Best Flanders Poems

Courage of Youth, Battle of Ypres, Flanders Field
(A Tribute)

Tough as nails young man with a red right hand
red-fire and whiskey ran in his blood.
Courageous seed...

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my brittle bones are like this fence, so built
          on throes of horrors shrouded with the...

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Parody of The Gas Man Cometh by Flanders and Swann

It was on a Monday morning the boiler man came to call
Said he’d return with spare...

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Famished and flagging footsoldiers;
formerly fitters and farmers.
Facing fatigue, fitful fever,
faeces and foul, foetid fungi.
Fostering feelings, frustrated,
for this faraway, foreign field.

Forsaking fissures and furrows,
forced forwards with...

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Upon the wind sheltered hillside,
the sharp tang of metal and the sting of salt air lay
over a field of blood-red poppies, no Flanders Field.

At years...

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November 11th is Remembrance Day in Canada 
(Veterans Day)
When I was in grade 7 or 8 (I don't exactly remember) we had 
 to write...

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In churned up soil the poppy rose 
On top of death, still steadily grows 
And in our minds we see the crosses 
That lie in...

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That time of year has come again
When we reflect and remember them
Polish our boots and press our kit
Remember those fallen that didn't make it

We shine...

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Upon the wind sheltered hillside,
the sharp tang of metal and the sting of salt air lay
over a field of blood-red poppies, no Flanders Field.

At years...

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Blood masks the lea, the blasted loam
upon whose breasts soldiers came home.
The earth, herself, held each to chest
the mist of sky killed with each breath
as...

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Maidens, bloody maidens, I had me six of ‘em wenches, ye knowest
Fullsome Catherine of Aragon wrought havoc ‘tween me and the Pope
Besought a divorce, split...

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Gunfire lit the clouds
as the weeping sky shed her
tears on Flanders Fields...

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A dry and barren moat
around historic tower, London’s pride
for many years in restful dormant mood
dreaming of days gone by
when swords clashed and armour creaked;
the yells...

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My Billy.


My Billy, bravest of the brave,
Fought metal tooth and iron cross.
Through Flanders field of bleedin’ red
And on to mourn their loss.

My Billy, full of...

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The Sowing


Upon the wind feasted hillside
The jagged edges of used rocks swell
With the fatless skin of babes and wenches 
Below a field of blood, no...

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