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Best Remembrance Day Poems | Poetry

Below are the all-time best Remembrance Day poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of remembrance day poems written by PoetrySoup members

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Don't stop! The most popular and best Remembrance Day poems are below this new poems list.

Remembrance Day: by Royle, Philip
Native Remembrance Day by alagheband, marjan
Remembrance Day Poem by McLeod, Trevor
REMEMBRANCE DAY by Grenness , Julie
Remembrance Day Poem by LeBlanc, Andrena
remembrance day by christian, diane
Remembrance Day Poem by McLeod, Trevor
Remembrance Day by Monihan, Rhoda
Remembrance day by Tri, Kuhu
Remembrance Day by Davidson-Pickett, C.M.

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The Best Remembrance Day Poems

Details | Remembrance Day Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Rest is Silence

I left her behind
emaciated
I left her
dying
I left her
I left her
I wanted to die there with her
there in the desert
where I left my mother
there where the stench of the dead and the dying 
filled the air
I left her
my other children dragging me on
the solders shouting
threatening..theatening
I had to go on...for the others

I left her
my little girl
who was too weak to speak
too weak to cry
my little girl
whom I smothered
knowing it would be quick
not wanting night to call
the animals to crawl
over her still living body
not wanting her to hear
the death wail of the old and frail
all around
I smothered her
and kept on walking
not hearing
not seeing
not smelling
not living
not breathing

I left her
I left my heart
I left my dreams
I left my tomorrow
and every yesterday
every memory
every hope
of a better day

I left her
and in that starless night
there in the desert
naked and bleeding
starving
shivering
I knew....

"the rest is silence."

Eileen Manassian

"The Rest is Only Silence" is from Shakespeare's Play...Hamlet. I, however, will not be silent about the Armenian Genocide. This is in memory of the 1.5 million Armenians who lost their lives in the Genocide of 1915.Though this is a fictitious write, the events depicted did happen during the Armenian Genocide in 1915 by the Ottoman Turks. One million and a half Armenians were marched into the desert in what has come to be known as the Death March. My mother's family were fortunate. They were able to run away in time. They relocated to Lebanon. My mother was a refugee at 14 years of age. She and her two sisters suffered poverty and had to work hard to make a living for the family. Their fate could have been worse. April 24 marks 101 years since that event. Not all countries have recognized the genocide. Unfortunately, America is one of them. 

If you want to read an account of those days, read The Sandcastle Girls. Read of how woman were tied to stakes as the soldiers rode past on their horses and decapitated them. Read of how the orphaned children were gathered at night and put in caves and burned alive. Read of how the woman marched naked...their wounds festering, their hair matted...almost inhuman. Read of how women committed suicide rather suffer rape while others disfigured themselves to go unnoticed. History cannot deny the genocide. If justice is not served here...it will be....one day. God told Cain..."the blood of your brother Abel is crying out to me." The blood of these martyrs cries out today for recognition.


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2016


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There Are Days When

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!


Copyright © meru groen | Year Posted 2018


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A sad remembrance

I kiss her red honeyed lips
She allows the milk 
of my iniquity 
to wash over her
The pain of her sadness
washes away my cruelty
I leave my rifle at her feet


November 11, 2016



Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2016


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THE POPPY

The symbol of remembrance, the red poppy
When I gaze upon it, here 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
Volunteering 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
That brought about victory that came at a great cost.

I see the graves of the fallen who gave us that victory
Remembering the sacrifice they gave to their country.
I feel the pain of the mothers who gave us their sons
Sense peace on the front, when they silenced the guns.

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 gaze upon that little red poppy
Just pause for a moment, and tell me what you see.



16 May 2018


Copyright © Tom Cunningham | Year Posted 2018


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It Runs Red

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)



Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2015


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Maple Re:Leaf

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


Copyright © Ronald Kent | Year Posted 2016


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NAMELESS HEROES REMEMBERED

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

Sponsored by Broken Wings
Form N Ninette or Nonet

04~21~17


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2017


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Remembrance


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


Copyright © Viv Wigley | Year Posted 2016


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Standing At The Mountain

Standing at The Mountain

There stood the great mountain—
A Sisyphean challenge;
A Job’s journey;
A deferred dream’s destiny;
Indeed, a Draconian feat.

