William Cody Winter's Poetry

Love's Purple Rose (poem 29)

2015-04-06T22:59:00.000+01:00

(Not one of my best, but its been a while)

Love’s purple rose can be caught by a gaze from a far.
Love’s purple rose is not earned through time spent.

A lingering smile, a heart that skips a beat.
A smile that holds in memory, that can be recalled at moments notice.

Love’s purple rose is not earned nor won, but given by nature and a souls desire.
Love’s purple rose cannot be found, forced nor hindered.

A knowing that is heart deep.
A knowing that radiates through the body and mind.

Love’s purple rose comes but once.
Love’s purple rose is destinies desire.

Wait for Love’s purple rose.

Traitorous Traitors (poem 28)

2014-07-08T13:37:00.003+01:00

Treason is committed by busy bees lurking in shadows on the left. Treason is committed too when by those who spectate and postulate and do nothing. Treason is most foul when those who should defend lifts tongue to only support others. A Traitor turns their back on their nation’s history books. A Traitor cares enough to defend other cultures, but not enough to theirs. A Traitor turns a blind eye to the plight of their country and culture, but sheds a tear for a war fought in a far off land. Traitorous Traitors betray their ancestors and the blood in their veins. Traitorous Traitors deceive themselves in thinking their action will have no future consequences. Traitorous Traitors are as bad as the enemy they defend. Copyright © 2013, William Cody Winter.

The Stealth Assassins (poem 27)

2014-07-08T13:36:00.002+01:00

*This could be about demons, it could be about a plague or it could be about something else. You decide!* The Stealth Assassins flow by like ghosts in the corner of the eye. They move with the impunity of Saints, though they are anything but. Their hatred and contempt for fellow man radiates from them like the brightness of the sun. Their greatest weapons are their deceit and the ignorance of others. They trick then corrupt those in high places, with the promise of gold and riches. The Stealth Assassins spread like an unstopped plague from shore to shore, continent to continent and person to person. They blacken hearts, enslave the innocent and kill those who try to stop them. Their power is to make their victims forget their heritage and embrace the Assassins’ dark ways. The Stealth Assassins murder human rights where they find them. DON’T step into the Stealth Assassins’ shadow or you could be next! Copyright © 2013, William Cody Winter.

A Diamond Jubilee For A Diamond Queen (poem 26)

2012-06-01T19:30:00.000+01:00

The very word Diamond means Unbreakable as is her loyalty.
She never wavers nor cracks.
She cares more by the day as others care less.

As others sell Britain to the highest bidder, she shows that we were once more than just a bit of soil.
Once her people would have turned the soil red with their own blood to protect their nation, and she still would.
Once her people loved their land, but now they have no notion of what a nation it formerly was.

She works like a slave, for little gratitude from the masses and even less from the government.
She continues her duties at 86 that nobody even at 66 should.
Just on an average day she attends meetings, investitures and opens countless red government boxes to sign, yet often by the public she is called lazy.

Now 2012 is a chance for us not just to take a day off work, but to stand by her as she has with us.
Now 2012 is not the year of the London Olympics but the year of our Queen.
Now more than ever is the time to cheer, wave and shout ‘Long Live The Queen’!

Passion For The Written Word (poem 25)

2012-04-18T02:10:00.003+01:00

Letters on a page, words in ink.

I have a passion for the written word.

A passion to absorb the knowledge held in these little black characters.

The magical little marks have the potency to create worlds or topple governments.

They have the potential to enlighten the most ignorant among us.

They can set off an explosion of fireworks in the cerebrum of those who will but venture to turn a page.

Letters on a page, words in ink.

I have a passion for the written word.

A passion to absorb the knowledge held in these little black characters.

1865 or 2012 feather quill, pen, typewriter or computer the words are splashed on paper or monitor, but always just as effective.

From the Gutenberg Press to Project Gutenberg, from Shakespeare to H.G. Wells the greats come and go, forever leaving a trail of words behind them.

Letters on a page, words in ink.

I have a passion for the written word.

A passion to absorb the knowledge held in these little black characters.

I Just Don’t Feel Any More! (poem 24)

2012-04-18T02:09:00.003+01:00

I Just Don’t Feel Any More!

