My Name Is Old Glory

My name is Old Glory
I'm Red, White and blue ....

.... I am the flag of your forefathers,
Who created me for you.
I'm the offspring of the first American

On June 14, 1777 Americans from
thirteen states carried me and swore
to never let me fall and tho I have been
tattered and torn they carried me high
when the United States of America
was born.

Americans who chose for me my colors
of red, white, and blue believed in the
cause of liberty and the doctrine that all
men had a God given right to live and die

As Americans struggled to make the American
dream a reality many wars saw me at the forefront
of the fight to set all men free.

World War I, World War II, my carriers chose not
but they fought those wars with determination
and heart.

Those who have carried me and never let me fall
in all the years that have followed the world wars
inherited the love of country and fellow countrymen
that has driven Americans to fight beneath my colors
time and time again.

Americans have long lived, died, and fought beneath
my colors of red, white, and blue though it
home or on foreign soil with pride they have gazed at
my colors rippling in the wind and swore never to let
me fall.

On 911 millions of Americans mourned the loss of
thousands of Americans and raised me high for the
world to see- that even on American soil Americans
still died for the cause of Liberty.

I am the American flag from the World Trade towers
I survived and am a symbol of sacrifice in service, loss,
and determination.

But I am much more ...... I am the offspring of the high
Ideas of equality among men that gave birth to and continues
to nurture the hearts of every American living and working
in this great nation.

Burned, tattered and torn I represent the best of all who live
and die the American dream.
Fallen heroes who's dreams will never sleep as long
as one American across this great land has the courage
to pick up the American flag and hold her high for the world to
see it's not the cloth I am made from that makes me special
It the heart inside the man that holds me in his hand.

My colors have been stained with blood and tears, my stars
and strips tattered, torn and burned but still I fly the symbol
of freedom untouched by the flames.


 patriotic poetry