Painting the streets red with poppies
At the whistle blast I went over the top.
I just kept on going and would not stop.
As the barrage of bullets whistled by
I knew that if one hit me I would die.
Why such bloody carnage and why such hate?
Why should I let a bullet seal my fate?
But I will not falter or reason why,
I'll do my duty, and if needs be die.
So for you my dear, I have paid the price,
and bought your freedom through my sacrifice.
No more for me that dreaded whistle blast
for the bullet struck and did not whizz past.
Now all is silent and no bullets fly.
Remember us and why we had to die.
Place poppies up high for us year after year
and play the “Last Post,” so that all may hear.
About this poem
Written after we remembered our war heroes by painting a large mural on the pub wall and displayed red poppies in the homes and shops of our village
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Submitted by royston on September 11, 2021
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 42 sec read
- 9 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | AABB CCBB DDEE BBXX |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 663 |
Words | 139 |
Stanzas | 4 |
Stanza Lengths | 4, 4, 4, 4 |
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"Painting the streets red with poppies" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 13 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/109264/painting-the-streets-red-with-poppies>.
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