Lest We Forget

Lest We Forget

For the Fallen
Image © Walker – @WalksOnWalls [All right reserved]

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill: Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres.
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England’s foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain,
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.

Robert Laurence Binyon (1869-1943)

The poppies are an installation on the old war memorial in Nelson Lancashire and the soldiers are different images taken of the soldier on the war memorial in Slaidburn in Lancashire.

All of my images, unless marked otherwise, are available to buy as high-quality photographic prints, as a watermarked wallpaper for your computer or mobile device or on a commercial licence.

Please contact me for details at walksonwallsphotography@gmail.com

The copyright for all of my images belongs to:
Walker – WalksOnWalls [All rights reserved]

Posted by Walks Walker on 2019-11-10 02:38:05

Tagged: , remembrance , world , war , two , 2 , WW2 , november , 11 , eleventh , hour , day , 1939 , 1945 , 1914 , 1918 , freedom , soldiers , sailors , airmen , armed , services , forces , poppy , poppies , nelson , lancashire , england , united , kingdom , UK , EU , europe , walksthewalker , walkswalker , walks , walker , thewalkertouch , touch , outside , pep , ventosa , mulitple , exposure , lest , we , forget , remember , fallen , for , laurence , binyon , lawrence , poetry , poem , red , black , white , salute , last , post , robert , slaidburn , memorial , WW1 , round

What Makes A Great Short Love Poem?

What Makes A Great Short Love Poem?
I asked myself this question the other day. What makes for a great short love poem? I had my own opinion on the matter that sounded pretty good to me. But I didn’t want just my opinion. I wanted evidence. I wanted support. I wanted to see what other experts said on the matter.

So I did a little research on the matter. I read over articles and other experts’ opinions on the same subject when they were asked the same question. Even though there were many different answers and many different opinions, there was a common thread amongst all the answers. And the people who answered these questions were other well-known and seasoned writers, authors, editors and poets.

The common thread is that a great short love poem is touching, memorable, emotionally moving. There is something about it that makes you want to share it with others. It stays with you. And for something to stay with you, the poem has to prick your emotions. Out of all the memories you have, the ones you remember the most are the memories with the most emotion. Emotions are memorable. Great poems are memorable because they move you emotionally.

Many of the answers said that a short love poem is only great in the eye of the beholder or the reader. There were also a few respondents who said that the combination of words and the excellence of how it was written was important. But the words or how well the poem was crafted was always secondary to the emotion it left with you. And the way you could tell how well the words were crafted were by the way it moved you and touched you.

Some authors also stated that a great poem is a poem that is written about a specific emotion and one which evokes the emotion out of the page and into your heart.

All of this brings me back to my own personal opinion that the best poetry is that which pricks or moves the reader emotionally in some way, a poem that you remember and stays with you forever.

Read more love words at
http://WhisperingsofLife.com. For short love poems, visit

Weekly Poems from Poems for Free: A Philosophical Friendship Poem and More

Weekly Poems from Poems for Free: A Philosophical Friendship Poem and More


May poetry flow
From your moonlit garden,
From your cool, dark fountain,
Untouched by age.

May your spirit read
The book of life
With the same enchantment
As the child within.


Dear son, I cannot speak, and yet
I have so much to say to you,
Too much for time and will to net.
Life goes with just this last adieu.

I have so much to say to you,
Far more than I can now convey.
Life goes with just this last adieu
To serve as what I want to say.

Far more than I can now convey,
I love you with a love that yearns
To serve as what I want to say,
Ablaze with joy that bleeds and burns.

I love you with a love that yearns
Too much for time and will to net.
Ablaze with joy that bleeds and burns,
Dear son, I cannot speak, and yet . . .


My lover bathes me in his precious light.
I am the Earth to his all-giving sun.
His needs are burned away in serving mine,
Consumed in the production of his love.

In my awe I’m sometimes forced to wonder:
How can such sweet radiance be sustained?
So selfless is the self in need of need,
So much in love with giving others love.

Still, the sun requires no return.
Light and life come humbly from its fire.
And so I worship him as did the ancients,
Grateful for the gift of being near.


Whiskers will remain a wily wastrel,
Having learned the habits of his heart.
Impulse is for him an inner minstrel,
Singing with the certainty of art.
Kindness cannot cause him to be caring,
Even when exceptionally at ease.
Reveling in love, he finds it wearing;
So saunters off, with no one else to please.


Pastors are supposed to be the shepherds
A willing flock has bid to guide their souls.
So must you be yourself a lamb of courage,
The one most lost amid the moral wreckage
Of Adam’s sin, whose grief must be the fold’s.
Remember we are all but broken potsherds,
Sustained alone by faith in some great whole.


