Skip to main content
Small Boats
by Vince Mills

They waited and waited in the water.
That night was black as ink.
“I see a boat”, a voice from up the line had shouted.
And stiff with cold they hauled them in, like fish.

They gasped as callous seas slapped their craft backwards
Towards the beach in Dunkirk they had left.
Although the boat was old and men were injured
They reached calmer waters, almost safe.

Until they looked on English beaches
Thinking how their landing might be gauged,
Surviving heroes of a near disaster, or
Unwelcome victims of imperial decline.

The 95th Anniversary Appeal
Support the Morning Star
You have reached the free limit.
Subscribe to continue reading.
Similar stories
who we are
Poetry Review / 5 December 2025
5 December 2025

ANDY CROFT welcomes the publication of an anthology of recent poems published by the Morning Star, and hopes it becomes an annual event

21st Century Poetry / 6 August 2025
6 August 2025

by Clare Evans

21st Century Poetry / 1 August 2025
1 August 2025

by Josie Giles

21st Century Poetry / 9 July 2025
9 July 2025

by Widad Nabi