The Revolutionary War

Soldiers marching in their ranks,

Across the river’s icy banks.

Men that march all day,

To earn their little pay.

Marching faces proud and strong.

Their hearts know they do no wrong.

They march for freedom, brave and sweet,

And march with hopeless aching feet.

Their silhouettes are tattered,

Their flags are flying high but battered.

The enemy cower behind the battle lines,

For they know that freedom binds.

The red coats versus the blue,

The canons shot and pieces flew.

Shot after shot and more men fell,

How many died many can tell.

And the sounds of soldiers shouting loud,

Among the fighting, bloody crowd.

Sword to sword and knife to knife,

The winner takes the loser's life.

The drums beat and the battle rages,

It will be talked about for ages,

Cannon fire, smoke and dirt,

Fill the air and fall to hurt.

The ground quakes with dread,

As it gets piled with the dying or the dead.

Rifles fire and pistols are shot,

Bullets are hurled, to leave scarlet dot.

And not far away Mothers are crying,

For their sons who lay dead or dying.

Finally, a bugle is loudly blown,

And everywhere pity was shone.

Guns that once had killed,

Suddenly were stilled.

Swords were cast down and guns were thrown,

Cannons stopped firing, hitting against stone.

Stillness, silence all is still,

As if waiting for some next kill.

Captains dazed, bleeding and hurt,

Threw down their pistols down into dirt.

Dotting and speckling the scarlet earth,

Were the sure horses to never more berth.

Death stood still to sound his cry,

As fallen men struggle not to die.

Finally is given the sword to the foe,

Ends the harsh battle that many would know.

Twas fireworks that shot that night,

Not canons that brought great fright.

And the shouts that filled the air,

Became the soldiers only care.

“America is free! America is free!”

Became the American colonies symphony,

Then every man went down on his knee,

As hardened men heard their country was free.

They thanked not the guns for shooting so well,

Nor the cannons by which many men fell.

Instead they did thank the mighty God,

And at this sight all men did nod,

For America was not built on any land,

But on the very palm of God's hand.

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I would appreciate any comments you have on this poem. Thank you for taking the time to read my poem.

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