Let me start by saying that I wrote this poem from a very rough idea. I'm still learning how to write so the poem could use a bit of improvement. It's basically based on a soldier's brief encounter with life and death on the battlefield. Let me know what you think about it.
The sound of bullet-rain pierced my ears,
it brought an end to what my friends held dear.
Opened for me, indeed, were the death's jaws,
I knew that it was my turn to escape it's claws.
Fear sparked a fire in my chest,
my hands trembled at the sight of death.
"My fellow men have sacrificed their lives," thought I.
A voice within spoke, "Should I not follow in their stead?"
I decided in that moment that although, my end was nigh,
it was time that I conquered fear, and for my fellow men, bled.
There was no one but me and my tool,
and my courage to dispatch the ghouls
that fed on my families blood and meat, true.
The fear that raged inside me, turned to fuel,
and I forgot that I had become one of them, cruel.
And then I saw the lady, in black and white.
"Do you bring death, or only life?"
"I bring both," said she.
and blessed me with light.
She wore a robe of black, leather.
With red hair, built slim as a feather.
Could not comprehend her, I tried,
perhaps she was not meant for my eyes.*
"Why are you here?" I questioned.
"Because of millions you are the savior,
or of millions you are the vanquisher."
"Please it's enough!" I pleaded before her,
"I cannot fear death anymore!
Release me! Or I shall be afraid evermore.."
She whispered, "You shan't be afraid, my dear,"
"You have done your nation proud, never fear."
"You cannot fathom what has been accomplished by your bravery,
you forged yourself a hero, and you shan't be forgotten by history."
"I am life, I am death. But today, I am both.
You have done true to your oath,"
"Now, it's time for you to rest
and remember! You did your best."
Exhaustion overcame me, I went to sleep.
And as my body took it's last breath,
I wandered over the battlefield,
and met with friend and foe alike.
At that moment, we were one.
No gods, no kings.
Only men.
Keep writing, you have talent. For the majority of poets, for each poem they do many drafts, that's normal. Some of my poems I have done over 100 drafts, maybe even 200 before I feel it's the best I can do with that poem. I'll follow you.
You don't know how much these words mean to me. Thank you. I really can't put into words how much what you have said means to me. I practice everyday, write most of the time and many of my ideas go out the window. Poetry is something that has fascinated me for quite some time but I just haven't wanted to write poetry until now. I always rewrite my poems until I feel happy with them, sometimes they turn out incredible. Other times, not so much. But I always have and always will rewrite what I have written until I am content with it.
Thanks so much once again.