Finding The Words

A draw of a cigarette.
The smell of alcohol on his breath.
Face and hands of leather.
Laughter, even in the face of death.

Immortality now in question.
He drags, from his shirt pocket, another smoke.
Sips another sip. Smiles that old smile.
"Cancer," he says, "as if it were a joke."

"Never thought I'd live to see it.
"All the things that almost killed me,
"and its not even in my lungs.
"But, its not as bad as I thought it'd be."

"I know I wont see the year's end."
He smiles and drags another puff.
"Treatment might help," he says.
His face reads well, the old man is tough.

"I love you grandson."
With those words, I wake.
He's been gone many years.
I've always felt it a mistake.

"Take the phone. I can't hear him!"
The last words I ever heard him say.
I should've gone to see him.
I live with that every day.

Regret was not in his vocabulary.
He never allowed the bad memories to torment.
I strive to be that strong.
In his memory, I embrace every moment.

But once in a blue moon.
My mind allows me to see him and right the wrong.
Merely a fantastic dream,
almost makes up for the tears in a song.

The radio plays, I find it comforting.
He always said to allow myself a cry.
I do, I allow the tears to converse.
As if to say, "I love you old man, goodbye."

Our Hill

Dawn breaks, we sneak.
Matt and Marcos close behind.
Sergeant beside me, he slows.
We follow suit, my gut begins to wind.

Our nerves are shattered.
Our friends are lost.
In silence we seek the enemy.
Destroy them at all cost.

Sergeant pulls the pin, nods at us.
As his grenade finds its place in the dark,
the morning's silence is shattered.
Time to make our mark.

We open fire and all hell breaks loose.
Another down, and another.
We all cry as dogs of war.
Killing as many as we can for our fallen brothers.

No commandments on our mind.
We shall kill this day.
Honor our brother in life.
That is our way.

Another enemy falls,
for each of our dead we kill ten more
Another brother falls,
we can't allow them to even the score.

Boys become men
Men become ghosts
The time for battle was now
and we were the gracious host.

For Johnny! For Troy!
We annihilate in thier name.
Then, a buzzing of hot lead.
A machine gun to blame.

Sarge cries out,
"Get that foxhole, boys! They'll kill us all!"
I jump, Marcos jumps
Matt takes a hit, then a fall.

He looks at me, reaches out his hand
The buzzing returns, he's hit to many time to count.
"Boys!" Sarge yells,
"You get up there and take 'em out!

"We've got to secure that hole!"I yell.
Marcos and I outrun the gun.
Bayonets at the ready, we stab and slash.
Secured the weapon, but the fight was not done.

Just a few more left
I wanted the flag, to take the hill!
Pain, I look down. Blood drips from my stomach.
I try to press on, my body doesn't have the will.

I fall, cry out for a medic.
Marcos, he comes to my aid.
I look up in time to see the bullet rip his jaw.
Then, my vision began to fade.

We both lie there motionless.
The bullets recede, the battle is won.
"We did it, Marcos." I grab his hand.
"The mission is done."

The Mound They Died On

"Drive forward men!"
The stench of sick and death surrounds.
We drive forward.
Head on into the blood curling sounds.
"Don't stop until you're dead, boys!"

We cry out to intimidate.
Bullets shred those around us, we press on if we're alive.
We cry out of fear.
Returning fire, not to kill, but to survive.

Johnny, Marcos, Matt, and Troy beside me.
Soon only Matt by my side
The other three either fell behind.
I cannot wonder if they died.

My focus on the hill, we must take the hill
We drive forward.
A graze of hot lead on my arm
We drive forward

Now Troy catches up and cries, "Give 'em hell!"
Johnny, from behind, fires and screams out.
My closest friends still beside me, they did fall behind.
Now beside me, but one we're without.

Troy runs ahead, and falls.
We hide behind a barrier as he yells for the pain he's in.
More gunfire, he's hit one, two, three more times.
He doesn't move again.

"Move men, move!"
Our Sergeant runs on, we follow.
Explosions nearby, "Grenades, grenades!"
The ground falls hollow.

Johnny's crying from behind, he has fallen.
An explosion silences everything.
I tried to turn to pick him up.
The world begins to ring.

I scream, in a hope that I can bring sound back.
I see Marcos, he picks me up and points.
I look back for Johnny
Johnny's legs have been cut down at the joints

I hear our Sergeant first.
"Forward, move forward!"
Matt approaches Marcos and I.
He helps lift me and we run together.
Two friends lost, our anger has stirred.

We aim to kill,
Our fear is gone.
We drive forward.
Till dusk, and slow with the coming dawn.

We find refuge in a foxhole.
The bullets decide to rest for a moment.
A few hundred yards behind
Troy and Johnny lay dead and dormant

Marcos, Matt, and I survive for now.
We accept the moment to lay still.
The stench of sick and death surrounds.
Tomorrow, we finish taking the hill

At last! My Arm Is Complete Again.

It has been nearly two years since I last used this forum. I have found my pen again and I feel like good old Mr. Todd when he was reunited with his friend. My friend wont drip rubies as old Sweeny's friend had done so well. My friend will glide ferociously across the page and find its mark true, hopefully to enthrall and entertain you. With a crack of my knuckles, I'm going back to basics where my passion for ink and paper began. Poetry was my way of letting my readers know where I was in life as a teenager. Nearing thirty, I need to go back and find out why I lost my friend.

Before the Tide

Insomnia grips me, I can't explain.
Seems like I can't shut off my brain.
Looking back I remember pain.
Looking back I long for the rain.

She tells me it will work out fine.
Look forward, try to forget what's behind.
Search the horizon for what is divine.
Been trying to write what's on my mind.

Therefore, I pledge a tribute.
My story, but not in this fashion.
I will distribute
my story, and fulfill my passion

This format seems best for now.
Moving on, I am not sure how
I can begin again to make you say, "Wow!
The kid's still got it, I'm paying attention now."

She says I'm home again, I feel far away
Three in the morning with so much to say.
A legacy for my kids, I'm hopeful anyway.
There will be more, but not today.

I miss the cold North, now a wanderer I stumble.
The hot South makes me weary, yet I will not abstain.
Seven years have passed by, I sit before you humble.
Soon again I will bathe in the rain.