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We did not come here on the orders of others
We came freely, our own choice, blown by the soft winds
scattered o'er many a mile
Landed upon Flanders Fields and rested a while

Then death came, disturbed the earth
Destruction hit the ground in which we slept so quietly
Awoke us from our slumber sweet
To witness tragedies and defeat

Now we are risen
and in our place beneath lie men and boys of courage, strong and true
Who fought valiantly but now lay slain
Our gentle roots entwine around their bodies that remain

Each dawn we wake for them and face the summer sun
At night our gaze doth meet moon
We stand tall and proud and dip our heads
And honour them that lie beneath with our petals red
Another WW1 inspired poem. Poppy seeds can lay dormant for many years before flowering. This is what happened on the battlefields of ww1. The earth was disturbed with all the shelling and death and destruction and released the seeds that had been laying dormant. How beautiful yet so sad.
My wine demon called again today
To ask if I wanted to go drinking with it
Tried to tempt me with a chilled Chardonnay
But I said no.

Then the pipe burst in tbe kitchen, water everywhere
And everything just went crazy, especially the kids
So wine demon and I sat on the stair
And I poured myself a large one
Have you ever just had one of those evenings?!
 Jul 2014 Joann Rolleston

Walk with me
on golden fields,
down paths built of love
and we will share
every breath of
this journey
with each other,
step by wondrous step
Take my hand
and we shall follow the sun
wherever it may lead,
along edges of time,
uncounted minutes,
shadows changing shape,
for this is ours
to keep forever
Sit with me
and we will write
poetic gardens
filled with fragrant,
beautiful blooms,
leaving petals of our words
scattered about
cobblestone walks
for all to see
Wander with me.
bringing smiles and laughter
through forests of
evergreen dreams,
underbrush desires,
finding the next vista
painted in the beauty
that awaits us
Stay with me
for there would be no need
for looking back,
we would have each other,
our words, a whole world of
new memories to make
*as one
Inspired by a conversation today with my beautiful
friend Calpurnia Mockingbird
 Jul 2014 Joann Rolleston
I remember those moments,
when I didn't cry,
I wept.
You would hold me gently but close,
And I would listen to your steady inhales and exhales.
I remember those moments,
Being so amazed.
I am usually the strong one.
And here I lay cradled in your arms,
careless but thankful as to the minutes you've spared for my weakness.
You heal me with just your presence.
I remember our moments,
Remembering makes me forget where I am.
Remembering makes me okay.
We have our dreams,
My perfect stranger,
Though we never really met,
Perhaps; never shall meet.
Still, we amble along together,
Navigating the lamentable brook,
Unfulfilled promises, foaming,
Swirling around our bare feet,
The cold of reality numbing our toes,
Skipping over rocks of broken ideals,
Once cherished, but not here, no,
They are fractious and discarded.
Trickles of tormented sighs, tease,
While avoiding guiding ropes of life,
Which would snag our thoughts,
Straining against friction burns,
As they attempt to bind us tightly,
Holding us prisoner, when in truth,
We are capable of incarcerating ourselves.
Although, our minds are free, yes,
Living beneath the same impassive moon,
Bathing within its stolen light,
Stealing our own, moments of peace,
As in sleep, we slip away unnoticed,
To hold each other, so loving,
Above the clouds, sharing caresses,
Smooching around, and round,
Oblivious of telltale tears on our cheeks.
A shooting star arcs across the sky,
‘Shall we wish?’ You ask,
‘Nah,’ I reply; wishing is for fools,
Be content; acceptance is the key,
My perfect stranger,
We have our dreams.

© Paul M Chafer 2014
A, 3 am poem, for those with lives entrenched in reality, capable of escapism and loving from afar.
Clouds give us respite from the harsh sun
Glaring rays obfuscated by the black screen
Rains quelling the rising heat of the Earth
Soil is replenished to sow a new harvest
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