Hello to another writer’s quote/poem Wednesday, in continuation with the a-z challenge I am currently undertaking, today’s poet’s name begins with the letter J, and he is someone some of you might be familiar with- john McCrae. The poem for today is called “in Flanders fields’ and it is about the First World War. It was written after the death of the author’s friend.
The first stanza of the poem talks about the dead lying in Flanders fields, and how the sounds of blazing guns have drowned the noises of the flies. The second stanza goes on to the describe the dead, who have lived and loved, now lain in Flanders field. The remarkable and different thing about this poem, for me, is the third stanza. Here, the author actually tells his mates to carry on with the war for the sake of the fallen, otherwise those dead would not rest in peace. This is a great contrast from several poets, who talk about the futility of war. Below is the poem, and feel free to share your thoughts on it.
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.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
A smile that brightened
The darkest of days;
With rays beaming out
Of crystal brown eyes;
She lit up our lives,
Nicknamed our joker;
Belle of the library-
She read all her life.
Amusing the crowd
With her funny tactics;
Bawling her eyes out,
When linked to a guy;
Little in height;
Fierce in her stance;
A partner in crime
And my favorite sidekick.
An Arabic name to
An African face-
She won every sarcasm,
Dishing one out;
So here we go Khairat,
This one is for you;
My best friend till grade six,
And sister for life.
One summer holiday, when I Was in grade 1, My family and I traveled to the North as we often did to visit our relatives and grandparents. I and my siblings spent all year looking forward to those visits because, life in the North is different- it’s safe, rural and still had vast nature. Anyway, I was a bed wetter. To both my parents, it was a normal phase that they believed I would grow out of. But to some of my relatives, uh-uhn, this was something that needed taking care of- the traditional way. Some of the suggestions given was that: (and this is true by the way)
1) a lizard should be tied to my leg when I’m sleeping. Apparently this was the tradition those days
2) I should drink water in which snake-skin has been soaked in.
And I know some of you might not believe me, this is the Northern Nigerian style. I can still remember the look of the snake skin, haha.
I slept on the same bed in the family house with a cousin of mine, let’s call her “H”. Well, I awoke one night to find out that yet again, I had wet the bed. Not wanting to be the only one guilty of the crime, I arose from the bed to solve the issue. Thank God, the night was well illuminated by the moon. As I clearly remembered, I walked to the fridge and felt for the bowl in which drinking water was normally kept. I slowly lifted it, walked backed towards where “H” was lying, fast asleep, and poured the contents of the bowl on her clothe. With that done, I returned the bowl and went back to sleep feeling good that at least, I wouldn’t be the only one who wet the bed.