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Carla 1d
The time has come again,
Of commemoration,
To the men who fought,
At their final destination.

Years and years ago,
Let out, was a vast strife,
And among that war,
A man who lost his life.

Remembering those soldiers,
Lines and lines of men,
Who dreamt of protecting,
Since they were merely ten.

They fell while serving,
But their dreams were met,
And on this solemn day,
We say, “Lest We Forget.”
The eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, a minute of silence is shared among Australians all over the country for Remembrance Day. Two years ago, I wrote a poem about Remembrance Day for a competition and decided to write another this year.
Warren Mar 6
Thick gravy mud incessantly pulling at my boots,
******* and squelching it’s distaste at its failure with each step I evade its clutches,
Brown hail flying in all directions ripping into flesh and taking eyes,
Ears reverberating with the excruciating din of falling shells,
Accompanied with the desperate screams  of my comrades.
Like hells orchestra,
Low rumbles culminating in shrieking sopranos,
Piercing, Deafening,
It’s very lack of percussion spreads fear throughout the ranks,
Through it all there comes a sinister silence,
The true calm before the next storm,
Medics being screamed for in every direction,
Instructions being bellowed to grasp some pathetic sense of order,
In this chaotic pandemonium we push on without hope,
Following orders,
The crescendo of destruction starts again,
Louder, Angrier,
The poetic lunacy of dying in vain,
Our last moments played out like some poorly written depraved play,
Cannon fodder,
Our own remains serving as the uneven carpet of sickly maroon within our trench,
The smell so powerful that I baulk,
Eyes constantly stinging and streaming,
All my senses being flayed in unison,
This is the price we pay for your freedom,
This is the truth of what we endure,
So many deserving so much yet left with so little,
Lest we forget,
Lest we forget.
Lest we forget.
Mollie Mar 2018
Those who fell at  Gallipoli

For those who arrived at Gallipoli, for those who fell at dawn
For those who fell at Gallipoli,
together we shall mourn.

Strong in heart and mind those soldiers had to be,
But they kept our country free,
those who fell at Gallipoli.

Now poppies grow among their graves, those who fell at Gallipoli, those who fell at dawn,

Their memory shall not die, for they shall live on in our hearts,
We will remember them you and I.


By Mollie Spencer
The work of my nine year old self though
Steve Nov 2017
Growing up in Liverpool in the late 50's we were surrounded by bomb sites it was where we played. But my granny and grandad seemed to have far more vivid memories of the first great war.
This was a true story she told often.....*


Poor Frank
Our poor Frank
A willing young lad from the 'pool
My granny’s little brother
The eye-light of his mother
Off to France where Kitchener led
The war to end all wars they said
Christmas indeed but Christmas in dread

Poor Frank
Poor willing Frank
Who knew life could be so cruel
My granny’s little brother
Tore the heart from his mother
Off to France to fight the war
Who knows what terrors his young eyes saw
Who even knows what that ****** war was for

Poor Frank
Our poor Frank
Yet he came home to walk up the path
“Frank’s home, Frank’s home!” my granny’s sister's screeched
And the girls all jostled and laughed - and ran to the door
But Frank, poor Frank, wasn't there
Poor Frank, he would never come home anymore.

My granny’s little brother
From the womb of his poor mother
To the blood rich fields lost in France.
Lest We Forget Golden Oldies Volume One
Jackie Mead Nov 2017
Today on Plymouth ***, stood showing our respects.
Amongst the ceramic poppies
standing, tall proud and *****.
An installation of "Blood Swept Lands and Seas of Red"
Each one representing a life lost at war
Reminding us life is precious, Lest we Forget.
The least we can do is buy a Poppy.

Support your local heroes buy a Poppy this November.
Seems right to post this again today in remembrance of  all lost lives in all wars.
Thank you for giving your life do we can live.  
Went to visit the Poppy installation on Plymouth *** today, stunningly beautiful and very thought provoking, the original installation at the tower of London in 2014 had 886,000 ceramic poppies, each one representing a British soldier killed in WW1, most were sold off to raise funds for services charities the rest have been touring the country
Gracie Knoll Apr 2016
In fields of red our soldiers sleep
Their souls in heaven for God to keep

Our freedom comes at such a cost
We will remember the lives they lost

An endless sleep brought on by war
We pray for peace forevermore

But we know a day will come
When we will call our brave and young

To take up arms and defend our land
So we ask for God's mighty hand

Our country's one full of free men
Because of thousands who'll never wake again

So as I watch the red sun set
I Whisper their names lest we forget
We will remember.
Jade Welch Nov 2015
In the trenches
Dark and damp
Hear the feet
Of soldiers
Stamp

Falling down
Bullets fly
Many men
Will fall
Tonight

Holding hands
To reassure
They're not
Alone
Anymore

Bowing heads
A moment to remember
Silence on the
11th of
November
My remembrance poem, I know its the 11th tomorrow, not today, but I really wanted to put this up today! Lest we forget
Big D Edwards Oct 2015
A,B,C
Time to give this girl the D
I don't like no Es
Boys better not forget
That I'm a G
Bars
et Mar 2015
Under an apple tree they sat,
the young couple, with their sun hats.
it was a perfect day they believed,
the perfect day was over when he had to leave

she cried a little on his shoulder,
as she was speechless and her arms became colder.
he said his goodbyes and promised they weren't forever,
however she knew their relationship would sever.

letters back and forth once a week,
and she missed the little kisses she once got on her cheek.

she re-lives the days where everything was perfect all the time,
she looks at the apple tree they used to climb.
she knew something wasn't right,
he hadn't come back he was supposed to be on last night's flight.

i hear a knock on the door, it wouldn't be him
my significant other would have walked right in.
i open the door to someone i don't know and they began,
informing me both him and i have lost a man.

i drop to my knees thinking how could this be,
maybe god did need another angel but why couldn't it be me?
i look around feeling more empty than empty could be,
filled with sorrow, i think should i let go, should i be free?

whats the point in living if he's not living with me,
he was my one and only. my happiness, my glee.
i take one last breath and draw the knife,
who knew someone could have this much impact on my life
Who do this to me?
Who make me cry?
Who want to hurt me?
And my reggae crew?
If you touch me hard,
I will make you into a,
stew.
Me love stew <3

— The End —