A soldiers last thoughts
A soldiers last thoughts
A soldiers last thoughts.
Darkness takes the fields of grey,
And stalls the soldiers mind,
Abandoned life amongst the fray,
And some they’ll never find.
Uniforms upon the dead,
Inform of rank and file,
Endless bleeding from ones head,
Yet more were cold a while.
Bullets piercing evening’s air,
Invade his frightened heart,
Matted blood restrains his hair,
His shoulder torn apart.
His only solace yet retrieved,
Implying hope was nigh,
A caring hand that he received,
That made the soldier cry.
Side by side throughout the night,
They leant against a wall,
Hand in hand they held on tight,
Not let the other fall.
The soldier talked of life and more,
Of women that he knew,
How green the grass before the war,
The glistening of the dew.
The tyre swing beside the drive,
And clanky iron gate,
And tea was always “half past five,
You’d better not be late.”
In broken tones he told of when,
His little boy had died,
Of how he always blamed himself,
But somehow never cried.
Endlessly the night was torn,
With other soldiers screams,
Incessantly their faith was worn,
Through hazy morphine dreams.
And as his eyes began to weep,
Belief began to fold,
A brief but painless little sleep,
Had left the stranger cold.
Mortality had taken flight,
Not muttered but a word,
He’d been dead now for most the night,
And not a word he’d heard.
Yet to the end the soldiers hand,
Had held his quiet friend,
As both were taken from this land,
True soldiers till the end.
©MadMick 02/03/2011
Darkness takes the fields of grey,
And stalls the soldiers mind,
Abandoned life amongst the fray,
And some they’ll never find.
Uniforms upon the dead,
Inform of rank and file,
Endless bleeding from ones head,
Yet more were cold a while.
Bullets piercing evening’s air,
Invade his frightened heart,
Matted blood restrains his hair,
His shoulder torn apart.
His only solace yet retrieved,
Implying hope was nigh,
A caring hand that he received,
That made the soldier cry.
Side by side throughout the night,
They leant against a wall,
Hand in hand they held on tight,
Not let the other fall.
The soldier talked of life and more,
Of women that he knew,
How green the grass before the war,
The glistening of the dew.
The tyre swing beside the drive,
And clanky iron gate,
And tea was always “half past five,
You’d better not be late.”
In broken tones he told of when,
His little boy had died,
Of how he always blamed himself,
But somehow never cried.
Endlessly the night was torn,
With other soldiers screams,
Incessantly their faith was worn,
Through hazy morphine dreams.
And as his eyes began to weep,
Belief began to fold,
A brief but painless little sleep,
Had left the stranger cold.
Mortality had taken flight,
Not muttered but a word,
He’d been dead now for most the night,
And not a word he’d heard.
Yet to the end the soldiers hand,
Had held his quiet friend,
As both were taken from this land,
True soldiers till the end.
©MadMick 02/03/2011
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Re: A soldiers last thoughts
Good to see you posting something Mick. Well done.
Neville
" Prose is description, poetry is presence " Les Murray.
" Prose is description, poetry is presence " Les Murray.
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Re: A soldiers last thoughts
This is the time of year when our thoughts turn to those lost in the field of conflict, our eyes fill with tears and our hearts swell with pride, in spite of all mother nature sends our way we live in the lucky country and are very thank full for all those who have made it so.
Mad Mick I like your poem very much.
Dave Smith.
Mad Mick I like your poem very much.
Dave Smith.
I Keep Trying
Re: A soldiers last thoughts
Harsh depiction, Mick yet powerful. Unfortunately too many went like this (and still do). yer right Dave . . how lucky we are.
Marty
Marty
- Zondrae
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Re: A soldiers last thoughts
G'day Mick,
You know what I think of your ability as a writer so I will just say.. you've done it again. (where are the tissues)
When are you going to enter some stuff in competition? It would be so refreshing to see a new name in the top five.
You know what I think of your ability as a writer so I will just say.. you've done it again. (where are the tissues)
When are you going to enter some stuff in competition? It would be so refreshing to see a new name in the top five.
Zondrae King
a woman of words
a woman of words
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Re: A soldiers last thoughts
We should be forever grateful for the sacrifice of those who gave us the freedom to live as we do.
well written Mick
Bob
well written Mick
Bob
The purpose in life is to have fun.
After you grasp that everything else seems insignificant !!!
After you grasp that everything else seems insignificant !!!