Memorial Day - Poem by Luke Easter
220 MPH! Faster and faster around this oval track,
Is it ever possible the winner comes from the back?
Start to finish, the pole position does not guarantee,
That race machine first in line is assured a victory.
Backyards across America gas & homemade grills,
Not just the Indy Brickyard will experience thrills,
Motors and sails alike adorning our deep blue seas,
The parade rally’s here and there, now the mystery.
Was originally called, “Decoration Day” in keeping,
The hymn, “Kneel Where Our Loves are Sleeping, ”
Nella L. Sweet, for dedication of Confederate Dead,
Oh, those soldiers and others are shaking their head.
Many cities and towns throughout have laid claim,
They are the birthplace of the, “Memorial” name,
What’s sad is why heroes are only given one day,
When their life sacrifices are forever gone away.
No, it is not about what or whom called it first,
Honor those who perished in battle not at birth,
The National Holiday Act of 1971 P.L.90 - 363,
Auto dealerships buy a car get an oil change free.
And just like Christmas, Easter & Thanksgiving,
It is less about the dead & more about the living,
How come soldiers everywhere still being denied?
Benefit rights and only praised after they’ve died.
“Memorial Day” is mostly a 3-day weekend slogan,
Not the official May 5,1868 by General John Logan,
“Hey! I’m off on Monday” & “Hooray! No School, ”
Like everything else here it’s a commercialism tool.
Hold it, several Southern states have added one more,
Honoring dead soldiers fighting the Confederate war,
And it was not mainly about slavery many had to die,
The South was getting rich North wanted half the pie.
Oh! For sure, some veteran groups will carry our flag,
Won’t mean to today’s youth what it did to granddad,
“Ladies of the South who are Decorating the Graves, ”
It should never be about coupons or $$$ to be saved.
Comments about Memorial Day by Luke Easter
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye