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Heavy Hearted Apr 2022
Red & blue sage in remembrance of you
Gladiolus, carnations-
pink poppies too.

While foxglove protects
With larkspur and flax,
The windflowers wilt but always grow back.

White lilies for hope
And forget-me-nots true,
an innocence captured in their ambiguous blue.

Griefs Pink and white orchids,
Support’s crimson rose-
the healing of hyacinth,

flowers & prose.
written in  tribute, to the family of a good friend.
Carlo C Gomez Dec 2021
~
A no-man's land,
ablaze in scarlet

A no-man's land,
the blood and the bones of men

The more who died,
the more they thrived

A no-man's land,
flowered along the banks
from which the dead drank,
to forget their former existence,
when they were singing
in the lulls

A no-man's land,
offering a touch
of Heaven in Hell

~
Simon Soane Nov 2021
The blood had fell
for many a year,
the bodies never ceased to drop,
and every person shed a tear.

In the awful years of The Great War.

Bob joined up in January 1918
as he had turned the age he had to go,
him and his friends went to enlist
as English pavements filled with snow.

In the awful years of The Great War.

Fred was from a near-by town,
went down to enroll with fear in his tum,
he didn't really want to sign up,
as he'd miss his Cat, his Dad, his Mum.

In the awful years of The Great War.

Fred and Bob had a torrid time
in that drowning stinking mud,
and met when they were deployed together
after The Battle Of Belleau Wood.

In the awful years of The Great War.

They clapped eyes on each other in a trench
and their hearts simultaneously began to flutter,
wonder stirred in their souls,
words of love they wished to utter.

In the awful years of The Great War.

They were both drenched in horror,
shrouded in a bombed out trance,
but began to feel some ease
with every stolen glance.

In the awful years of The Great War.

They talked in down hours,
how they'd eventually leave Hell, sit hand in hand, try to forget what they had seen,
full of peace and calm,
in a field of summer green.

In the awful years of The Great War.

When no-one else was looking
they'd try and dull the machine gun hiss
and find a tiny space
for a fleeting enamoured kiss.

In the awful years of The Great War.

Inevitably they got *****,
talked about what fleshy designs they could be,
Bob said, "I'm up for owt!"
Fred replies, "oh, perhaps you could *** on me!"

In the awful years of The Great War.

Bob chucked, "ha ha, I'm up for that,
anything to please you that is in my power!'
Fred responded, "great my love,
I'll look forward to a *******!"

In the awful years of The Great War.

Fred and Bob continued their covert romance
and anticipated the day when Fred would get a jet of Bob's yellow
but then one became their leader
was the most terrible fellow.

In the awful years of The Great War.

He waltzed in and stated with arrogance,

'I'm now in charge of you, you ghastly bunch of ****!"
He was the most frightful man:
Major Barthomley Pitt.

In the awful years of The Great War.

Despite never seeing combat
Pitt did pontificate, "deserters he would shoot,
cowards would go up against the wall
and the scared get the gun boot."

In the awful years of The Great War.

But what Pitt hated most
was "men who go up other mens' rears,
I ******* hate those sodomites,
I ******* hate those queers!"

In the awful years of The Great War.

Pitt continued that he'd "rooted out sin
whether it be meek or mild
and I have filled with bullets
those who enjoy copulation like Oscar Wilde!"

In the awful years of The Great War.

In the middle of this diatribe a shell exploded,
the debris torn into Bob's arm,
and a mustard gas cloud appeared
before anyone could raise the alarm.

In the awful years of The Great War.

Fred had got a lung full,
Pitt cowering started to look for his own cover,
but both Bob with only one upper limb working started to think about his lover.

In the awful years of The Great War.

Bob ****** on a hanky as he knew ammonia
could relieve the toxic gas and stop a man from being dead,
and in a desperate lunge in the front of Pitt
placed the sodden rag on the face of Fred.

In the awful years of The Great War.

