Photo-a-Day (Thursday, 29th November, 2018)
When I was a child I used go errands for an old lady from my street - Mrs Kelly, she lost her son in in WW1 as the. 100th aniversery of his death approached I wrote this poem.
I hope veiewers don't mind me sharing it.
(A lad from my street killed in action 1918)
John Kelly, who was he ? a man who gave his life for you and me , a man who left his home and friends to fight for freedom to fight the foe.
A life snuffed out before its time in the carnage of that horrendous war. Did he think of his Mother on that fateful day ? did he ponder days of yore?
Did his life before him flash ? did he have time to make his peace with God ? Did he think of a sweetheart, as life blood ebbed away, of children now denied ?
Did he wonder if his body would lie with the glorious dead in a fields wheat and corn, of poppies red and lilies white ? or was his shroud to be the earth and clay.
Did he shed a tear for times that might have been, of growing old with kith and kin? Could he have known in decades hence, a poet would ask ' John Kelly, who was he ?
A lovely, respectful and unusual scene.
And a lovely, respectful verse by Tom.
Haunting words Tom - it seemed that every street was missing someone in those far away days.
Both myself and my husband lost our Grandad’s to the first WW. We would have loved to have met them. There are many more who also lost Grandad’s they never met.
We should never forget them.
My husbands Grandad is buried in Ruane Northern France. We have been to his grave twice. It’s in a beautiful well kept Cemetery, and heartbreaking to see all those graves.
Nice work Tom.Your words compliment Andrew's fine photo very sympathetically.
A great photo Andrew.
That's lovely, Tom. xx
A fitting tribute from you both Andrew and Thomas. My Wife an I are back from a weekend in Belgium where we visited my Great Uncle who was killed in 1917, aged 20.The Cemetry's as you say Kath are immaculate. We then went to Ypres for the ceremony on the Sunday along with 10's of thousands of people from all over the world. Abiding memory, 11:00am standing in the square in Ypres a stones throw from the Menin Gate, a lone Scotch Piper playing a lament. You could hear a pin drop.
A strong image Andrew.
Fine words Thomas.
I was at The Menin Gate listening to the piper many, many years ago, Standisher when I was only in my early twenties. I have never forgotten it.
The last time I was at the Menin gate was 1997 and I will never forget how emotional it was. Actually going to my Grt Uncle's grave at Dickebush was very moving in itself. It was a small cemetery off the beaten track and William's grave in a long line was the only one with a rose blooming. I just felt he knew I was coming and it was a lovely sign
- I must admit I shed a tear or two!
That's lovely, Veronica. xx
That is so good that it deserves to be offered to the church/council/local RBL future archive in documenting how it was on that day and centenary year.
Has anyone else also noticed, that generally where they be at memorials, that the Fields of Remembrance are getting smaller every year. Is it with the direct relatives or old comrades passing on themselves? that has to have something to do with it.