Long Poppy Poems
Long Poppy Poems. Below are the most popular long Poppy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Poppy poems by poem length and keyword.
Too Many Poppies
I don’t want a poppy
I don’t want a shield
I don’t want to visit
Rows in Flanders Fields
Another young person
Yes a young soldier fell
They laid down their life
What story does it tell
Off to another war
In a far off land
Beaches in Normandy
Blood spilled on the sand
I don’t want a poppy
I don’t want a shield
I don’t want to visit
Rows in Flanders Fields
My heart can’t take it
Fathers, sisters and sons
Why do we choose to sacrifice
Precious innocent ones
Are guns the answer
Where does it all lead
Poppies upon rows
As young soldiers bleed
I don’t want a Poppy
I don’t want a shield
Fighting old men’s battles
Just leads to Flanders Fields
Soldier’s Response
I’ll do my best to defend
this land that I love.
I’ll risk meeting the angels
in heaven above.
Raising our flag of glory
I will gladly do
Even if they take me down
I'll hold it brave and true.
Canada my country
I'll stand by her and fight.
I'll take on its enemies
with all my strength and might.
No matter where I’m sent
I'll proudly make my stand.
To protect my home
Its people and land.
Your picture I hold
Close to my heart
Gives me my strength
When we are apart
Loved ones left at home
Won’t hear our battle cry
Their prayers are the hope
On which our spirits fly
If we don’t make it
Back to our home
Our sacrifice is our gift
In a field marked by a stone
Response to Soldiers
To all of our Soldiers
Who cannot be heard
Your actions and sacrifice
Are the final word
We wear our poppies
Hold our collective breaths
Some questions only answered
By actions and death.
A co-written piece by: Richard Lamoureux and Mark Wayne Shifflet. It was a pleasure to write with Mark.
We wished to point out the absurdity of men resorting to war while still honouring the men and women who so gallantly put their lives on the line to preserve our freedom.
I had some butterfly in my stomach,
At the thought of holding her by hand,
I saw her from the distance, coming,
Until today I cannot understand,
How could she like a kid like me,
I smelled her hair and felt her breath,
I hid fast my bruised knee,
And waited patiently for my death,
It was a Spring day, end of May,
Her cheeks were red like poppy flowers,
I whispered slowly, scared, please stay,
I hold her hand and talked for hours.
I sipped her words that flew like birds,
I dreamt of making her stop,
I wished my words to touch her words,
Together dripping drop by drop.
I finally took courage I was bold,
For a split second, she was mute,
I think I was five years old,
I tasted the sweet flavor of love’s fruit.
Like a poppy waiting for thunder or the grass that knows it’s gone
The floor shakes and it crumbles as man sings his favourite song
Red mist lingers in the twilight, birds sing melodic songs. Blood pools under cold moonlight, men die so far away from home.
All those dreams taken by demons, all that love burned in hate and fear.
All those voices never again who’s words would be spoken, all the tears that all those families feared.
Was it worth the pain and destruction? Was it worth the blood and fear? The dream of morality and peace from humans is a reality so far away and never near.
She woke up in the wrong movie, mad as heck.
Her hair so curly, surrounded by birds that peck.
Where was Toto? The Tin Man? She would welcome the witch.
She turned to look at the sunset, it gave her brain a fine twitch.
She had gone to sleep in a poppy field with her loyal friends.
On their way to Emerald City, with hope she thought would never end.
But upon awaking, she finds herself standing in Hawaiian sand.
A flock of bird cawing away, as they leave the safety of land.
The flying monkey soldiers would be a welcome sight now.
She missed lion, Tinman, and scarecrow, with his brain, a wow.
I am Dorothy from Kansas she screamed into the roughness of the sea.
I need to be in another story! She watched the crowing birds flee.
Behind her a voice said, you think that’s bad? I am looking for the wolf.
It was Little Red Riding Hood. Next to her Prince Charming’s horse hoof.
Where is Cinderella or Snow White? He asked, confused as he could be.
It seems they were all lying in poppy fields when they woke up by this sea.
