Armistice Day Poems - Poems about Armistice Day

Fields of red, of poppy leaf The fields where so many brave came to grief Brave men indeed who refused to kneel To give freedom to others, we remember them still Fields of red, of poppy leaf For Those men and boys who passed we grieve The light extinguished in their eyes But the dream of freedom was realised Fields of red,...

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Covered in mud, blood, sweat and tears. Lads so very young in years. Some so young they shouldn’t have been. Even witnessing those terrible scenes. Let alone fighting in the trenches surrounded by death. Watching comrades draw their last breath. Giving everything they had to give. Wondering if they are going to Live. Scared to death they fought the fight. Death was...

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In the cold of the bleak morning sky, we see no leaf stirs, nor birds flying by. As we wake to the crisp Autumn chill, we see flags at half staff, are hanging still! It’s a day well suited for a sombre event, when we, as a Nation remember and lament, those who, answering Freedom’s clarion call, fought the aggressor, and...

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The barbed wires gone the craters filled in But the poppy's still grow on Flanders fields men's tears have been wiped and burials done But the poppy's still grow on Flanders fields young men died because old men lied But the poppy's still grow on Flanders fields A nation bows its head in prayer this day But...

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, Remembering Armistice Day ...

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The old soldier reflects During a two minute lull. Shiny medals worn On clothes drab and dull. Wearing a red poppy With feelings of regret and pride. Teardrops for comrades Who died by his side. Now begs for pennies On the city streets Looked down upon By some that he meets. Waiting for a pension Promised years before. One more statistic A hero of war....

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With paper blooms of vibrant red, recalling battles and their dead. A moment’s silence, deep in thought of young lives taken as they fought; of blood and innocence still shed. From Flanders fields the poppies spread, on black lapels they grow instead. Remembrance, love and hope are sought with paper blooms. Eleven chimes; with lowered head sincere, unspoken prayers are said, let those lives lost be...

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