remembrance

No Desert Poppies

Folder: 
Viet Nam Pieces

In desert sands no poppies grow.
Unmarked, their crosses, row on row.
Young life cut down, Youth tarries, dead.
Hope hovers high; mem'ries un-fled,
still held despite the fate we'll know.

'Spite death, love lives - unbowed - to show
yon lives the way Justice must flow,
'though ardor and fervor have yet yielded
no desert poppies.

Truth rose, fought darkness, met its foe,
wrestled, won; failed, and rose again. So
guard its journey 'mid blackness wide.
Still burns its torch ! Held high with pride !
Cowards lack the will, 'though Heroes know
no desert poppies.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

In the Villanelle form, as is Flanders Fields.

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Wear proud your poppy

Stand firm in the trenches of Flanders fields.
Ready the mortar and let it rain upon the enemy.
Send them our grenades and show them our might.
Shut out the cold and think of home.
Trudge on through the sucking, hungry mud.
No matter the risk as long as we win, trench fever is not so terrible a thing.
All that noise is common place... It's the quiet that seems strange.
Ready the rifles at the break of dawn, bayonets glinting in the sun.
It's time to rise to no mans land.
Onward men to our victory.
The ground is scarred and pitted but still we go on, the bullets race past, many hit targets.
Men fall but not in vein, they take enemies with them.
They have had their victory and made their country proud.
And still on they fight to defend us all.
They stood so proud, they stood so tall.
The thunder of the guns, the blasting of the bombs, the smoke obscures the way ahead, still they strive on despite the dread.
Untill the haunting silence grips all.
All clears, no smoke, no bullets fire.
And breifly do the opposing sides cease their war so that the brave lost men can be buried safe.
At last they can rest in the embrace of peace.
In spirit they are home once more.
Their sacrifices remembered forever more.
So wear proud your poppy of scarlet red, just like the spilt blood our hero's shed...
Upon the fields of Flanders.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

For remembrance. I hope I did well.

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Set Free The Voices

 

Do you hear the voices singing?
The poppies growing?
The lost are calling,
Reaching,
Grasping
For freedom.

Set us free.
Let us glide on the whistling wind,
Let us fly with the strong-willed lark,
Let us dance with the clouds
That soar so high,
Let us wonder,
Let us lie.

Do you hear the voices calling?
Lost in the soft-blowing wind,
A river of air,
Catching us,
Lifting us,
Set us free.

Let the song's words come,
Let it flow through your soul,
Let it swell in your heart,
Lift up your mind.
Sing the song of the free.

Set free the voices
That dance and sing,
Set free the voices
That lash and sting,
Set free the voices,
The voices...
Set us free.

Let the sky fall
And the rivers soar.
Let the ground lift,
Behold the galore.
Set us free.
Free.
Set us free,
As we have set you free,
As we have fought,
As we have died,
Set us free.

We are the voices of the lost,
The ones who soar,
Who've heard the gunshots
And seen the death-cries.
The ones you remember,
Nameless, though we are.

Set us free.
Let us breath the air of a cold, crisp night,
Let us feel the warmth of the sun once again,
Let us say goodbye,
A last farewell,
Let us glide,
Let the world be well,
Let the war have been fought,
Let it not be fought now,
Let the drums be silent
And the screams be soothed,
Let the pain ebb away
Forever more.

Set us free.
As your sharp glare softens,
As you watch us glide the wind,
As you wonder in amazement,
As a tear drips down,
Let us be free.

The war is over.
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Author's Notes/Comments: 

I wrote this for Remembrance Day. Hope you like it.

