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2009 Poetry Theme Challenges#20 Remembrance |
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At 11 am on 11 November 1918 the guns of the Western Front fell silent after more than four years continuous warfare.
The First Two Minute Silence in London (11th November 1919) as reported in the Manchester Guardian, 12th November 1919. 'The first stroke of eleven produced a magical effect.The tram cars glided into stillness, motors ceased to cough and fume, and stopped dead, and the mighty-limbed dray horses hunched back upon their loads and stopped also, seeming to do it of their own volition.' The first world war though a terrible thing and a stain on Mankind's history, but it gave us a wonderful legacy of poetry from the poets who have become known as the War Poets such as John McCrae, Laurence Binyon, Hedd Wyn and Wilfred Owen to name a few. The challenge is to write poems that remember, not necessarily the war or the dead, but anything poignent or moving, happy or sad. The current form challenge, the villanelle, is a particularly effective vehicle for this type of writing.
Happy quilling Jem XXXX |
Remembrance |
Maryse AchongNo sweet words can make up for the loss of loved ones, No honour compensate for that sheer grief, No lowered flags can replace those that have been killed, No ceremony can offer relief. And though dying is a part of life's great circle, Just as the dawn will follow every night, The carnage that we witness in the world today , Is proof that we have still not got it right. ----- We Can't Forget When it seems that our plates become too full When things begin to weigh us down, and scare Us; with demands to meet that tug and pull At us every which way, it's time for prayer. However when our cups o'erflow the brim And life is wonderful, everything right Then also we ought to remember Him, And thank Him for leading us to the light... Without Him ours would be a sorry plight. back to list |
Divena CollinsSoftly I trod on the dew kissed ground on a beautiful sunlit morning, I went for a stroll in the field beyond just as the day was dawning. There in a ditch in the hollow amidst grass with long tough blades, some yellow cowslips intertwine and a sweetbriar branch cascades. The earth ploughed and left to fallow for planting time next season, but poppies grew where seeds did blow mother nature had her reason. Cowslips and sweet briar jewels more precious than any I know, A gift for us that are living to accept and enjoy them so. Poppies are there to remember the men that fought in the war, who perished for our freedom pain and heartache that they bore. I stopped for a moment to think how lucky we are to be free, and to enjoy the delights of nature that`s surrounding you and me .  ----- Past and Present In the not so distance past When a womans work was harder, Her clothes were sewn to last, Home made produce in the larder. The laundry scrubbed so clean On a washing board with soap, The whites were the whitest seen, Pegged out on a line made of rope. Wax polishing of the parlour floor And the furniture inside, White washing the step by the door With elbow grease and pride. The mats outside were hastily taken For dust to be beaten away, The tablecloth vigorously shaken With the crumbs of yesterday 'Three cheers'for the modern appliance 'Farewell 'to the kitchen sink, 'Hoorah' for the age of science We`ve now time to sit down and think.  ----- War Hero's Cry An old man huddled down Covered with a plastic sack, In a shop doorway, he settled With nothing left to go back. His memory gone, on his own, Not a soul, wanted to know, Took his bags,and hit the road, There was nowhere else to go . Lost in a maze, no way out, No family to speak of left, Not a thing to call his own Friendless, rejected, bereft. Aged now, but once when young, A soldier who fought in the war, Medals lost, along with his pride, Was this, what his hardship was for. Did his best, for his country A volunteer who dared, Now left with a shortened leg, In a World, that never cared. How may more have relented, In this heartless,thoughtless, city We are human (kind) as they say, So where, Oh where, is the pity.  back to list |
Maggie CusickThe night was clear, windless An unripe moon glowed dimly, in uncomfortable silence we strolled. What could be said? Pausing he took me in his arms, the sight of unshed tears quickened sorrow in my soul, desperately shying away from unwanted words thinking only of my deepest longings? He must go to foreign shores where life or death beckoned where the enemy is the little boy begging for chocolate or the pram pushing mother Walk the bloodied sands of damnation where life is just an illusion. Few returned from this valley of broken hearts War has it's own boundaries ----- Shattered  Shattered the life I lived before sunlight oh so far away dreams darkening day by day all young fight a dreadful war few return as they were of yore so to my God I humbly pray shattered the life Bugle no longer makes a sound sick and maimed long carried home flowers now where soldiers did roam protecting them from muddy ground shattered the life back to list |
