In honor of Memorial Day I wrote a new poem paying tribute to John McCrae and his well-known poem, In Flanders Fields, which was originally published in the May, 1915 issue of Punch magazine.

War Stories

Generals speak in battles won                                                                                           
or lost in campaigns poorly run,
in bold attacks, in forced retreats.
All loathing to admit defeat,
they soldier on till war is done.

Presidents, not to be outdone,
will speak of evils overcome
give the world a lasting peace
where poppies grow.

But poets hear the voice of one
who simply is some mother’s son.
His work is done, his life complete.
His silence speaks to warn, entreat
those who finish what he’d begun
where poppies grow.

So now it’s been one hundred years,
and even soldiers’ mothers’ tears
have dried up like the wizened dead.
But fields where they once fought and bled
refuse to shrink and disappear.

Let’s stop and spend a moment here
where yet is heard the balladeer,
still speaking for the honored dead
In Flanders fields

Wild poppies grow, they persevere,
bear witness to the spirits here.
The crosses speak in words unsaid
to mark the graves of hallowed dead,
who call to us from yesteryear
In Flanders fields