"vicksburg" poems - Hello Poetry

In vicksburg national burial place of the dead A silence cradles the land Voices of the cemetery Loudly utter, words Stroking butter The sound is not Bland. The union sleep Still awake in their beds The rain never falls The rain is just as dead The civil war hasn't ended Cry the tears of seventeen thousand ghosts These souls are remembered By the vows that they took Sleeplessly haunting The visitors to their arrival The dead more than living Are awake to the grassy place so vital The war still goes on Though to us it has ended These men are still seen in their Clothing unattended Their plans ended shortly Their plans unamended This place awakes the voices Of the wars recommended

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May 17, 2016

May 17, 2016 at 10:57 AM UTC

tommy-jackson

A sound of 17,000 ghosts

In vicksburg national burial place of the dead A silence cradles the land Voices of the cemetery Loudly utter, words Stroking butter The sound is not Bland. The union sleep Still awake in their beds The rain never falls The rain is just as dead The civil war hasn't ended Cry the tears of seventeen thousand ghosts These souls are remembered By the vows that they took Sleeplessly haunting The visitors to their arrival The dead more than living Are awake to the grassy place so vital The war still goes on Though to us it has ended These men are still seen in their Clothing unattended Their plans ended shortly Their plans unamended This place awakes the voices Of the wars recommended

27

Our flag that freely waves Up high above our land Is a blessing to us all If you will understand The price that once was paid By brave and willing men Some of whom with us remain Many never to be seen again They are the men who once did march In the Army of the Continental With the belief in their heart That their freedom was providential They are the men that once did march Upon the fields of Gettysburg Their struggling feed trod also Upon the soil of old Vicksburg These are the men that fought Upon ****** Flanders Field Struggling , pushing forward They would not fail nor yield They also struggled to gain The beaches of Normandy They fought at Anzio Against the soldiers of Germany On the soil of Korea American blood did flow Blood of men who had fought before Still they volunteered to go They fought in the darkened jungles Of a place called Vietnam Under the tear filled eyes Of the Great I Am The American soldier has also marched And spilled his blood upon the sand Of a dry and barren place Called Afghanistan Do you know what it means? Are you willing to understand ? That flag that freely waves Up high above our land. RLB Nov 11,2015 Thank you, American Soldier You are the worlds best.

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Nov 11, 2015

Nov 11, 2015 at 9:02 AM UTC

robert-blankenship

My Veterans Day Tribute to the American Soldier

Our flag that freely waves Up high above our land Is a blessing to us all If you will understand The price that once was paid By brave and willing men Some of whom with us remain Many never to be seen again They are the men who once did march In the Army of the Continental With the belief in their heart That their freedom was providential They are the men that once did march Upon the fields of Gettysburg Their struggling feed trod also Upon the soil of old Vicksburg These are the men that fought Upon ****** Flanders Field Struggling , pushing forward They would not fail nor yield They also struggled to gain The beaches of Normandy They fought at Anzio Against the soldiers of Germany On the soil of Korea American blood did flow Blood of men who had fought before Still they volunteered to go They fought in the darkened jungles Of a place called Vietnam Under the tear filled eyes Of the Great I Am The American soldier has also marched And spilled his blood upon the sand Of a dry and barren place Called Afghanistan Do you know what it means? Are you willing to understand ? That flag that freely waves Up high above our land. RLB Nov 11,2015 Thank you, American Soldier You are the worlds best.

45

This town is dead I am the ghost A shadow of these spooky streets From riverbed to battlefield I stir with solemn specters As hills besieged with screams Of fallen Yankee renegades And restless rebel revenants Still haunt my union dreams

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Apr 25, 2017

Apr 25, 2017 at 12:08 AM UTC

michael-marchese

Vicksburg

This town is dead I am the ghost A shadow of these spooky streets From riverbed to battlefield I stir with solemn specters As hills besieged with screams Of fallen Yankee renegades And restless rebel revenants Still haunt my union dreams

9