The Ballad of the scared man

A poem about a soldier.

 

The Ballad of the scared man

 

 

 

The soldier aims his riffle.

 

His cheeks glow red with the cold.

Dried Blood is splattered all over his uniform.

His boots are caked with mud.

The smell of wet grass and gunpowder engulf his senses.

His fingernails are long and dirty.

The soldier sucks in the cold morning air into his lungs.

He closes his tear stained left eye.

 

       The soldier squeezes the trigger.

 

Reviews

[Raven Starhawk]

I actually thought this was a tremendously well done piece. I love reading anything you write anyway so maybe I am just automatically in tune to say that this is brilliant but regardless it is ever so more true that you have a gift for weaving excellent poems.

[Yari Garcia (Older Prof..]

I love it. It's short but it says so much!

[Brandi Nicole]

i guess that sums it up. a harsh reality for most and a way of life for many. good write.

[paradise]

Reminding me very much of war I really liek it

[Samantha ~virginpoet]

this was haunting

you have some of the most amazing writes! Not to kiss your a*s but your one of my favorite poets on here haha

Ive been working on a poem about a soldier for quite some time ... would you like to do a collaboration on it? I Cant think of anyone better to ask

100/100

[Aramey]

Wow, this paints a vivid picture. Great piece.

[Larry Dyson]

nice concept and mention of the situation, could maybe use a metaphor,like or as,just thinkin its such good work,make it like a picture from the Saturday evening Post Magazine?..

[Robbie~xoxo~]

The things we do not see or feel, when someone sacrifices so much, is a tragedy in itself... but what this Soldier goes through is depicted well through your Homage paid to this Soldier (and others fighting). Great write!

[Priscilla Sayers]

Powerful...
Dreadful.
Nice write!

[Lily Mae]

I guess I've never could even imagine how it must be..but now with your great descriptive powers... my heart skipped a beat.. and his tears stream down onto the dried blood on his uniform..x I wonder.. is there ever a time when the aim is purposefully off? when his soul no longer aims.. hmm.. excellent write..x