still beautiful, loving, patient, kind, as gentle as an Angel's smile and STILL too good for the likes of me!
I love Corned beef Hash, Chilli, any ... more »
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Bill Mitton Poems
Voices On The Edge Of The World (In Hono...
It is how we are and who we are that we live out here on the edge the ragged rim of the world It’s the nature of our vice
And So The Women Wept
In the noise and dust of that dark day When pain and anger mingled. Where Love was driven on with whips and jeers shouldering the oppressive burden of a sinful world.
The Box From The Attic
A Father's Medals World War One The wrist band from a stillborn son The first picture of the two (now three) An Old Irish Fiddle, Left to me
To Slay The Dragon
Throw off the soft cheeks of childhood But not the joy nor laughter. Let not the dragon's roar stop your eyes and ears.
A Man Of Two Islands
I am a man of two green islands Which by unhappy force and nature Have become home to five peoples Not that these people are different
Your Children Are Always Your Children
In your eye’s the child never ends, nor should it Oh the limbs grow,
You who were the 'Chosen', you who suffered long. You who wore the yellow star, The victims of great wrongs.
The Pigeon Man
'That pigeon lofts his only love his daughter often said If it wasn’t for those bloody birds He might as well be dead!
The God Of Hedgehogs
I am the God of Hedgehogs It’s a living, though quite small Yet still within my mood swings Hedgehogdoms rise or fall
An Audience Granted
I saw him briefly once, like a three dimensional shadow on the lake. And I was breathless in
The Song Of The Atheist
There are no giants, save for egos. We all enter the world, to the fanfare of our own wailing and the cries of our mother'snatal pain.
A Chance Meeting
He sat and cocked his head so that his eyes seemed almost vertical. Unfortunately
What did I think was I doing here? This was no old man*s cruise. These waves belonged to the Fresh faced, twenty something, sailors.
Days Like These
On days like these there is no other song just the soft duet of gull and sea no perfume sweeter than the scent of salt upon the warm gentle breeze
Voices On The Edge Of The World (In Honour Of My Fellow Poets)
It is how we are and who we are
that we live out here on the edge
the ragged rim of the world
It’s the nature of our vice
This dark self imposed isolation
Yet the paradox in it shines bright
As the isolation bears heavy
upon our pale and brittle skin
for unless we share our souls
there is but dust in what we do
Each staking a separate claim
along the river of the golden muse
and each naked in hand and heart
bares the working of a soul
tasting the ice in the edges isolation
yet from each site along the rim
the voices of comfort ...