fauxcroft

Blood red poppies

Scattered across a green canvas,

Can’t hide the screams, pain and agony,

I feel the loss and the shedding of tears

That continues through the years,

Khaki and grey uniforms

Cross the consciousness of a brutal war,

Young men that were not bred for death

Lie here and there below the surface,

And the blood red poppies are all that’s left

And painful memories now bereft,

With seemingly no lessons learned

As proven by wars that followed on,

Despite bodies piled high on the Somme

The killing and brutality goes on and on,

And it’s the cause of lost father’s, lovers, sons

Yet we claim from this people’s freedom,

It’s that hope on which we all cling on

Meanwhile I hear the sad bugler’s song,

The last post, last hope or is that all gone

With only the blood red poppies so forlorn,

As a reminder of the inhumanity that went on.