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Red Stripes, White Stripes, Our Stars

by ScottDW

Published February 1, 2010

I sit here now,
5.56 shells in one hand,
Wiping away tears
With the other.

The wall doesn't tell
All of my story.
All of their story.
Those statues do no justice.

Where have all
Of my brothers gone
Along with my sisters?
To where I am not.

Their blood becomes rivers,
Spilled on foreign soil
By hostile hands,
Equally sorrowful,

Now carve our borders
And our valleys
Of sorrow
And prosperity.

Whosoever can "win"
A war often writes it.
That author ought to be tired
Of writing the same story.

The young men go and die,
The old men argue and sit.
The mothers watch their children
Come home in a flag-draped coffin,

Flag neat and fit.
How those stars and stripes
Bring tears to my eyes,
Wrinkling over the casket

Of those who died.

Comments & reviews · 2
User avatar
Matt Bellamy
Review
Matt Bellamy wrote a review Review · Feb 1, 2010

I really like this poem. It's well written and emotional. I just have a few small nit-picks. In the second stanza, I think you should replace the full stop after "all of my story" with a comma, to make those two lines all one sentence and more of a continuation. I think "coffin" should be plural, because you talk about "children", plural, and "casket" should also be plural because "those who died" is also plural. My favourite line is "flag neat and fit" because it's so simple but meaningful. I also like how the poem is written in present tense. I think if you're talking about something happening now rather than happening in the past, it can make the reader care more. Great job.

User avatar
StingDaFling
Review
StingDaFling wrote a review Review · Feb 1, 2010

This is a beautiful poem.

I'm pretty sure you didn't focus on the technical aspects of the poem or try to create any rhyme scheme, but the poem itself makes up for that, and then some. I just love it. I can definitely say that you established a true feeling in your poetry and that you're a great writer. I look forward to more of your works.



I always knew that deep down in every human heart, there is mercy and generosity. No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.
— Nelson Mandela, Long Walk to Freedom