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I work for a publisher called 'Fractal Publishing'. It was started by a writer called Philippa Roberts because she had a journal written all in poetry which was left to her by her grandmother, Effie.M.Roberts. This journal was all about life in the Second World War... the rationing, the silence of the church bells, groping for her own front door during a blackout, the difficulty of having to manage without paper bags when shopping... etc, etc. It gave a really vivid picture of what life was like for people on the home front and the poems were often very amusing (although sometimes sad). Local history publishers weren't interested as it was poetry rather than prose. Fractal Publishing have done it as the first in a series called 'Neglected Voices'. Altogether they have published 3 books of poems by Effie M.Roberts, 'A Wartime Poetry Journal', 'Winter Jasmine', and 'The Golden Glory has Fled'. The last two mentioned are limited to 100 numbered copies, letterpress printed and hand bound but 'A Wartime Poetry Journal' (due out on 14th August) is an ordinary paperback and is being marketed to schools and colleges. It is attracting a lot of interest. I hope I'm not breaking any rules by saying that I think it is wonderful!
Here are some sample poems:

Aug 14th, 1945.

Peace has come to all the world,
Banners are again unfurled,
Hopes are high and spirits gay,
It’s come, it’s here, it’s V.J. day!

Doors are opened, neighbours call,
‘Hear the news?’ asks one and all;
‘The war is over,’ and so it’s spread,
And awakens many a sleepy head.

Out in the street, they congregate,
And excitedly plan, ‘though the hour is late;
Young folk too, have their own ideas,
With noisy prattle and rousing cheers,
On through the streets they go their way,
Light-heartedly they swing and sway,
Greeting a pal with, ‘Hello, what cheer!
Come along with us, my dear.’

Trees illumined in the ‘Prom,’
Draw the crowd magnetically on,
Dancing here — a ‘show’ staged there,
Jostling together, devil-may-care,
Trumpets, streamers, waving flags,
Music, fireworks, student ‘rags,’
- ‘Tis thus, - the exuberance of youth,
- (Wild revellers in very truth)
In carnival dress and cap complete,
Bring gaiety, colour to every street,
They shout and laugh with all their might,
And dance and sing throughout the night;
But see! The older generation,
Seek quiet meditation;
With thankful hearts they kneel and pray,
Pray that peace has come to stay;
But gay or solemn be the mood,
All hearts are filled with gratitude,
Joyous in this glad release,
God grant it be a lasting peace.

Queues

Well, well, I do declare,
Queues, queues everywhere,
Up the High Street and the Strand,
On the pavement, people stand;
Queues, queues at all the shops,
For fruit, fish, biscuits, lollipops,
Cakes and buns, and ‘meaty’ pies,
- Anything to appetise -
Kettles, saucepans, heaven knows what,
- Such is the housewife’s happy lot; -
- And if for an hour, you patiently wait,
How annoying to be told ‘too late;’
When you’ve as much as you can carry,
And must not any longer tarry,
You take your place in a queue for the bus, -
For a long long time it has been thus: -
But this is the life we live today,
And it’s no use grumbling, anyway!

'Tis long since we heard the church bells chime

'Tis long since we heard the church bells chime,
Filling the air with musical rhyme, -
In silence they’ll hang in the belfry tower,
Until they proclaim the triumphant hour.

‘Tis long since we saw the gaily lit shops,
When evening falls, then the black-out drops;
And we leave the town with so little bought, -
And only the comfort of home is sought.

‘Tis long, since we walked with confident gait,
When the lights go down, we leave it to fate; -
Plunged into darkness, we grope around,
And sigh with relief, when our door is found.

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