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Walter LaVerne Jones

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America
by Walter LaVerne Jones

Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Not rated by the Author.
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Recent poems by Walter LaVerne Jones
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           >> View all 694

Proud Once


I stopped beside the road like many
Left a flower where he stood
Dropped a can of dreams
Just like I knew he would

Heard his voice once more
Liken my soul
To the screams of before
We were just friends going door to door

Into this world they take us
Lay our minds like so many in the sun
Drop our version of living
Give us power by the gun

Somber they bury
Take away our young
Leads us like the piper
Are we the chosen one

Travel a weary
Sleep in rain
Drive a way the fury
No place now to name

I put my arms around him
Counted the scars upon his frame
Cried because he let me
Wiped the last of pencil from his name

Souls they are forever
Tears never end pain
What is this country
Once we had a name

No amount of wishing
Travel or vain
Makes the role of freedom
Wonder if came

I watched them hanging
Neat little rows
Letters to the editor
Like forever where does it go

I stopped beside the road like many
Left a flower where he stood
Dropped a can of dreams
Just like I knew he would

Heard his voice once more
Liken my soul
To the screams of before
We were just friends going door to door

 


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Reviewed by Jackie (Micke) Jinks 9/22/2009
I hear many souls cry out with you in these thoughtful words, Walt. There have been way too many that have paid our price for freedom, and to remember them is OUR duty. Wonderful message you weave in this poetic tapestry, dear friend!
Blessings and Love - Micke
(who's happy to see you)
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