2018 03 18 - A Whistle Cut Short
A Whistle Cut Short
The cannoneer's soft banter
As they expanded their trench shovel by shovel
Closing the circle around their 155
Suddenly cut short
Heads jerking upwards
Straining Tense Alert
A whistling shriek overhead abruptly silent
Cannoneers screaming SHORT ROUND SHORT ROUND HIT THE DIRT
Slamming face down in raw earth under soft twilight's gentle glow
The explosion not far off
About 100 meters or so
Deep in the green canopy
Now shattered by invisible shards
Hot death seeking its prey
It mattered not whom it found
A second shriek barely perceptible
Earth exploding upwards some 50 meters away
A rain of soft warm earth falling upon us
The third explosion within the cannoneer's encampment
A sudden silence as we strained to breath
Mute seconds becoming long minutes
Before life began anew
Cannoneers warily rising
Breathing in cordite tainted smoke hanging heavy in the air
The deep silence softly broke
As Cannoneers went quietly hootch to hootch
Before breathing a sigh of relief
For death went wanting that warm fall eve
An errant 105
Firing opposite its brethren's direction
Tommy
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem