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

It is Remembrance Sunday.

We can’t afford to forget the men and women who don't come home from wars. My generation grew up in peacetime, we heard the grown ups talking about it, sometimes.

My mother rarely spoke about her time in the war (WW II) Once she talked about an officer who was a passionate grower of roses. All he wanted to do, was get home and grow his roses. He didn’t make it.

It’s total sodding madness

We are still at war in Iraq, and people don’t come home.

It’s total sodding madness

How can we forget?



In Flanders Fields

First published in Punch, December 1915, this memorial poem was written by Dr. John McCrae, a man of high principles and strong spiritual values. He died in 1918, days after being made senior consulting physician to the British Army. No other Canadian doctor had been so highly promoted.