Born to Die

The winter sky was waxing bright, but War is Hell and Hell is here,
As dawn arose to relieve the night…O’ life is sweet but death is near.
The stuttering machinegun from a secret vantage point
does with fire and smoke and lead many comrades souls anoint.
No use the pity of deaf ears to ply
for these battlefield tenants were born to die.
“Sergeant Executioner, rally your command
a new onslaught is coming.  It’s vital we withstand.
Rise out of the trenches! Get over the top!”
a bit of lead….his yelling stops:
a spitting mouth with scarlet lips
appears on his head where the bullet rips.
His eyes roll up. His hands blanch white
and he collapses….so ends his fight.
But we the living continue the cause
over the top and never pause.
Don’t stop to pray for those just fallen…
they’re lucky.  Keep moving. The unborn are calling.
Oh for the days of summer boredom,
Autumn strolls and ….Corpsman!  Corpsman!
The ground coughs and roars in fits like chills
as hot red blood onto the cold earth spills.
It soaks the ground for the flowers tomorrow
whose fragrance will smother the stagnant sorrow.
Run and duck!  Keep low and shoot
or a lily will grow from your rotting boot;
then lovers will come at close of day
to pick the blossom….say, “Lovely”,  and throw it away.