But there also stood the dreaming King;
Tutored prodigy of the King of Kings;
With eyes stayed on the prize,
He smiled at death with God sent eyes.

Yes, the King is dead 
But we’re looking ahead!

We are the dream’s vision;
Our children—its reality;
Jacob’s ladder rises before us;
Let’s get to climbing!

“Only the dreamer dies…”


Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2017


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Surface Tension-A Dream Of War

There was no splash when Robinson died;
he slid slowly down the shell hole,
ending face-up in the watery mud.
Exuding a creeping slick of maroon life blood.

His expression transfixed our eyes.
It said, 'No, please, not me!'
Ours to each, stark stare replied,
'Thank God! Not us.'

We were connoisseurs, we knew death;
could smell its grey bouquet
long before we sipped its bitter breath.
We an island, each a shore,
death a pounding sea of war.

He lay, not sinking,
held up by surface tension.
I so strangely thinking:
just as we'd learned in physics.

My thoughts were a shallow goodbye.
His loss had somehow given way
to a macabre experiment
from a lost, school day.

He sank, feet-first, to one side.
His face lost, slowly,
the way a gentle tide
encroaches a stubborn rock.

Left high: a hand,
a periscope of death.
A hand that once had written
the joint conclusion to a task
on the effects of surface tension.



Copyright © Jonathan French | Year Posted 2017


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FRAMED MOMENTS


The evening sky invites me to gaze Beyond the porch’s open window, Igniting my senses to reflect about Framed moments like one long review Where parts of time appear from a widescreen... Lingering on, a hundred diamond stars Flicker towards a dull, grey mural: The Moon, not full, but crescent, takes the lead With constellations dancing to her tune--- Reminding me this galaxy is just a stream. While I trace the wheel of fleeting memory And sigh... lost in distant zones In places ,where I loved and lived to love back. Then flash and zoom, the core of this plight Erases me from folds of mind that once Savored a wise and knowing grace; Entwined with laughter and intensity Of profound dreams gone wrong, The kind that's hard to siphon from my heart— when farewells loom to rip love's pulp. It's there that lives an intercepted light As I watch an old man bow on a lamp post, Seemingly collecting crumbs of reminiscences The blink of hours mirroring flashbacks, While lovers pause to hug their windblown air... I shiver move away from the cracked sill Listening to the kettle sing, my music for now; While a tiny place in this bosom etches new voyages Yet to be born ...through growing roots of spirit- fire. ````````````````````````` Jamie Pan's Contest 2/23/2017 Theme 6: Reflections on a window


Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2017


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Urban Legend-Gators in NYC

Two teens shoveling snow that February day,
wanting to hurry up so they could play,
quickly shoveling heaping piles of snow,
into an open 1935 NYC manhole,

Seeing something move down in the hole,
both teens thought "holy mole!"
yelling theres a gator down in there,
wanting to help it out they showed little fear,

Getting a clothesline they helped drag it out,
an 8 foot alligator with a toothy snout,
loosening the line the gator snapped,
while the teens were busy watching their backs,

But both boys were taken aback by the attack,
and decided to give the gator some whacks,
both killing it with their work snow shovels,
whereupon the gator didn't give them anymore trouble,

Now in NYC every February 10th,
the people are reminded of how that day was spent,
with a bronze gator pulling a man down in the manhole,
a quirky subway commemoration reminder for one and all.



4-6-17


Copyright © cheryl hoffman | Year Posted 2017


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Forever Remember, Lest We Forget

In 1914 those aged between 18 and 55,
had no option or choice in life.
in 1939 those aged between 18 and 44,
had to defend home and fight a world war.

They dug holes in the mud, and lived in underground huts,
they had no luxuries and would often see guts.
When it rained, 
there was no drain, 
so water filled upto their knees, 
a regular sight of dead bodies, 
with no escape from disease.

Unlike yours was their life so remember thee,
it is a small thing to do for you and me.

Those who lived with machine guns taunting day and night,
in a hole in a field miles away from their life.

