Best Remembrance Poems
The time seems to wander, languishing here and there, jealous of the wind.
Sometimes it flies, to almost find it's end, even when you have barely started.
The terrible ones, they seem to standstill, so you can live them for a lifetime.
The boring ones, are not appreciated, yet can be missed on those wild rides.
The day listens, to no man or woman, it knows well what to surprise us with.
There are a few, in everyone's life, that will be remembered, that have no equal.
When all the luck, works its magic, to lift the spirits high, and love comes to call.
There are days when, we fly too close to the sun, that melts wings made of wax.
Some are breathtaking, when death is standing near, but it's just not your time.
The guardian angels, swoop low to carry away that day, that took a piece of you.
Every single day, we should live as our last, for each is the gift of a jealous god.
There are the nights, that follow the day, when the gods dream, of being a man.
And all of the days, when misfortune arrives, and you cry the whole night away.
Then comes that one day, you won't survive, when you pray for just one more.
And all that's left, is to drift off and relive the ones, you wished would never end!
i do not have the power
to control what haunts
beneath night's sheets
nor the courage
to send them packing
from the depths
of my mind
nor the words
to bid them farewell
nor the freedom
to learn how
i am trapped
my mind
cries remembrance,
the apple of your eye
hides within
a bushel of pain
as a worm crawls
circles around my life
i long for a peck
from warm lips
not cold, stiffed
imperfect ones
like death's
my lips peel
beneath the folds
of rare smiles
and whispers
of words
from seeded pain
my soul
cries out
in silence
beneath the folds
of life
its bitter bite
and darkness
uncontrolled
The symbol of remembrance is the red poppy
When I look upon it, this is what I see,
I see courage, sacrifice and extreme bravery
See thousands enlisting to defend their country.
I see other nationalities, every colour and creed
Who came to help England in her hour of need
I see water filled trenches with deep mud and rain
I see flashes of gunfire and hear the wounded in pain.
I see and hear the big guns that sound like thunder
I see a Europe at war slowly being torn asunder
I see the deadly yellow clouds of dense mustard gas
Hear the cries of those poor souls breathing their last.
I see the battles that were won and some that were lost
I hear the sounds of victory that came at a great cost
I see the graves of the fallen who gave us that victory
Remembering the sacrifice they made for their country.
I feel the pain of the mothers who gave us their sons
At wars end feel the peace when they silenced the guns
We mourn all those that died and for them we must pray
But war is not the answer we must seek a better way.
When you wear your poppy always do so with pride
Honour two minutes silence for the brave fallen who died.
So the next time that you look upon that little red poppy
Just pause for a moment and tell me what you see.
Written 16th May 2018.
Born in a barn manger of straw,
wise men looked at the babe in awe;
a star above glowed like the sun.
At Christmas, God gave us his son !
Born to fulfill a great mission,
now, Christmas is a tradition;
but his work will never be done,
At Christmas, God gave us his son !
During Christmas with love and joy,
recall the children with no toy;
those whose grief is never undone,
At Christmas, God gave us his son !
The wise men came far bearing gifts,
and we give to those we love gifts;
but recall the birth of the one,
At Christmas, God gave us his son !
___________________________
December 1, 2019
Written for FTI Blog Special for Advent
Brian Strand
Podium Place 1
____________________________
Poem of the Day, December 3, 2019
Lili Marlene
In times of war, love can subdue cynical adversaries
(Men separated from their vocation, now filled with hatred)
And quell the beast inside their misdirected hearts,
And free their consciences, to allow sorrows’ comfort.
A noisy silence pervades the barracks’ atmosphere,
Where soldiers stir, stuffing duffel bags and miscellaneous,
While others reminisce, writing letters; maybe their last.
And await further orders for Western and Eastern Fronts, or Africa.
From Belgrade, a woman’s voice over the airwaves is transmitted,
Allowing a moment of silence and reflection for those listening
Alone; spiritually uplifted in memories of better times,
Who seek a reason to justify this madness of sacrifice.
“My Dearest Marlene,” the pen begins when all hell breaks out.
By bomb flashes bright bloody hands write, then the pen stops;
“Until we meet again underneath the corner light,
Like we used to do, my Lili Marlene.”
***
Note:
'Lili Marlene' is a German love poem set to music by Norbert Schultze (1911-2002) in 1938 based on the poem 'The Song of a Young Soldier On Watch. written by Hans Leip (1893-1963) in 1915 during World War I. The song was first recorded by Lala Andersen (1905-1972) in 1939 under the title 'The Girl Under the Lamps”' which became popular during World War II (1939-1945) among the Axis and Allied troops. The song was first broadcasted by the German Radio Belgrade station throughout Europe and North Africa, following the Nazi occupation of Belgrade in 1941.
Marlene Dietrich (1901–1992) was the daughter of a Prussian officer. She refused to work in Nazi Germany, and was branded a traitor by Nazi supporters when she became an American citizen in 1937. She made over 500 performances entertaining Allied troops from 1943 to 1946. Marlene Dietrich recorded the song in 1944 under the Decca Records (US) and Brunswick Records (UK), which was later released in 1945.
Happy Birthday America, we salute you.
On this day, the 4th of July.
Bright colors of red, white, and blue.
Everywhere to celebrate and glorify.
Years pass, you have stood strong.
Through chaos, violence, and war.
Believing in the power of right over wrong.
When challenged, you always give more.
We live free, because of what you are.
To maintain the cost has been high.
From early beginnings, coming so far.
Our flag flies proudly against the sky.
Today, we come to show our respect.
We believe in what you are about.
Maybe it is the time for some to reflect
Respect for our country, there is no doubt.
