#armisticeday
At the Light of Each Day
At the light of day, awake and arise,
Yet amidst the rush, heed my gentle advice.
Take a moment to pause, remember with grace,
The eleventh hour, a solemn space.
On the eleventh day of the eleventh month,
Honouring those who faced the crest and the front.
Their sacrifice, a gift profound,
A legacy of freedom, courage unbound.
At the light of each day, a life given by many,
To grant you freedom, a gift plenty.
So, in each morning's gentle ray,
Pause, remember, and silently say…
"We will remember them," in heartfelt accord,
Their bravery, their spirit, forever stored.
At the light of each day, let us never forget,
The heroes who gave all, with no regret.
Mar 8
Mar 8, 2026 at 4:29 AM UTC
Dear humble poppy, you rose from cornfields
that had run red with the blood of our fallen…
Now resting souls of a war… one hundred years hence…
A symbolic, humbling flower of remembrance.
No man that tread Flanders those days…
stand today…
All have passed now…
But remember them we do…
And we will… on each anniversary of
the eleventh hour…
of the eleventh day…
of the eleventh month…
We shall pray and give thanks for their sacrifice.
We shall stand on parade to honour them…
Let your blood red petals fall softly,
fluttering in time to the sounds
of silence… our nation shall always fall silent
to remember the lives given to ensure our freedom.
Then the nation shall rise to the sounds of silver trumpets,
bidding a farewell to those who sacrificed all for us…
And yes, we promise to return on each
eleventh hour…
of the
eleventh day…
of the
eleventh month…
every year.
We shall remember them.
Feb 20
Feb 20, 2026 at 1:07 PM UTC
Ah! Men
Aargh! Men
Armed men
Harmed men
Jarred men
Marred men
Scarred men
Scared men
****** men
Their men
Your men
Our men
AMEN
©pofacedpoetry – Billy Reynard-Bowness (2018) – all right’s reserved
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 7:07 AM UTC
The screaming echoes of hell
The echoes of screaming shells
The shattering of wailing echoes
The smattering of human shells.
For decency?
For peace?
For honour?
For humanity?
If? When we fail yet again; once more
Go us into the sea; leave flesh ridden shores
Let briny drink try wash tired hands clean
If there be sea enough to flush man’s grimy pores.
No more!
No more!
No more!
No more!
Or - send us back to the sea; amen
Let the war-weary Earth start over again
Give blood rusty soil time to drink afresh
Forget the blind cruelty; the indifference of men.
©pofacedpoetry – Billy Reynard-Bowness (2018) – all right’s reserved
Nov 11, 2018
Nov 11, 2018 at 6:06 AM UTC
Here, and over here -
The fortunate sons
Those who made it home
To fields and hills of native tongue
In the soil their people toiled
- They listen quietly when we come
There, and over there -
Beneath crossed lines too many
Still - they man the trenches
Along the Marne and Somme
Below the woods of Belleau
And the forest of Argonne
No sonnets in a foreign language
Rendered where they languish -
The distant rest far and away
In a cold November grave
We should remember
Here and there
The old lie -
And the young.
r ~ 11/11/14
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 12:34 AM UTC