John F. McCullagh

Bronze Star - 2,088 Points (09/28/1954 / Flushing)

The Poppy Seller - Poem by John F. McCullagh

The poppy seller stands near the Rotunda.
He vends his paper flowers as before.
He wears a small red poppy in Remembrance
of heroes fallen in our nation’s wars.

The people pass as if he’s’ non existent,
more interested to buy well watered beer.
The Veteran feels the sting of their indifference-
Upon his grizzled cheek I spy a tear.

I cannot, will not also pass in silence
I stop and donate something at his stall
He stammers thanks, but he needn’t thank me-
more fitting that I thank those who gave all.

They who owed us nothing gave us everything.
We, their debtors, balk to pay our share.
And still the poppy flourishes in Burgundy,
past living memory, as a wordless prayer..

Comments about The Poppy Seller by John F. McCullagh

There is no comment submitted by members..

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Poem Submitted: Sunday, October 25, 2009

[Hata Bildir]