The Photo
This very poignant poem was written by Brian Nesbitt-Clarke in memory of those who lost their lives in World War 1 ….
The Photo
Why has that photo gone brown, Nana?
Why is it not black and white?
Why has he got a big gun, Nana?
Why did he need it to fight?
Why’s there no smile on his face, Nana?
Why is he looking so sad?
Soldiers don’t smile, they’re severe and upright!
They have to pretend that they’re bad.
Who is he, Nan. Who is that man.
Who is that man in the frame?
Why are there tears in you’re eyes, Nan?
Please tell, What is his name?
That man, young boy, is your Grandad,
A man who never came home.
That man was a hero, who died on demand,
By generals not fit to command
He never came back to his family, son.
He never came back to his wife.
He never held his child in his arms,
He never experienced life.
He died of another’s stupidity, son.
In a Flanders field far away.
In an ocean of blood
In a tumult of mud
1917, Passendael
