Patching up the Crimson Field

 Have recently started watching a new BBC miniseries. And I have to say , it has really surprised me. It is an amazing series, not the typical world war drama- it has such depth , and I love how graphic they have made the horror of war appear, I really enjoy watching it . And Oona Chaplin is an amazing actress. Her eyes convey such depth and her character is so complex ; she definitely does a great job of communicating 'kittys' emotions. 

Aside from the series itself . I've always respected the war veterans , and everything they experienced. The beginning of the series shows a poppy been sewn together, I thought it represented so much. I had to write about it. Here it is :

Patching up the Crimson Field :


Mending the poppies 
Patching up the Crimson field
Don't let the wind whisp away the petals far.
Bring the flowers and lay them down.
By the cold stones planted in the ground.
Mend the wounds , patch up the crimson scars.
The trauma and memory , oh so distant but not so far.
Gather the harvest . The lives well loved. 
The battle well fought.
Keep in mind. Rest your head.
Eyes are heavy , but not for the bed.
Clasp the pictures gaze at fear.
Vision is cloudy , spirit is clear.
 Look to the Maker , look up to the sky .
Who ever thought it would be your time to -
The ground is brown no hope insight .
Gaze into the future what sheer delight .
Mending the lives, war- torn, without shield .
Mending the poppies ,
Patching up the crimson field.




- by Lakechia Jeanne ©

Divine Inspirations

Wide as I can, I will stretch.
Small as I am, with every breath.
Refreshing breeze fill me empty.
Refine my soul, wash me gently.
Come and kiss my tears away, 
Come and make the laughter stay.
In due time when the perfect is shown,
Show me the path from which you have blown.

- Lakechia Jeanne ©

MOTHERS DAY

Its just recently passed mothers day here in  the UK ... Words are the best gift , and I hope this mothers day brings you great joy.

This mothers day poem remembers the individuals whose mothers are not within reachable distance . Hope you enjoy .



The Missing Mother 


A long time ago in a land far away
Lived a little boy and girl,
They were happy enough to play in the grass
And in the fields twirl,
They would run in the mountains full of glee
And joyfully in the planes sing ,
But in spite of all their adventurous ventures
Something was missing.

Alas, it grew to be their first day at school
Their lunches were packed, 
Their uniforms pressed and starched like the finest of wool
They leapt on the playground and made new friends 
Though some to their parents were clinging
They kissed goodbye with sparkles in their eyes , but
Something was missing.

They soon became teenagers, when no one seemed to understand
They had the wise words of a father,
But no one to hold their hand.
No one to heal their heart brakes 
Or act absurd when their sports teams were winning 
The teenage boy and girl soon realised that 
Something was indeed missing.

And when they moved away from home, 
No one called them 3 times a day.
No one worried about them in the night -
And would earnestly wake up to pray .
There was no one to cry frantically though a reason for rejoicing,
The adolescent boy and girl felt empty
Something was definitely missing.

The day they dreamed of finally arrived ;
The young lady and gent were going to be wed.
But who would fuss over the small details ?
Or memorise the guest list by head ?
Who would arrange the florists or teach the ballroom dancing ?
There was someone to walk the girl down the aisle , but
Someone else was missing .

And when the magic day was over
And a year or two were spent,
Who would cook for the boy when his wife was absent ?
Who would teach the girl how to clean around vases fragile.
For surely a girl must be taught.
And learning, for some may take a while.

And so finally the day came , when the little girl was no longer small.
She was soon herself to have a little one - the greatest gift of all.
But when the baby would come into the world, what would she be ?
A carer ? A kin ? Or a parent ? - partially.

She didn't know what to do, for she had never seen

The nurturing hands of a female providing love by the simplest of means.

So here's to all the children who love their mothers so.

But whose mothers have been absent for those special moments long ago.

The first walk, the first word, or even the first cry  - 

For we know that a mothers love reaches higher than the sky .

And here's to all the mothers who have those special moments missed .

We love you so, and we hope you know precisely and exactly this : 

Whether we were good or bad, you always, always cared, and wherever you are, whether near or far, 

We are thankful to God for the moments we shared.

- Lakechia Jeanne ©




(All Poems are copyrighted to this account and failure of recognition will lead to legal case)