| Bugles |  |
| Their red and blue, ragtag flag stood out,
Against their dust covered uniforms of gray.
Savagely we fought to kill our enemy,
As the battle raged on in the heat of the day.
Volley after volley we put forth our blaze,
With thousands of led balls snapping flesh and bone.
Blistering sweat rolled down every face,
As the tunes of war by bugles were blown.
There was a clanking sound of ramrods in barrels,
As each new mini ball was loaded and fired.
Some shot aimlessly into the smoke,
While others took aim at the worn and tired.
Bullets were popping like the fourth of July,
Yet our enemy kept surging ahead.
All at once they broke and ran off in groups,
Scattering as for the forest they fled.
From behind the protection of a stacked-stone wall,
The victorious cheered or just sat starring,
At all the bodies of friend and foe
While for the wounded the surgeons were caring.
Soon the war was over and I survived,
Despite it's brutality on trampled ground.
From boy to man I was transformed,
Though, still in the night I hear its sound.
| By Tom Zart
Copyright 2003
Listed May 11, 2007
Tom Zart's site |
It is illegal to use this poem without the author's permission.
~~ Send your comments and/or use permission request to Tom. ~~ |
