Cold spray, wakes me up while awake
Memories of home have somehow led to this
Hard thoughts, probably the same for the next guy
If this is a barrel, I'm a fish
Have to trust the brass after all, if this wasn't good enough, I wouldn't be on it
My rifle is light as a feather, it's the adrenaline
Another wave hits my barrel hard, jarring
If this is my last day, it's not a good one
Should I ask God for anything
Expect to live, I say to myself
It's them that need to die
Remember the plan, and be a man
Europe awaits
Hissing through the teeth, and it was me
I don't want to get any closer to this beach
Can almost hear it from here already
Cold spray, wakes me up while awake
I was drifting, but now it's time
A rough pat on the back, the man behind me
I might be taking one for him today
A whistle blows, the ramp drops
Bullets cracking, but not near me
Never mind
The air around me slaps my face
Water, running, me
I can see the bunkers winking at me in the distance
With two evil orange flashes from the dark
I'm ready for you, they say
Bodies on the beach
I'm not one of them yet
Wet sand under my heavy boots
Holding my rifle close
I'll look at the winking bunker again
It met my gaze in that instant
With the bullet that was meant for me
About the Creator
Jonathan Lawrence
Haiku writer.
When life gives you ink, make penstrokes.
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Getting Serious About Comedy (Part I)
If I were asked to remark on my life and the childhood that paved some road leading me to this point, I would have to say something about all the funny people who surrounded me for the last 26,872 days (and counting). Somewhere along that road, I became a big fan of laughter and the comedy that spawns it – and, I mean not only my own laughter, but the laughter of others, some of which I have actually been responsible for inducing.
By John Oliver Smith7 days ago in Humor
Comments (1)
This is an impressive piece, especially with that last line.