Free Verse Poetry #3

The Soldier

There is something eerie about this man,
something unsettling,
in the way he carries himself. 
As if all of the weight in the world 
were bestowed 
upon his encompassing shoulders, 
this man stalks around 
a blank gaze set into his stolid head. 
Such a gaze...
Composed of two blue eyes, 
eyes which we believe to show exceptional ability and hope. 

He betrays this hope. 

It is obvious he is no stranger to battle, 
hundreds if not a thousand scars decorate his muscular form 
as a mere testament to his experience. 


This massive man is only swift in battle, 
otherwise his heavy feet crash upon the earth,
like thunder to a drum,
leaving only the stale air of intimidation in his wake.

Old, he likely is. 
Or at least beyond the prime of a regular man, 
yet it seems he betters 
each passing moment. 
His methods of discipline,
a tragic life spent suppressing emotions,
have molded this once gifted scholar 
into a cold, supreme warrior. 

The evidence lies in his now expressionless face, 
deep lines of pain and anguish
are inscribed into his mug; 
this is but a lasting memory of what he used to be.

Settled in his blue eyes 
is a preternatural wisdom 
made exaggerated by his deep, resonating voice. 
This voice moves slowly through the air, 
letting each one of his words be heard. 
His logic is infallible,
and his tone..
It suggests a keen analysis of any situation proposed, 
whether it be past, 
present 
or future. 
This sharp, boundless knowledge 
is borrowed into life.


This is the soldier,
a man who sweats blood,
and cries bullets.