Watching old newsreels sadness washes over me
Highstepping horses, gentle eyes transformed in fear
valiantly charging under men that could not yield
Amid the noise of cannons, over the death-filled battle-field ,
sides flecked with foam, so far from home,
somehow they know how desperate is this final charge
hoofbeats pounding, hearts bursting, falling in their stride
Now the faded image shows a glory past and gone
Yet we must remember them and how their courage shone
Lest we forget the horses, or the majesty of them
In solemn re-enactment we must remember them
And grant a special place in paradise where they can roam.
Written for the Australian war horses that went overseas
and never returned
Some Paradise Where Horses Go Poetry Contest
Michelle Faulkner
Placed 4th.
There’s a deathly silence
in the aging night of the living,
a rasp of breath sneaks
out across the candid moor,
like the wail that fails
the carousel of life!
The vigorous wind
slaps the face
creates sensibility
makes the world go away,
life is a continuous storm
clear skies always on the horizon
only when she smiles
does the sunshine.
The poison within
the mind in constant need,
if only to forget the good times
when strolling in summer madness,
simplicity down school lane
nature’s betrayal ever so subtle
after all, one just wanted
to touch the moment!
© Harry J Horsman 2000
There is a field that we all know
That passed a torch where Soldiers go
Those that fell fought to the end
From that field they did ascend
To look upon the light relay
That made us free free this day
Rest in peace we do remember
This is done eleven November
In a field that's now a lot
Rows of cars I did spot
In the air a poppy blowing
Where I wonder is it going
Among the maple leaves that fell
This poppies color blended well
Lost it there but for a moment
Young child's find leaves bestowment
Conferred unknown mom what's this?
This my child so we don't miss
Small reminder Veterans that passed
So all can live in peace ever last
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 and screams of battle filled the air.
Testament of courage and pain;
did those who fought there die in vain?
A dry and barren moat
now back to life to mark Remembrance Day
with a gushing flow of poppies dressed in red
reflecting thoughts of Flanders.
Who dedicates these scarlet blooms,
to souls that rest in earthen tombs?
A dry and barren moat
its open bleeding heart that drips with recollections
of destructive devastation and needless deaths.
Governments rise only to fall;
cries still trapped in the tower's wall.
A dry and barren moat
where visitors now see the red carpet
in place to praise bravery.
Haven't families of lost soldiers
earned a red carpet too?
Let them saunter somberly
above the moat, across the fields.
Such is the costly price of war;
buried loved ones we'll see no more.
A dry and barren moat
encases the historic tower,
a silhouette reminder at sunset
that no one wins a war.
A lone bugle plays taps;
it resounds through the crisp air.
A sad family walks away,
leaving tears on a floral spray.
---------------------------------------------------
Paul Callus & Carolyn Devonshire (Nov. 2014)
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 fleetness of foot.
Firearms flash and fragments fly far,
feigning the firmament aflame.
Fighting so fierce and ferocious,
fratricide set free on this field.
Fuelled by freedom, nay, falsehood;
for their fellows and friends, foremost.
Forays so fraught with fine failure,
fatally fettered from the first.
Forged by such fatuous fawners,
focus firmly fixed on this field.
Forfeiting furtive and fiendish,
fulfilment was falsely forecast.
Fate flexes her fickle fingers,
future’s foretold and foreshadowed.
Faustian favours forthcoming,
for folly to feud for a field.
Families of fine forefathers,
fought fiercely, for fear we’d forget.
Forthright and filial feelings,
forgo fun and frivolity.
Familiar flora forms focus,
for the fallen in Flanders Field.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
8 syallables on every line (www.howmanysyllables.com)
November 2018
(This is my original / extended version)
I wanted to do something special - and a bit different - to mark the centenary of the end of The Great War (11 November 1918). This poem is dedicated to all the brave souls lost defending freedom during that terrible conflict (and all conflicts since).
Grey gravestones stand erect like soldiers.
Fallen heroes in nameless graves,
they fought for king and country
and paid a heavy price
with their precious lives.
We should give thanks
and pray for
those who
died.
*gravestones classed as 2 syllables NOT 3 as per how many syllables
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Rows of black with vivid splash of red,
heads bow down at the tolling of the bell
lined up like granite stones that mark the dead,
a silent testament to those who fell.
Thoughts and hearts together march in time,
back to those muddy trenches filled with rain,
one's soul lashed by the whip of every chime,
one's freedom doing penance for their pain.
With faces set, inside we give a cry
as bugle cuts the silence for the lost,
for answer to the simple question why
peace always comes at such a dreadful cost.
The war to end all wars, no lesson learned
as through the Middle East the fires burn
Some came by air
Some came by sea
They fought and died
So we could be free
The 6th of June 1944
Normandy a place in France
Operation Overlord or Neptune
Thousands took their last stance
Parachutists and gliders and
boats of all size
Thousands of soldiers met their demise
156,115 allied soldiers took part this way
75 years ago on D DAY
The beaches to name a few were called
Omaha, Utah, Juno and Sword
The largest allied beach invasion to date
So many died because of fate
10,500 allied casualties in one day
Fought for our freedom all I can say
Respect, hats of sir where it's due
I and others will remember you
REMEMBER RESPECT
We became lovers in a youthful world
Where love's elation flowed forever free
And allowed untamed fervor to unfurl
In a sphere of change to young to see
Could all our shades and shadows have been known
When we held tight in our love's embrace
To know we could only reap what was sown
From windswept furrows, we could not replace
Now in these years of twilight thoughts are pure
I welcome the world we both looked upon
When we touched the face of love so unsure
Until the moment came when it was gone
You are a memory a lasting gift
A fond remembrance, that I will die with
3/26/21