Just a minute ago Pitt was shouting,
off on one of his vile anti ****** rants
but just 60 seconds later a puff was giving another puff in front of him
a pair of hard ons in their pants.

In the awful years of The Great War.

Bob and Fred were rushed to field hospital
and of that abomination of war did get away,
and were both still bedridden
when on the 11/11/11 was declared Armistice Day.

No more awful years of The Great War.

After it had ended Bob and Fred moved to  separate houses in a village,
Bob's inheritance made this dream,
and they would go deep in the woods
and be their serene supreme

No more awful years of The Great War.

They would laugh about how they had made it,
their glee made the sun more brightly beam,
on this peaceful blue calming day
Bob and Fred found their field of green.

A happily ever after The Great War.
Betty Aug 2021
Poppies after rain
Waving scarlet petticoats
A garden can-can
Waving
Clive Blake Jul 2021
Countless poppies now grow
Where men had once stood,
Or had peered from a dugout,
Or had hidden in a wood,
Where bullets had hailed and
Young lives were squandered,
As poisoned gas smothered
And big guns thundered,
Those in charge must have surely
Questioned and pondered.

Poppies grow in peace now,
Gunfire no longer heard,
Let this be the case forever
For PEACE - is the golden word.
Z Dec 2020
41
Already buckled in the backseat
I’d want to come to the grocery
And while you’d push the basket
I followed after so closely

We dug up weeds and planted poppies
Gold and vermillion
And I remember I felt my heart drop
When you said you can’t be friends with your children

I remember thinking
If you can’t accept me then how will I accept myself
you taught me everything
If you can’t accept me how will I accept myself?

And I’m not gonna get my confirmation
But I really want to make you proud
I know it’s not what you expected
It’s harder to say some things out loud

I didn’t get the chance to tell you
She told you before I could say a word
And then I didn’t want to talk about it
I ran away, I lost my nerve

You gave me all the space I wanted
That was four years ago
until it seemed like you’d forgotten
Until I moved to Chicago

And I was thinking
If you can’t accept me then how will I accept myself
You taught me everything  
If you can’t accept me how will I accept myself?

And I just want to feel accepted
But I really want to make you proud
I know I’m not what you expected
It’s harder to say some things out loud
Payal Dhiman Jul 2020
In the sea of poppies
she became a sinking boat
to be honest
like a painting on the canvas
it looked beautiful but for a while
and then everything
became sad.
The tragedy on the sea and the falling sun.
There once was a bundle of poppies
The brightness of their life
The flowers brought the children joy
The adults, some hope

For if something this beautiful
Striving in the darkest hour
In the good vase

Some flowers wilting
But some bursting with red
This gives them hope, and joy, and peace
Some forget, that though beautiful, the poppies are simply

Dead.
I've been writing a lot more recently, this is an older poem
Brian Johnson Jan 2020
Saw
I saw a computer chasing a pen as the follen artist cried tears of emptiness. I saw confusion ridiculed by reason as I saw a book watching TV. I saw my reflection in a field of poppies dancing blindly with a syringe, I saw promise held down by lies, hope strangled reality. I saw the homeless ridiculed by societies ignorance. I saw all my dreams injected into screaming viens who recoiled at truth.................. To be continued
This poem is probably too long to print on her.
Aiden J H Oct 2019
How dare I sulk
over dust which has
slipped between my fingers
when poppies are rattling
in damp air
when daises smile up
beaming at their sun
clover and grass gleam
green and iridescent;
the dust which I lost
panged me so to no
avail until today I saw
this was the food
for early June creation.
I wrote this on my Iphone 5 after a run last May. I ended up running through a field of poppies, daisies and other gorgeous little baby flowers whose names I don't know (but would love to get to know)..

I was feeling angsty and melancholic, still processing this situation I was in with this immature dude. I realized he wasn't really into me when I had invested so much emotion.  But who has time for moping around when the world is so vibrant and amazing ?  So, essentially this is about Gratitude and Getting Over It !
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