Poppy Biers

When the flashy red
Of the poppy head
Has dropped and
Seed pods form,
When the last march
Has long passed
And poppies
No longer worn,
We’ll still recall
The bugle call
That drew boys
Over the top,
We’ll still recall
Them, one and all
Praying for war
To stop.

The graveyard womb
Makes poppies bloom
To die as men
Once died,
But the poppy seeds
Atoning deeds
Brings colour and life
And pride –
When the bugle call
That ended it all,
Repeats throughout
The years,
We’ll stop and stand,
Poppies on hand
To remember
Those poppies were biers.

(c) wordz2Go 18 Oct 2020

In grateful thanks to my two grandfathers who both fought – and survived.

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