A Sniper's View of the Great war

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
The First World war saw many soldiers die from sniper fire.

Submitted: June 15, 2012

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Submitted: June 15, 2012



Fly on hand

born of comrade’s corpse,

the only memory of what has gone before.



The fleas that hide,

slowly drinking my soul,

a world where freedom lies

snug in the recess of my body,

a giving god to them.



And as I curse the itch with embers burn

I peer through the sight once more

waiting for my foe.

For country has made an avenging god



To see the eyes before they close,

knowing that darkness has come.

This tribute of victory

Is mine alone to dream



Though sleep is my victim’s vengeance,

a place where haunting faces

with broken skulls and withered lips

All gather to greet me.



For tomorrow the dream will begin again,

and their words will grow louder

chuckled by feeding rats

which draws the attention of another sight?

for my foe seeks the eye of me.

 This harvest is a lousy feast.



Soldiers in limpet ground

shooting at images of man

For reality would tremble the hand

And a miss, is to know the man

In the mist of this no man's land



And what of god

The day is near when we will lower our heads

For to look would be obscene

We criminals of heaven, we disciples of hell.


But no matter,

Our papers are a blessed pass

For king and country comes first


The victors will judge

Hero or assassin,

The victims will argue in heaven

And god will know the failures of man.



Forgiveness was not mine to give

To follow orders, history will condemn

But the last word is mine

And Adam in his sin will answer to me

A soldier of this Great War.


© Copyright 2017 steven cooke. All rights reserved.

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