Wecome to Christine Falk - Pen in Hand

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Friday, 9 November 2012

Notes on November

2 poems on Remembrance

That red flower I wear in November
on my left lapel.
My heart worn side of remembrance.
For moments in time past,
moments too bloody for kindly remembrance.
For losses lost before my time,
losses hoped never to be lost again.
For peace and for freedom.
Lost and alone on the battle field.
Lost and alone left waiting by the front door
struggling to remember
loved lines on lost faces.
Struggling to remember lost smiles
of the proud and the grateful
because, for some, remembering is all that is left.
Tear stained on either side of remembering.
Tear stained behind the red flower.
The red flower I wear in November
on my heart worn left lapel.

November 25th
Tall grey and leafless
I knew when they were green,
and they wept golden tears
as their colours died
and I could not hear them.
but when December moans among the stands
denied by no deaf ears,
whiteness of age
not of purity
wraps around and engulfs,
swallowing the forest
in icy silent rage.


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