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LETTER: A poem of remembrance

Bradford resident pens poem of caution and thanks
2022-05-17 typing pexels-donatello-trisolino-1375261
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BradfordToday welcomes letters to the editor at [email protected]. Please include your daytime phone number and address (for verification of authorship, not publication). The following poem was submitted by Walter Prokopchuk.

World War III, is here, I fear, not joking — I’m sincere;
Fighting the foes, on many fronts; most cautiously, we steer.

Most recent foe — the whole world knows, that COVID-19 spreads;
Mutates at will, making us ill, — new deadly plague man dreads.

More than one hundred years have passed, since Spanish flu took lives:
Millions of souls, lost at great costs, to all them who’d survive.

Firstly, we must, change Wants to Needs; next: fix our planet’s health;
Lastly: replace all Hate with LOVE, so all may share Earth’s wealth.

While scientists continually warn, of Earth’s doom-pending days;
Reacting with consistent scorn, mankind needs fix its ways.

Secondly, Earth’s climate change, increases its ruin’s range,
Reacting with fires and quakes, and flooding hurricanes.

And so we all, must do our part, consent to change man’s cause;
Let’s get on board, embrace accord, to mandate better laws.

That thirdly scourge, that seems forever: Will it end, seems never?
The battling nations cull populations, through man’s evil endeavours.

Recall the losses of our men, in those 2 Great Wars,
When brothers, fathers — sisters too — did perish by the scores,

And not just by the Holocaust, Holodomor — Great Costs,
As grieving mothers wailed for, their loved ones they had lost.

So, if too young to recollect — please read the history books,
Our libraries have the records of, just how our whole world shook,

Or go on-line, read truthful sites, to learn, so we agree
To strive collectively: preserve — our Blessed Democracy;

With thanks I see the Poppy there — pinned upon his chest
Of the VETERAN that did return, to proudly utter, “Lest
We Forget,” his comrades there, in those Flanders Fields
Who’d bravely fallen, but would not — ever to their foe yield.

Walter Prokopchuk