In the fields of Flanders
You left something behind
When the soldier returned
Others left in the ground
The echo returns
Now back on home soil
At peace with the family
But you still hear the sounds.
Of the dead and the dying
Poison gas and the shells
Men torn apart
The sweet chapel bells
And a sermon for heroes
By a chaplain who blessed
Each instrument of death
In a diary is kept.
Your wife doesnt see
Why you are quiet, afar
Your soul still in Flanders
Your mind bears the scar
Of futility and destruction
So many young lives lost
Left in pages of history
While you count the cost.
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Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Offline) - Published: March 2nd, 2026 01:06
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 39
- Users favorite of this poem: arqios, RSM0812
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Comments3
The madness of some folk who 'enjoy' war - until they experience it themselves?
so true, thanks for reading always much appreciated
Then again, there are many who don't want to go to war, but are made to do so. Surely only humans kill each other in wars - not seen any animals doing so.
Meanwhile - you got that No.7 bus yet?! lol.
had to get two 3 and a halfs and make 2 changes, lol
lol.
So many battle fields now forgotten buried under time. Our species a violent one from the start we have not changed much except in our technology that now allows us to exterminate large numbers of our sisters and brothers at once. We have not learned and tend to forget. A sad poem and a reminder. Well done Norman
so true, as always appreciated your read, thanking you
Most welcome Norman
A fave place to go to and poems of and from there is special to me; this one included 🙏🏻🕊️
most kind, thanks for reading always much appreciated
Most welcome 🙏🏻🕊️
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