Marching Through

A poem about a troop fighting for their lives.

Hey.

I haven’t been getting a lot of ideas recently, so I thought I would give you all something to read while I cook something up.

The poem below was something I wrote in 7th grade, and was for a literature recital.

Enjoy. (Pardon the format, WP wouldn’t allow me to post it otherwise.)

They were marching

Marching through.

Although they were losing

And some possibly dying

It does not matter

As the Reds always knew

Through their lying

That they were marching

Marching through.

They were traveling through the valleys

The valleys of death

When the Reds came into the valleys

The valleys of death

The soldiers didn’t flinch

And they fought the Reds.

Many have perished

Many more have been shot

But through their bloodshed

They were marching 

Marching through.

They traveled the jungle

The harsh jungle

When they found the Reds in the jungle

In the harsh jungle

They swung out of trees

And threw hives of bees

But still, the soldiers fought.

They got caught in traps

And lost a lot

Arms

Legs

And some

Their lives

While others

Their sanity.

But through the trees

And traps

They were marching

Marching through. 

They were running till the border

The border of the theater

Running with their guns

Running with their yells

Some ran into knives

Others couldn’t run no more

While some

Couldn’t live anymore.

They dove past the thin Red line

Wrapped in its flag

They didn’t meet victory yet

Only silver bullets

But still

After the defeat

And many

Many bodies

They were marching

Marching through.

They reached the fort

The one far

Far from the port

And they fought

Fought till the last of their souls 

Even after

The cannonballs roll.

They lost many

Many who were dead

But persisted

Up the stairs

Under gunfire 

And bright

Rigid

Flares.

But they reached the top

Above the crops

And the Reds

Who were now

Good as dead

They ripped the flag

And threw it out

In a bag.

They put their own

They glistened with happiness

And sorrow

But still the lives that were gained

Were fulfilled

As they fulfilled

The borrow.

But after the victory

And the death

Along 

With applause

Some

Without a certain clause

They were marching back

But marching through.