Poetry

The Poppy

By 4th June 2014December 9th, 2019No Comments

I bloomed on a summer morn, just before dawn.
I danced and pranced in the gentle breeze.
I was content, but that was going to change.

The world seemed to shake.
At first I thought an earthquake,
But then I saw it all.
Survivors seemed to try and crawl,
Most weren’t so lucky.

Shrapnel lay in broken bodies,
They lay among my fellow poppies.
Most families were now torn,
Now in need of a place to mourn.

This war torn land once was grand.
Among my people, lay the fallen.
I knew I would be dead by autumn.

I felt my roots leave the ground, and my body passed around.
The last bullet had been shot,
And no bodies left to rot.

Peace reigned across the land,
And started the royal band.
They struck up the country’s anthem.
All we flowers shook like a chrysanthemum.

Then I stood on the proud General’s lapel,
As he frees the prisoners from their cell.
Now I am laid to rest on Flanders field,
With my country’s fallen.

Khaya Mankazana

Author Khaya Mankazana

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