The wynd sighs upon my face
and sad am I this night
pipes lament the passing of another soul
smoke from the pyre
assails my nosts
embers upon myself alight
a memorie of
when I was young
and
took the shyllinge....
Many horrors have I seen
and many have I created
since that youthful folly so glibly given
smoke from the fyre
stings myne eyes
flames engulf a lyfetyme plagued
with thoughts of
that first struggle
and
the first kill....
A fresh faced frightened boy he was
just lyke my own scared self
the musket I wielded was taller than me
smoke inhaling I
ponder with the terrible thought
bayonet brandishing
piercing innocent heart
his death shriek
and
my cry of triumph...
Such is the lyfe of a soldier lad
I’ve known nothing else
I grow older with each death I create
smoke from my fusiil
sends ball on killing spree
a falling man delights
my tally of the dead
and
secures
my place in hell...
Graham...13 May..2004
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Reviews of "Smoke"
Reviewed by Nicole Davis Vergara (Reader)
Reviewed on May 16, 2004
Michelle is correct a MOST well written write and enjoyable indeed!
~Nikki~
Reviewed by Jane Rodway (Reader)
Reviewed on May 14, 2004
I liked this one, it shows a view that almost sounds like someone who actually has had experiencing with being a soldier. I am a fan of the World War One Poets like Wilfred Owen, Sassoon and Brooke, and there was nothing quite like their first hand accounts, especially Owen, my favorite. This was well-written.
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~Nikki~