Jem FarmerHe lowers his hat as she wipes her tears, when a thoughtful hush falls, as battles cease and our silence reflects over the years. He comes home battered and torn by his fears in nightmarish dreams that will never decrease he lowers his hat as she wipes her tears. Weary soldiers greeted by grateful cheers, from the pits of war, a brief release and our silence reflects over the years. As they battled on those hellish frontiers, and life was lost at a bullet's caprice, he lowers his hat as she wipes her tears, From private soldiers to the brigadiers, our sovereignty became their golden fleece and our silence reflects over the years. The words of remembrance ring in our ears in heartfelt hopes and prayers for blesséd peace he lowers his hat as she wipes her tears, and our silence reflects over the years. ----- Butterfly of Purity  The briefest time when you were near, a single glance lifted my fear. A butterfly of purity, bringing love and surety. Carbon copies of emotion pooled in our sweet love's devotion. Budding senses yearning to feel before my world turned to cold steel. For butterfly wings are fragile and love isn't always docile. You, unsurpassed beauty, faded so my cold heart remains jaded, until once more you hold my hand, lead me to the ethereal land. ----- Raindrops to the Sea I wish that you could see it too, how I long to be loved by you. No longer can my heart be free, I'm lost as raindrops to the sea. Each morning seems empty and cruel like a ring that's mislaid its jewel. The only abatement, to work, before my heart goes quite berserk. But nights are filled with love's extremes as once again you fill my dreams. Senses gyrate to meet your gaze, if only there could be no days. I figured this love out last night, as long as I sleep it's all right.  ----- Rhyfel by Hedd Wyn  Gwae fi fy myw mewn oes mor ddreng, A Duw ar drai ar orwel pell; O'i ôl mae dyn, yn deyrn a gwreng, Yn codi ei awdurdod hell. Pan deimlodd fyned ymaith Dduw Cyfododd gledd i ladd ei frawd; Mae swn yr ymladd ar ein clyw, A'i gysgod ar fythynnod tlawd. Mae'r hen delynau genid gynt Ynghrog ar gangau'r helyg draw, A gwaedd y bechgyn lond y gwynt, A'u gwaed yn gymysg efo'r glaw. War; trans by Jem Farmer Alas in these years of meanspirit, as Mankind makes his own domain, with office that carries much pain, as the light fades shall darkness sit. As fast as light is excluded here the arms of war erupt in fire, bloody feuds, a funeral pyre, the blood of an innocent tear. Heavenly harps can't soothe this bane, fall silent on willowy bough, battle cries on the wind and now their blood cascades eternal rain. back to list |
Ryter Roethical I raise my voice Whilst shouting into the night Why?... Silences follow... Then listening as my voice echoes There is no answer Except self mockery. As a single tear falls A voice carries to me "Though physically I am no more, Spiritually forever I shall be, As close to you as ever As long as you remember me." I kiss a rose Then I lay it on you... "I love you" My only parting words As I slowly walk away A second tear falls... A third tear soon follows. And then mine. ----- Return To Earth Do you know what a bullet hitting flesh sounds like? It's a slapping you hear, Like hitting a lump of meat with a mallet. If it kills you, you do not hear it, You feel nothing as you fall to the ground. Lying here listening to the sounds of action As it moves away And very soon the birds start their roll call. I can see them far better now, Better than I ever could before And can move as well, Not far yet, I still feel a little weary. Must catch my breath, please be patient. Suddenly, looking down I can see myself lying there. Comes as a bit of a shock really. The night comes and with it the cold. But I don't feel it any more, It's almost as if I'm dreaming. I can see the night creatures coming out, ' They come over and start sniffing me. None are flesh eaters, They soon lose interest and move on. The insects of course are still around. No longer do I need to swat away that irritating sound. I can feel some of them now, Some sort of residual memory I suppose. The dawn breaks and with it the change of animals. The ants of course found me first And have been keeping me company all the time, They never sleep and work incessantly, I can feel them climbing over my face. Crawling into eyes, my ears, my nose, my mouth. With their other comrades who are laying their eggs. They create their information path for their source of food. I can feel the plaque on my teeth being eaten, and the buzz in my ears as their teeth eat away at my wax. Then I see it, A solitary crow, And hear its harsh cawing Sending its raucous message to its family. I can almost feel the sharp piercing stab of its