yay civil war reanactment at central park is next weekend. i think i'll go sew something. yay. or write poems about it.


though the war was grim and bleek
they crossed over many a creek
they stuck guns through the brush
for breakfast they ate hard tack

the blasting guns force out the smokey powder
the hearts would stop if it was any louder
i run to mend the wounds of the fallen soldiers
i give them water and slices of pickles

i run and fall to escape the blast
i listen to it fall and wait until the sprinkling is past
my forhead drips with the beads of sweat
my sorrows are few for i am not the father of a family

i pray for a soldier who is about to die
i write a letter for him for his family , he tells them goodbye
i try to be strong but then i begin to cry
it starts sofly then i let a big sigh

i look to the fields that once were beautiful and green
the house in the south that was fit for a queen
now in all ruins, burned to the ground
the fruits rot like the men dieing left with the sound

the soil is fertilized with human blood
the cows left untended chew thier cudd
the women left with no hope for thier love
thier children look to them with trust from above

what could a lonely woman like me
what could make me sad i have nothing to be
the war gave me a perpose to tend and to care
my mother would have had me home sewing away

i tend the last man who shows life
i take for myself his pistol, his nife
i put the pistol to my head with not a hope
now its time for me to say goodbye