The luck in love lies mainly at the start,
Having to do with meeting and attraction.
Indeed, the passion that undoes the heart
Remains, at heart, a chemical reaction.
Thereafter, love is on its own, and must
Each hour, each day, each year renew its glory.
Ellipsis may be suitable for lust;
No love lasts long without a proper story.
The luck in love for us lies far behind:
Here love is knowing, wise, and far from blind.


Thank you for preparing me for baptism.
How better do we learn than from the heart?
A soul can best find joy by sharing grace,
Not being whole except by being part,
Knowing well the ways across that chasm!

Your love shines through your acts as through a prism,
Of all God’s gifts, the easiest to trace,
Uniting your sweet labor with His art.

Nicholas Gordon is a poet and the webmaster of the popular poetry site, Poems for Free at http://www.poemsforfree.com. He holds a Ph.D. in English and American Literature from Stanford University. For most of his working life, he taught English at New Jersey City University, in Jersey City, NJ.

Heartbroken Poem to Help You Heal Your Heartbreak

Heartbroken Poem to Help You Heal Your Heartbreak

If you’ve ever been through a depressing break-up with someone you’ve love, you possibly will have written a heartbroken poem. You may have even written such a poem for things like the loss of a pet or a family member, sadness at moving away from your friends, or any number of sad life dealings. But it seems nothing inspires such sad poetry as a break-up or divorce. Just as few things inspire love poetry quite like being in a blissful, loving relationship.

Poetry is an exceptional medium for self-expression. Unless you’re writing poetry with the hope of having it published one day, you can write poetry however you like. It doesn’t have to be good poetry. You don’t have to understand any of the poetic terms or conventions like rhyme, gauge or free verse. You don’t even have to have ever read a really excellent poem in your life to write a heartbroken poem that can help you feel better and maybe help you heal from the hurt of a break-up.

An imperative early step in getting over a break-up or several sad circumstances is simply facing the pain. While it might feel better to avoid dealing with the actuality of the circumstances, you can’t really move past it without facing it and feeling the hurt, at least for a while. So facing up to whatever awkward situation is happening is vital. A heartbroken poem can help you deal with those painful feelings once you’ve split with someone you love.

Don’t worry regarding whether it’s high-quality or not. No one else ever has to read your heartbroken poem. It’s for you and you alone. Just write down your feelings, as difficult as that may be. You can write in plain language. Don’t try to imitate the poets of the 17th and 18th century. Write like you chat, and break the appearance where it feels natural to you. In fact, you can start by writing one enormous paragraph crammed with all your feelings and everything you crave to express, just to get it out. Then you can go back and assemble your thoughts and feelings into a poem.

Once you’ve written a heartbroken poem, you might want to write more about various parts of the pain. That’s lovely. Get down everything you can, and that will help you to face the pain. Writing the poetry will probably be a very emotional time for you. Don’t try to stop it. Just allow the pain out and you’ll be better able to move on.

If you decide you like to share your heartbroken poem, you can show family or acquaintances. Or if you want to share it, but not with somebody you know, you can put it online. There are websites designed just for such things. You can upload your poetry for free and let other people know if you want to receive criticism or not. You might opt to not receive comments on your heartbroken poem and just enjoy the truth that you’ve shared your experience.

Have you been looking for ways to get back your ex? Then visit my blog to learn the secrets of Making up in your relationships today!

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Love Poem Activities

Love Poem Activities

So what can you write love poems on anyway? Well, we will discuss the different types of love in later sections but there are also some activities you can use to help you write love poems, even if they are just for practice.

Use your loved one’s name. Write the person’s name vertically on a piece of paper. Use each letter to create a line of a poem.


To love you
Is the greatest gift
More than gold or jewels
Or riches or fame,
Treasures or any worldly possessions
Holding you completes me
You are my darling everything

· 13 Ways Poem. Write a poem listing 13 ways or things that you love about the person.

· The Word Game. Pick one word at random, or have someone pick one for you. Then write a love poem by using this word. This will make you creative.

· Picture Poem. Get a picture from a post card, magazine, etc and then write a love poem based on the picture. A picture of the beach might remind you of being there with your loved one. Blue sky may inspire you to write about her eyes, etc.

· Use a picture from a magazine, a post card or a family photo album, etc to help inspire you to write a poem. If you have a picture of the person you are writing the love poem for, this might be very helpful.

· ABC Poem. Just like the name poem, you write the alphabet, or part of it vertically and then make a poem for your loved one from it.

· Descriptive poem. Write a poem that describes the special person; her hair, eyes, lips, skin, etc. This is a great way to give an image of the person and to practice imagery in your writing.

· Word list. Make a list of words, just random words and then sit down and write a poem based around these words.

