The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner
From my mother's sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner by Randall Jarrell )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
- if the sun blows up, come find me, Mandolyn ...
- Midnight (i), binod bastola
- summer at grub street, lee fones
- Facebook, Phil Soar
- In Back Of The Bar, Kyle Schlicher
- Mad Moles, Phil Soar
- Hacked Off, Phil Soar
- punch the clock if you can make a fist, Mandolyn ...
- Tom The Badger, Phil Soar
- NotVery PC, Phil Soar