beak Seeking out a something tasty, Holding my eye in its beak Just like a bistro special And hear the beat of its wings Flying off with its trophy I can almost feel the nips from little creatures Gorging themselves on this welcome banquet My body is starting to swell The heat from the sun is expanding the gasses. I can almost feel myself cracking As the sun begins to dry out my flesh. The creatures come and go, less and less Nothing even for the ants is left. Finally I have found peace. I feel the grass now, Slowly, patiently covering me, Hiding me. My bones becoming brittle, The marrow fertilising my resting place. Slowly, Willingly, I become one with the soil. Once again I have returned to the earth. ----- Victims Roll  Once we were lovers, now that love has gone Replaced by nothing, just leaving a black hole Why can't you come back so we can carry on? I always knew that I was your only one We grew to believe we shared just one soul Once we were lovers, now that love has gone. Now all those dreams I must forever abandon This one evil act has taken us out of control Why can't you come back so we can carry on? This ungodly act was by one of Satan's spawn And just like a criminal, my heart he stole. Once we were lovers, now that love has gone. There will be no jail, and Heaven's no home And again Hell will take in a fellow ***hole Why can't you come back so we can carry on? This is no heroic war, it's where cowards fawn Adding women and kids to their victims roll. Once we were lovers, now that love has gone Why can't you come back so we can carry on? ----- Zetetic Past experience tells me I should forget Yet there are things we should remember But not the times of blood, tears and sweat. And mans stupidity and greed lingers yet But this is all laid aside each November Past experience tells me I should forget That I was not there, I do not regret And yet am proud to be called digger But not the times of blood, tears and sweat. There are memories of a shared cigarette Death came with the third burning ember Past experience tells me I should forget Every decade world leaders refuse to commit Whilst wall street remains the moneygrubber But not the times of blood, tears and sweat. For the lessons learned we are in their debt The guilty and the greedy mentally slumber. Past experience tells me I should forget But not the times of blood, tears and sweat. back to list |
John WillowdownHis comrades have propped the dying soldiers body against an outcrop of rock. At least, they think, he will die upright, facing the bleak and body-strewn dawn with its slow moving pillars of dust and scavenging birds of splashed and clotted ink. At least, they think, he will fight his last battle like a man and gaze at Death full in the face. But the dying soldier has already fought his last battle and lost. He cannot raise his eyes or even remember the Sun - his whole field of vision is a thick swathhe of crimson pain blinding his broken eyes and brain, - pouring like a raging river from his crackked skull, - filling his throat and lungs with a risingg tide of senseless, insatiable blood. He has no friends or enemies, no loyalties or memories, no final thoughts of loved ones, no hopes or dreams or regrets, only the terrible vice of crushing pain flooding every pore of his being, drowning every last vestige of identity and self. In the wasteland of dim residual images where consciousness remains he has crossed the final bridge that separates him from the worlds of the living. A shell passes overhead and explodes on the rutted earth behind him but he does not hear it. His head falls to his chest; he flops into the filth and mud, but his senses tell him nothing. Angry machines buzz like giant bees in his brain, men tread carelessly over his body, squeezing the last breaths out of him, but he does not feel their steel-shod boots at all. The red ocean has claimed him completely and he sinks like a nondescript stone to its deep and lightless depths. His war is finally and irrevocably over. back to list |
Leny RooversWithin my heart there is a special place; it's filled with light and memories of you, though we were never meant to win the race. I still can hear your voice and see your face, although we've both accepted that we're through; within my heart, there is that special place. I'll never be successful to erase the treasured joy and laughter we accrued, though we were never meant to win the race. Some days, I know our thoughts still interlace as with a sudden turn of mind the past sweeps through- within my heart, there is a special place. The years we shared, have left a lingering trace- soft images of love, dressed in pale hues; though we were never meant to win the race. White thought-ships float across sky's wide blue space as silently I whisper my adieus. Within my heart there is a special place, yet we were never meant to win the race.  back to list |
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