Lisa Mason is a freelance writer with a specialty in Internet content and SEO articles and the author of How to Earn a Living Writing for the Internet as well as two poetry anthologies and a how-to poetry book. She has written thousands of articles, hundreds of ebooks and thousands of website pages and related content.

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Your columns are older than vehicular traffic
you stood a hundred before
and you wither in your gratitude

the multitude turn to your schools,
the elite think of you as a fool;
quick and in the cement as of a fish caught in a net

the shiftty of the fin,
the reminding endless rhyme
your lack of crime

and your shaken were once to Jane Chinn;
you open your heart and soul

and fall to the satchels of the ever-moving
and the mowing is in no deader, dryer deaf grass;
leaping in shoals of ecstasy, go ahead and amaze with your stability.


The ladder is now an elevator
it sticks through the shaft so bold,
and toward heaven as if the mechanical thing has a will,

beside it there are few seniors
maybe two or three
who thrill upon days so early–they dream of applie pie brought to a chill so cold

the scent so fragrant of the applie makes me drowse
that I cannot rub the dust from the reclaimed mined land from mine eyes,
from what? Hand labor and dynamite that blew the ground out of sight.

I trim my hedge at the center,
I dream of spring and fear the touch of winter,
I melt at the thought of 5 cent Carterville ice cream cones and bars

(the ones sold in 62′
on the return from Decoration Day..)
What form my dreams to take

I am about to make;
a magnified apple computer appears and reappars
(and it has nothing to do with credability)

what duality;
I keep hearing the sound of cement mixers and on’clock misers
that rumbling, tumbling sound

on load upon load of new construction
coming in;
Have I had too much of the past, and if so where and when?

The chuck of the new rising home,
the sleep that takes me to places that break,
is it coming or just some thirst that dreams take away?

Posted by r_green54 on 2012-08-12 00:37:48


please excuse me for a while…I have had a complete computer crash…its a complete right off…can just do the minimum…No up loading until I work out what and where from here…

please excuse me for a while…I have had a complete computer crash...its a complete right off...can just do the minimum…No up loading until I work out what and where from here…

garden of eden still lives,
remnants still breathing,
at the edge of cultivated,
land and minds,
small pockets reminding,
clinging to ancient times,
cycles repeated,
beyond human memories,
indigenous plants reflecting,
the ancient peoples roles,
captured truths hidden,
until modern man,
has learned to ask,
receive an answer,
only after asking,
colour and form,
harmony and balance,
texture and structures,
pointed at,
heart awareness,
forgotten while lusts and desire,
keep focus on the dust,
blossoms bursting open,
Heralding Spring,
encouraging effort,
to hear,
to see,
to feel,
with a new heart,
new mind,
new eyes,
cleanse away attachments,
prepare for the New Dawn,
showing the whole of humanity,
drenched in love and peace,
outpourings to prepare,
standing united,
in the New Days Light.

Posted by tteerriitt on 2008-08-10 06:15:32

Tagged: , Western Australia , shrub , Yellow fuff FlowerPrickly Moses , purple flower creeper , “Native , Wisteria , Creeper” , poem , poetry , flower , Awesome Blossoms. , Hardenbergia comptoniana , FlickrsBest



by Alison Luterman

A kid you teach at juvenile hall tells you his father is on death row. You carry the story inside you until it comes out three days later over glasses of wine, after we have finished the latest installment of our Big Fight and are making up. It’s been a gray week, when soup simmers on the stove but the house never gets warm, and piles of dust lurk in the corners of every room. Now I carry that story inside me also: about your student’s father who killed more than a dozen people. But that’s not the point. The point is how, through you and the hours you spend tutoring this boy, sounding out simple words – table, motorcycle, release date – I touch his sadness and his hope. Remember, too, that when you touch me, you are touching the years I worked with refugees, speaking a foreign dialect, and the needles and thread and fried cabbage of my great-grandfather the tailor, eight languages resting in his mouth as he pinned and measured men’s trousers in New York. And you: cities, music, women, ladders, windows. Our dead skin is flaking away and leaving us, our cells dying and vanishing. More silver in my hair daily. Dust of our lives, eye grit, detritus – we are too lost in its swirl to notice how many worlds there are within two people. And how when those worlds touch, the whole web lights up, every strand. And it was dust we fought about so bitterly: dust on the piano keys, under the coffee table, insinuating itself into the computer keyboard. Dust that may be vanquished for a day but always returns, creeping seeping, too humble to be humiliated and thus invincible. Dust of our own bodies, their sweat and longing, illuminated in a stream of sunlight just for a moment.

Posted by talimelekalikimaka on 2011-09-03 01:29:55

Tagged: , poetry , poem , san francisco