All writers have a process that allows them to create. However, the art of "Writing" is often mistaken for that "Process." Hopefully this blog explains the difference, and inspires people to develop their crafts, become writers, or just keep on writing.

Monday, May 31, 2021

For Memorial Day

Just a short post today. I know this breaks with my tradition of not posting on federal holidays, but I also have a tradition on this day that I decided to merge into this blog just this once. On this particular day, I wanted to show how simplicity and elegance can create something well beyond the sum of its words.

Yes, technically this is a poetry post, but I will let the words carry the weight of the message. I just make sure this is placed again into the world, and people have the opportunity to read these simple words that have become synonymous with Memorial Day and all that it means. This poem came from the first World War, and was written by a man more known as a writer of medical textbooks than poetry. However, these words, written after the loss of a friend, gave this man immortality. That's how powerful a poem can be, even one written by a doctor.

I hope everyone recognizes Memorial Day in the way it was intended.

In Flanders Fields


In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

    That mark our place; and in the sky

    The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

    Loved and were loved, and now we lie,

        In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

    The torch; be yours to hold it high.

    If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

        In Flanders fields.

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