WITH Remembrance Sunday recent in our memories it seems timely to share relevant sentiments.

Looking Back reader Susannah Gow, nee Clemens, of Overcombe, Weymouth, wrote a special remembrance poem The Flowers of War which was read out at Weymouth Pavilion's recent Festival of Remembrance.

The theme for the festival was 'passing the baton', showing that for us to continue to remember our veterans from all wars they must pass the baton throughout the generations.

Susannah said: "The poem was read in sections as batons were passed from one serving officer to another and was printed in full at the end of the programme.

"I was inspired to write the poem after a visit to the war graves in Tyne Cot Cemetery in Belgium where I found the most poignant memorials were those which bore no name. I realised that Unknown Warriors have existed through the ages and there have been many ways of dying in warfare - hence the Timeless Warrior, present at all remembrance services."


I am there, unseen.

Every year and each November

As you gather to remember

Standing under pewter skies

With murmured prayers and stifled sighs,

Or wait in churches' cold-walled gloom

Near a long-dead soldier's tomb,

Where forgotten battle flags

Hang down in faded, dusty rags.

I am there, unseen,

As you sing a hymn or two

Because it is the thing to do,

And poppies, brave bright flowers of war

Are laid to rest on stony floor,

Or are worn, like scars, on coat or scarf,

Each one a warrior's epitaph

For I am the timeless warrior.

I died with a belly full of wire.

I fell from the sky in a hell of fire.

A sniper’s shot saw the end of me.

I drowned in a turbulent, wartorn sea.

An arrow entered my heart: I died.

The hot thrust of cold steel pierced my side.

I died in meadows of summer green.

I choked in desert dust, unseen.

My blood stained red the winter’s snow,

And bathed the field where flowers grow.

A whole army fell to its knees,

But there was nobody there, for me.

I watch, and hope.

May poppies, brave bright flowers of war

Be free wild flowers of peace once more,

Not held fast with badge or pin

But scattering petals in the wind.

I am there, unseen,

For I am the timeless warrior

Who waits for the day-

When shall it be?

When you no more remember me.

No more a time of grief and regret,

But a time to rejoice, a time to forget

No Last Post to honour the dead

But a trumpet blast for life, instead.

A day when hatred and war shall cease,

And I, at last, may rest in peace.