Deserter!

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Historical Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Civil War narrative poem I did. =]

Submitted: February 04, 2008

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Submitted: February 04, 2008

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Listen, remember how the dogs did bark?
A figure ran through the woods in the dark.
Strapped to his back provisions and a mandolin.
Everyone knows that treason to the country is a sin.

Sick of the grey, sick of the blue,
not enough supplies, and holes in the shoes.
Saber swings and bullets fly,
Angel wings when people die.

A stranger on familar land,
a life turning so bland.
Chased through the woods by dog and horse,
oh, can this get any worse?
Stole a horse to save his soul,
what be the judgement when the truth is told?

There's nothing civil about this war,
the North and the South keep asking for more.
Many men died every night,
giving their families such a fright.

"Hey deserter! Hey deserter!"
The seargant calls and the man ran faster.
He ran past the Infirmary where many men lie,
The man finched as he heard them cry.

Thoughts drifting to his sweet love Scarlett,
visions of the three where they first met.
The day that he left to fight,
the day she tried to stop him with all her might.

From the guns he did run.
A man wanted for treason.
He saw the waters turn crimson,
this war was not to be taken as fun.
Bloody victory, bloody loss.
What was the war's true cause?
Whatever it was it caused people to suffer.
Whatever it was it turned brother against brother.

The horse reas and bolts,
he's given quite a jolt.
He's been drumped in the river,
as he crawled out he began to shiver.
The seargant still gave him no slack,
the deserter ran before his eyes went black.

Raced through his mind were memories,
of traveled land and its rocks and trees.
Shooting strangers for his side.
Keeping the morbid thoughts inside.
Letters he read by candlelight,
the replies he wrote in the silent night.
"Scarlett, oh, scarlett forgive me if I lie,
I say I'll come home, but what if I die?"

He tripped on a root,
oh how the woods went mute.
Flung to the ground, breaking the mandolin.
A sorrowful note rang as he was about to pay for his sin.
Shattered the woods, the sound of a shot.
Crimson flowed freely, the blood refused to clot.
He looked down at the mess and the stain,
causing even more treacherous pain.
The seargan's laugh rand loud and clear.
The deserter was filled with a terrible fear.
Picturing one last time a beautiful bliss,
he gave dear Scarlett a farewell kiss.


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