POETRY: Battle Scent by Jad Sheikali  

Posted by Scott Wilson

That unmistakable, musty smell enters my nostrils on a bright summer day.
The bitter-sweet scent of freshly cut grass takes me to an unforgettable place.

Blinding stadium lights mark the final scrap of a brutal campaign.
The toxic scent of a newly lined field sting like mustard gas.

The roar of the crowd is suddenly overshadowed by cannon fire below.
The generals march their troops into position, foe facing foe.

The battle has begun.

Passionate emotions infect the soldiers,
Coursing through their veins with the deliberation of a neurotoxin,
Leaving them numb to physical pain and thoughts of retreat.

Humid tension looms in the air.

The fight is fierce.

The deadlock breaks as the invaders strike.

Frothing with momentum, hands still wet from the first kill,
They stage another daring attack.

The crowd retreats into silence,
The ultimate prize at stake.

Defenses begin to run thin,
Blind desperation takes over.

The invaders break through the lines.

One final barrage of cannons signals the end of a long struggle.

A season of glory, one night of defeat,
That unforgettable scent, bitter and sweet.

This entry was posted on Saturday, April 2, 2011 at 1:57 PM . You can follow any responses to this entry through the comments feed .


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