This week’s reader’s poem, called Flanders Fields, is by Elizabeth Kemp.
A theatre of war is what they were told
If only they’d known what was to unfold,
These brave boys thought it right to enlist
Whistle blows, over the top into the mist.
These lions were led by donkeys we know
But the generals said it was right to go,
The promise was it would be over by December
After four years of fighting that’s all they could remember.
The mustard gas would come over the hill
Once it had hit everything was still,
Those plumes of smoke had death in their grasp
Little did our soldiers know this breath would be their last.
The poppies that blow are all coloured red
These men and boys have made these fields their beds,
If only the fields had been filled with their dreams
Instead they’re filled with all their screams.
Those poppies that now blow gently in the breeze
Had seen many before brought to their knees,
The generals at the top thought they’d planned it right
We know different with hindsight.
Tears that flowed when they never came home
Wives and mothers that were left all alone,
Their bones may lay under Flanders fields
The minute they left the trench their fate was sealed.
This war they said would end all wars,
But history has proven these thoughts are without cause,
A poppy is all we can buy each year
To remember those men who gave their lives so dear.
Where would we be if not for them,
Those wonderful boys and special men?
They gave their lives for us today,
What a hell of a price those men did pay.
Let’s never forget and often pray
Give thanks to those men and what they gave
For your life and mine they really did save.