Rebel For Me
She walked up.
They asked her last words.
For everyone to hear.
She said, in a coarse whisper
With sobs fresh at my ears;
But she was smiling that smile
That I wish I could have saved.
She said, 'Rebel, rebel for me, '
And then they took her
To the center of the stage,
And they put the gun to her head.
She pressed her finger to her lips,
And pointed up in rebellion.
I kissed my finger, and I pointed up
Then they pulled the trigger.
(Switches point of veiw)
I felt rebellion in my stomach
And I couldn't keep it in.
So I lit the fire nice and bright,
And I let the rebellion win.
So they bound my hands,
They tied my feet,
They demanded my defeat.
A scared face in a sea of sad ones
One that was looking at me
For hope when there was none
One that was still there, to see,
As I walked the suicide march.
The taste of blood, was to much
The hands that held me, to harsh
And I had hoped that this was such,
A bitter sweet blood ending
She was to stupid.
All this blood on her hands
A death as such is suited
For she didn't know wher she'd land.
And the blood we have is now diluted
For this girl, so grand
And such is this,
No one would miss
The girl that started it all.
Brookelyn Walker's Other Poems
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
So I lit the fire nice and bright, and I let the rebellion win.
But I couldn't light a fire, so I wrote this instead.
No one's knocking at my door, or pressing a gun to my head.
Comments about this poem (Rebel For Me by Brookelyn Walker )
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
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