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Poppy of Remembrance
Red paints the fields where the poppies grow
After the battles there long ago.
Warmed by sunshine, watered by tears,
They still bravely bloom to remember those years.
Our soldiers were sent to a foreign land
To fight out of deep trenches in making their stand.
They struggled hard to remain warm and dry in the mud, rain, and snow
When they fought the Kaiser’s army so long ago.
Little imitation poppies were sold in the millions back then
To support the war effort and our fighting men.
They’re deep red like the bloodshed on the mud and snow,
These beautiful red poppies in the field where they grow.
Take just a moment to think and reflect.
Take the time to offer a thank you prayer in respect.
Someone order champagne and quickly remove the cork.
Let’s toast our dough boys and our hero, Sergeant York.
They still grow in the fields of yesterday.
They stand in remembrance and still hold sway.
In yesteryear, these poppies played their part.
When you wear one, I hope it matches the poppy in your heart.
THOUGHTS OF SPRING
I sat upon a park bench, writing pad in hand,
Enjoying flowering shrubs and warmth upon the land
As cacophony of sound assaults both my ears:
Birds singing, dogs barking, and children’s laughter at play.
Then, not one but three lasses appeared
With bonnets and flower baskets at arm.
They wore floral-colored smocks,
Emitting Old World charm.
“I see you are a writer, sir,” one said
As her laughter broke the air.
At a loss for words, I simply smiled,
Caught up in her blue-eyed snare.
“Please do write us a sonnet,” said the second lass.
“Oh, no, a poem,” pleaded the third.
I smiled at all three,
Completely lost for word.
Their little faces in mock pout,
Their dresses so colorful and gay,
Added the finishing touch on the canvas
Of this beautiful, fine Spring Day.
I cleared my throat and spoke, “Oh, I suppose,
A line or two I’ll jot of spring-time prose.
With a smile and a thank you, they skipped away, arms interlocked.
As they moved away, I couldn’t help but notice: The flowers matched their frocks.
The sun was warm, and the wind was balmy.
White fluffy clouds adorned the sky.
I stretched and yawned like a Cheshire cat,
Releasing a contented sigh.
Mother Nature had once again blessed the land,
Calling forth different flowers in abundant array.
While I watched butterflies and birds flit about
On this gorgeous, balmy Spring Day.
Spring tulips
Spring has sprung!
Daddy and Momma Mallard with 10 new ducklings
Daddy and Momma Canadian Geese with 2 new goslings
Double Bearded Iris
He Lives!
He walked among us over rocky pathways
Many long years ago.
The message He brought was the one He taught
To free us and let us know.
Numbered among transgressors,
Beaten and scorned with shame.
He shouldered false accusations bravely
And never placed the blame.
Not happy with His suffering,
They sentenced Him to death.
They nailed Him to a cross
To draw His last earthly breath.
He was buried in a sepulcher
Which was hewn in stone.
Women prepared His body for eternal rest
And left Him all alone.
Just as the prophecy had foretold,
The stone was rolled aside:
Three days later, our Savior arose
To ascend and forever to abide.
The ultimate sacrifice for our sins –
A price we could not pay –
Was paid in full by our Savior.
Each year, we celebrate this act on each Easter Day.
Happy Easter, Everyone!
W. Foster Welborn
Wouldn’t You Know It?
Beautiful roses, rough soil can endure…
The sweetest most often
Live and grow in debris and manure.
Happy Valentine’s Day!
Old Warrior
Born of the people,
Learning to live off the land.
As a boy, he learned a warrior’s ways
And grew to be a man.
Strong Bow hunted Tatanka, the buffalo,
With both bow and lance.
He guided his horse among the headlong rush,
Killing meat to feed the people when he got a chance.
He had wooed and won a pretty maiden’s hand,
Who became his wife.
They lived and loved while moving freely on the land,
Following a nomad’s life.
He danced with fellow warriors,
Circling the fire around.
War drums beat the rhythm,
And many moccasined feet beat tattoos on the ground.
That was when he was young and powerful,
A mighty warrior to behold.
He was fast and furious back then, many moons ago.
Now he was gray and old.
Strong Bow sat on his aging war horse atop a hill.
His shoulders slumped forward with his head hung down.
Cold winds blew around him,
Making the only sound.
The old warrior’s face smiled lamely.
It was a good day to die,
And soon his spirit would depart,
Taking wings to fly.
Cold wind knifed through his buckskins
Into his old body both weak and frail.
Strong Bow closed his eyes and softly sang his death song,
Having reached the end of his trail.
(Note: The above poem is a result of my thoughts that were evoked by this artwork.)
Thoughts for Thanksgiving
I am very grateful to be here to see and enjoy it. Our weather is twenty-eight degrees on our patio thermometer, and a light snow is gently falling.
My wife and I were watching Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade with all the colorful floats, balloons, marching bands, music, and of course untold numbers of smiling, happy performers and people.
Many thoughts filled my mind as I watched and marveled. How blessed we are to live in such a wonderful country where we can revel and rejoice in the season.
Thoughts of France, Brussels, Mali, Syria, and other countries that are experiencing loss of loved ones, strife, turbulence, and displacement make me thankful for our country.
My humble and sincere “Thank you” goes out to all of our military men and women, regardless of where they are stationed. I want to wish all of them, our relatives, friends, and countrymen a warm and happy Thanksgiving today as we break bread. I wish happiness and blessings to all.
wfosterwelborn 