| War and History Poetry posted March 31, 2008 |
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An epic narrative poem
Reassurance
by ~Dovey
Dedicated to anyone who has worn the uniform to protect and serve.
Blood of our soldiers spilled in foreign lands,
crimson stripes stain sun bleached sands,
while overhead the stars shine high,
sparkling lights in the midnight sky.
Standing stoic to the right of Glory,
in silent salute to this soldier's story,
the brethren of this fallen lad,
offer a prayer to his Mom and Dad.
Each generation must fight its war,
a tally of bodies, like keeping score,
an eye for an eye vindicates sin,
as lines on a map determine who wins.
The picture of war is a fresh, young face,
packing a rifle and marching in place,
chanting their cadence, they spoil for a fight,
preserving honor, and all that is right.
They train and they wait for orders to come,
proficient with fists, saber, and gun,
it's not always about what they believe,
with wary young eyes they age as they grieve.
Committed to defend our native soil,
the sweat from their brow attests to their toil,
the fight, though not here, is not theirs alone,
they need the support of us here at home.
It's their perseverance that keeps us free,
defenders of faith that fight tyranny,
undaunted by shadows of deathly shroud,
urged by the cheers of the bold and the proud.
If you must speak out, in voice of protest,
please stop to consider what might be best,
for the spirit of the young man, bearing his arms,
sworn to protect and defend you from harm.
As a youth in school who first made a Pledge,
allegiance to the flag, which now instead,
drapes the coffins of men, once next to him,
entrenched in battle, deadly and grim.
No line that is read in history text,
prepares you to wonder who will be next,
or teaches you to dream, nor to strive,
and appreciate that you are alive.
From those decendents of Revolution,
war has never been the solution,
to keep innocent blood being spilled,
when conflicts arise, someone is killed.
Survive attack for medals of valor,
haunted forever by death's vile pallor,
soldier carries a tale he can't disguise,
reflected by tears unshed in his eyes.
Shimmering light from sea to shining sea,
illuminates his victories,
conflict continues with our regrets.
Has flying our flag cost too much yet?
The legacy for the free and the brave,
stars shining bright over Arlington grave,
blood of our fallen runs in foreign lands,
crimson stripes staining sun bleached sands.
Blood of our soldiers spilled in foreign lands,
crimson stripes stain sun bleached sands,
while overhead the stars shine high,
sparkling lights in the midnight sky.
Standing stoic to the right of Glory,
in silent salute to this soldier's story,
the brethren of this fallen lad,
offer a prayer to his Mom and Dad.
Each generation must fight its war,
a tally of bodies, like keeping score,
an eye for an eye vindicates sin,
as lines on a map determine who wins.
The picture of war is a fresh, young face,
packing a rifle and marching in place,
chanting their cadence, they spoil for a fight,
preserving honor, and all that is right.
They train and they wait for orders to come,
proficient with fists, saber, and gun,
it's not always about what they believe,
with wary young eyes they age as they grieve.
Committed to defend our native soil,
the sweat from their brow attests to their toil,
the fight, though not here, is not theirs alone,
they need the support of us here at home.
It's their perseverance that keeps us free,
defenders of faith that fight tyranny,
undaunted by shadows of deathly shroud,
urged by the cheers of the bold and the proud.
If you must speak out, in voice of protest,
please stop to consider what might be best,
for the spirit of the young man, bearing his arms,
sworn to protect and defend you from harm.
As a youth in school who first made a Pledge,
allegiance to the flag, which now instead,
drapes the coffins of men, once next to him,
entrenched in battle, deadly and grim.
No line that is read in history text,
prepares you to wonder who will be next,
or teaches you to dream, nor to strive,
and appreciate that you are alive.
From those decendents of Revolution,
war has never been the solution,
to keep innocent blood being spilled,
when conflicts arise, someone is killed.
Survive attack for medals of valor,
haunted forever by death's vile pallor,
soldier carries a tale he can't disguise,
reflected by tears unshed in his eyes.
Shimmering light from sea to shining sea,
illuminates his victories,
conflict continues with our regrets.
Has flying our flag cost too much yet?
The legacy for the free and the brave,
stars shining bright over Arlington grave,
blood of our fallen runs in foreign lands,
crimson stripes staining sun bleached sands.
crimson stripes stain sun bleached sands,
while overhead the stars shine high,
sparkling lights in the midnight sky.
Standing stoic to the right of Glory,
in silent salute to this soldier's story,
the brethren of this fallen lad,
offer a prayer to his Mom and Dad.
Each generation must fight its war,
a tally of bodies, like keeping score,
an eye for an eye vindicates sin,
as lines on a map determine who wins.
The picture of war is a fresh, young face,
packing a rifle and marching in place,
chanting their cadence, they spoil for a fight,
preserving honor, and all that is right.
They train and they wait for orders to come,
proficient with fists, saber, and gun,
it's not always about what they believe,
with wary young eyes they age as they grieve.
Committed to defend our native soil,
the sweat from their brow attests to their toil,
the fight, though not here, is not theirs alone,
they need the support of us here at home.
It's their perseverance that keeps us free,
defenders of faith that fight tyranny,
undaunted by shadows of deathly shroud,
urged by the cheers of the bold and the proud.
If you must speak out, in voice of protest,
please stop to consider what might be best,
for the spirit of the young man, bearing his arms,
sworn to protect and defend you from harm.
As a youth in school who first made a Pledge,
allegiance to the flag, which now instead,
drapes the coffins of men, once next to him,
entrenched in battle, deadly and grim.
No line that is read in history text,
prepares you to wonder who will be next,
or teaches you to dream, nor to strive,
and appreciate that you are alive.
From those decendents of Revolution,
war has never been the solution,
to keep innocent blood being spilled,
when conflicts arise, someone is killed.
Survive attack for medals of valor,
haunted forever by death's vile pallor,
soldier carries a tale he can't disguise,
reflected by tears unshed in his eyes.
Shimmering light from sea to shining sea,
illuminates his victories,
conflict continues with our regrets.
Has flying our flag cost too much yet?
The legacy for the free and the brave,
stars shining bright over Arlington grave,
blood of our fallen runs in foreign lands,
crimson stripes staining sun bleached sands.
 Recognized |
|
Many thanks to Ikgutshall for this photo of honor.
There were very stringent guidelines in this contest which made it quite a challenge. Please consider all of the requirements in your reviews. Specifically, the theme was to surround the colors of the American flag and none of the words in the contest announcement were to be allowed in the entries. (courage, strength, purity, liberty, justice, loyalty, sacrifice, truth) Further requirements were for a narrative poem of at least 50 lines, as well as definition of stanzas and metrical feet per line. Good luck to everyone who accepted this difficult challenge! :)
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. There were very stringent guidelines in this contest which made it quite a challenge. Please consider all of the requirements in your reviews. Specifically, the theme was to surround the colors of the American flag and none of the words in the contest announcement were to be allowed in the entries. (courage, strength, purity, liberty, justice, loyalty, sacrifice, truth) Further requirements were for a narrative poem of at least 50 lines, as well as definition of stanzas and metrical feet per line. Good luck to everyone who accepted this difficult challenge! :)
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