He lay on the ground holding the wound in his belly,
A painful deep hole gapping down to his side,
Feeling the thick blood sliding between his fingers.
The ringing in his ears progressed to a dull roar,
And a light cloud of fine dust covered his eyes...
It happened so quickly, he wasn't sure it was him,
Bullets whizzed past his head, the scene was so grim.
Men were falling like rain drops coming from the sky,
Shouts of pain and fear, filling the air as cries...
It was then, – that he felt it, – the buckshot that hit his gutt,
And he fell to his knees, amid the mud and the muck.
He must fight, he told himself, he must fight for his life.
Crawling to a safe spot, he must fight for his wife.
A fence rail he grabbed, pulling himself beneath a tree,
All the time he thought: “oh Sarah, please forgive me.”
He rolled onto his back, sure to lay very still,
He must fight, and his mind began to reel.
If he could just hold on, one more minute or two,
This Peachtree Creek Masacre would finally be through;
But they found him, – those Yankees from the North, –
And they kicked his bloody torso to its last breath.
Then the ringing started as they walked away...
And now it was for Sarah that he began to pray.
He promised not to leave her, he swore to come home;
He just couldn't die, for it was his time to move on.
His body became rigid, while choking from thick blood,
His last breath was a comin', and with fear he was over run.
He heard it then – he thought of her tiny girlish sweet voice,
And he wanted to cry, he eyes becoming moist...
Hold my hand, she said to him, like I did hold yours,
So you won't be scared my love, the pain will be no more.
Moving his fingers from the wound, he did reach his wife...
At home she jerked awaken from a dream, where they met.
Until forever you told me, she'd said, so don't worry for me,
I'll be waiting in the next life, when you come soon you'll see.
That breath was his last, I love you he had spoken,
And above them all he rose... there was no more pain....
Author notes
Death....
In a list
A contest entry
- PRWRITE CONTEST FOR ALL by serenity silvermoon.
900 points, ended August 2, 1023 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Versatile Poetry Round 2! by EmbraceTheJourney.
550 points, ended August 6, 9 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
1 - 10 of 10
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Such a graphic scene of death you've painted with your words. So many died horrible deaths, gentlemen from the south, who gave their all for their cause. I had ancestors who died this way near Atlanta. Haunting images throughout this one.
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I would love to hear about your ancestors, or know where they died, or what battle, we could give them an honor and write a story or poetry, they all so deserve to be remembered. I honor the Yankee soldier too for most were only doing as they were told, but for the southerner, it was much different, and they receive no honor or glory. At best all should be remembered just for being a soldier....here I am ranting again
I am proud for your family heritage, thank you so for sharing it with me! And for your comment, it means so much! Love and Light, Dixie
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Oh my this is breathtaking and heartbreaking at the same time! You wrote this with so much emotion and so much imagery, I could feel everything and picture everything. This was such an amazing write Dawn, perfect.
Blessings,
~Michaela~
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Hauntingly Real
Felt like I was the solider, grasping at the last few minutes of life.
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Good work...
"The Last Breath" as a story-poem on the civil war is very precious... an impressive one, but I feel that it needs to be energized to give its lamp more brightness.
In respect and admiration,
Andre Emmanuel Bendavi ben-YEHU
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I would like to revise this piece might I humbly ask for your help dearst one...
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Incredible that you managed to give the picture such a sad story. It's a really shocking reminder that every fighter in the army is an individual with a life and someone to go home to. Well penned
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A very sad poem. Even while I knew the odds were the story would end this way, I could help to hope against hope that he might survive. Of course that would more than likely render your poem anti-climatic so of course that wasn't a real option for you.
A sad chapter in our nations history. But sadly repeated many times in other countries with other wives husbands and nother's sons.
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War is a difficult thing, no doubt. Ultimately there are no winners or losers, at least not within the dead. North, South, once dead, they were just the dead. The spoils, the victory chants and marches were for the living, not those who died.
It's an all too true portrait of the war, right down to man's inhumanity to man, even though it was essentially brother against brother.
A sad poignant tale that could have no other ending than the one you gave it, and it is as much a tribute to love as to anything else.
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Awesome, another excellent depiction of the Civil War by you
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