What good and bad we do in a life. The scars will always stay with us.
Killer on the road
A Iraqi
man sipping his coffee. He watches the military trucks drive
by.
He look to the sky and murmur a pray. I will
miss you my wife, my children. He caresses his
chest. He feel the bomb wrapped tightly
against his body.
His eyes are
sad and he knows he has no choice. They killed his
brothers. They came to his country and torn it down to
rubble.
He believed in a eye for a
eye. He will be
in paradise soon. Tears fall from his eyes as he think
of his wife sleeping alone.
Soldier with
M-16 loaded and ready. He tells his buddy going to be a
good night. Going to kill a few of them damn
terrorist.
His buddy
with a bible in his hand. Pray to survive the night
without firing his guns. He whisper I
pray I make it through the night. Please lord keep
me safe and let me go home soon.
The city is
quiet and the soldier are on alert. The gunner pass the
coffee to his friends. Tells him my eyes are seeing
ghosts again.
He
watches the morning light began to appear. He thinks of
a mother and father waiting and hoping to see him. He makes a mental note to call them
tomorrow.
A middle age
Iraqi man walked down the street in the early morning. His hands are sweating. He see two
soldiers guarding a government building.
The gunner asks his buddy was the man
a ghost in the distance? He put the bible down and tells
him he is real.
The soldier looked at his bible. Points his
weapon at the man. He raise his hand to halt the Iraqi
Man.
The Iraqi man screams out his
daughter name and Allah. Runs toward the
soldier.
The soldier aim his
M-16 and shoot three rounds into the man
chest.
The Iraqi man falls dead. The soldier
goes to him. Fall and ask god to forgive
him.
He open up
and see the bomb and photos. It still don't bring comfort to the
soldier.
The soldier sit on his cot. He hold
pictures of a man's wife with two children. He wonder why he has to kill this man?
He should of been home tossing
a football with his brother or
something.
He cries for the Iraqi he killed. Old
Sargent said he was a hero. Those terrorist are just
killers on the road. Waiting for us to end their
misery. He
bring his bible to his heart and tries to
sleep.
The gunner wake him up. He tells him
we are on again tonight.
He puts the bible on the table. Dresses into battle gear and walk out of his tent. He leave the bible tonight on the table.
He
had bad dreams. He dreams he was the killer on the road.
He would do his duty and go
home. He don't talk of God or Jesus anymore. He just wishes
for the blood to leave his hands.
The gunner smile. He yelled maybe we
can kill a few tonight. His buddy smile and stare at
the road.
War leave no winner. Vietnam and Korea left scar for a generation of young men and woman. These Wars of today will be the scars for the next 60 years or more.
My Review
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Your war stories are so poignant to me...my friend over there, I wonder, how many men has he killed? Will those scars affect him when he's home with his wife and kids? I know they will, but will he realize it, or pass on the violence to those he loves....Great write, my friend.
war is such a ruthless thing...u wrote the poem from both the sides and captured the truth.Many lives are shaken by war and generations suffer.War is just atool to show the superiority of one nation over the other but what good does it do?Nice piece! :)
Really love this poem. I love how it tells the story from both sides. War is no joke. Going into war is running into the arms of death even though some come home alive. Great poem.
The problem is men fight for what they believe in, each side feeling their justified in taking a human life, one going to paradise, the other praying to get home, and suddenly these men don't even know what there fighting for, but see cost of war and human life, my father fought in ww2 as a young boy, and those memories shaped the man he became and the father, unemotional and ruthless. How many men will become as he did? How many lives ruined? You are right, generations.
I find it outrageous, that anybody claims to own anything on this earth. It is not belonging to humans. Yet we do so, as if..... this is very sensible topic. Once people knew each other.. and they went to different places and didn't recognize each other anymore. There is a s number - I think, it is 180. They use it in economics. When a company is larger than this 180-200 people, then they don't have real relationships to each other, and the output is less than it could be. that's why in the past, the villages were hold small. People respected each other and knew each other. Now these mega cities, this striving for to be the best... the richest.... but there is always the opposite.. and so do countries. Someone is rich and someone is poor. All is endless manipulation, fraud, competition. And at the beginning of everything are POSSESSIONS. From there - striving for power. And then, we have wars. Wonderful, descriptive poem. Made me sad but that's exactly the right impact.
Makes me think, and then to wonder who is fighting who. Who is benefiting from war? The more I think about the current wars the less I understand. I hear explainations offered but all of them feel like excuses for some hidden reason for war. Your story is powerful
A very touching poem... the futility of war is something that we all ponder upon, no matter who wins, humanity seems to lose. It is a controversial topic, should we not fight for our motherland, to protect our family? But war results in a massive loss of life, and families which will never be protected again.
Absolutely chilling thought that Our Soldiers are experiencing these very things. thanks for the write. Peace BoSweets
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omygosh! this is sooo good! It shows both sides of the story which I have to say I really admire..... it is very sad but so realistic and it helps me learn how it is to be in the war.... very good
war has got no solution.it has to be fought within to safeguard the territorial integrity of nation..only war monger can benefit out of it..good poem to read.
A Poet and writer who love to read and write.
My pleasure is reading about the bad and good in a life.
Also to honor the Poets/Writers of the past by reading their words.
Remember .. more..