Vindication unknown and with no indication if the end was in sight,
just carry on soldier and fight for your right.

Secure the right of freedom 
allowed in your Kingdom
as that place is your home.
Home is where the heart is but the future's an unknown

So we who live now and don't face that fate,
should pay tribute to them for doing what we would hate.

Wars create heroes but wars are evil,
in the past people gave their life as a present for present day people.

The men and women of our island, our empire and our commonwealth, 
as well as our allies that fought for a common want. 
That want being the peace of which we know no different, 
so pay your respects as the past is significant.

So thank you to the soldier, or the woman of the factory,
your story is unpleasant but is remembered as glory.

We owe unto you the most priceless of debts,
the generations that achieved greatness we must never forget.

We that live now should know our existence is simple,
the lessons of history are what make our lifetime peaceful.

It is our duty, as war was theirs, to remember what the past regrets.
Our species, our planet, forever remember, lest we forget.


Copyright © Nick Trim | Year Posted 2018


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FOR MEMORIAL DAY

Upon my life, I do declare, my dear,
My Darling, Elizabeth, that I do
Love you from the depths of my soul to the
Greatest reach of my fingertips, from where
My boots tread, to the lengths my heart can reach.
My most Precious One, my heart sank like stone
Descending lost in murkiest shadows
With each tear coursing down your lovely cheeks.
I would never volitionally choose
To leave your side, for intertwin’d our souls
Remain. The Enemy charg’d, our line held,
Yet I took shrapnel in my chest. Still my 
Fondest desire is to see your face
And kiss away your deep clouds of sorrow.


Copyright © David Palmer | Year Posted 2016


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Old Soldier

Unnoticed, he blends into the grey park bench,
eyes clouded and watering,
permanent tears for friends lost in a trench
not quite enough of a life-time ago.
Will anyone acknowledge him? 
Smile at him? Say hello?
How many people walk past without seeing?
Are they afraid to take a look 
at their future being?
Can see past hands on a walking cane, shaking,
which once held arms straight, which killed
as he dreamed of his mother holding him
close in a muddy field in France, dug in, 
his only perspective – the sky – looking up,
imagining his Victoria Cross moment, 
which never came.
His history has died with those he has loved:
he exists alone now, his life stored in his head,
musty albums in an abandoned attic.
His film is ending, subtitles about to roll,
last moments of anticipation, will his story change 
before the last curtain call?
Was he the star of his own show, his life?
Would that he had been so invisible then, 
in that giant gutter, repelling the end
but now the magnet has turned, 
death - an indecisive friend.
Ninety odd birthday's leave a stuttering heart 
and a once-red poppy, grey.
On a bench, sad fingers trace the brass 
in which his wife's name is interred
hearing aid off so his sweetheart's voice
can be clearly heard.
As there will be no 'hello' today.
That's all he wants. 
A quiet hello.
So he knows he's not already a ghost.


Copyright © Sarah Heath | Year Posted 2016


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Daddy's Song

Time has passed by so quickly
You’ve been gone 2 yrs today
I never knew something could hurt so much
The wound from losing you hasn’t even begun to heal
It’s still fresh and split wide open 
Daddy, how do we do this?

I still buy your candy
Candy I’ll never eat again
I just give it away days later
It's just something that I gotta do

Oh Daddy, what are we supposed to do
Without you here with us
It’s so hard to believe
You were here and now you’re gone
What are we gonna do

Daddy, How will we find our place in this world, now
When you and Mom are all we’ve ever known.
I wish I could wake up from this nightmare
And you’d still be here

Oh Daddy, what are we supposed to do
Without you here with us
It’s so hard to believe
You were here and now you’re gone
What are we gonna do

I hope you can't hear me
When I cry out to Heaven to get me through Hell
I don't want you to be sad
None of this is your fault

How are we supposed 
To fill this empty space
Nothing can replace 
The life we made with you
I wouldn't let it even try

Those old wore out flannel shirts you loved so much
Gets me through nights
When nights get tough
They make me feel so close to you
Daddy what are we supposed to do

You've missed so much
Your first grandson has a daughter now
She's beautiful, Daddy
She looks so much like you
Your second grandson
Your name sake, Graduated 8th grade
What I wouldn’t give to have seen your face
When you heard his name called
Your granddaughter, your Tator-head got glasses
She loves them, unlike the rest of us
How are we supposed to do this without you here
What are we gonna to do

Time has passed by so quickly
You’ve been gone 2 yrs today
I never knew something could hurt so much.

