Poem Help, Please...

[icy_crusader]

I wrote this poem with my dad in mind. I think he was leaving or in Iraq at the time, or just getting back, I can't remember. But, it was around that time. I was wondering if it needs to be put into some kind of verse or rhyme or if it is fine the way it is. Anything will help, thanks.

Untitled
Charlie Kirby

My feet carried me up the hill,
To where stood my general,
His eyes taking in all he had won.
I looked too, over the rich brown dirt,
The lush green trees birthed from the ground.
Then a question entered my linking thoughts.
I looked over to my general,
His face was squared, hard like stone,
And bore many marks of battle and life.
His armor only differed from my own,
In that a red and tattered cape flowed behind.
"Why do we fight?" I inquired.
He squitned his eyes and looked to me,
Then turned his gaze to a wood,
As if in there an angel stood,
Crying out the wisdom he wanted to hear.
He turned again to me and grinned,
Then set his gaze back upon the clouds.
"When I am on a battlefield,
Gripping my sword and shield,
My eyes set upon a deemed enemy,
I decide the reason that I will fight.
It is not for lands, rights, or gold.
It is not for politicians or my wife,
They I tell them both that they are.
It is for a much simpler reason.
I fight for the man behind me,
I kill so that he won't be killed.
I fight because of the man in front of me,
Because he has fallen for me to take his spirit.
And that is the answer to all battles,
In one way or another.
I fight because of the man in front of me,
I fight for the man behind me."
There stood, then, for many a moment,
Silently remanessing bloody fields,
Fallen brothers, conquered lands.
We returned home shortly thereafter,
And while many questions were presented,
I only answered with required facts and details.
Time passed and so did generals,
But none so great as My General.
Time moved on like sand in a desert wind,
And I soon became a general,
And thus was called into battle.
Before I left, my son asked a familiar question,
"Why do you have to fight?"
I looked him in the eyes,
And placed my hands upon his shoulders.
"I am fighting because of the men,
Those before who failed.
I am fighting because they did not,
Conquer enough land to satisfy the
Gourging mob of our land.
So, for such a task I am called."
The battles were all too familiar,
The blood the same on either side,
And with victory my men and I,
We grew closer and merrier.
One night, sitting round a fire,
Sharing tales of manhood and women,
One of my men asked me a familiar question,
"Why do you still fight? You have gold and rank enough.
Why do you stay and fight?"
I grinned at the queston,
As I realized my life now,
Revolved around it alone.
I stared into the fire,
as the words flicjered in the flames.
"I fight for the mand behind me.
So that my son will see a better,
Greater land than I have known.
So that those behind me,
Will only have to grip a blade,
To cut down wheat or animals.
I fight for the man,
Who is waiting behind me,
To release himnself upon the world.
That that world will not be bathed,
In the blood of fighting men,
But in the thoughts of their minds and hearts.
Yes, I suppose that is why.
For the man behind me."
After that, I never heard the question,
Till I lay on my deathbed,
And the doctor wondered why,
Why I fought death so hard.
I simply grinned and so did My General.

 

[Hisbygrace]

Hi Charlie great poem, but because of its length I think I would put it more in story form, such as;

My feet carried me up the hill, to where stood my general. His eyes taking in all he had won. I looked to, over the rich brown dirt. To the lush green trees birthed from the ground. Then a question entered my linking thoughts.

I looked over to my general. His face was squared,hard like stone, baring many marks of battle and life. His armor only differed from my own, in that a red and tattered cape flowed behind.

So on.....