4/5/2018
I feel the watery mud soak in my clothes smoke of explodes steam my skin
I see light red stains poor over the enemy's armor and bullets raining down from every direction
I hear gastly cruel screams of dying men and women I hear the ear piercing bullets fill my ears with bang I smell blood and guts of dead fights I smell the revolting brown mud push to the edge of my face and the glory that my team will take
I taste the crunchy center of my Anzac biscuit which feeds my mouth which is scrumptiously
Excellent poem, Dominic! You have used your senses to describe a soldier's experience.
ReplyDeleteNext time you could change the layout of your poem so it fits onto your blog.