I once felt the gut spin of nervousness.

I once felt the heart flutter for an ill-placed crush.

I once felt the sinking sensation of disappointment.

But now I just don’t feel any more.

Frankly I just no longer give a damn.

I once felt the rush of excitement.

I once felt the anticipation of hope.

I once felt the heat of anger.

But now I just don’t feel any more.

Frankly I just no longer give a damn.

I once felt that I needed Love.

I once felt that I needed Success.

I once felt that I needed Money.

But now I just don’t feel any more.

Frankly I just no longer give a damn.

I Just Don’t Feel Any More!

For Shame, For Shame (poem 23)

2012-04-18T02:08:00.000+01:00

The Trumpets sounded, the flags waved.

The Men and Women said I care.

They died in the heat of the Crimea.

They died in the damp of the World War One trenches.

Now you don't buy poppies.

Now you burn the poppies in the streets.

For shame, for shame

They died on the British Isles.

They died on foreign lands, far away from home.

They return now to empty streets or vial protests.

They return to the media that spits like venom, its just a job like any other, there are no heroes.

They jumped to certain death, when you said jump.

When you say jump they say how high?, not I'd rather sit on my ass and watch some more TV like you and I.

For shame, for shame

You think you can say that soldiers, sailors and pilots are not heroes, I say get away from that comfortable seat and go die for your nation, then tell me again there are no heroes!

JUMP!

The Horror In The Mirror (poem 22)

2011-11-09T02:01:00.002+00:00

I have been plagued for quite some time by a horrific image in the mirror.

As I approach a mirror I must do so with great trepidation, for what I see there is a monstrous image.

It is a monstrous being with no saving graces, grotesque to the very point of making a person recoil with disgust.

Just the sight of it with the realisation that such a thing could exist makes all who see it give up on humanity.

I have been plagued for quite some time by a horrific image in the mirror.

As I approach a mirror I must do so with great trepidation, for what I see there is a monstrous image.

How could such an abomination exist?

How could such a crime against nature roam this land?

I have been plagued for quite some time by a horrific image in the mirror.

As I approach a mirror I must do so with great trepidation, for what I see there is a monstrous image.

What I see is something with no life, no intellect, no future and no hope.

Then I finally realised what it was in the mirrors, it was just... my own reflection.

A Sunset Over History (poem 21)

2011-09-13T01:49:00.002+01:00

A history like none other.
A history of pride and glory.
A history of Kings, Queens and Knights in shining armour.

A history of being conquered and conquering.
A history of crusades and crusaders.
A history of fighting for rights and freedoms.

Now this history of pride is scowled upon.
Now the history books on school shelves sit gathering dust.
Now the unappreciated freedoms of yesterday are killed by the day.

A history of a sun never setting on an empire.
A history of an island nation that conquered the world.
A history of nobility and great intellect.

Now the sun has set over the empire.
Now the sun has set over talks of it’s history.
Now the sun has set over it’s neglected people.

Now the sun can never rise again!

Copyright © 2011, William Cody Winter.

An Old World’s Captured Image (poem 20)

2011-09-12T02:11:00.000+01:00

(A poem I wrote for the tenth anniversary of 9/11)

Thy old world’s beauty gone forever.

Captured at a moments notice by faceless bystanders.

A bygone world captured by a small shift of a hand and a click of a finger.

A still picture, a moving picture.

A camera, a camcorder.

All captured the horrors of the loss of innocence.

All captured the horrors of the loss of an old world.

A still picture, a moving picture.

A camera, a camcorder.

All captured the horrors of the start of an endless war.

All captured the horrors of the start of the fight for freedoms.

Glass, Steel and Flesh burnt.

Four giant birds of prey fall from the sky.

Within a few short hours thy sacred old world is lost.

Within a few short hours thy old world is turned to one of terror and dictation.

A still picture, a moving picture.

A camera, a camcorder.

All captured within a few hours the death of a civilised civilisation.

One Day Unto My Grave I Go (poem 19)

2011-06-24T01:11:00.000+01:00

One day let my grave stone stand towering and superior above all others.
For one day this is all that shall remain of my legacy.

