Where I am From, Why I Write

Sun, 06/12/2016 - 18:26 -- brmoola

I am from the stars of red

that streak across the flag

And I am from the crimson stripes

that ran down the King's back.


I am from the dirt and mold-

the beginning of the end.

The bite of fruit that did unfold

a world of war and sin.


I am from the stars of white 

sewn into the royal blue.

And I am from the men who fought 

and marched into the night.


I am from the song of hope

passed through the hero's lips.

And I am from the final breath

that did cry: It is finished.


And so I offer this bleeding heart-

my source of thought and rhyme,

To you dear reader to see and judge

if I may be worth your time.


My words from these lips,

The work of these hands,

Are all for my love of a King

And American land.

This poem is about: 


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