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A Crimson Respect

A Crimson Respect

 

     A poppy – red bold in bloom

Hold’s sorrows head low and stooped,

The wilting pride of yesteryear now

Besieged by conflicting forms of politics;

Still bleeds the same as every death -

Every ‘Ypres’ since then,

    

     They argue,

Instil the battle never dies on foreign fields

     Or,

Upon the souls of Britain’s

Sacrificial lambs,

 

     Within a book,

A Maple leaf is stuck,

A doctors tale of what he saw

When Flanders Fields fell full

With corpses of the young,

     Alas,

The dead cannot speak

Be the poppy White or Red,

     But what is bled,

What is always bled in War,

What courses through the hearts of

Brave and what is deemed

The source of life;

     What trickles streams flows and floods,

Is blood!

 

     A hundred years ago the battles raged,

Yet today the lark remains its song

Not tarnished by the jealous whims

Of Man,

     When we of freedoms see skies

Where fledglings find their wings

We’ll know ‘we’ blessed upon this Earth,

We’ll know for them we live again,

     Let the petals flutter red in winds

Of change; for all they gave,

For all, they gave.

 

Michael J Waite 13th November 2016.

 

For All.

 

 

🌷(1)

◄ The Death of All Hope

A Worlds End ►

Comments

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Noetic-fret!

Mon 14th Nov 2016 13:55



Hi David, been a while blue.

Yes I am in agreement with you on many points. I didn't want the prose to immerse itself in the current political climate concerning the poppy (much of which has me agasp too). I chose to keep it short and to linger instead on the act of being injured or loss of life. I wanted to reflect the blood we have is red, and that the new uptake on this be one written and instigated by above all, those with jealous hearts who do not want to acknowledge the sacrifice made for 'our' freedoms.

I feel there is a growing trend where people with their own agendas are trying to undermine all things 'establishment.' And while I can agree to great degree, concerning the poppy I cannot. The blood flows red, on flanders fields the poppy is red, and that is that. No matter how much the modernists try to change that, it will always be.

I also made reference to the poem written by Mcrae and hoped that people would see that despite current trends, despite mans epic attempts to destroy himself and all around, the Lark still flies.

One day, there may only be the Lark left to tell the tales of such battles and poems, for now, it signals the freedoms of many that now live.

In conclusion, to suggest we change the colour of the poppy is a great disrespect to those that fell or were injured in battles ever since the original poem, and I for one, am currently upset by an invasion of 'all' whether it be in honour or not. Nothing is now sacred to nothing more than a hooligan who will even piss on cenotaphs.

I understand the need for change, but here, they are trying to paint green grass grey, as if, they want to rewrite the history books. Next stop, Mein Kamf will be the new Bible.

Stay well blue.

Mike x

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