short stories, comment, articles, humour and photography
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields
The poem that inspired Poppy Day itself was inspired by the death of a comrade on the poppy fields of Flanders. Despite the element of glorification in the last verse, it has to be remembered the soldiers and civilians who survived the very first world war all knew death. Family members, friends and work mates from all countries involved, were affected in some way or other. War does not distinguish between friend or foe, not grown-up, child or baby. When seen in light of recent loss, the sentiments appear more understandable. But it happened almost one hundred years ago.
Though November 11th 2018 will mark the centenery of the end of WW1, British politicians and the media can’t wait. They have decided to bathe in the glory of the blood of others by celebrating the centenery of the start of WW1 in 1914. A war that ended only after the loss of more than 37 million lives. They approach the task like we all need something to be cheerful about.
This is a highly cynical move when wider war appears to be looming. It is also an insult to all those who suffer, or have suffered, as a result of any war.
The start of war is a date to be remembered, not celebrated or comemmorated.
This post is intended as a mark of respect for all victims of all wars.
Hold your verve
Mark Doran's Music Blog
More Coyotes than Wolves
My journey into sketching and drawing in and around Jimena de la Frontera, Andalucia
Gene Logsdon Memorial Blogsite
Art, music, books, history & current events
A life in a photobooth.
Journeys Through Place and Time