For Me

by Ofour

Published February 12, 2007

For Me

A manicured lawn
Devoid of leaves
Meets the summer dawn
By Bapaume near Ypres.

On that field, alone,
Where poppies grow,
Lie men, far from home,
Who died long ago.

One of those men
Does not have a name.
An unknown man,
A little known grave.

If I could meet him
What would I say?
Why did you go?
Why didn’t you stay?

Then simple as this
He’d say to me:
‘I died for you,
so you could be free.’

Comments & reviews · 5
User avatar
Riedawriter23
Review
Riedawriter23 wrote a review Review · Feb 15, 2007

This is good in a sense, but it's a little bland. If you could just spice it up and bit and clear you message to the reader up this could turn into something really nice. It's sort of begginers piece right now and with a little care can become a really well written poem. Just be careful to add more details and you're set.

Keep it up!
-Rieda

User avatar
Kitkat_1122_
Review
Kitkat_1122_ wrote a review Review · Feb 15, 2007

Bold = what I'm trying to point out.

Ofour wrote:For Me

A manicured lawn
Devoid of leaves
Meets the summer dawn
By Bapaume near Ypres.



That looked odd to me the way you stated that. Maybe if you said it like "By Bapaume and Ypres" or "near Bapaume and Ypres"

User avatar
Raven
Comment
Raven commented Comment · Feb 15, 2007

It's cute. I was a bit confused though, because there's a guy who's unknown, but in the second to the last stanza, because of the questions, I felt that there was a connection between you and this unknown man. Could you clarify?

User avatar
BFG
Review
BFG wrote a review Review · Feb 14, 2007

Hmm. I'm not crazy about the message. And I really didn't like the second-to-last stanza, with all the questions in it. But the beginning was good, though I'm not sure quite what it had to do with the rest of the poem. If you were going to change it, I would suggest leaving the first, or even first and second, stanzas and taking the poem from there in a different direction. It might be neat to see which way it goes.



The true adventurer goes forth aimless and uncalculating to meet and greet unknown fate.
— O. Henry (William Sydney Porter)