Current poems in progress...
THE SILENT DRUM
Hear that sound? The quiet of the silent drumAdd to commentary
The young drummer lies dead on the battlefield.
Bravely, he marched through the cannonís fire.
Fear rained in his heart, but he did not yield.
His broken body lies shattered on the ground
All is quiet now for his battle has been won
nevermore will his silent snare drum sound,
As itís mythical beat to a long-forgotten score.
No more will his comrades see his impish grin.
In his fourteenth summer, he was laid to eternal rest,
in some strange field, in a place called Gettysburg
Killed, unarmed, by a musket ball in his chest.
The guns have been silent for over a hundred years
since this famous battle of the blue and the gray.
Each side has forgiven the other, through pain and tears
Listen! On this hallowed ground, can you hear his silent drum?
I really like this! As a person who appreciates good poetry and a civil war buff this one clicked for me on all fronts. The way it all came back to that beautiful last line is excellent. Nice work RJ!
thank you for your comment.
YOU MAY LIKE THE ONE BELOW
THE YOUNG COLLEEN
A fair young colleen named Mary O' DayAdd to commentary
Loved to play on the banks of Dover.
She swirled and danced and laughed at her play.
She was the darling of her father's eye.
She had gold-spun tresses that graced her face
and sparkling eyes the color of emerald green
a smile always present on her small lips.
The likes of such beauty you have never seen.
The cottage painted white with a green doorway
roses near by, planted by her mother long before.
From the cobble-stone path she was told not to stray.
It went down to the main road to town not far away.
The other way up the hill to where her dear mother lay.
Each day she picked a rose to take to her mother's place.
Then one day, God sent His angels in the form of doves
to carry this sweet spirit home with a smile on her face.
Her father remembers her with a smile and lonely tear.
Now only the wind on the cobble-stones plays.
Up the path and it stops for a moment
At the new grave with a red rose, up where her mother lays.
Sad, but beautifully written.
berk this is the one I was talking about.Add to commentary
Brave young men went out to fight
To keep our country free
They fought their way both day and night
through blood, across land, oceans and in the air.
They left their loved ones alone at home
Call it Iraq; Gulf; Nam; Korea or The big one.
They boarded ships to cross the briny foam
to places whose names they could not say.
They fought in the air on land and sea
they saw their buddy beside them fall
they knew they must fight and not flee
they gave there all for you and me.
In the ocean depths and foxholes they lay
it is for our freedom that they are dead
White stones all shining and standing in a row
the flag they fought for flying over head.
Remember these heroes and the deeds they have done
It was for our freedom these brave men died
from the sky, from the hills, gone our sons
Remember and stand at attention as out flag passes by.