A man whose eyes seem distant and cold
takes me on a journey through history
with thoughts of wonder and interest
leaving me with more questions than answers
about his life, his dreams
there's a profound sadness in his picture
and a sense of pride
he's dressed in his Civil War uniform
from the Massachusetts 13th infantry
standing in front of a cabin with a porch
and a couple of rocking chairs
off to his right is a well with its bucket
a hound dog lays at his feet
stones in the ground placed like a sidewalk
lead up to his boots
below the picture sits a creaky old rocking chair
where I sit to rock back and forth
while thinking about my great-grandfather
who survived Gettysburg, Antietam, Fredericksburg
and other battles is why I am here
Categories:
fredericksburg, history,
Form: Free verse
It was cold that snowy December night, 1862. We took the hill to stand and fight against the Yankee coats of blue. We charged towards their army near the river down below. From the blades of our Rebel swords the Yankee blood did flow. Their troops had us outnumbered that frigid winter night. But Stonewall Jackson rushed the left while Stuart flanked the right. That dreary night we took the town of Fredericksburg by storm, we fought for Dixie the next 3 nights and through the early morns. Death fell upon the Union troops taking many lives. The wounded laid there crying, wishing they had died. And when the battle finished and the smoke had cleared the air, we looked behind and on that hill our flag was still there. And as the sun went down that eve with harmonica in hand, I sat upon that hill and sang, My Home's In Dixieland. Evermore a soldier, I'll fight until the end. And when my war is over, I'll see my home again. But if I should die tomorrow one thing will sure be true. I survived the battle of Fredericksburg, 1862.
Categories:
fredericksburg, history, war,
Form: Ballad
(This is a brief summary of the Battle of Fredericksburg that occurred from December 11-15 in the year 1862. The American Civil War was raging on and mistakes made by Maj. Gen. Ambrose Burnside resulted in one of the Union Army's worst defeats during the war.)
In 1862, Burnside had a plan of attack.
He marched his army across the river Rappahannock.
It was a foolish move.
He should have known it then.
But he ordered his troops across a field that became known as the Great Slaughter Pen.
Categories:
fredericksburg, history, war,
Form: Free verse
Between what is and isn’t,
lies a canvas of what could be
Colors in contrasting unison,
tomorrow’s brush strokes—paint can free
Shores of promise, woods of joy,
still-life in eternal relief
Framing as one, styled for all,
its message forever—yet brief
(Train from Fredericksburg: April, 2017)
Categories:
fredericksburg, art, hope,
Form: Rhyme
With frosted breath, we wait the break of day;
Our bravest wishing night would stay the morn;
When we will face a bristled wall of gray,
And wonder who will die upon the horn;
December thirteenth breeds a foggy dawn;
We gathered musket, sword, and God divine;
To Marye's Heights, we marched in columns drawn,
To fall in brother's blood at Longstreet's line;
With grey a third the blue at Burnside's feet,
And Franklin's troops as dead and surely done,
We crossed the Rappahannock in defeat;
Our legacy, but graves with nothing won.
A northern snow has whitened up the ground;
Beneath a virgin sea, our ghosts are drowned.
Categories:
fredericksburg, history
Form: Sonnet