Open Poetry #3 |
The Sentries |
John Yaws Senior Member
since 1999-10-09
Posts 860Texas |
"You aren't sleepin', are you Johnny"? Came a voice across the stream. "No more than you are, Billy Yank!" Awaking from his dream. He had dreamed he was in Georgia In the balmy summer time- Peaches drooping from their branches- He could smell the fragrant pines. "Where do you hail from, Billy?" Called the quiet Southern drawl- Which fell as strange on Vermont ears- As a Rebel saying, "Yall". "Vermont," the youngster told him- " You know what I desire? That this war would end by autumn- An' we'd all get out of hyar! I'd like to see the mountains- When the colors start to turn- To reds, and golds, and yellers It looks like the mountains burn!" "I hear yuh talkin', Billy Yank! I sure am sick fer home, To see a plow share turnin' The rich, red Georgia loam. I'd like to see my Mary Anne- She promised she would wait, Till I returned home from the war- Then we would set a date." "Where are we? Have ye heard 'em say? I'd really like to know." There's church just up the road a piece- That someone called "Shiloh". "Why that means "peace", the preacher said, Maybe it's an omen!" But neither lad had an idea- Just what with dawn was comin'! The day broke clear and cloudless- With the rising of the sun- The silence soon was shattered- By the awful roar of guns- In a stream which flows to "Bloody Pond" As the sun sank in the west- They found two boys with bayonets- Thrust in each others breasts- Side by side beneath the sod- Two youthful warriors lay- The one was dressed in Yankee blue The other Rebel grey. |
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© Copyright 1999 John R. Yaws - All Rights Reserved | |||
Watcher666 Senior Member
since 1999-10-13
Posts 1606 |
Excellent verse!! Enjoyed this much! ------------------ Illusion...what we see and what we do...it's all up to you. |
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