PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

My hands are numb and my shoulders shake with the cold.

I sit on my arse in the cold damp grass,

the campfire does nothing to warm this situation.

It just cracks and spits at the damp wood.



Hardly a word is said and yet my

mind is full of screaming and shouting.

If I pissed myself once this day

I did it four or five times,

never has my cock leaked so much

yet I haven"t shit in days.



Food is low but moral is good

and we all have high hopes

for tomorrows battle.

I am under Pickett"s charge

yet my mind is wild

and my heart seems to over beat,

there is a knot in

my stomach the size

of my fist,

so I think

of home

to calm down.

Virginia.

I watch my mother

hanging out

washing with

her thin hands.



I gulp and wonder

if I shall see her soon.

She died three

years ago.