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Born of voices from the past. π First Place - Monthly Poetry Contest (Form: End Rhyme) |
Carry On! A chiseled stone, a worn, gray plot, disrupts the weeds and marks the spot where a forgotten soldier rests. With his blood, this ground was blessed. Though silent, I could almost hear the sound of taps faintly but clear. I wiped aside the dirt and grime to read his words passed down through time: βIt is with faith I made my stand for each manβs freedom in this land. I ask forgiveness on my soul. I died to keep the Union whole.β I felt the words reach out to me. His sacrifice - my legacy - gave me the freedoms I hold dear and suddenly it became clear. The faith he had, I thought was gone, but his last words said βCarry On! Weβre branches from a single tree; our strength lies in our unity.β We each share a common goal: from the many came a whole, a nation where itβs understood the meaning of βa common good.β To that end, we take a vow that echoes, in the here and now, born of voices from the past to carry on until our last. ![]() ![]() An entry for the June round of "Monthly Poetry Contest" ![]() Prompt: Grey Plot. Form: End Rhyme AABB Word Count: 186 Line Count: 28 |