The Blood of the Dead

by | Oct 29, 2015 | Poetry | 0 comments

Those who fought for our freedom lay
Beneath the ground, faces of dying grey

They battled with guns and silver blades
But soon held blackened shovels and spades

Men were lost, with dignity they died
Women at home wept and cried

Now they rest in a sea of red
The ones who fought for our freedom are dead

Now to represent their sacrifice
A simple red poppy must suffice

A flower that was there at war
Yet was left to ignore

Now they honour our fallen men
The blood red pin again and again

This flower is something more than red
It is the endless flowing blood of the dead


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