Poetry

The tank trap

By 6th November 2011December 9th, 2019No Comments

I wondered lonely as a challenger battle tank
The smell inside can get ripe, quite rank
Leaving trails in soil, sand and snow
For their size they are far from slow

Noisily grinding, abruptly the sound did cease
Perhaps the bearings needed more grease
But alas no, the tank stopped going forward
Because up ahead the way was to ‘ard

As I was looking, suddenly there came a tapping
Before long it became a loud rapping
At the tank, stones were being hurled
Before bottles with flaming cloth unfurled

At length did see a gunship Apache
As it swept down like a dove, from high above
And laid waste to all in front
It was a hell of a stunt

As I stood on the burning deck
Massaging my bruised head and neck
In no time the blaze was reduced
From the fire fighting equipment the crew produced

I Stood amid the roar
Of a war torn street so poor
Days left to go, pass by so slow
Soon I will be home in bed
Or laying on this dusty street dead

Chris Duncan

Author Chris Duncan

More posts by Chris Duncan

Leave a Reply