4th of July

A poem I wrote from inspiration from something one of my course instructor's said. Sorry it's so long. I hope it's a good read!

4th of July

A Poem by Walker Andreasen

 

 

Once upon a summer's day,

In a town passed a parade.

A boy so young and small,

Turned to his father in the midst of it all.

 

"Daddy," said the boy as loud as he could,

As the roar of the crowd drowned him out.

"Who are they?" he said so feebly,

Pointing towards the men clad in green.

 

The men they marched through the streets,

Uniformity, their feet stepped in beat.

And to his son the father replied,

With his voice full of pride:

 

"Those are the men who defend the falg,

Because of them we have the right to brag!"

"About what?" the young boy quizzed.

To which his father simply said:

 

"Our freedoms we enjoy each day,

And a country for which they pay."

The boy looked on again,

At the men as the marched and sang.

 

At the front he noticed a pole,

And from which 3 colors waved bold.

Red and blue and a lot of white,

Excited to his father the boy replied:

 

"Is that the flag you're talking about?

The flag that we brag about?

If so how do they pay?

The men that seem to march all day."

 

"Yes," the father said,

A hand on his son's head.

And with a voice deep with reverance,

The father said,

"Like the son, their lives for deliverance."

 

The boy he looked at the Soldiers humbly,

As the marched not one of them mumbling.

And then a girl as young of age

Stopped infront of the boy who watch the soldiers stage.

 

And to him she handed a small pole,

On which 3 colors waved bold.

The boy looked at it in his hand

And then up to those disciplined men.

 

And on his wall the flag it stayed

From then on. And everyday

As the boy grew older,

he dared himself to be ever bolder.

 

And then the day came that the boy himself,

Took upon him the Soldier's wealth.

The wealth of pride for a country he loved,

And the honor for those who couldn'tve.

 

And as he readied himself for battle,

His phone it rang with a rattle.

It was his father, the boy's heart cheered,

But then his father spoke, his voice teared.

 

"I'm proud of you son,

For all that you've done.

For the willingness you've showed

For a world dark with shadow."

 

The boy replied to his father,

Thanking him, and not to bother.

"Dad, I'll be fine and I promise

I'll be home in no time."

 

But it was that day that the boy,

Still young with age, only a teenage boy,

Payed the price, to him a small loss,

At for which freedom costs.

 

He did nopt fear the bullets over his head,

But thought about his duty instead.

But as which he was older,

He took his dare and was bolder.

 

And as they folded the flag that draped his coffin,

His sergeant turned to the boy's father.

His face was streaked with tears of pain,

Though he knew he'd see his son again.

 

"Your son," the sergeant started,

"Was a fine soldier, one's who's faith never faltered

In his God or his country,

He wanted all of us to be free."

 

The father looked at him, A tear rolled down his cheek,

As he asked so humbly and meek,

"My son - i ask you - you fought with him?"

The sergeant replied, "'Till the end."

 

"My boy, I wonder, how did he die?"

Again the sergeant answered, "With his pride."

The sergeant took a knee, and took the man's hand in his,

And told the man, "Remember this:"

 

"Your son he did what others couldn't,

He answered his country's call when some say he shouldn't."

Again the tears started to flow on the father's cheeks,

And for his attention the sergeant seeked.

 

"Many in this country love it so,

They're patriotic, they stand behind it, so bold.

But your son, a patriot, loved it more,

He was willing to stand infront of it."

Author's Note

Dedicated to those who heard the call and answered willingly, and paid the ultimate price.

Reviews

[saratogaparty]

YES THANK YOU

Thank you

I LOVE narrative poetry. I'm so glad I bumped into this.

Although, I will tell you I don't think I've EVER read rhyming narrative poetry.

Now that I think about it, I guess there's a lot of it in music.

[Coyote Poetry]

I understand this poem. I went to many good friends funeral. I get upset when us in the USA give up freedoms so easily. Many have died for us to be free. A powerful story with a sad ending. Thank you for the excellent poetry.
Coyote