One day unto my grave I shall go, a body given back to the earth.
But let not my name be forgotten as my body remains rotting.

One day let my final words be ones of honour.
For one day this is all that shall remain of my legacy.

One day let my epitaph read “I came, I saw, I did it all….
But thank god thats all”.
For one day this is all that shall remain of my legacy.

Copyright © 2011, William Cody Winter.

Chivalrous (poem 18)

2011-06-13T00:54:00.001+01:00

Since the beginning of time there has been politeness and honour.
So simple to remember and follow, yet now after all these centuries
it is all but gone.

Gentleman hold the door open for a lady, just wait a few seconds
for her to pass through.
How hard could it be?
Stand when an important person or lady enters or leaves the room.
How hard could it be?

Gentlemen help the weak and defenceless.
How hard could it be?
Gentlemen give up their seat if a lady is forced to stand.
How hard could it be?

Gentlemen abstain from unfairness, meanness and deceit.
How hard could it be?
Gentlemen pay for the dinners at restaurants.
How hard could it be?

Gentlemen always speak the truth.
How hard could it be?
Gentlemen respect a lady’s honour.
How hard could it be?

Gentlemen pull the chair out for a lady when she is about to sit.
How hard could it be?
Gentlemen help a lady to put on her coat as she goes to leave.
How hard could it be?

Valour, Truth, Justice, Hope, Diligence, Liberality, Resolution,
Prudence, Sagacity, Faith and Charity.

How hard could it be?
It’s such simple politeness, how could you not do it automatically?
How could you not want to be chivalrous?

How hard could it be?

Copyright © 2011, William Cody Winter.

Don’t fall in love as the clock stops ticking (poem 17)

2011-06-06T01:18:00.002+01:00

The clock is winding down.
It’s ticking is slowing down.

We were born in a time of indecision.
We were born in a time where we follow our eyes not our hearts.
We were born in a time where we wait for others to act.

But…
The clock is winding down.
It’s ticking is slowing down.
People are impatient, they wont even wait for love.

So…
Don’t fall in love as the clock stops ticking.

The clock is winding down.
It’s ticking is slowing down.

So…
Don’t fall in love as the clock stops ticking.

Copyright © 2011, William Cody Winter.

The Black Cloud (Poem 16)

2011-06-05T17:41:00.003+01:00

I woke up this morning and laid there.
I kept my eyes shut, contemplating on my life.
I felt like my life was flashing in front of me.
I only saw the bad times and never the good.
I finally decided to open my eyes, but only physically.

There hovering above me was a big black cloud.
There was a huge weight on my shoulders and I struggled to breath.

I leaped out of bed, threw on my clothes and charged out the door.
I walked and walked, it was all I could do.
I looked behind me just to see the cloud following me.
I felt alone and trapped.
I then realised I was in a forrest surrounded by large oak trees.

How did I get here?

Then I saw it just a few feet away, a beautiful large pond.
I removed my clothes and leaped in head first.

The water was ice cold, but refreshing.
I was still underneath the water when it happened again, my life
flashed before me.
This time it was different, I saw the good times.

I saw the birthdays, the christmases and the laughter.
I saw a future of happiness, laughter and smiles.
I felt the universe shift and the sun shone brightly above the oak trees,
the black cloud evaporated as if by it’s rays.

I sprung from the water reborn, new of heart, new of mind.

Copyright © 2011, William Cody Winter.

Living History (poem 15)

2011-05-23T18:21:00.002+01:00

We’re built from genes of by-gone ages.
We’re built from strands of our ancestors’ Deoxyribonucleic acid.
We’re built from bits and pieces from through out history.

From Farm Hands to Barons.
From Coal Miners to Kings.
From the ordinary to the Famous.

From the Forgotten to the Truly Unforgettable.
From the Bad to the Good.
From a White Feather to a Victoria Cross.

We’re built from the bits and pieces from history.
We’re each carrying the DNA of our Forebears.
We’re each Living History.

Copyright © 2011, William Cody Winter.

I Still Believe In The Ways Of Old (poem 14)

2011-05-08T02:47:00.000+01:00

I still believe in Chivalry.
I still believe in Honour.

