Shots In The Dark. Read Count : 109

Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

In the Night,

In the dead of Night,

I was among the pride,

In the thick of the strange cries of fauna,

Of nocturnals,

And among the heyenas,

In the Savanna,

Following after our targets,

Seeking to get hold of our aims,

Creeping through the tall grass,

I was a leopard,

Gleaming under the Silver Lights of the Moon,

And I was grey,

In grey world,

From the Visions,

From an Infrared Binoculars,

Working to spring an ambush,

Following  my ambitions with my object,

Following my visions,

Suddenly a rifle goes off,

One explosive fire,

And then the recoil,

Then another explosive fire,

A marksman was taking care of business,

Out in the darkness,

I steady,

Motionless,

Like a possum,

Playing dead,

I could I hear loud reports Coming from a Baobab,

Some 4000 meters  away,

I could her the loud reports coming from the marksman,

And I could see the fire,

From the rim of the  barrel  of a sniper rifle,

And the flashes of fire the gunsots were making,

Were marking out the marksman,

In the dark,

The flashing from the shots,

Gave the shooter's face away,

I had a night vision as vivid as day,

The shooter,

Appeared to fancy themselves as a real  marksman,

Or Practising Sharp-shooting,

Or attempting hit,

The Bull's Eye with me,

But if  he had me in his sights,

Or practising targetry at me,

He must have been failing,

Because from where I stood,

From where I stand,

Which I guess from his wild shots,

His shots flying  far wide,

He had no idea,

And had not got the foggiest,

I had been decorated in the Spec Ops,---

And I am,

Way outside the range,

Of an M 40 A5,

In the night,

The loud reports,

And flashes from the rifle,

Were giving away his position,

And laying him naked,

One  clean shot would have sufficed,

If  I were to take him out,

High up in the Baobab,

Where he was perched,

And before he had taken his fifth aim,

Falling on my experience in the Green Beret,

And Guerilla Warefare,

And like a forest cobra,

I had crept through the grass,

And the darkness,

In which he was practising marksmanship,

And I was standing right,

Behind him,

With my Rugged Hunting Knife,

Unsheated,

Over his back,

Behind the Caeliac Plexus,

And I had ripped off a piece of  his jacket,

Like David did of Saul,

I have no mind of taking trophies,

And the sniper making attempts  to take down,

Had no inkling,

My shadow was standing over him,

And in the dark he lay down,

Still dead on taking me down,

Still aiming and firing away,

 At  my image in his sights,

My image far out in the darkness,

And he still had no clue,

I was standing right next behind him,

And he was shooting away at my shadow in the distance,

It was not me he believed he had in his scopes,

It was not me he was shooting at,

And his shots were wild,

His shots were wide,

It was my shadow,

 He had seen,

He had been aiming at my doppelganger,

It was my shadow he had been aiming at,

And unawares,

Shooting after my shadow,

I had seeded the Field with booby snares,

I had laid booby snares all around him,

But I am standing right at his back,

And looking into his head,

And looking  right into his soul,

I am one aqcuainted with the night,

In light I only walk with a shadow,

I am a shadow of the light of day,

In the night,

I am a great Grey Owl,

Scouring the Fields,

And they are only aqcuainted with my image on the waters,

The have only been looking at my reflection from the waters,


(C) Fritz Ampon.

Comments

  • May 28, 2019

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