Red Poppies by L. McCarthy

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Red poppies remind me of:
A painting by Vincent van Gogh,
A holiday postcard sent to me by a friend traveling near France,
A two dollar coin,
A warm sunny day in November.

Red poppies remind me of:
Stopping suddenly and being silent for one minute mid shop,
Then continuing on like nothing happened.

Red poppies remind me of:
Stories that I’ve heard of war,
Fighting that I never saw,
Soldiers’ names engraved in stone
In the centre of most towns I’ve known.

Red poppies grow
Where soldiers, long ago, stopped, suddenly;
Silent, forever.
Red poppies remind me of them.

Photo from Pexels by Pixabay

Lest We Forget: The Red Poppy by James Aitchison

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The countryside had once been green,

No tree or hedge can now be seen,

Came the war,

The cannons’ roar,

The fields reduced to mud and blood,

The deep cold craters fill and flood,

And suddenly, a miracle:

Red poppies grew as though to say

We will find peace again one day.

Teacher’s note: By the time the First World War ended, at the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month 1918, a miracle had occurred.  In the devastated fields of Flanders, the scene of horrific carnage, red poppies bloomed again.  That is why the red poppy is the symbol of Remembrance Day.

Photo from Pexels by Elina Sazonova