The Country in the Seed
I say nothing, a staircase of mint grows beneath my tongue,
on its steps the dead climb, hiding blue loaves under their coats,
and you move my Sunday from my palm into a caterpillar,
so the gods won't find us — those hounds of gold and pollen;
and the street comes undone, a fish stitched together with windows,
I carry it through labyrinths, it beats the sea against my ribs,
I hear the grass scream with your voice from long ago
and I search through my bones for the child with knees of smoke;
what time is it, my love, in the country of poppy pendulums,
when all the calendars shed their skin onto the bed,
and we, like two melted keys, go searching for a door
that only the rain remembers when it calls out to us?
I open the treatise on the Void, salt shakes loose from its pages,
a rust-colored angel sews my eyelids shut with grass,
and through the darkness I see a heart with doors of wax,
inside it, your silence prays with a mouth full of keys;
on the table, a locust grazes the map beneath my skin,
all that remains is a seed small enough to hold the whole sea,
I wait for you there, bodiless, like the scent left in a shirt,
and I no longer know who is missing from whom when we bloom.
God's glance and a fine memory
Poppy snores away sitting in his comfortable chair
And Granny takes a feather and tickles his nose
He wipes at his face and goes back to his fantastic snore
Poppy from Ireland and his shot and a beer
On payday Granny sends my Mother with Poppy as a reminder
"And don't take any side routes"
He gets his pay and starts to home
They walk to the chapel and just one
It's always just one
He tells my mother to wait outside and he hands her 25 cents
"Now don't forget when Mommy questions you, where did we go."
"We went to see Father Duke and Poppy I'm not dumb."
"I'm gonna have a palaver with this priest," as he goes into the bar
"Keep your mouth shut I need to ask the priest some advice."
He drinks a few quick shots and faster beer's
And my mother buys a taffy
She stands waiting and eating taffy and Poppy happily comes out of the bar
"Now don't forget that we got the pay and I took you to get a goodie."
"But Poppy what about the priest who gave you a shot and beer?"
"Don't be talking and eat your goodie."
For some reason it wouldn't take the whole poem,, That's why I had to continue to Granny2
Within the hour of love a red poppy night
a warrior prepped for dawning flight
no bullets no musket to his flank
just memories of wartime- rank
settled in his aureole, the light;
no bullets no musket to his flank
just memories of wartime- rank
That final day the guards did still salute
dressed in uniform with lips of solid mute
they came to honor him the gent
who's trust they underwent
consentingly agreed a man of no refute;
within the hour of twilight God found his heart,
within the hour of love he got a fresh new start
No bullets, no musket to his flank....
SEA OF ROSES
It was a sad affair and heartbreaking
Two girls murdered, whilst at school
Yet of course, no knives was the rule
Young lives were there for the taking
The area’s now a carpet of red flowers
One child named Rose, now resonant
The other was Poppy, equally poignant
As each tiny lit candle would last hours
The local florists had to restock roses
And red poppies were another request
Taken by hand, then also laid to rest
As eventually every door finally closes
National media came and filed the story
The ‘sea of roses’ shown on all the news
The local press did photos and interviews
Sadness and anger was almost obligatory
Roses for love, Poppies for remembrance
Those red petals almost paved the street
That imagery was both bitter and sweet
There for weeks at the school’s entrance
I’ve seen you in warm tender of blanket
With the hug of frosty night you slept fair
Thru the pinky neon light came there a cat
Coolness of dark city snubbed its care
The grogshop closed the door of thirsty wine
Jazz music went too far ended the night
With the rising sun the dew smoked in brine
Blue jay crest lied behind with poppy flight
No snowball, no snowflake over the sky
With the sunny time no crystal fog played
On classic twilight winter hailed warm pie
In the tepid dawn cuckoo termed to date
The blanket of darling now in safe shelf
Cause, winter on gypsy road by spring help
© Mahtab Bangalee
Chattogram
February 09, 2023
The caravan appeared as if magic one day.
Parked in my field, where a handsome picnic lay.
I was going to give someone what for, until the door opened up.
Out walked a gorgeous hippie type, carrying a large coffee cup.
Just the way you like it, three sugars and vanilla cream.
I liked her smile and the way her hair was a gleam.
She walked to the table and showed me a plate with a fresh roll.
I made you a lemon pumpkin one, she said with full soul.
Shocked, I could not speak, she had “nailed me” here.
Her name was Poppy, and she was a quintessential dear.
She had so many things to say, but instead she listened to me.
It was the best time I ever had at a surprise coffee-tea.