S.O.S.
by David Reese
A final resting place.
For this war, i didn't want to face.
Bodies surround; to the right, behind and straight ahead.
One, to the left, full of burning lead.
For this war i did not stand. But,
now I cannot stand at all.
Some say "rest in peace," but my peace
is when this war is in it's resting place.
Mouth fills with nearly simmering salty liquid.
Heart steadily slowing.
Hands cramping.
But with this, no pain.
For tonight, my time line is at it's end.
The Purpose of Points
by David Reese
Everything starts with a point.
Even this poem, with this point I'm making.
Points together make a line.
Lines form shapes.
Life also starts with a point.
There's a point in life where you can go no further,
then someone makes a point to help.
A point can be vague or punctual.
You can make a punctual point to be present.
The sharp point of a pin can hurt, while
the same sharp point of a needle can cure
Everything beings and ends with a point.
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1 comment:
The first poem is really cool. I like the perspective of a soldier and him realizing his life is coming to an end. The imagery of death and sadness is also done really well.
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