Fields of Crimson Poppies
David J Walker
Tonight I sleep
in fields
Of crimson poppies
Sunset has
Come and gone
And I alone
Await dawn
With brothers
Lined in rows
And this is how the
order goes
Red is the coverlet
that fills my eyes
And tilts my head
to see the coming sunrise
Promises made
by sainted chaplains
Yet unrealize
There will be shade
In the aftermath
Of the storm
There was a touch of sadness
A moment there came to be missed in time
Words were given in turn to portray the absence
For a portraiture of moments unforgotten behind
A mystery hides beyond the enigma
Truth within grasp yet deep afar inside
It felt meaningful atween this lunatic sinatra
Harbouring unrealize sins to be realized beside
With the night to chill this dreamless dream
Love of its true origin can be realized
What it takes is to simply embrace the sins
And moments no more need be fantasized
An unfounded freedom engifted to creed
A comforting sorrow enveloping yet to yearn
Those of blood worth sacrificing to bleed
For the sins and the engiver to soak as one to learn
It cannot be told how it begins
This portrayal and betrayal of realism
Yet a moment nevermore it remains
The sinful moments of time in lunatism
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.