Send Me Your OLD remembrance Poppy

Holy Trinity Parish Church Hull

Poppy Installation - 2012

TRENCH

An installation by artist Martin Waters

The installation created on the floor of the church, with the help of many donations of remembrance poppies, is in response to my feelings towards war. I wanted to create something large enough to describe the immense empathy people have towards those killed in or as a result of war and conflict, including civilians. Last year I tried to emulate the poppies growing in the fields of Flanders after the battles of the First World War.

TRENCH, as described in the poems, brings to mind the trenches of World War 1 and the mass graves of many of our past and recent conflicts.

Walking through the poppy installation allows the person to enter its creation and be part of the artwork, not an onlooker, which then leads you past the many older war memorials on the walls and windows of the church.

The words of the old memorials echo my thoughts as I walk through the beautiful building, solemn and sad yet heroic and commemorated, lost but still loved.

“in thankful remembrance of those citizens of Kingston-upon-Hull who laid down their lives in defence of their country in the war”

“killed whilst resisting the great assault”

“died from wounds received at the battle”

“who served in peace and war”

“lest we forget”

“when you go home, tell them of us and say, for your tomorrow we gave our today”

Why not join us by laying down your own remembrance poppy?

Monday 17 October 2011

Poem sent by Winston Plowes



TO THE
MEMORY OF
THE MEN


Lay down your frozen rifles, dampen your torches.

Let your shivers be spelt in stone.

Helliwell... Jackson... Lord...

These sandstone blocks, each birthday wreathed in red –

Stacked rusting on some lonely slope.

Baldwin... Barker... Booth...

Guarded by the holly’s hand

of thorns enough for regimental son after son

to be jammed by chisel into rock.

Schofield... Southwell... Southwell...

The sun scours square pumiced shoulder tops

three steps closer to heaven.

And your final marching orders

hanging from a solitary brass hook.

Greenwood... Greenwood... Greenwood...

***

They laid their richest gift on the altar of sacrifice.



©Winston Plowes 2010

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