"ewell" poems
Letters come & go.
Messages from home: love lost.
Jefferson Davis
& “Honest” Abe Lincoln’s war…
…nothing more than flexing strength.
The sun rises up
above the barren Culp’s Hill
as Ewell kept them
back, & Jackson’s wishes were
lost on Cemetery Hill.
Gettysburg was filled
with mudpits, puddlepits, shitpits
& every kind of
pit. Not any kind that they
wished to see as guns moved up.
The barrage of shells
from the artillery was
never ending, not
unlike this cursed war, all
while brothers & sons were lost.
The second day came
with no signs of stopping, he
packed his gear, grabbed his
rifle, & marched out to the
sound of Charon’s ferrying.
The medic rushes
out onto the battlefield
hesitating not.
His crude instruments flailing
about in his pack, he works.
Medicine, horror,
they were synonyms to him
as he braced the man;
scraping against flesh, he screamed.
This Civil War--hell on Earth.
Sawing off a leg
was much harder than once thought,
the medic then knew.
In the thick of battle, screams
drowned out screams, & drowned out screams.
Bullets whizzed by him
as he cleaned up his patient.
Or was it victim?
These days it all seemed the same:
North, South, free, slave, dead, living.
What once was blue ‘n gray
was now brown & black & red.
Explosions tore up
the land around him as he
cleared his vision & finished.
Out of the brush, fear
overtook the medic as
a man in blue clashed
with a man in gray; blood ‘n sweat
drenched both as life was on balance.
The medic was stunned
& failed to bring himself to
act at first. He shook
himself awake, & grabbed his
knife, & leapt into the fray.
His knife plunged precise
into the blue man’s heart. No
soldier, but knew his
stuff. The gray man thanked him, &
the South fought another day.
All for naught, for on
that third day, Lee ran with his
tail betwixt his legs
all the way to Virginia.
Two years later, all for naught.
July fourth, eighteen
sixty-three, no cheers, no love,
no wins for us folk.
Only them **** Yanks get their love
from home: letters come & go.
Sherman’s March left him
quaking in his boots; gone was
his love. Gone was his
home. Gone were his letters. All
of it gone. Gone with the wind.
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 2:10 PM UTC
There was an Old Person of Ewell,
Who chiefly subsisted on gruel;
But to make it more nice
He inserted some mice,
Which refreshed that Old Person of Ewell.
1.4k
Envy
By Shani Jonas
It's a terrible thing
Like something is climbing from your gut
And ready
Ready to explode
Envy is the black dark hole that many are ****** into
Dragged away to a place of no return
Envy is stuck In your throat
A big gulp your can't get down
When you see someone accomplishing their dreams
When you're not
To see someone get something get something
That rightfully belongs to you
To see the loving comments of their adoring fans,
When you can barely get applauded
When they reach the big time
Your out in the cold.
All alone
Vulnerable.
And people walk by and pity you
Or spit at you like Bob Ewell in disgust
If only, if only you had gotten your chance back then...
That my friend, is envy.
Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 11:08 PM UTC
Here, in the depths of winter, when the earth is bare and brown,
You will notice, if you look carefully, depressions in the ground.
My guide told me that here there are about one hundred men
who served beneath the Stars and Bars and gave their lives for them.
The Union line was well entrenched up there upon the hill.
Hard shot and double canister rained down on the Rebs at will.
If Ewell had thought it practical, on the first day of the fight,
results might have been different had his soldiers seized these heights.
When he forfeited his advantage, the Stars and Stripes held sway;
Union forces would repel his sorties the next day.
So, with careful measured steps, we walk above these men,
Who loved, not wisely but too well ,the cause for which they bled.
Do not disturb this hallowed ground; leave them at rest I pray.
Until they hear the trumpet’s call upon the Judgment Day.
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 10:29 PM UTC
Racism a really bad thing, everyone should feel the same
Being a black man is this culture is insane, Why throw dirt on his name?
It’s not like he was looking for fame
He did a service, Mayella reversed it
Interracial relationships are against the code
Unfortunately, we know this, yet this is how things seem to go
No longer a secret, Tom *****
Yet no one can keep the story straight
To **** A Mockingbird, the book was great
Told from first person, Scout’s point of view
Everything is not new, retelling the story
Scouting it out, it’s not gory
Paying attention to details in the story
TKAM Journals, a different story, Mrs. Dietz
Got us all working on an allegory
Racism a really bad thing, everyone should feel the same
Being a black man is this culture is insane, Why throw dirt on his name?
It’s not like he was looking for fame
He did a service, Mayella reversed it
Interracial relationships are against the code
Unfortunately, we know this, yet this is how things seem to go
No longer a secret, Tom *****
Yet no one can keep the story straight
Tom only had one job, he managed to do it
With only one arm, everyone knew he didn’t do it
Forced into court, Atticus was judged and criticized in all sorts
Atticus showed the obvious innocence of Tom
When all in court, Mayella's story broke down
She's crying about all the secrets that Atticus has found
Bob Ewell, his secrets found, looked at them with a frown
If this jury wasn’t fake their verdict would have been sound
And, unfortunately, we all already know...Tom, a dog sent to the pound
May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 4:29 PM UTC