I don’t believe the New is best because it’s fashionable.
I don’t believe in destroying the Old to make way for the New.

I still believe in True Love.
I still believe in Diamonds and Wedding Bands.

I don’t believe caring for History and Cultural Heritage is immoral.
I don’t believe that it’s all been for nothing.

I still believe in the Monarchy.
I still believe in Titles and Coats of Arms.
I still believe in holding doors for females to pass through.

I still believe in it all and I will not give up.
I still believe in the Ways of Old.

Copyright © 2011, William Cody Winter.

Too Good (poem 13)

2011-05-07T19:21:00.003+01:00

You were too good for me.

You saw it.

I denied it.

My eyes dilated.

My heart pounded.

My mind drifted.

You were too good for me.

You saw it.

I denied it.

I was in awe of you.

I saw a chance for happiness with you.

I saw an ever lasting fairy tale.

I dreamt of romance.

I dreamt of roses, diamonds and warm smiles.

I dreamt of a chance with you.

But I was the only one with these thoughts.

I was the only one who had hopes of us.

Now I see it could never have been.

You were too good for me.

You saw it.

I denied it.

From Worms and Maggots to Heaven and Hell (poem 12)

2011-02-19T00:10:00.000+00:00

I didn’t believe in Heaven and Hell.

I didn’t believe in Ghosts and Angels.

I only believed in death’s fatal cold embrace.

I only believed in worms and maggots.

I didn’t believe in Heaven and Hell.

I didn’t believe in Ghosts and Angels.

I only believed in death’s fatal cold embrace.

I only believed in worms and maggots.

But over the years I’ve seen deaths image.

But over the years I’ve heard deaths voice.

My eyes and ears didn’t fail me.

The cameras didn’t lie to me.

Now I believe in some kind of Heaven and Hell.

Now I believe in Ghosts.

Now I don’t fear the cold box.

Now I don’t fear the Worms and Maggots.

I welcome deaths warm embrace!

It can’t be love, can it? (poem 11)

2010-11-27T19:00:00.000+00:00

It can’t be love, can it?

It was any other day, just keeping myself to myself.
There from afar she caught my eye in that packed room.
What? Wait? Why?

There must have been a dozen or two women there.
There had to be a reason for the captivation I felt.
What? Wait? Why?

I didn’t even know her, I had never seen her before in my life.
What purpose could there be for this needless enchanting?
What? Wait? Why?

From that moment on there she was.
Around every corner, through every doorway.
That made it oh so much worse.
What? Wait? Why?

I was the perfect gentleman that my heart told me to be.
I held open doors as she passed through.
I always let her pass through them first.
She rewarded me with that bewitching smile, that melted my heart.
What? Wait? Why?

But that didn’t matter, a gentleman she wanted not.
I started to notice her snicker as she passed me.
I started to notice her look the other way as she passed me, pretending she hadn’t seen me.
But that still was not enough to make me quit.
What? Wait? Why?

I keep thinking of her anyway, even though I know she does not like me.
It breaks my heart more each day.
What? Wait? Why?

This is the 21st century a woman never shall want a gentleman again.
Muscles the size of towers and a face of a super model is what’s needed. 
Brains and manners need not apply.
What? Wait? Why?

Or perhaps today ‘Gentleman’ is just a nice way of saying ‘Ugly Creep’!

The Battle of The Few (poem 10)

2010-11-27T18:59:00.000+00:00

The Battle of The Few
(A poem for the 70th anniversary of The Battle of Britain)

Those Few flew over London’s sky by day and by night.
The great Few that always know the Empire would never lose.
They always knew they would return to England’s soil, be it above or below.
They who battled like legendary heroes not by land or sea but in the air like never before.
They who’s bravery and unselflessness stopped the Nazi war marchine in it’s tracks.
They who stopped the world being invaded and becoming slaves (or at least for a few more years).

They are the men who won the Battle of Britain.
They are the kind Few who should never ever be forgotten.

There was once a great man called… Buffalo Bill (Poem 9)

2010-09-21T01:30:00.001+01:00

‒ There was once a great man called… Buffalo Bill ‒

There was once a great American soldier
There was once a great Buffalo Hunter
There was once a great Sure-Shot
There was once a great Pony Express Rider
There was once a great Stagecoach Driver
There was once a great showman

How many great men is that?
Six?