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I REMEMBER

I REMEMBER THE YOUNGER DAYS

WHEN EVERY ONE GOT ALONG

I REMEMBER THE HOLIDAYS

WHEN EVERY ONE WAS FULLL OF HAPPINESS

I REMEMBER THE WEEKDAYS

WHEN WE ALL WANTED TO STAY IN BED

I REMEMBER THE WEEKENDS

THOSE DAYS MEANT FUN

I REMEMBER FALL

AND ALL THE BEAUTIFUL LEAVES

 THAT HAS FALLEN FRON THE ABOVE

I REMEMBER THE WINTER

WHICH MEANT  CHRISTMAS TIME

AND A NEW YEAR TO CHANGE

I REMEMBER THE SPRING

ALL THE WONDERFUL DAYS

AND THE SIT BACK AND RELAX WEATHER

I REMEMBER THE SUMMER

WHEN WE ALL DRANK PLENTY OF WATER

AND TRIED NOT TO GET DARKER

I REMEMBER MEETING A LOT OF PEOPLE

WHICH MEANT MAKING NEW FRIENDS

I REMEMBER THE EX-GIRLFRIENDS

THEY ALL COME AND GO

I REMEMBER THE MONEY

WHEN PEOPLE USE TO EARN IT

BEFORE THE KILLINGS AND ROBBERIES

I REMEMBER ALL MY FRIENDS

THE REAL ONES NEVER LEFT MY SIDE

THOSE THE ONES I GREW UP WITH

I REMEMBER MY FAMILY

WHEN WE ALL WAS THERE FOR EACH OHTER

Author's Notes/Comments: 

THIS IS WHAT I REMEMBER AND ITS ALL SO TRUE

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Hope for Dunblane

Hope for Dunblane  

 

 

In evergreen memory of our beloved 
children of Dunblane Primary School,

Scotland: United Kingdom! 

 

 

Ugonna Wachuku 

 

(c) March 1996   

 

__ 

 

Contents  

 

__ 

 

 

Dedication  

 

Prologue  

 

Part One:   

 

D:

 

Victoria:  at dawn   

 

Emma:  innocent face   

 

U:

 

Melissa:  bells toll   

 

Charlotte:  harmless smiles

 

N:

 

Kevin:  You walked our streets   

 

Ross:  to the brilliant gardens

 

B:

 

David:  tell it on the mountain?   

 

Mhairi:  evening walk without you

 

Part Two:  

 

L:

 

Brett:  sweet, little love   

 

Abigail:  on the green earth

 

A:

 

Emily:  in search of you   

 

Sophie:   I remember you

 

N:

 

John:  your soiled napkin   

 

Joanna:  in my tears

 

E:

 

Hannah:  child of peaceful Dunblane  


Megan:  my memories of you  

 

Part Three:

 

Smiles and hope

 

What monstrous hatred?

 

Epilogue

 

The Author

 

__  



Dedication  


__ 


In unfailing memory of

our 16, 5 years old kids

murdered by Thomas Hamilton

at Dunblane Primary School

Scotland on wednesday 13

March, 1996;

 

an eternal tribute to their

noble teacher who was shot

defending the children;

a message of hope and love

to mourning parents and families;

 

a loving homage of caring

love to the 12 kids and 2

teachers wounded;

to all humankind who have

learnt from, and dared to

be wounded by the bloody

tears of Dunblane!!!

 

__ 

 

Prologue

 

__ 

 

 

"Blessed are they that mourn;

for they shall be comforted."

 

~Mattthew 5: 4

 

"Blessed be God, even the Father

of our Lord Jesus Christ, the

Father of all mercies and the

God of all comfort:

Who comforts us in all our

tribulation, that we may be

able to comfort them which

are in any trouble, by the

comfort wherewith we

ourselves are comforted

of God."  

 

~2 Corinthians 1: 3-4   

 

 

The shock stills! The coldness dumbs! The reality

blatantly unfathomable! The tragic truth of humanity's

age old bizarreness sneaked in on the historic small town

of Dunblane, Scotland, on wednesday 13 March 1996, when

a lone gunman made his way into Dunblane Primary School

and in stacatto bursts of gun fire murdered 16 five year

old kids and their teacher. 12 other kids and 2 teachers

were wounded.   

 

 

When the reality of this news dawned on me, my world

stood breathless. For fleeting seconds, I thought I

was gonna wake up from my dream and see that it was not

true. But then, I fainttingly realized that I was rather

dreaming with my eyes wide open! The evergreen garden

of the blooming respect and love I have for children

all over the world had been deeply stained by the

cold blood of humankind's death-weapon. White walls

of my yearning for a better world for our earth's children,

our tomorrow's people, crumbled into streams of tears

and blinding sorrow as death quaked its loving grounds

with a gun-man's hand. Tears rolled down my face in dry

shriek. It was, in its own manner, yet another monstrous

atrocity, blatantly unique, in mankind's march through

this troubled world.  

