Though all around the voices were distant
in his own thoughts was trapped
that smile from his face had long gone
on him age had taken its toll
from hope to pessimism causing misery
realising he had become a visionary!
But he knew this was just the recollections
of the life he had once enjoyed
conversations now were only with himself
the ability to communicate lost
could only sit in the nursing home trapped
his life-force now sapped!
The Foureyed Poet.
Civil wars must leave such terrible scars
upon a nations memories
what influence on future generations
embedded in their culture
from across the big pond does it exist
those ghosts that persist?
On haunted ground do their spirits roam
three hunters wanted to see
out onto the battlefields dared venture
over vast silent earth
respectful of those lives now long passed
and all remnants now masked!
Setting their feet upon these acres of green
to find out for themselves
if they could communicate with soldiers gone
delicately on graves to tread
wandering in darkness and the atmosphere
would they want to appear?
Electronic equipment at hand ready to be used
to capture any paranormal events
deep sadness now consumed their open minds
as sounds of gunfire was heard
cannons and muskets echoed across the fields
how many times had soldiers yield!
There was nobody else to cause those sounds
in that eerie chilling stillness
asking boldly on which side had they fought
on the recorder a voice was caught
saying confederate in a voice rasping and low
who it was they could not know!
The dawn broke and the three were exhausted
leaving they were sure with proof
that in these old fields of many bloody battles
there unresting spirits existed
seeking that rest that had long been denied
but also a sense of pride!
The Foureyed Poet.
Malctg - #TheFoureyedPoet.
#TheFoureyedPoet. 