VanRyan
VanRyan
Feb 02, 2021

Gentleman Death

A gentleman is Mr. Death.
We met on rain-soaked battleground
where I perceived the telltale thud
of a grenade in Lao’s jungle’s filth.
I lived through iron splinter rain.

The man of bones spoke through
earth-stained, broken teeth:
“You are a corpsman, much like me;
go on to live; and I pledge
to give you warning first, when
your time comes.”

After many years, when Death returned,
I tried to stall, for he arrived
quite unannounced. I said:

“You promised, sir!” But he replied,
“Old age and pain were my envoys;
by those you should’ve been foretold.”

About This Poem

Style/Type: Free verse

Review Request Direction: How was my language use?
How does this theme appeal to you?

Editing Stage: Not actively editing

About the Author

Region, Country: Arizona, USA

More from this author

Comments

Geezer

for you! Just like his Brother-in-Arms, the Devil, he couches his language in terms that lead you to believe, that you have the upper-hand! I really enjoyed this one, it gives off just the right flavor. Not a thing to criticize! ~ Geez.
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VanRyan

Thank you for your thoughtful comment, kind sir. Too often, Death comes unannounced, which probably isn't a bad thing. I appreciate your thoughts on my poem. Jerry

Lavender

Oh, Jerry,
You can really hit the nail on the head, sometimes. I cannot truly imagine those Laos jungle days. As we get older and there are more days behind than ahead, Gentleman Death is a bit more visible in our thoughts. Your language was to the point, and the theme was thought-provoking, for certain. Well written, Jerry.
Thank you,
L

VanRyan

sometimes I hit my thumb instead the nail's head, lol. Seldom wilI I speak or write about my experiences in the military, even to my wife and son. Neither will I glorify war. Thank you for your great comment, dear Lavender.
Jerry

C

I wouldn't go so far as to say death is a gentleman however your poem made an impact on me it sent a chill through your writing as always is enjoyed by me

VanRyan

no, he is no gentleman, except in my tale, in which he spared my life and promised to give me fair warning when my time ends. Considering my ripe old age of nearly 87, I have to assume that he is bypassing me, or saving me up for a horrendous demise. Thank you for liking my scribbling, dear Lynn; glad you enjoy my work. Jerry