Spread like wildfire across the land
Riots broke through surface
Looters breaking stores;
Lighting buildings on fire
Two-mile stretch of Madison Street
Running through East and West Garfield Park
100 building devastated and destroyed
Chicago’s West side in disarray
Churches; school kept memorial services on
For a great man, MLK, was murdered day before
Troops called into restore order
Nightlife was deserted;
No electricity in cities; many homeless were made
Violence was in the air; tearing human fabric
Will there be any end in sight to growing chaos?
April 22nd Prompt: Write a poem about an event from 50 years ago this month, such as the opening of Hair, first heart transplant, signing of the Civil Rights Act, murder of Martin Luther King, release of Planet of the Apes, the father of current Prime Minister Justin Trudeau, Pierre Trudeau, becoming Prime Minister or another you find online.
History has to live with what was here,
No turning back; no withholding its secrets.
We must learn within the lines left behind
Knowing we can learn from history that withstand
Countless years holding knowledge within it’s grasp.
Without history what do we have then?
Nothing within to learn from our past
To learn from mistakes with which we make.
History has withstand sands of time
Each year layers will add within its lines
History will not wither but bloom like a flower
With more facts and knowledge pouring out
History has come to within the present here
No withdrawing back from there.
High on hill they stood their ground
To wait for enemy that would come around
Untrained colonists soon would see
Army of red coats march from sea
Waves and waves they march in rhythm
Up the hill to take the high ground
Bunker Hill their target was
To break the colonists spirit of independence
Colonists held their ground to show
That they were determined not to fold
They held on hard through the end
They lost a lot men for what they wanted to defend
And proved to all that they could stand
Against the might empire that had come in hand.
For British had heavy losses too
They were much surprised of what colonists could do
Upon Bunker Hill they fought to start the revolution
That started the war for their independence
I walk among a village
Thrust back in time to early days
Can’t phantom the simple life
From days past and gone.
Like a history book come to life again
I, a future traveler seem out of place
Among those from past I walk about
Seeing what life was like;
In the early days that are gone in the past.
I hear the distant drums over the hills
Faint an eerie from years gone past.
I see the land before unchanged by times
That men trudge upon the same spots before me.
I feel the waves of anticipation
For the coming call of arms.
I smell the smoke from ages past
That still lies now upon the silent ground.
I taste the dryness of one’s mouth
Whose hours have gone on long without water.
I hear the distant fire, the sounds crackle still loud
As the noise from past keeps ringing in my ear.
Oh, what gleam in the eye of talking about history.
The peak interest of the past coming to light.
From ancient peoples who lived over two thousand years.
To almost modern time of thirty years in the past.
Passion fuels the soul of one who loves history
That one wishes to see it come alive before one eyes.
To see it unfold would make ones night
Of seeing it played out right in keeping facts straight.
What fabric in history should one see;
Ancient Romans that ruled almost the whole world,
American Civil War where brothers were torn apart,
Ancient Egyptians with their mighty pyramids,
Kings and Queens of European who ruled with might,
Mayans, Aztecs with their ancient ways,
Blood soak wars that were too plenty in every era,
Explorers, scientists, investors of creative minds
Or see Ancient Greeks with knowledge and philosophy.
Oh, history that is so a plenty
One gobbles the facts up and thirsts for more.
There are plenty more places, books, and talking
When it comes to speaking and learning about history.
Cobble stone streets lined with perfect stone homes of past centuries of old.
The clanking of hooves as a horse moves through the busy cobbled street.
Uneven hard stones beneath my feet as I walk among the living past.
In the air a whiff of old as the past comes back to life.
People from the past begin to walk these century old cobble streets.
The gathering of the past coming to life like a book in front of me.