The Golden Soldier
—for my grandfather
He had a calming charm. He always spoke
Of garden-basking instances of joy—
His apple yield; his acorn-laden oak
Abuzz with busy squirrels, keen and coy.
Each dusk he sipped a whisky in his chair,
Eyes drinking in the shimmer of his wife.
He smoked his cigarettes with Bogart flair.
His scars declared he’d earned his sunshine life.
One winter birthday, after toasts and cake,
His musings veered from home and cheery kin
Down lanes no peaceful patriarch should take
To poppy fields where scything reapers grin.
Just once he let his poise and purpose slip
And all who saw felt war’s malignant grip.
Remembrance Day 2025
—a rondeau
Lest we forget lads lived to die
For freedom. Is this claim a lie—
A cliché etched upon a cross,
Lashed by wind and flecked with moss?
Our freedom is in short supply.
The poppies blow. The bluebirds fly.
The cliffs shine white. The oceans sigh.
Our silence weighs what is and was—
__Lest we forget.
Beneath a veil of somber sky,
Under heaven’s watchful eye,
I witness ritual’s pomp and gloss
And mourn the monumental loss
Of freedom ebbing by and by—
__Lest we forget.
Susan Jarvis Bryant is a poet originally from the U.K., now living on the Gulf Coast of Texas.
After having served in the Great War, my grandfather taught his descendants never to watch war movies,
Susan – this is wonderful! I love every word, but “in the shimmer of his wife” and “his sunshine life” are my favorites. This poem is just perfect for today. Thank you, Poet Laureate!
Wow, this is really powerful, both as a characterization of your grandfather, and as a true-to-life story of the profound effects of having seen and experienced war. “To poppy fields where scything reapers grin” is attention-grabbing; I think that’s because it is a brilliant welding together of two well-known images, worked into a slightly different shape than their originals.
I absolutely adore this poem, Susan — it is permeated with love and respect for someone who sounds like he was not just a soldier but a true gentleman! I especially love the cigarettes smoked with “Bogart-flair.” The fondness of your memory turns to tears as we walk with the Golden Soldier to that poppy field — a field so resonant with symbolic meaning.
What a beautiful gift this poem is not just for Armistace Day but for all the veterans of wars who stand for patriotism, sacrifice and who knew that their country was something worth fighting for and preserving. The contrast with today’s horrors who hate honor and valor could not be more striking.
Susan, your grandfather served in WWII like the gentleman below…
British WWII Soldier
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XTfRbDY7BXA
But the American soldiers who served in WWII feel no different…
https://www.youtube.com/shorts/7797zxfZBgU
Everyone in America believes that it is Europe, England, and Australia that have gone off the rails… while the Europeans, the English, and the Aussies each believe that it is America and the others who have lost freedom.
The algorithms, the AI and the controlled media world-wide are doing a superlative job.
Thank you, Susan, for pointing it out.