Fields Of Crimson Poem by Natasha Kirke

The battlefields long ago,
Bore the bodies of many men.
They held their barrels high.
The light glinted off the cruel bayonets.
Their metal bullets, merciless predators waiting to be unleashed
And while the many shells and bullets swarmed the battlefield
Which pierced and shattered the bodies of the soldiers
And the hearts of their loved ones,
They put their fear aside and fought
No time to fear or to cry
Only time to serve and honour
Life and death was merged into one.
A sea of crimson stained the land.
Now the fields are still crimson
Not with blood but poppies
It is here that the fallen lie
Dead and asleep
Their duty had been served
And now they sleep forever under their crimson blankets.
No more tears
No more sorrow
No more guns
Just everlasting peace.
When the sun retires his bright watchful eye
The moon and stars watch over their graves bathing them in angelic light
And as the poppies mournfully sway,
They whisper softly, with the voices of many men:
“Remember us, remember our deeds
Let them not be forgotten
Forever may we be in your hearts
We breathed our last breaths
And said our last goodbyes
And gave our lives for our country
Now we sleep in fields of crimson.”
So here lies Hercules,
Here lies Odysseus,
Here lies Achilles,
Here lie heroes,
Unknown soldiers,
In the fields of crimson.