Throes Of The Dying Poem by Muogbo Ifeanyi

In hostile territory
Amidst the racket of exploding shrapnel
He lay dying.

Bereft of comrades
And trampled by foes
He willed himself to breath his last

With taunting leisure
And mocking torture
His soul seeped from his body's crevices

With an imploding sense of sorrow
He remembered his fond wife's smiles
And the soothing laughter of his beautiful children

Angrily and sorrowfully
He howled and blubbered
Defying death with the strength of his voice

Clitter-Clatter, Clitter-Clatter
His bleeding ears espied the clatter of death's cruel boots
And the rustle of death's evil cloak

Thwack! Death's axe descended on his mangled anterior
Squelching bones and expelling soul
In a profane gory instant

Alas! He lay lifeless
Dead as a doornail
And out of his misery

His visage assumed an eerie calm
And his soul lingered and tarried
Awaiting the dawning of the resurrection morn.

(c) 2016. Muogbo Ifeanyi