Reginald Walker

Rookie - 3 Points (July 9,1964 / Marion, Alabama)

(updated) The U. S. Army Ranger, A Poetic Series, On The Verge Of War 2 - Poem by Reginald Walker

Book Two: On the verge of war

(This is a fictional poetic series and short story about events that never take place and about people that have never existed. Any representation of an actual event or person is purely coincidental in nature.)

Mission Two: Time to do another job.

One morning, I am just making my bed.
I try to remember the events last night.
Who put this bandage on my head?
I want to know if I won or lost that fight.

The captain called a few minutes later.
I hurriedly got my drunken ass in motion.
I am again sent to eliminate an evil dictator.
The U. S. Army Ranger crosses the ocean.

I am shipped to an overseas location.
I am to kill the leader of Amanastan.
This job must be very carefully done.
The leader is a well-protected man.

Mountains surround me on either side.
I climb down one canyon and up another
I find a nice empty cave for the day to hide.
When darkness return, I will travel further.

I made it to the palace three days later.
I position myself high up in an olive tree
A doctor comes to examining the dictator.
He also checks on the rest of the family.

Patiently, I waited for the moonlight to shine.
I silently slid down from my perch in the tree.
I looked through my night scope seeking to find.
The location of the dictator, where could he be.

I searched each room completely with care.
I looked as far as my scope would let me see
I spotted the dictator walking up the stairs.
He was followed by the members of his family.

The doctor was the last to come up the stairs.
First, he examined the child and the mother, too.
He treated each family member gently with care.
The dictator was the last patient that he would do.

The doctor puts the scope to his chest.
He is put on a scale to record his weight.
The dictator takes a blood pressure test.
The doctor then hands him a pill to take.

The dictator lifts his glass to take the pill.
He waits for the needle his skin to prick.
I was setting high a top of a distant hill.
His head dropped right after the bullet hit.

Again to my home base, I run.
I must escape before I am shot
Time to get another job done.
I am picked up at the rescue spot.

(Copyright 2007)


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Poem Submitted: Sunday, September 30, 2007

Poem Edited: Tuesday, April 12, 2011


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