The Poppy April 27, 2008Posted by Rambling Man in Poetry & Humor.
Tags: anzac day, gallipoli, poppy, remembrance, suvla bay, world war 1
by the Rambling Man
In my hand I hold a poppy
Not of stem and petal made,
but of linen. Red, and brittle,
like the sands of Suvla Bay and lives that hung to
roaring cliffs at Hell’s Spit.
Silent stones now lie where many men once stood;
Adorned with flowers, each with a tale to tell, of woe.
But once alive as you and me, and more;
Their history tells of a battle brave,
but men who fell, and those that never were thereafter,
stay silent in their grief. They know and we do not.
Poppy fields now cover soil, that once needed no flower to flow red;
Ari Burnu, Gaba Tepe and Gallipoli – names we now all know
but at the greatest cost and yet the worst,
indeed, “We shall remember them” and think what might have been.
For they are fallen. And will remember no more.
The wind that moves the poppies carries far the heartbreak;
and moves through silent stones that lie
where many men once stood.