Why are they selling poppies, Mummy?
Selling poppies in town today?
The poppies, child, are flowers of love.
The poppies, child, are flowers of love.
For the men who marched away.
But why have they chosen a poppy, Mummy?
Why not a beautiful rose?
Because my child, men fought and died
In the fields where the poppies grow.
But why are the poppies so red, Mummy?
Why are the poppies so red?
Red is the colour of blood, my child.
The blood that our soldiers shed.
The heart of the poppy is black, Mummy.
Why does it have to be black?
Black, my child, is the symbol of grief.
For the men who never came back.
But why, Mummy are you crying so?
Your tears are giving you pain.
My tears are my fears for you my child.
For the world is forgetting again.
The Mind of an Inquisitive Child ~ author unknown
A very nice poem for Veteran's Day. I always remember Veteran's Day because it is my StepDad's birthday. Or do I always remember my...
ReplyDeleteThat is nice, I hadn't seen it before.
ReplyDeleteAs a young college student I studied abroad in 10 countries on a WWII history tour. We stayed in a little town on a hill in France called Vézelay, which is famous for being a pilgrimage destination because of housing relics of Mary Magdalene, and it was where the Crusaders left from (Richard I and Phillip II) - another yucky war. Anyway, one night one of the professors and a bunch of us students grabbed our sleeping bags and walked up to the old churchyard to sleep inside the stone wall. When we awoke in the morning, we saw that the hill was covered with poppies. That was the first time I'd seen poppies, and then I understood the connection with the blood of war.
My tears are my fears for you my child.
ReplyDeleteFor the world is forgetting again
The world is indeed forgetting...
Beautiful and touching Poem. Perfect for today. And so true, too!
ReplyDeleteI've never heard this before - very moving. Thanks
ReplyDeletegeewits: either way a day to remember
ReplyDeleteruth: you do indeed need to see it for yourself to fully appreciate. the first time I saw the rows and rows of white crosses at Dieppe, I cried.
jazz: sadly, so it is
naomi: simple in its message
xup: I'd forgotten it until I found it on the internet and immediately scrapped my other draft.
That was a lovely wee poem! It's right too, the world is forgetting again.
ReplyDeleteI on the other hand live .in the world of military.....
ReplyDelete...we constantly remember.. and its not fun
medstudentwife: I'm sure it isn't fun. I often think we don't remember the living wounded enough.
ReplyDeletethanks for visiting and commenting and following.
I second what Jazz said, it's exactly what I thought when I read these two sentences.
ReplyDeleteThankyou for the poem.x
ReplyDeleteUA: gives you pause, doesn't it?
ReplyDeleteMeggie: you're welcome
Beautiful....
ReplyDelete