It was but ONE!

A man of honor with a Medal of Honor
A man who saved his father’s life at the age of seven
A man of equality man, woman, black or white it made no matter to him.
A man who PUSHED for the rights of Indians and Women
A man who founded the great Wyoming city of Cody
A man who almost single handly rewrote the world picture of the wild west
A man who’s news of his death received tributes from King George V of the United Kingdom, Kaiser Wilhelm II of Germany, and President Woodrow Wilson.
A man who quickly became the first American superstar

A man loved by millions the world over, never to be forgotten even to this day.
His name was William Frederick Cody, better known across the world as Buffalo Bill Cody.

William F. Cody
26th February, 1846 – 10th January, 1917

Copyright © 2010, William Cody Winter.

I wake up to sleep again (Poem 8)

2010-05-29T01:17:00.000+01:00

- I wake up to sleep again -

I sleep til one pm
I lay there eyes closed for twenty minutes
What will I see if I open them?
Nothing
Nothing but the dull grey vortex that is my life

It’s the same old thing day after day.
So I turn back over and go to sleep.
That sweet sleep, the oblivion of living death

Life has no meaning, so I visit that oblivion of living death,
I sleep my life away, for I have no life to waste

Sleep Sleep Sleep
I sleep till one pm
I lay there eyes closed for twenty minutes
What will I see if I open them?
Nothing
Nothing but the dull grey vortex that is my life

Sleep Sleep Sleep
Why be awake in that boredom, and depressing reality of failure.
Why not visit the sweet oblivion of living death
So I do.

I Sleep Sleep Sleep.

Our Mutual Friend, England! (poem 7)

2010-05-21T00:39:00.002+01:00

Our Mutual Friend, England!

We have a mutual old friend and She’s dying!
We have a very old friend and She’s slowly slipping away!
We have a dear old friend who was always here through thick and thin and She’s passing away!

Why is she dying you ask? Old Age?

She’s dying through neglect and abuse!
She’s decaying!
She’s got a rotten black heart from years of uncaring ill-treatment!

Who is she? you ask
Don’t you know yet?

Take a few paces outside, can you feel the ground under you?
Yes good!
Now breathe in deeply, feel the air in your lungs?
Yes?
Do you have a personality?
I thought so!

Well that’s her!

She’s the ground beneath your feet!
She’s the air in your lungs!
She’s a part of your personality, she’s helped form who you are!

She’s England!
Just believe!

Copyright © 2010, William Cody Winter.

Dare We Remember? (poem 6)

2009-11-11T00:21:00.003+00:00

Dare We Remember?
(Poem for Remembrance Day 2009)

The hundreds of thousands went to their deaths untimely, so we were to know the freedom and pride that they had.
They ask nothing in return, but that we stand up for those freedoms and feel their pride.
Instead we are told that pride in our nation is shameful and wrong, we watch as our nation’s flag lies on the ground for the fear of raising it may cause a stir.

They fought for the Land of Hope and Glory, just so that we could now sit uncaring, rapidly putrefying in the decay of our own making. What has happened to the days of flags waving, crowds cheering and the tears of love for Queen and Country? The Land of Hope and Glory was once a legend, now a myth.

Men and Woman of the British and Commonwealth armed forces you were and are the bravest, noblest and finest bunch the world could ever produce. Your memory will always linger with us few, who still wear our poppies on our breast with great pride. Us few that still can say “WE CARE”!

Elizabeth I: Our queen! (poem 5)

2009-02-24T01:55:00.001+00:00

Elizabeth I

Our queen!

Elizabeth was the queen that was seen to be mean like her mad dad.
Elizabeth was in fact knowledgeable and agreeable, wearing great attire with desire.
Elizabeth was a graceful, grateful and faithful queen.
Elizabeth was clever never to wed or bed and instead misled men all over the world for her kingdom to have freedom.
Elizabeth was a great queen who also became a virgin warrior that died hundreds of yeas ago, she was never ever gotten or forgotten.

Copyright © 2008, William Cody Winter.