Drums lie tilted, battered and still;
Grass fires gutter; none are left to kill;
Bitter smoke coils through leafless trees;
A stunned horse quivers on bloody knees.

A tin cup’s clank, a thump, a moan –
Battle’s dirge in dissonant tones
Drifts above those soon to be dead,
Blue coated, gray, innocent of dread.

Bloody fingers seek a hand to hold
And are touched instead by day’s last gold.
A torn boy’s dying, upraised hand
Marks Union’s price and freedom’s land.

 

For the sesquicentennial of the battle of Gettysburg

Robert Walton is a writer and poet living in King City

 

Featured Image: “Battle of Gettysburg”, L. Prang & Co. print of the painting “Hancock at Gettysbug” by Thure de Thulstrup, showing Pickett’s Charge. Restoration by Adam Cuerden. (Wikimedia Commons)


Views expressed by individual poets and writers on this website and by commenters do not represent the views of the entire Society. The comments section on regular posts is meant to be a place for civil and fruitful discussion. Pseudonyms are discouraged. The individual poet or writer featured in a post has the ability to remove any or all comments by emailing submissions@ classicalpoets.org with the details and under the subject title “Remove Comment.”

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.