Poppies they say adieu, goodbye,
men fought, yet did not want to die,
Poppies were tossing, waving free,
as war took lives so poignantly.
Poppies upstanding, boldly grow,
youth enlisted but did not know,
Poppieswould represent such pain,
that they would never forget the slain.
Poppies beautiful, fresh and new,
All one bright colour, flawless hue,
Poppies petals see where they land,
upon a face, an arm or a hand.
Poppies vibrant, stunningly red,
softly surround each silent head,
Poppies fragile, dainty and neat,
guard the space around their feet.
Poppies carpeting the hard ground,
where the marching of boots resound,
Poppies whose wind blown seas of blood,
captured them like a mighty flood.
Poppies tell of their dreams long lost, ,
we hear their names, we count the cost.
Poppies bring tears as we recall,
our loved ones parted from us all.
Poppies they say goodbye, adieu,
men fought for me, they fought for you.
Those tossing poppies, waving free,
mean remembrance to you and me.
Copyright. Ernestine Northover
A connection with the hearts and minds of those left behind. A moving write, so melancholy yet so respectful Love Duncan
Natural beauty blended with symbolism. Susie.
This reminds me so much of the poppy fields of Northern France. the light rhythm of the poem illustrates the poppies blowing in the wind - forever a poignant symbol of remembrance of those who gave their lives all those years ago.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful yet poignant, wonderful poetry Ernestine and a pleasure to read. Best wishes, Andrew xx