Tuesday, 22 May 2012


Anzac Poem


by Naomi Ashby-Ryan

I see a field full of mourning poppies swaying in the breeze to remember those who died before them
I hear the distant cries of dying men calling for their homeland and wishing they were a million miles away
I smell the dust and smoke filling lungs with despair
I taste the trampled ground that so many have crossed to only find death on the other side
I feel the last trumpet blow for those who died for my freedom

Blood Red Poppy


by Elsa Neuman


A blood red poppy

pushes through scarlet soil

the beauty of the battlefield.


Stained corpses pile

three bodies high

the misery of war

broken by a single flower.


A crimson river flows

life for

a blood red poppy.





by Jasmine Johnson


I see the poppies growing

I imagine the sound of guns


I smell the poppies as I walk past

I feel sadness in the air.



Anzac Poem


by Lichen Sorrel


I see... flames, smoke, empty bullet

shells, grenade pins and barbed wire.


I hear... deafening gun fire, war cries and

exploding shells.


I smell... smoke, grenade gas and the

gagging smell of old grotty trenches.


I taste... mud, dirt, gun powder and the

great taste of an ANZAC biscuit sent from



I feel... scared, important and intimidated

by the enemy lines.



A Crow Flies


by Ruby Harris


A crow flies,

Poppies sway,

All on a mournful day.


The canon blows,

Trumpets cry,

All on a mournful day.


People gather,

Memories shared,

All on Anzac day.

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