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The foxhole

The silence...
The stillness
Akin to shadows, long fingers reach
Warriors and I
Lie here in the hallow
Fear…beside us, beseech!

Where is the enemy?
Whispers seem to ring out
Lips from my fingers, keeps head from arise
To quell eager peering about

I am a boy
But, this night, man become I
I and my buddies…
Too young, aren’t prepared to die

Onto their arms I do grab
Keeping their lives from growing all too short
Then, echoes…echoes. ..Breaking the silence of the still
A loud shot! Reports….

The one…
Then two!
A hail of missiles, I bring up my gun
Dirt spraying from every direction, which way do I shoot?

What I do not have…is…
Time! Time to think
I throw up my machine gun, blindly, not looking…
Squeezing the trigger, RAT TAT TAT… in frenzy, RAT TAT TAT…spitting instinct

Adrenaline rushing, surging!
Beads of sweat freefall to roll
Fingers tighten, muscles tauten
Madness besieging to depths of soul

Then my redden swelling ears take heed
From behind comes most frantic, deafening scream
Victory, exhilaration, hopes of my enemies all relieved!

It’s Johnny who’s been hit! Red river flows his crimson streams
I’m sobbing; I’m cradling him and shouting “YOU CANNOT DIE!”
Then I whisper…come back to life “Johnny, please, Johnny please"

Unnoticed to me, the stillness returns once more and then a paper…a letter… silently floats to the floor
It’s the words like bullets that hit me, penned from his wife…
“I love you so much, the war will be over in just a short time; make sure you come back to me…
Come back to me alive”

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Submitted on May 01, 2011

1:21 min read

Nighttiger Claim this poet

A fortyish native born all American man. Married twice and for the last time. I have four children; Three daughters and one son that are all over the age of eighteen. I also have two grandchildren; one three years old and one nine months old. Inspired by God, tragedy, life's experiences and then a fairy tale love. I never intentionally set out to write poetry, but "She" inspired me. "She" meaning the love of my life. That love is a passion that after thirteen years still grows stronger each and every day. It eventually had to be put into writing. As I wrote poetry to her, she encouraged me to approach other subjects. Doing so brought me to discover that poetry could wash away the bitter tastes of life (suicide, cancer, and divorce) that were still living like demons inside me. So when poetic therapy brought those impish fiends to a stalemate, I began to experiment more. Creating fictional characters and situations within my works. The support of this online community has inspired me even further to continue to hone my writing skills giving the readers the best that I can offer. Thanks to all you out there in Lulu land. more…

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    "The foxhole" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2022. Web. 25 Jan. 2022. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/86741/the-foxhole>.

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