Kevin Michael Bloor

From life, of late, I must confess,
I have withdrawn a while.
Life’s ground me down and does depress,
and I can’t raise a smile.

Mundane and melancholic days
I’d written off, returned.
The verse I’d wove with weary words
I’ve gathered up and burned.

But now I’ve heard the skylark sing,
‘midst morning’s bird song choir,
and harsh offence I dare not bring
to heaven’s highest flier.

For high o’er far flung Flanders Fields,
round Trench Town’s Terror Towers
those birds flew over battlefields
from dawn, for many hours.

As soldiers struggled to break free,
feet sunk in deep damp sod,
the skylark’s song did seem to be
the very voice of God.

Those little birds brought spring’s delight
from home, their hearts to cheer.
To lift them out of war’s dark night,
free them, a while, from fear.

By their grim dawn, my own I weigh,
and dare no longer whine!
For they found hope in cruellest clay
where death had come to dine!

I cherish now, by cheerful choice;
my pain - that paltry thing!
And swap self-pity’s petty voice,
for skylark's song I sing!

  • Author: Blue-eyed Bolla (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: April 21st, 2022 08:51
  • Comment from author about the poem: inspired by a true event in WW1, where soldiers received comfort from the skylark's song above the trenches during WW1 - they were the only living creatures they saw in that God-awful place.
  • Category: Reflection
  • Views: 25
  • User favorite of this poem: Christina8.
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  • Christina8

    I think this is a masterpiece with the content you put in here about WWI and your rhymes....I'm gonna save it for a later read. Thanks!

    • Kevin Michael Bloor

      Thank you for taking the time to read my poor little rhymes. 😉

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