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Poppies abloom in memoriam.

Fields content of the past.

Storms brewing above.

To renew them once again.

Memories of battle, scars on the earth.
Revealed once again.

In the fields.

It was the poppies to bloom

In memoriam.
By J.R.Williamson
Called to war. Sent across.

To lands abound and far enough.

The Anzacs were never lost.

Our hearts spread with pride
And glory.

Fell were they at Gallipoli, who at beaches, landed wrongly.

The waters deep and bullets afloat they fought with might of lions and hearts of steel.

But in all they won and enemies fell, the water calmed.

They Were Called Home.
BY J.R.Williamson
Andrew M Bell Feb 2015
There he is,
between the Siberian Tiger and the Maui's Dolphin,
**** Mobilis Nullius.
She does not own a cellphone.
Text for her is the letters and words
that make up a book.
If he wants to take a picture,
he'll use a camera, thanks.
She doesn't want to download, upload,
freeload, overload,
girl, you've got to carry that load
of debt to the telco company.
He watches movies in the cinema
and he doesn't want to be hooked up
to the internet
or caught in the ever-widening net of commerce.
She's happy with the ancient ways,
songlines on the landline
lines on the land
where a woman can walk away
and hear only the ringing
of bird song,
lines on the land
a man can follow to the heart
of somewhere lost
and know only peace.
Copyright Andrew M. Bell, reproduced with kind permission of "Presto" magazine, Christchurch in whose pages this poem first appeared.

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