Latest Forum Posts:


HomePoetry StoriesFlanders


We lived and died on Flanders fields.

Sun-dried mud on youthful faces.

Waiting for the shrill sound of whistles.

Rolling thunder, foot by foot.

Sending earth tossed to heaven.

Drips of crimson foam splash mates,

along the trench lines.

Orders barked with the shrill whistles.

"Over the top boys!"

Being met with rat a tat from the bloody Hun guns.

O what a grand sight as the Black Watch moved.

Once more the youth of Britain fed,

the Fields of Flanders.

We the proud, the youth, lived and died on Flanders fields.


I honour all fallen soldiers, in every war on this Armistice Day.

Eleven o'clock in the morning - the "eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month."

This was to be the war to end all wars.  



This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than storiesspace.com with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © 2010-2020 Carl Riley (Fuzzy1954)- All rights reserved- This material may not be reproduced, displayed, modified, distributed, copied in part or its entirely without prior permission from the author.

To link to this poem from your site - please use the following code:

<a href="https://www.storiesspace.com/stories/poetry/flanders.aspx">Flanders</a>

Comments (4)

Tell us why

Please tell us why you think this story should be removed.