A Sniper's Life Nightmare! Poem by Robert Edgar Burns

A rocket flashes in front of me.
I feel it’s blast behind.
I taste the blood of someone else,
Who had been close by my side.

The smell of burning flesh disgusts,
My sickened stomach more.
I’m fighting for my country, Right?
But it’s not even called a war.

My target moves in front of me.
Then suddenly a flare.
My face goes quickly in the mud.
I’m covered foot to hair.

The perimeter held dogs and men.
I slowly lift my eyes.
I peer through wire, razor sharp,
Then once again I see my prize.

The front site of my weapon raised,
With slow and gentle ease.
The cross hairs focused and aligned,
I feel my finger squeeze.

A colonel and black marketeer,
Grabbed his throat and hit the ground.
But way before he ever did,
I had already spun around.

A maddening dash across a field.
A hundred yards of mines.
A zig zag pacing of two legs,
Now numb from dragging vines.

I feel the closeness of the rounds
As they nip my ears and feet.
I see the tracer skip close by,
As I dive into a creek.

Just beyond a path between
A thickened jungle brush.
I hoped to be extracted,
My legs cramp as I rush.

I hear the rotors swishing.
The ladder hangs in mid air.
I run into a clearing,
And jump for the ladder there.

I hear the muffled sounds of blasts,
As I rise into the air.
Rounds above are firing cover,
A snipers answered prayer.

Now, just before I slice the throat,
And take off my enemy’s hair,
I wake up from that dream and yell!
It’s a sniper’s life nightmare!