America – a Poem


I found a copy of the first thing I’d ever gotten published… a poetic essay I’d done back in college. I don’t even remember what it was for… it started only as a class exercise and someone submitted it in a contest. So long ago now, but, if you don’t mind a digression into poetry (written sometime around 1998), here’s an early taste of my writing on this most glorious day, our country’s Independence Day.

 

America

I sing of the brave folk of past generations, tirelessly striving to create a nation,
Hungry       desolate       tired       scorned       fixed doggedly upon the dream of a future as
They stared up into the vastness of the nighttime sky,

A Godless hearty few who dared to dream, to succeed with failure

Who plowed relentlessly the fields that produced tawdry amounts of     wheat      corn
Hay while baking under the relentless fury of the hot summer sun,
Who drank themselves into a drunken stupor while locust lustily ravaged the
Amber fields of grain, tearing destroying feasting on what they had no right to,
Who waited with rifles at the ready position, quietstill in the blue black cold
Waiting for the sky to erupt in flashing light the staccato bursts of British gunfire
Drowning out the cries of death and agony

America the beautiful in her pains of      birth       freedom        independence

Who stacked rifles at Appomattox, while brothers cousins fathers fell in gore, blood
Flowing from severed heads, blood running in rivers, blood cursing the innocent
From the ground, who traversed the far regions of the west, exploring conquering
Mapping the way for those to come enraptured by the land they were doomed to
Populate       destroy

Who trapped the brown gold of the beaver, walking freezing in the ice laden rivers
Of Yellowstone and Bayou Slade, challenging Indians grizzlies nature in their
Quest for a sunrise over a new mountain, to drink from a new river, to touch the
Sun where no one had tried before, waiting anxiously for Rendezvous and old
Friends and good whiskey and easy women, selling their plews to give them one more
Year in the mountains, one more year of      cold      danger      toil       grief      to die not of
Old age but of Nature’s will, leaving house and home to seek that which they will
Never find, which is always one hill away one more mountain to cross, never to
Join again the flow of humanity, outcasts forever rejected and rejector of society,
Who prowled the dark recesses of the night, eluding detection, sneaking resolutely
From the hell they found themselves in, escape the only thought on their mind
More like a trapped beast than a man,

Who      punched       kicked      screamed in anger      as the tide of the Alamo was turned
Against them, no chance of hope looming, death awaiting, best to go out fighting
Like a man, a Texan, who created      cities      towns      states      seeking nothing more than
Freedom, who sacrificed      wife     child     parent      in the dream of a future, who gave
All when all gave none, who      shaped      formed       created      America, the land of the Free,
The home of the brave, for purple mountains majesty.

 

 

Tagged , , , , , , ,
Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 1,857 other followers