Days in the life of a poet

When life gets too complicated and our hearts and minds seek out what is good and provides us sustenance...poetry is the breath of life. Words allow us to communicate...to express that within us that is most precious and real. We crave that which is familiar and gives us comfort...read and receive*

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Scythe And Rifle

Muzzle pointed down range
His target unsuspecting
Shooter’s conscience rejecting
Its kill or be killed, as

Rockets lance the clouds
His prey; still and prone
No remorse; heart like stone
War is, what it takes away

Fighter jets screaming above
Missiles loosed into flight
Buildings crumble beneath their might
Leaving only chaos and ruin

A lone sniper lines up his sights…
He won’t hear the screams
He won’t see the blood streams, but
He knows*
Posted by at

1 comment:

  1. AnonymousNovember 21, 2010 at 2:37 PM

    Ah, yeah, think I recall this one. Great ending, strong imagery throughout. Nicely done, Sir

    Luke @ WordSalad

    ReplyDelete

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)