Tattybow has posted some of her poems on here and last week she said I should post one so here goes, I hope you like it. It's dedicated to the soldiers who died on all sides in WW1
Ploughing Flanders Fields
Ploughing Flanders fields is what I wish to do,
Instead of hearing gunfire, seeing the bloods red scarlet hue.
When the sun dawns every morning, the same each day does yield,
Tell my mother that I ploughed all night in Flanders fields.
With the whistle so shrill to the ear,
Over the top go boys in their 18th year,
Never knowing what to them the fates might yield.
Tell my mother that I ploughed all day in Flanders fields.
Ploughing Flanders fields is what they are doing now.
Over 90 years of time gone by the hills with grass are browed.
With the scent of wild poppies, the sweet perfume they yield.
Tell all the little children that I rest in Flanders fields.
Marcus X
2007-02-26
22:26:33
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The Alchemist
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