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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Remember them who lay in rows and rows where poppies grow, and enjoy this life because many died, to make it so. Mother's weep for a child no more, echoing canons can be heard in the distance, and many have bowed their heads to cry. Bring yourself to silence at eleven in the morning. Ringing out are bells, eleven times, and bagpipes sounds drift in praise, and those who stand with honour are set in stone. Now jets fly over in an azure sky, thundering. Canada we stand on guard for you! The Red and White Maple Leaf Flag blows. Even in the going down of the sun we will remember your precious blood. Days have passed and pages have turned yet we remember them, and now it is time for prayer and quiet contemplation, yes, let us pray in this hallowed place to honor the past and present. Within my heart I see great-grandpa and grandpa in black and white photographs, now give respect to those whose names are etched on plagues and stones in cemeteries, and remember those who came back broken in their souls, nothing could help those who took their own life due to memories horrible, and on the grave of the unknown soldier we place our red poppies, oh do not ever forget their great sacrifice so we could live in sweet harmony, and now wreaths of remembrance are being placed on the war monument. Now, I place a wreath for the First Nation People as I swell with pride for my ancestors who died in war. "and the sound of pipes and drums drift along city streets" ______________________________ November 11, 2016 Poetry/Unstructured Prose Verse/Lest We Forget Copyright Protected, ID 16-849-151-0 All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym. Submitted to FTI Blog Series 15 - November Brian Strand Podium Place1
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