What are we supposed to do now
We miss you Daddy
   


Copyright © Sabrina Niday Hansel | Year Posted 2015


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May Life Bless You

May life bless you with real freedom, 
Keep enjoyment as your place, 
May you find your own confidence, 
From your education and your space;
May you entertain discernment,
Whilst fulfilling your desires,
And may platitude be rescinded, 
By real love in your eyes.

May life be all it can be, 
May your realities come from your dreams, 
May your work become your eulogy, 
And may your identity give your memes. 

May you receive more than you give, 
And see reason when there's none,
May your friends light your inside,   
May you give hope to those with one;
May you save the exploited from oppression,
By making despair to you most personal,
And may equality be the standard,
For your repudiation of its dismissal.

May life be all it can be, 
May your realities come from your dreams, 
May your work become your eulogy, 
And may your identity give your memes. 

May you always uphold justice, 
Even in dark and uncertain times,
When faced with honest requests, 
And its unsettled times sometimes; 
May you do what’s right no problem, 
Not questioning the strain, 
Nor grumbling about the consequences, 
Of morality’s devoted love train. 

May life be all it can be, 
May your realities come from your dreams, 
May your work become your eulogy, 
And may your identity give your memes. 

May your diamond be stalwart honour,
For war heroes old and injured,
Tormented by battlefields and sights,
Of the mangled and beleaguered; 
May you testify to fact and truth, 
And publish what you know;
And may reason be your sociology, 
To dictatorial governments overthrow. 

May life be all.... 

May you respect others in esteem, 
For kindness and achievement,
May you follow those you understand, 
As beautiful in accomplishment;
May you undertake endeavours, 
Which ramify the other unstudied, 
By embracing love and laughter, 
As whispers of grace embodied. 

May life be all... 

May you always say what’s inside,
Whilst giving other people a chance,
Trusting them with your memories, 
That history upon which you cannot glance; 
May you always speak your mind, 
To make rationality your guide, 
And in dignity confide and correct, 
To let the delinquent within you abide. 

May life be all... 

May your philosophies be trophied,
As a garland by the lonely,
And may your way be warmly accepted, 
Without negotiation or apology;
May righteousness be your hallmark,
And caring thought your attribution, 
And may you prevail generally as a good person, 
Bringing light where there’s intrusion. 


Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015


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Downfall

I can't read the writing on the wall
The free hand print there is way too small
If I could just turn the volume up
I might find a way out of this cover up
But here I sit dissecting my downfall

Many were the voices who 
Spoke about the things they knew
The columns as they stood before
Now turned to rubble strewn on the floor
As suspicious whispers just grew and grew

Time will surely tell the truth and
Maybe video will become the sleuth
Meanwhile we'll just say our prayers
As they extend to be billionaires
Faith is now placed in our youth...and

Here I sit dissecting my downfall...yeah
Sitting here dissecting my downfall


Copyright © Scott Williams | Year Posted 2016


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remembrance day

today 
we think of those who went to war
we think of them and what they were fighting for
they stood for what they believed was right
they fought for our country and did not take flight
they risked their life so we could be free
they fought all that time ago even for you and me
they were our troops
as one they did stand 
to fight for peace across our land
so think of those who had to go away
and remember them today. Amen


Copyright © diane christian | Year Posted 2015


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El Faro Haikus

( El Faro means the lighthouse)

