If you were forced to give up one sense, but gain super-sensitivity in another, which senses would you choose?
Photographers, artists, poets: show us SENSITIVE.
In the poem posted below, the poem’s speaker, a Confederate solider named Hercules McGraw, Steps into the hell of battle for the first time. As he fights, the rules that govern life and living vanish, as a bubble into air. McGraw’s senses are heightened as a moment envelopes himlike never before.
The poem is take from my first book, Private Hercules McGraw. It is published by Anaphora Literary Press as is available for purchase on Amazon.com.
Not One Bit
Once our gun’s started banging and my ears
was choked with thunder, we got the order
to charge. Guess the war wanted to see us bad.
Right when I could spy some Yanks through
the smoke and haze, their coats as dark as the wood
they walked out of, my toe smacked up against
a rock the size of my noggin’ and I fell
like a chopped tree. I lay there a moment
as hell spit and hollered above me.
Men catching lead fell; their arms and legs
bending in ways they weren’t meant to.
Some screamed for Jesus or their mothers
Others just screamed to scream. Instead of getting up,
I took careful aim at a blue blood stepping quick
in my direction. For a bit, everything slowed down
and I swear I seen my musket ball fly out my gun,
cut through the air, and nestle in that Yank’s belly.
He tumbled down, grabbed his gut – started rolling
this way and that. I got up, charged again thinking
hell yeah – I got me one. Still, killing didn’t
spark the fire I thought it might. Nope, not one bit.
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