Active researcher of the men and women who served in WWI and WWII from Newfoundland and locating their final resting place, Cenotaph and Monuments. Also using photos and obituaries to help with the search.

Please message me if any errors are found. I'll make changes accordingly, cheers.

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The Little Blue Forget-Me-Not

Better than the best from the beginning,

Since eighteen-twelve with Isaac Brock,

Long before the graves were red with poppies,

They wore the blue forget-me-not.

Graveyards full of heroes fallen,

And stones that bear no soldiers' names,

Whose souls to heaven long departed,

Their praises sung at Menin's Gate.

Where the words of John McCrea still echo,

In Passchendaele where their blood ran deep,

They had gunfire o'er the fields of Flanders,

They died in droves 'round the town of Ypres.

Forget-me-not, wee flower of beauty,

Your royal symbol proudly stands,

Blue as the loyal men that wore them,

Far from their homes in Newfoundland.

On Hamel's grass the sheep are grazing,

Where trenches overgrown now lie,

In stillness 'round the Tree of Danger,

In France's blue and cloudless sky.

Where the Caribou stands ever watchful,

Or Vimy where our young men fought,

In memory of those valiant comrades,

Who wore the blue forget-me-not.

Now, days on end, alone they slumber,

In Hamel, Monchy, and the Somme,

Beneath the flowers and the small birds singing,

Rest with their blue forget-me-not.

Forget-me-not, blue tiny blossom,

Grows wild where loyalty is wrought;

Undaunted by Atlantic fury,

Bred like the blue forget-me-not.

Forget-me-not, blue tiny blossom,

Long may you grow on soldiers' graves;

And with the scarlet of the poppy,

Remind us of the loyal and brave,

Lest we forget the price they paid.

Bud Davidge, Copyright 2008

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Dear Ancestor, the place you filled One hundred years ago. Spreads out among the ones you left Who would have loved you so. I wonder how you lived and loved I wonder if you knew. That someday I would find this spot And come to visit you." ~ William Butler Palmer

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Dear Ancestor

"Your tombstone stands among the rest

Neglected and alone

The name and date are chiseled out

On polished marble stone

It reaches out to all who care

It is too late to mourn

You did not know that I exist

You died and I was born

Yet each of us are cells of you

In flesh and blood and bone

Our blood contracts and beats a pulse

Entirely not our own

Dear Ancestor, the place you filled

One hundred years ago

Spreads out among the ones you left

Who would have loved you so

I wonder how you lived and loved

I wonder if you knew

That someday I would find this spot

And come to visit you."

-Walter Butler Palmer