In Flanders Fields
by John McCrae

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place, and in the sky,
The larks, still bravely singing, fly,
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead; short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Music

The beating of my heart
goose steps to thoughts
of last night
when the moon
was dark and new
my blood quickens
pulse throbbing
to the tune of
the lyrics I carved
on your pliant skin
starting below
your almost perfect breasts
my stiletto strokes
were accompanied
by your piercing screams
the composition
of your primal fear
and my lust
created the music
of the night

Are your holidaying out there,
In the loneliness of wilderness,
At peace with yourself
And
Comfortable with a lap top
If it be so, enjoy your hard earned freedom,
Which normal human beings get seldom
Then remember me,
Who am I?

Frail, delicate, beautifully tender
Steals into life a thornless flower.
Bereft, hopeless craves for a mother
Cursed, gets spleen, lifelong hunger

Heinous, uncaring nature to discover
Sprouting up into a paling colour
Precious dreams slowly melt into vapour
Bleak , sorely dying stalks wither

Soft fry, street old stager
lives and dies, utter stranger.

The full moon glows in the night
between dark trees glimmering bright
blankets of snowy clouds caught my sight

A rainbow circles the moon light
a star to the right of the lunar thus shines
among pillows of cottony clouds so white

Silence is broken....

Acorns falls between dying branches
disturbing presence peaceful quietness  
In darkness blissful shininess 

Frogs singing lullabies
melodies tunes under white skies
I hear the creatures joyous cries

Fear grasped my soul....

A dragons tale…

Fun you said as you soared fast and free,
carrying our hopes and me over troubled times
No longer were you willing to be,
a horrid monster of legend and nursery rhymes.

I’ll fly children on my back make new friends,
having all the pleasures of being loved and wanted.
Giving back in return a warmth that never ends,
real friendship that was once only ever flaunted.

she floated by
as if in a waking dream
rain was falling

and

at once I knew
her long black body
sheltered
the sun

Look at the stars! look, look up at the skies!
O look at all the fire-folk sitting in the air!
The bright boroughs, the circle-citadels there!
Down in dim woods the diamond delves! the elves'-eyes!
The grey lawns cold where gold, where quickgold lies!
Wind-beat whitebeam! airy abeles set on a flare!
Flake-doves sent floating forth at a farmyard scare! --
Ah well! it is all a purchase, all is a prize.

John Keats (1795-1821)
WHEN I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,
Before high pil`d books, in charact'ry,
Hold like rich garners the full-ripen'd grain;
When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face, 5
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And feel that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour!
That I shall never look upon thee more, 10
Never have relish in the faery power

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth's flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

By Joyce Kilmer.

Rhiannon's rewrite: