RED
A Remembrance Day Poem
It’s the feeling hanging over the city.
Fearful faces on the streets,
Quiet panic and planning,
Whispers of war,
Looking for safety that doesn’t exist,
Pretending war isn’t in the shadows just behind you.
Red.
It’s soldiers marching on streets,
Tanks driving through cities,
Anger rising in men.
Red.
It’s peaking through windows,
Hiding in homes, not leaving for days,
Pretending it’s a lie until tomorrow comes again.
Red.
It’s the feeling when your first and only son gets drafted.
At first, you’re proud,
And then you’re scared.
It’s when the house feels too empty,
Too quiet,
Every letter too short,
Too late,
Every knock too jolting,
Too disappointing.
Red.
It’s when you open the door and an officer greets you.
He gives you a box of loose letters
And an apology.
Red. Red.
It’s packing up and running,
Hiding in dark and crowded attics or basements.
Living on hope and hoping for any chance you’ll disappear.
Red. Red.
It’s the colour outside that you’re hiding from.
Angry and hunting.
Red.
It’s the colour that found your neighbours, friends, family.
It’s the colour that finds your hiding spot too.
Red. Red. Red. Red.
It’s the sound in my ears,
The colour on my face,
On my friends, my enemies,
On their bodies.
On my hands.
Red. Red. Red. Red. Red. Red. Red. Red.
It’s the battleground,
No-man’s land,
The screams of dying men.
Red. Red. Red. Red. Red. Red. Red. Red.
It’s the sound of bullets raining down,
Flying past,
Hitting the dirt.
Red.
It’s the feeling of one hitting its mark.
Red.
It’s when the yells turn into fuzz.
When my rifle drops from my hands.
When my body falls.
It’s the last colour to fade from my body.
It’s the last colour I saw.
Red.
It’s the colour that grows where it was shed.
It’s what decorates where we now sleep.
Red.
It’s the colour my grandchildren see in schools.
They see it without hiding.
They see it without fear.
It’s the colour of the news they watch.
They see a new war.
They fight a different battle.
It’s the colour of a new generation’s fight.
Their weapons are their hearts,
Their bullets are words.
They fight for peace.
Red, they say,
Red won’t be for war.
RED
2018
A poem written for Remembrance Day about changing generational attitudes about war. This was written for a Remembrance Day poem contest held by the City of Markham’s Youth Council.
My role: Author
Time took to create: 1 Day
Creation Process
Criteria: A poem on the theme of Remembrance Day.
Ideation
Sometimes I just get hit by ideas and have an incessant urge to write them. That’s how this poem started.
Writing
Since I had immediate inspiration, there was no planning; I went straight into writing. The ideas and words flowed onto the page naturally. I didn’t let myself stop to think until I was done and the muse that struck me had left.
Editing
Once it was all written, and I felt the piece was complete, I read over it again after a few hours with a fresh pair of eyes. I edited some lines and wording to sound more pleasing. I rearranged some lines and formatted it to look more pleasing as well.
Afterthoughts
What a rush. This was a fast and passionate writing experience. It was finished as quickly as it was started, but I’m immensely happy with it. It was just a joy to write. It also won that poetry contest, which I am pretty proud of.
What I Learned
Nothing new. Practiced fast writing and tested a (semi) new writing style.