 

 

Remembering that two months from the 13 of March, it

would be the United Nations declared International Day

of Families - 15 May, 1996, I bitterly wept for Dunblane.

I cried for humanity!   

 

 

Then, in my deep-felt sorrow, I realized that 1995-2005

is the United Nations decade for human rights education.

The question of what rights the child has to life, liberty

and security haunted my weary being. This brought me to

the brink of accepting that in many ways, humankind have

failed our children, our hope for the nations, our future!    

 

 

This book is as a result of my soulful tears and contrite heart.

This is my loving and healing hope for Dunblane because

violence to children anywhere is violence to me personally!   

 

 

Ugonna Wachuku

Wednesday 27 March, 1996 

Loex: Bernex Commune 

Geneva, Switzerland 

 

__    


Part one:   


__    



"If I can help somebody

as I pass along, if I

can cheer somebody with

a word or song...then,

my living will not be

in vain."   

 

~Martin Luther King, Jr.     



D:   


at dawn:   


Victoria Clydesdale:    



at dawn, clouds began

to gather over your

little, sleepy town -

these clouds of death

defied those streams

of peace in you:   

 

They overlooked the

beauty of your innocent

smiles.    

 

The forgot the warmness

of your innocence.

These clouds of death

did not bother to see

the unspeakable love

in your eyes.   

 

Latter that morning,

these clouds brought

in more thicks of

darkness; waiting to

bring the healthy

light you've always

known to an end.   

 

You never knew!   

 

Afterwards, the rains

came from these dark

clouds.   

 

But these rains were

not form heaven's nature.

They came from one of

us - a gun man who defied

families and humanity -

a gunman who believed

you had no right to

live and be educated.   

 

His bullets cut you

down. Yet, we refuse

to see you die.

We refuse to end

the sweet smiles you

gave; even in our

battered memories.   

 

You left home with

hope and love for

a better day. But

valiant Vicky, your

day ended in tears.

Our world stood still. 

 

Our breath fizzled out;

while earth's streams

flowed without life.   

 

Our wretched world

ended with your death.

Our tears continue even

with blue clouds and

the rainy rainbow.    

 

Now, we dream of your

loving laughter.

We dream of your calm

screams through the

welcoming day.    

 

Ehen finally, we wake

up, we shall still dream

of you, Victoria because

those smiles in your

eyes will linger

forever

while

our

dreams

of

you

trails

our

left

d

a

y

s
.

.

.

.

.

.



Innocent Face:

 

Emma Crozier:    

 

Your innocent face

shown around the

world stopped us

on the road to life.   

 

Your endless twinkle

snuffed out stars

in our skies and

brought daylight.   

 

Yet you were cut

down before you

could ask why?   

 

Beloved Emma, you

were hot to death

even in the peaceful

state of your simple

soul so calm and

trusting.   

 

Nobody seemed to care.

Humanity left you in

your innocence and

love.   

 

And death could not

wait to take you

away from us, Emma!

Death walked your

trusting path and

mine unknown.   

 

We refuse to accept

that death can take

you away. We affirm

that God will dry

your tears and ours.   

 

Yet our tears flow

because now we deeply

understand that you

were our sweet, little

girl of love and hope.   

 

The earth, with me,

weeps for you, emerald

Emma. Heaven bleeds

tormenting tearful

torrents because you

were our love, our

reason forc being.   

 

Beloved Emma, you

were our future.

But death did not

bother to respect

the hope and love

you symbolized for

or empty world.   

 

That gun of death

tracked you down

and in your own

blooming blood,

you gave up the

hope and bountiful

love within your

beautiful soul.   

 

How I shudder to think

about towering tears

so silent in your

dying breath and mine.   

 

Your utter disbelieve

at what was happening

to you and your class-

mates.   

 

What soul do I have

to stand your pleading,

searching eyes?   

 

What mortal strength

do I have to bear this

shattering burden?   

 

Who would answer your

prying questions for

humanity, Emma?   

 

Your innocent face

will linger forever.

Your smiles.

Your enchanting,

little laughter!   

 

Emma, just remember,

you are my hero.

You were our love.

Now, you are

God's

caring

A

n

g

e

l

__ 

 

 

U:   

 

bells toll:

 

Melissa Currie:   



Now, the bells toll for

you. The bells toll to

welcome earth's herald

of your little body,

Melissa!   

