by Timothy Michael firstname.lastname@example.org
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An Italian Sonnet
My brother fell here in her bloody lane
I buried him under the cornfield’s ground
The dusty moonlight revealed the new mound
for honor we came but war is not sane
I lay in my heart a prayer for mother.
The lives and laughter of her sons soon gone
She will turn from the truth when this is done,
haunted by dreams of me and my brother.
With one charge left this failing Southern son
today will take the little still inside.
The Lord’s sweet grace and eternal freedom
will be given me in the rising sun.
To this grave in fields of blue I take my pride
a stone's throw away. --Battle of Antietam.
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|Reviewed by Poetess of The Soul Sheila G
|This sounded familiar, you write Intalian Sonnets too, How amazing your talents lie Sir Tim - This will always be such a Beauty to hear over and over!
Warmest Blessings, LOVE, and Inner Peace, Warrior Purple Lady Sheexooo
|Reviewed by Kay P Devenish
|This was just so profound and sad yet beautiful,you write like a master of the word.I am so glad I read this excellent piece.
|Reviewed by La Belle Rouge (Reader)
|I remember this one, liked it then, and now.|
|Reviewed by Lisa Hilbers
|A wonderful write Tim! Greatly enjoyed. Lisa|
|Reviewed by jude forese
|Reviewed by Lady Peg (Reader)
|An excellent Sonnet this is so excellent.
|Reviewed by Tinka Boukes
|Stunning piece Timothy!!
O! This is excellent!!
|Reviewed by E T Waldron
|Excellent sonnet Tim, that first stanza is a stunner!God Bless...|