May 23, 2011 Blood Shed – Double Octain – @onestoppoetry – poetry forms
Our shared blood runs deep on the field,
bugles play loud as we advance,
men recall the heart’s last romance,
By history named The Cornfield,
where we will fight, with bloody might,
Canons roar, men vow not to yield.
Blue, Gray bleed in battle’s mischance
our shared blood runs deep on the field.
Blood by family shed none appealed,
Men march across the fresh expanse,
like going to the first church dance.
At Sunken Road with men concealed,
mini balls whooshed, men are ambushed
hours pass as the dead are a shield.
Elephants are seen in grimmest trance,
blood shed for slave’s freedom, bell’s pealed,