Here is a link to a new CD from Gary Daverne featuring 2 of my war commemoration poems. The shorter one I wrote in Belgium at the same spot John McCrae wrote his famous ‘In Flanders Fields’ poem. You can listen to them without downloading or paying! You are welcome to use my poems publicly.

https://music.drm.co.nz/poppy-day

Poems by Gavin Marriott  
Narrator Dr John Reynolds,
Piano Royce Creamer
Music by Gary Daverne

The Farm Boy In Belgium (written at the same spot John
McCrae wrote his famous In Flanders Fields. Here is a
photo of Gavin and his son at that spot).

The Farm Boy in Belgium

He’s just left school, and queues to enlist
Told his mum, “adventure can’t be missed.”
His farm work and girl, would have to wait
To protect Belgium, he leaves his gate.
In 1914, the King did laud
“Help that country, and yours, go abroad!”
A year of training, he boards a ship
Ends up in Flanders, a long hot trip.
There are farms all around, just like home
But under orders, no time to roam.
His mum waits for postcards, news to say
“Belgium is fun time, all is OK” …
But the only card, was edged in black
It’s 1917, he won’t be back.
The fields of Flanders, his new abode
With thousands of mates, lining their roads.
His mother wept long, his girlfriend too
Both wore Poppies, that over him grew.
Near where he rests, in Ieper, they pray
Each night, at Mass, and every day.
The Belgians, they have not forgotten
Nor must we, so think of him often.

A pic of Gavin in 2014 reading the above poem at the
Hyde Park memorial service for the commemoration of
the centenary of WW1.

As a child I heard many, including my dad
talk of Poppies as though be glad,
I heard my mum say Uncle died
And wondered then why she cried.
Why did this Poppy make some glad
and yet, make my mum sad?
It was sold at school, I knew not why
I wasn’t told Belgians also cry.
The Flemish Poppy that is so fierce
A place I visited in later years.
The seed it grew from muddy hells
Stirred up from guns, tanks and shells
I saw those shells left at farm gates
The “iron harvest” the farmers state.
I walked amongst the bloody field
A century on from when they yield.
18,000 Kiwi boys left their farms
Never to return to tell the harm.
Many of those lie sung in hymn
Among the Poppies I saw in Belgium.
My teacher at school told of battles had
As though we should be glad
And yet I still saw mum sad.
We never learned about our thousands
Who died in Belgium lands.
It was too hard for teachers to say

So they glorified other battles where Kiwis also
saw no day.
But Belgium is where too many did die
Those Uncles and Grandads of yours and I.
At school we raised the flag and prayed
And in my school band we marched and played,
And home from school was I proud and glad?
Not when I found my mum still sad.
I asked again my teacher why?
And he said Gavin, our boys did die
To make us now a nation high.
But why teach us battles and be led
Away from where the most were bled?
I looked upon our war history
And took an interest in that glory.
I learnt of places dear to Kiwis us
Mostly in Belgium, but we hear no fuss.
The Menin Gate every night at eight
Snoopy’s Christmas, the truce so great
The Hooge Crater of peace
Messines Ridge with fighting cease
Polygon Wood the bunkers mean
Zonnebeke Museum now so clean
And then to Bellevue Spur to die
Tyne Cot cemetery where our boys now lie
Passchendaele the Kiwis darkest day
But I never heard my teacher say,

John McCrae wrote his poem in Ieper
I saw that spot and sensed deaths keeper.
I now know what Poppies mean
And hope that Kiwis now be keen,
To remember Belgium, as they have not forgotten
What was done to New Zealand boys was rotten.
I’m still confused why dad seemed glad

But for my mum . . . she died still sad.

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=JFmghtjw_Ec&list=OLAK5uy_mgx1l0yB_UelT5ff4RL7XKk1hLqThGHDU