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.
Susan, the “Golden Soldier” sonnet is a very moving tribute to your grandfather, along with a reminder that the memory of war’s horror never leaves a soldier. And in the second poem on Remembrance Day, the use of that hallowed phrase (“Lest we forget”) is shattering in its suggestion that we have indeed forgotten what no veteran can ever forget.
About the photo chosen by Evan — the soldier shown is carrying the standard British Lee-Enfield bolt-action rifle, with the long bayonet typical of that period. I hope others have noticed that there are four corpses in the picture: one at the extreme left with knees flexed, two sprawled at the bottom of the trench, and one higher up in the foreground, with just a helmet visible.
That trench is a small vignette of the Hell that was the Somme.
Holy shit! Though my father was stationed in Attu during WWII, he never shared with me his experience of combat flights over Japan. I only learned of this from his son-in-law. His reticence was probably from a protective impulse toward his son, but I probably could have used a dose of stark reality. Unsung heroes are like good food going to waste, and I am glad that Trump wants no more of it.
Both pieces are superb, Susan. One of my wife’s older brothers and one of my older brothers also display evidence of PTSD now and then. How sad that our veterans’ sacrifices, made by both those who survived and did not, are typically recognized by merely once-a-year-flags and a few scattered monuments. Your beautiful tribute to your grandfather is particularly moving – and reminds me of mine – Thank you.
Fabulous work: the re-working of ‘lest we forget’ is especially powerful, along with the triple rhyme ending ‘… by and by’ – truly elegiac and marvellously wistful.
Susan, your poetry for Veterans Day is skillfully composed, poignant, and powerful~~especially
the sonnet couplet.
Excellent poems to make sure we don’t forget. I had a grandfather very much like yours including the garden-basking, daily whiskey, the cigarettes (unfiltered and hand-rolled) and the occasional slip into remembering what he would have preferred to forget.
Thanks!!
I enjoyed reading these two poems very much. The use of the Sonnet and Rondeau were done well for commemorating Veteran’s Day. I specifically like the gradual volta in the sonnet and like Cynthia mentioned the scything reaper line arrests you. I look forward to reading more poems of yours.
A big THANK YOU! for all of the wonderful comments on my Remembrance Day poems. It’s been lovely to read all of your personal memories of family members who fought in the war. It strikes me that one of the things the war veterans of the Greatest Generation have in common, is their reluctance to speak of the atrocities they witnessed. I believe what prompted my grandfather to speak of a couple of his experiences was his great-grandson, who was doing a school project on WWII at the time, and my grandfather didn’t want WWII romanticized. He wanted to tell my son the truth… and it was shocking to hear a first-hand account of such horrors from one so dear. I will never forget.
Susan, I’ve been wanting to comment on your excellent rondeau and lost track of time and place. I just wanted to let you know I think it’s heartbreakingly perfect. The subject of memory and forgetfulness is so much on my mind these days and you have encapsulated the importance of why we must remember even the difficult things — especially the sacrifices and sufferings those who have fought for us have endured so we might live in freedom.
We as poets bear witness. Your grandfather bore witness. I’m sorry for his reticence but at least he finally got to speak out. I wish that every soldier who had witnessed the atrocities of that war had written his own first-hand testimony. And today, we live in a time where forgetting is deliberate and where history is even rewritten or retconned in ways that are devious and diabolical. I pray that the good faith spirit which infuses your poetry’s quest for truth be restored throughout our society since, for the time being, it has been tragically lost.
Brian, your words mean an awful lot to me. Everything you say holds great weight. It is those difficult things, those atrocities of history, that need to be brought into the sunlight for all to see and learn from. Some say my poetry is “dark” – but it is in those dark corners the truth is found. We live in an era of deceivers standing in the full glare of a blinding spotlight and dazzling with deception. I’ve learned the Truth is not to be found in the pious glare of slipping halos, but in the dark and dank vaults among the ashes of those killed in the name of the Truth those shining charlatans are keen to trample on. Brian, thank you!
“The Golden Soldier” expressed something that I’ve thought about more and more as I remember my stepdad. So many old service personnel just live with their trauma. Nowadays people get counselling for “micro aggressions” but men like your grandad – and my stepfather, who was in the Royal Navy in WW2 – witnessed real horrors and just had to get on with it. You said it well.
David, thank you! You make an excellent point on the “micro aggressions” compared to the enormity of the trauma our forefathers experienced in devastating world wars. I believe my grandfather’s attitude was that to continually pick at wounds and to linger in the past would bring torment and tears to the present, which is why he lived in the moment and made the very best of it… but, he felt he owed it to his great-grandson to be honest… which is why we must never forget the horrors they went through. We need to learn from them.
Indeed they have so much to teach us, and it’s another reason why the current rewriting of history by the woke is so sinister and damaging.
Susan, you have painted a memorable and stunning picture of the quiet honor and dignity of the many men who served.
My dad and two uncles were WW11 veterans; who like your grandfather, carried the burden of war silently, embracing their lives but never forgetting those they left behind.
Thank you for sharing these exceptional poems, that reach down and grab our souls.
Paulette, thank you so very much for your appreciative and heart-touching comment. I believe the stoic attitude of your dad and your two uncles is the stance many took on returning home from battle. I know from personal experience, my grandfather and great uncles never forgot those they left behind, which is why it is important that we never forget.
I know this is late due to my own problems, but I just wanted to express my gratitude for their service and the blessings imparted by your poems.
Roy, thank you very much indeed, and thank you for your service too! I truly hope your problems are solved soon.