The Soldier Poem by Edmund V. Strolis
The Soldier
In a curve on a river on a nameless muddy shoulder
his boots in kicking fits tore up the shore that day
Heels that left sweet Georgia, will not carry that brave soldier,
For now in final thrusts of pain they mark Kentucky clay.
So far from home this little creek, this rebel's resting place.
No cheering crowds or whiskey jars, no hugs or lips for kissing.
No crude stone to mark his passing, gone without a trace.
An empty chair at home remains for the son forever missing.
We in comfort down the line can't know that lonely terror.
We with up-turned noses can't smell the blood and powder.
We with pampered lives should hold our tongues forever.
We in distant judgement can't pretend to match his valor
Well done. Obviously a Civil War poem. One of my own poems is also about the Civil War (Battle of Antietam) . It's called RIVER RAN RED. I invite you to read it and make a comment. Thanks.
This is so well written and expressed. The timeless story of the soldier.. In certain ways it doesn't change... I grew up on the east coast around battlefields, but I was never that interested in war (thought it was for the boys) ... Now that I'm older and I have sons, I'm much more aware. I also have relatives who were/are veterans in several wars....as a mother, though, these pictures pain me on so many levels. The empty chair kills me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 6:34:59 AM # 1.0.0.1119
hey, edmund! reading early postings of yours and came on this one. the craft in it matches others of yours i've read- where the words flow logically and naturally and i notice afterwards the rhyming. i particularly like your imagination in this So far from home this little creek, this rebel's resting place. No cheering crowds or whiskey jars, no hugs or lips for kissing. good stuff. glen