by Simon Norris

For your tomorrow        We offered up our own.

We lay ourselves down                  Under a torn quilt
of poppies                Across the rift of war.

We let you walk upon our backs          To peace.

We caught the bullets       And shells
With our bodies.

A wall of resolve        And flesh and blood.

The poppies                Wither and die          And grow

A living monument           In a ceaseless cycle of

But we fade           To no more than                  Empty
names on cold granite

Do us a final tribute           Stranger, friend; grandson,

Remember us.                    Carry that fallen
torch,             Dropped but not dead.

The Poor Print

The Oriel College Newspaper. Run by students, with contributions from the JCR, MCR, and SCR & Staff. Current Executive Editors: Tom Davy, Joanna Engle and Chris Hill

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s