PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

One shot one kill

break the enemy’s will,

Easy for them to say,

They don’t see his face.

The face I will hold in my sight,

Will haunt my dreams tonight.

I have been buried under cover for an hour or so,

Barely breathing, not wanting my cover to blow.

Not a twitch or a blink to give me away,

As my quarry approaches in this deadly play.

The hat I left on the ground,

Would be handed to the leader when found.

I would then have my targeting,

As death would come to him on silent wings.

There would be a plop and a lot of red,

Then the young leader would fall dead.

A thought plays across my mind’s tapestry,

I wonder about his family.

Mustn’t think of it now,

our dance is about to start.

They say what I do is more than a job it is art.

When he drops, they will dive for cover,

The anti-personnel mines will insure it is over.

Any that survive will carefully retreat,

While I maintain cover for what seems eternity.

All is quiet now, the birds have started to sing to me

Slowly, I back away and melt into the trees.

I return to camp and start drinking to forget his face,

And let sleep take me home, away from this place.

My tour is up it is home I return to family,

His face and all the others follows me,

The rest of my life I will pay death’s piper,

For this is the price you pay when you are a sniper.