El Faro #1

salt is in my tears
for the grace of god go I
Fiddlers Green awaits

El Faro #2

brothers and sisters
Joaquin cries tears of sadness
forever leeward

El Faro #3

El Faro now rest
sleep deep on your mothers floor
she has called for you

El Faro #4

no wave for granted
my heart is heavy today
listen to bells ring

El Faro #5

list fifteen to port
Edmund look for your cousin
hold fast  the mid-watch 

El Faro #6

no lighthouse to watch
irony not lost at sea
I long to hear you

El Faro #7

you believe in god
it pounds you like a hammer
green water swallows 

El Faro #8

with culpability
I think of the storms survived 
when resolve is breached








Copyright © Stephen Barry | Year Posted 2015


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Remember those fallen

REMEMBERANCE POEM
(penned by Gordon AKA Alex Alexander R Sigs 1987 –2013)

Alas it is that time of year
When we all shed a tear
For absent soldiers who went before
In far away lands fighting a war

From Ypres to the Somme
And further a field
Too many men
Far too young to be killed

Then more recent events did occur
In places some think mighty obscure
Places such as Iraq
Some families wishing daddy was back

Other places such as Afghanistan
Fighting for freedom of the condemned man
Not knowing who the enemy was
And being taken for this cause

Reminiscent of troubles near by
In places such as NI
I know this may upset a few
But all these conflicts are very true

I know I have missed quite a few
Such as the Falklands War and Bosnia too
Many countries where we have served
For human rights to be observed

They defended our country
With all there might
Never giving up the fight
Even in the dark of night

Remembering the fallen
Is not a one day event
They left too early
This was not meant

They are remembered daily by
Us that are left
There legacy will always live on
If we all remember what job they done

R.I.P my brothers in Arms
Until together we serve in heavens farm
Looking after one and all
Dancing with angels at the ball 
 


Copyright © Gordon Alexander | Year Posted 2016


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Tears of 1914

Fallen boys with white crosses,
your nightmares now peaceful dreams
Gone the shrapnel, the bullets,
trenches of crimson blood streams.

To earth, condemned, fears of men,
fertile ashes to brave dust
Rouse from warm brotherly beds,
dear sirs remind us you must.

Listen! A trumpet calling
by dawn soldier's silhouette
Heed the Last Post of battle,
forever lest we forget.

Arise ye from deep slumber,
Unknown spirits of unseen
Weep
and we will wipe away
your tears of Nineteen Fourteen.




-------------------------
(Syllabic' verse with end-rhyme, 14 syllables per line, 7 syllable caesura)
24/04/2014


Copyright © Marco Bing | Year Posted 2014


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One and Only One

One pool in which we live and lay
One rhythm of hearts holding us today
One sounding board wherein we have our  say
If not this moment, then in the  next
We swim, crawl, walk; then climb or fly
Without delay, like fledglings in world pool
Looking for a better way.

One pool in which we revel or rebel
One the investor, one living in the now
Or living in hell
One gospel truth we all must tell.

One pool in which we thrive refreshed
And do our best
One pool in which we fail or
Pass the ten commandment test
And lay our fears to rest
One by one we'll meet Giver of breath.

One final curtain call
One last sound before silence has a ball
One Universal God sent His Son, to redeem us all.

*


Copyright © Iris Elizabeth Sankey-Lewis | Year Posted 2016


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Last One Standing

Last One Standing

The man stood looking
Staring over the hill,
Watching, waiting,
Just standing there for what?
Only he knew.
He seemed to be
There always,
The field
No longer the same,
Since changed
In the years gone by.
But still he remained
Looking, watching,
Then slowly
He moved forward,
Being careful
Where he trod.
A few more paces
Then stood still
Once more,
Saying a few words
And laying a wreath,
For the friend long lost,
On the field
Where the battle took place.
Now he stands alone
The last of his friends.
Slowly he turns as he fades off 
Into the distance,
The very last one
Now gone.


Copyright © Gail Underwood | Year Posted 2015


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My Life for Yours

(about the two wars)



I gave my life for you, 
My grit was your prosperity, 
So that you could do. 

I swallowed at the task, 
Girded myself bravely, 
Prepared to have a mask. 

When self-awareness engulfed, 
And loneliness overcame, 
Determination was loved. 

I fought a man every time, 
I faced the thwarting enemy, 
No easy game of mine. 

I strove to either succeed,
Or to sacrifice my everything, 
But the opposition to impede. 

I thought of family and you, 
Freedom and liberty, 
And the rightness of the two. 


Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015