Poppy dreams


Poppy, poppy burning bright,

Light a soldier home tonight,

Light the way back through the mud,

Through the bones and through the blood.


Poppy, poppy, crushed and torn,

On that last momentous morn,

When the guns at last were still,

There were so few men left to kill.


Poppy, poppy flaming red,

As the hearts of all the dead,

Red the blood that flows in streams,

Peace the stuff of poppy dreams.


Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

11 thoughts on “Poppy dreams”

    1. I’m not a great believer in ‘the lessons of history’. They aren’t lessons. They don’t teach us anything. Historical events are just that, a long string of atrocities and carnage punctuated by some bright spots of artistic or philosophical genius. We don’t learn from our mistakes, we refine them and make new ones in the same pattern.

  1. Gorgeous, Jane. The thing is, its always possible to learn from the past, it’s just that humans are arrogant and choose not to. I read a great article yesterday written by a historian who said historians can see episodes repeating themselves, but most people don’t see it because they dont/cant/ refuse to see the bigger picture, or even consider the future or the past, they are only concerned with their own personal immediate environs, which is why we have seen such myopic voting in Uk and US recently. These relatively small events are part of a much bigger chain of events already set in motion, and it’s gathering steam… but I doubt the voters are going to get what they voted for.

    1. People in the main believe what they want to believe. They believe that some loathsome creature like Nigel Farrage or Donald Trump or Valdimir Putin or Recep Erdogan actually wants what they want. Self-delusion. We’re wonderful at that.

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