One Stop Poetry Challenge – the Photography of Fee Easton

One Stop Poetry Challenge – the Photography of Fee Easton

 Some woderful photo's this week and I get writers block.  Typical.

Thanks to Fee Easton for the use of the photo.

Poppies bloom early then fade to seed

before the scythe will reap the corn

the threshing harvester shakes the heads

and smoke-like black seeds billow forth.

Tiny seeds that fall to ground and rest

too small to separate from soil

and lie safely through the wintertime

under sheets of frost, snow blanket,

‘til springtime’s harrow turns the fresh earth

and wakes the dormant life within

to rapid growth of scarlet glory.

Poppies bloom early then fade to seed.

And because poppies always link to Remembrance Day in my mind;

Red amid the gold,

Poppies blooming in the field,

Signs there of a bumper yield

When the farmers their scythes wield.

Red amid the gold,

Memories of soldiers slain,

Flowers dyed with blood’s red stain

When the fields were ploughed again.

Red amid the gold,

Though the stories now seem old,

Still the message must be told,

Of the brave and good and bold.

Red amid the gold,

Not the war to end all wars,

Though they fought for that great cause,

Rights we must enshrine in laws.

Red amid the gold

Soldiers fight and soldiers die,

We must make sure we know why,

It’s too late when widows cry.

Red amid the gold,

Red for pride and suffering.

Red for all the death wars bring.

Red for shame at peace failing.

Red amid the gold.

And one for  Dodge's prompt:

Depression stalks through night-time dreams

where nothing is quite what it seems,

it harvests long held memories

and changes truths that one believes.

Childhood hometown quickly fading

into hell’s own masquerading

while stars dance through the darkened sky

despair arrives, chatting ‘Let’s die’.