Friday, 5 November 2010
Every Friday, Lily Childs launches a weekly prediction. Using the three words she selects at random, participants are invited to create prose or poetry up to a wordcount of 100.
This week, the word-prompts were:
Perhaps it was the noise of fireworks outside but the word 'percussion' conjured up a sense of gunfire and inspired my entry for this week's challenge, as we (in the UK) pause for thought for fallen heroes.
Admonished by those who thought themselves their betters.
Seeking a last breath of freedom from their squalid trench they rose,
Sacrificing themselves to shrill whistles and cries
And then the staccato percussion that charted their rapid demise as over the top they went,
Pouring like ants from a nest,
Seeing a new horizon, briefly, before lead and shrapnel marked their bodies,
In daubs of crimson.
Now, here, in fields to which only the valiant can belong,
Remain those daubs of poppy-red
Fluttering in the breeze.
Remembrances to the long-ago dead.