Poppies

Bought my poppy today and gave it some more thought...

 

Old worn boots and threadbare tunic

Dirt and blood of fallen friends

Smoke blows slowly from the East

Dissolving gently boyhood dreams

Squatting down in sewer water

Shaking from the bone chilled cold

Thunderous blasts set ground to quaking

Tears run free from haunted eyes

Whistle screaming, voices shouting

Time to go

Boys vomit their dread and fear

Pushed up ladders or face the bayonet

What choice to make when there is no choice

All is silent save weeping and footfall

Running towards the rising sun

Blackened skeletal trees and hedges

Craters and bodies of comrade and foe

Running and shooting and screaming and crying

Falling and tripping and dying

Running through English country lanes

Summer dressed girl in your arms

One final kiss from sweetest red lips

Hit in the neck, felled like an oak

On blood and tissue you choke

Alone on the field, ‘neath darkening sun

Memories spilled in the filth…

Reviews

[Poeticpiers]

A fine descriptive piece of poetic prose about a subject close to my heart The great war produced some fantastic poetry. Many first class poets died in the trenches and left behind a legacy of words which should not be forgotten. The cream of a generation of young men either side were sacrificed in the war to end all wars.