Your 100 Word Challenge this week is to write 100 words – no more, no less – based on the prompt:
Poppies
We had such an interesting discussion about the meaning behind Remembrance Day and read WW1 poetry together. How will you interpret this week’s prompt?
Remember, 1916 the war had started,
Every single man recruited, every woman was stuck at home,
Many lives lost as more people departed,
Even if they really didn’t want to go,
More soldiers were dead than alive,
But no one was going to back out,
Every shot they shouldn’t have had to abide,
Remember, remember without a doubt,
An unforgettable time,
No soldier was ever the same,
Coming home covered in grime,
Everyone tried to forget the pain, but just
Days after, celebrations took hold
A war had finished, people shouted HOORAH,
Yet no one knew what the future told.
If you didn’t notice the first letter of each line spells out ‘rememberance day’
On the eleventh of the eleventh nineteen forty five
On the fields where the men suffered, got shot and died
The poppies grow, a sign of faith
A sign of rememberence and the men that kept us safe
Messerschmitts and spitfires flying around
Ship wrecks and carnage littering the ground
The dead are all equal, the good and the bad
This is a woeful day, lonely and sad
The men who fought, laughed and cried
A chance to remember those who died
When you’re enjoying your sunday, drinking your tea
Cast an eye down to your red, remembrance day poppy.
POPPIES
Today is remembrance day,
Where we forget about what’s happening in our lives,
And have 2 minutes of silence and peace,
To remember how many lives were killed in the war,
All the bodies that were killed,
Above them grew poppies,
Poppies that were as red as blood,
That is our symbol of remembering this day,
So that is why you may see these poppies,
On shirts and skirts,
On buildings and houses,
You see it everywhere,
Because some people care a lot about this,
And my family and I are apart of that something.
By Evie Teague
Poppies
Poppies grow in the field,
Where the men used their home made shield.
Day and night,
They were forced to fight.
For their queen and country,
Many starved and went hungry.
Many cried out in pain,
not wanting to show the strain.
Through their bravery,
We today have avoided slavery.
For that we are grateful,
Although the fighting is hateful.
Many families lost their loved ones,
Because of the enemies guns.
Now we wear are Poppy’s with pride,
Because the soldiers took it in their stride.
So join the fun and the celebration and thank all our patrons.
It is funny how you can remember so clearly no matter how long ago it was . I can remember exactly how my wife and children kissed me goodbye and the stammer to find out if I will die tomorrow or stay till the end. My closest friends screaming with pane and calling for help and tears trickling down their faces. Knee high in mud and infected wounds and rats scratching at your toes. The frost bitten air would make is tremble and shiver. Bullets ,bombs and snipers just staring at me getting ready to blow! I will never forget my time in fan dears feilds
Sorry a bit over 100
The seed floated to the ground. The soil engulfed it, feeding it water and nutrition. Soon a sprout emerged its tiny leaves swaying in the soft breeze. Its stalk grew swiftly like the knowledge of a school child. Velvet petals started to appear, smooth like silk and red as blood. They grew into hearts each one beating for the death of a soldier. Soon a carpet of crimson poppies spread across the field like a virus each one a memory of a soul who fought in the Great War. To this day we remember the brave who gave their life.
I started as a root, pushing my way up through the soil and then turning into a little green shoot. All around me I could hear noises. Big bangs and shouting. It really wasn’t a very peaceful start to my, what would become, famous life. As time carried on, bringing yet more noises, my brothers and sisters started shooting up all around me. As we slowly started turning from green to crimson, I started to feel warm sunlight beam down onto my petals, it certainly was a change from the bitter sunlight the spring brought. Time still went on and I started to grow old, as autumn came I was but a withered old thing. For I am a poppy,and my life is a short one, lasting only a few months, but people have been remembering me for many years.
Poppies poppies, we see you grow, above our loved, and dear hero’s.
The brightest red, that make you glow. In the fields, that man once fought.
Now you are, a symbol of the dead, the cared, the brave.
We wear you on our shirts, we wear you on our coats. To remember the ones that passed.
A tear will drop on your petal, because we miss them.
A tear will drop on your silky petal, because we know they didn’t deserve it.
And now we have one day to think of them, to remember them, to thank them. Thank you.
The soldiers lying under the battlefield wished that they were living a normal life with normal people and not lying dead. They wished that they were enjoying themselves in the comfort of their normal home on a normal street. All they wanted was to live their lives to the fullest and do everything they wanted to do, free and hopeful of everything to come. They didn’t want to have a short life and be gunned down by the enemies, who are now not enemies, but nice normal people enjoying their lives. The soldiers now lie underground, poppies growing above them.
In 1914 I joined the British army. I was just 18. It was hard being a soldier. On our first day of battle we set off by foot. For days turning into weeks, we walked and walked. I didn’t know what was coming my way. We spent months in the trenches, fighting for our country. Because of the war millions of people died.
Since 1919, on the 11th of November, people around Britain remember the soldiers who fought for our country. We wear a poppy because it is the flower which grew in the battlefields where too many soldiers died.
Poppies
He was old, one hundred and two to be exact. He was a veteran of the second world war and he was surprised that he had lived that long. All of his friends had been killed, or they had died of old age. Either way, he was incredibly lonely. So he decided to visit the site where millions of soldiers met their fate, Flanders Fields. It was a horrific scene, and he was lucky to still be alive. The fear that had hovered over both sides like a cloud was stifling. Standing over the velvet carpet he felt… grateful.