It’s just a way of life
said the man with the gun, you win it or you lose it when all’s said and done.
But the odds and the favour
can be tipped over here by a winning smile from a boy with no fear.
They say that respect
is a game hard won but they can’t see the smile down the barrel of the gun.
The feather on the trigger
tipping fate on its edge, no begging or beseeching can reverse a given pledge.
So the days turn into night
and the winter beckons , the clock on the wall ticking out the short seconds
of love hard won
on a tall family tree, hear the click of the pin as the feather fly’s free!
At the moment of truth
lies the missing piece, the puzzle of life destroying desolate peace.
And the bullets fly
dealing death all around, a hail of thundering steel as they tear into the ground.
We live our lives
along the barrel of a gun, from the dawning of time beneath the rising sun.
And the steel from the sky
becomes the sand in your face as the tears on your cheeks wash the windows of fate. Written by Darren Scanlon, January 2014. Revised version 20th February 2015. Superb Death Poetry Bountiful words on Destiny Honorable thoughts on Fate
Have something to say about the poem?
ALL POEMS ©2015 DARREN SCANLON. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. * Words and music have always played a major role in my life. A life without being able to enjoy music and express in words would be, for me, empty and cold.I have been writing since age 16, some 30+ years now but have only recently started publishing my works. Since doing so in Dec 2013, I have published 4 novels and 5 volumes of poetry, (available on Amazon.co.uk).My words are my life. If they touch you in any way, if you are able to take something from them, then my work has achieved its goal and I am a happy man.Welcome to my world. Darren.
A missile in the home, what they have done? You are on flames. A red smoke rises from bottomless hole. Memory slumps. A glow in pain washed cells, calls the mirror. Instead, grave diggers arrive. This was the manufactured truth
Let me brace some blows, Of lonely breeze and snows, freeze me blue and cold, Wonders die as flower unfolds. Let me stitch some wounds, fly with my wings of hope, hopes that sail the boat are now dead across
Lighter than a feather, when weighed on you though, never heavier, Rain in the storm, blown away I’m torn, open up, it’s not like the norm Adored but not shown, praises that become worn, Show me the love, where’s the
Why can’t I find them, the words, I need them to spill from me like a waterfall spills over a cliff. I need you to hear me, hear all of this dread inside me, hear the twisting of my heart