 

This is no wedding bell

in the country church

yard. This is no

christening ceremony...  

 

::::::: 

::::::: 

From my long-hand collection: 

Hope for Dunblane

Ugonna Wachuku  

(c) March 1996 

Geneva: Switzerland 

 

Lonely Clouds

 

Ugonna Wachuku

 

I dream through the night! 
When all hope is won
Love will be my strength
That's my hopeful dream! 

 

Lonely clouds: 

Where my dreams come true
Where I am full and whole! 

Love is all I dream 
And all hate is gone! 

 

Bounties of the night
That's my hopeful dream 
Where I am full and whole! 

 

Lonely clouds: 

 

Where my dreams

come true! 

 

Eagles carry me
over meadows and sea
to the land of my dreams 
Where I am made whole!  

 

When all faith is bloomed
That's my hopeful dream!

 

Every shadow of

doubt is lost on

this meadow land
Where I dream

through the night! 

 

When all hope is won, 
Love will be my guide! 
That's my hopeful dream
All for you, 
for humanity!

 

Lonely clouds: 

I dream through the night
Where I am made whole! 

 

Eagles carry me over

meadows and montains
where love is so real! 

 

That's my hopeful dream 
All through the night, 
All for you: 

Dunblane

Primary 

School

and 

for

h

u

m

a

n

k

i

n

d

!

!

!

-- 


Lonely Clouds 

~ Critiques/Comments ~ 

Gwendrina Howe  
wh@hvi.net 


Dear Ugonna, 


I am drawn in the breathtaking simplicity and eloquence
of your poem. You capture life's truth and hope with such poignant
beauty and understanding. This reads like a psalm from "The Book of
Psalms" and infuses my spirit with a serene faith in both The Creator
and a compassionate humanity. 


Thank you for your blessed insight,


Wendy    faith.
http://www.postpoems.com/members/Gwendrina 


Robin Schmidt
kaos444_99@hotmail.com


In dreams of love I feel no pain, and wish the dreams would last
forever. But unfortunatly dreams don't last forever.. but great poem.
I really like it.
http://PostPoems.com/members/starlite_angel
2002-02-01 16:13:37 


Douglas Lazard
dougiebgood@hotmail.com


Ugonna,


What a wonderful, wonderful soul you have!  This is so
beautiful... I have always associated clouds and dreams with each
other for they have so much in common.
Your writing is so pure and heartfelt! Thank you for the glimpse
inside your heart.


Peace and love ~~~~ Dougie ~~~
http://PostPoems.com/members/dougie
2002-03-01 11:16:04


Wendy D'Michelle
wordstowriteby@aol.com


Ugonna, 


I have been reading some of your poetry and I love it. You have such a
wonderful flow and the things you write about are so inspiring:


"Love is all I dream 

And all hate is gone"


this stands out because so many people dream
about this too...as do I.


Wendy
http://PostPoems.com/members/wendy
2002-03-18 00:37:52 


Jill Calahan
jcal420420@aol.com


Hey, this poem is one of my favorite of yours. It's really really
good. Keep it up, you're such a great writer.


~*~ Jill ~*~
http://PostPoems.com/members/poetry_is_life
2002-04-28 22:36:12


Farah D
fiffi_d@yahoo.com


Whenever I need inspiration, I come calling at your door. Dear Ugonna,
your poetry is truly a blessing. and Thank YOU indeed, for sharing it
with us. This poem is truly touching..and I love the Rod Stewart song
too!
http://PostPoems.com/members/destiny
2002-11-16 20:08:58


Author's Notes/Comments: 

In 1996, Rod Stewart, with Kevin Savigar, performed Every Beat of My Heart with the Scottish Euro '96 Squard - for a CD generally titled Purple Heather. My poem: Lonely Clouds was inspired by Every Beat of My heart. The proceeds from this Stewart CD is meant for the Dunblane Fund - in memory of those beautiful and enchanting 5 year old kids killed by a gunman at Dunblane primary school on Wednesday 13 March, 1996. My poem: Lonely Clouds, just as my poetry collection titled: Hope for Dunblane, is also a deep-felt tribute - in remembrance of those lovely children of God's eternal kingdom and their families! 

 

Dunblane School Kids: Scotland March 1996

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