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Open Poetry #16
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John Yaws
Senior Member
since 1999-10-09
Posts 860
Texas

0 posted 2001-09-25 08:37 PM



There's something about the powder smoke-
Drifting on the air.
The sweeter smell of fresh shed blood-
The stink of flesh and hair...

The silence broken by the cries-
Of men at point of death...
Mixed together seem to form
The Reaper's fetid breath.

Death, the final enemy?
Or, Death, familiar friend?
It matters not your point of view-
For Death is still the end.

The end? So I've been told by some-
I somehow doubt that's true.
I fear there waits a reckoning-
For men like me and you.

I somehow doubt it wipes the slate-
With crime and sin so rife,
But come what may, it seems that Death...
Is still the end of life.

© Copyright 2001 John R. Yaws - All Rights Reserved
RSWells
Member Elite
since 2001-06-17
Posts 2533

1 posted 2001-09-26 09:34 AM


Unavoidable truth as discomforting as it is.
Irish Rose
Member Patricius
since 2000-04-06
Posts 10263

2 posted 2001-09-26 01:43 PM


This makes me want to rethink the old west..

Kathleen

"Others can stop you temporarily, but only you can do it permanently."

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