The Brick Church Road leads to Friedens
where yesterday and today
wooden carts and steel wagons,
powered by equine legs or fiery pistons,
ferry their most solemn cargo.
After the preacher’s comfort tonings
of walks through the shadowy valley
and eyes lifted to the hills,
After fresh sod flourishes
over the sealed earth,
the carved stones whisper,
“Remember our bearings and sirings,
the banners we carried,
our triumphs and stumblings.
Sound the words and tunes of our jubilant songs!
Never forget that we are you.”
April, 2007
The graves of the Civil War are everywhere. Sometimes, I look at these hills of Mississippi and wonder how many are laying underneath. We walk on the outcome of war. Sometimes I find something...a button off a jacket, a coin, partial bayonet. These are in a box I keep, not for the museum at all. Wonderful poem. Great tribute! ! ! xxElysabeth
This sombre poem is presented, like a piece of music, in three movements - the andante first movement as the coffin processes to the graveside, the adagio of the funeral oratory and the explosive molto Vivace as the trumpets of life explode in celebration and remembrance. An intensely compassionate reflection on war. love, allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
Well done. A real tribute. I am not aware of why you chose 'Friedens' as the destination point. In German the word, 'Frieden' means peace. Everyone should be able to relate to this poem if not for other reasons at least for that reason.
A beautifully haunting piece Robert, I could hear the stones whispering as I read. Hugs Anna xxx
With excellent style of narration and it's rhyme, the reading of this poem is a pleasure. Thanks for sharing.10 points.
Wonderful! Friedens must be the name of the graveyard. The carved granite stones in may other graveyards call out similar messages. Well done, indeed.
It is helpful to read all the comments. They open new facets of the poem to enjoy. It has many shades of meaning and changing moods. You always provide a lot to consider in your poems with your description adjectives and verbs. They are worth rereading.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It's the sound of this poem that appeals to me: I can hear the wooden wheels and the screeching metal ones in the first verse, the soft whisperings in the second and the mixture of both in the last, with the voice of the rocks and their message. Linda H.