The Battle's Over

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Religion and Spirituality  |  House: Booksie Classic
A poem about an angel collecting the souls of the dead after a battle.

Submitted: September 15, 2012

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Submitted: September 15, 2012

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The battle's over, no one stands,

there's no one living in no man's land.

Shattered bodies in the mire,

one swings gently on the wire.

The Sergeant walks out from the smoke,

it swirls around him like a cloak.

His wings unfurled he takes command,

“Stop lying about, the dead will stand.

You lazy buggers, on your feet,

smarten up there, there's Gods to meet”

The dead stand up and look around,

no one talks, there's not a sound.

Some try to gather their mortal remains.

“You won't need those” Sarge explains.

“Get on parade, you slovenly crew,

on the double, form line of two.”

“By the left, quick march” and off they set.

Side by side, step by step.

Old enemies march by in pairs,

there's no Race when you're going upstairs.

As they pass a figure in white

the sergeant orders them “eyes right”.

The angel replies with a nod of his head

and marks their names in the book of the dead.

They march unseen through the ranks of the living

“The Pearly gates boys, now they're worth seeing.”


© Copyright 2017 Simon Streeton. All rights reserved.

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