The Poppy Fields of Flanders
Heroes and Villains.
The poppy fields are red,
but they´re not red with poppies.
The poppies are all dead,
The fields are red with blood.
The soldiers are not fighting,
There´s no more strength in them,
Young men with lives before them,
Cut down, No strength, Not men...
The living ones are not alive,
The many....... blown to pieces...
The living stare with vacant eyes,
Friends all gone.,. Friendship ceases.
The women wait at home and work,
They try to do their duty,
not really knowing , ´What´s their duty´?
Through those catastrophic years.
A battlefield can be anywhere
Blood gets mingled with the earth
So , why a poppy field,.?.....Seems ironic...
Field still red, but you can search
And never find a poppy.
Fields are red with young mens´ blood,
They did their duty in the fields
now their blood is like a flood.
In circumstances not seen before,
they bravely held their guns,
Not understanding horrors faced,
and the enemy were someone ´ s sons.
When fields are red with young mens´blood,
Then there´s something wrong with our world.,
Young men should be walking out,
With all of our young girls.
falling in love, the very first time,
cuddling close in a world of their own,
Young men and women whispering love
and planning their very own home.
But the fields are red with young mens´blood,
And girls´do the jobs of men,
One in a factory, one on a farm,
All praying their men will come to no harm.
No harm to men with guns at the ready,
guns they´ve been given with orders,
Not thugs taking guns to steal from another,
No these guns are forced upon them.
So fields are red with the blood of our boys,
Many were still in their teens,
And teenage girls , who ought to be dancing,
Are working and dreamimg their dreams.
For the fields are filled with blood of young men,
Not red with beautiful poppies,
When will we learn the power of love?
If ever , we learn, if ever,,,,,