My poems

A collection of poems I've written - all different, possible similar themes.


3. Retired warrior

Part 1: HIM


He looked ahead, onto the traffic

At the lights from cars,

Steel cold bars

From where the bridge does sit


He looked up, he looked across

He looked between the slits

Caught a reflection of his deep black pits

The pale skin surrounding them in grey, white and black


This was his face,

His skin pulled back

From where the blood and food did lack

The veins all thin and purple spread


His feet now dragging to the edge,

He could feel the air escape

A hollow was agape

Bleeding still, against his will


His chest did seem to swell

As sunlight beamed down

Over the bridge, the town

His sores became clear and open


War wounds in sight

With holes on placid body

The needlework too shoddy

To patch up any scars or bruising


He was a ghost in the daylight

Undead or dying

Seething and crying

Soul wandering and circling


No-where left but here

To die, life was too much pain

A retired warrior always stuck in rain

Life to pour and pass away


So, on this day

He was to die

To kill himself with no last goodbye

As if anyone would ever know

He was even gone.

He had no more battles left to fight

This was his final plight

And he’d make it the best he’d ever done


He looked ahead, onto the traffic

At the lights from cars,

Steel cold bars

From where the bridge does sit


Heart beating, faster still

Losing control and grip

To take last oxygen sip

No more would life let him live


His feet go forward

Motionless, he takes his last move

Off the bridge, into the cars’ metallic smooth

His soul does linger then split


His body splayed out

On the road, his bodily organs all on show

Cars halting to and fro

Fore the object now on the ground


No-one knew who he was

Or what possessed him to take his life

The police called suicide ‘a tragic knife’

Filing his death in offices




No one remembers driving by

That this man came here to die

In blood, in starvation still

His mind lost of every will


Did his family ever know or care?

That he jumped from despair

When all he needed was a friend

Stability, needs to depend


He was twenty five

When he died

Bones cracked

Skin back, eyes blacked


How many more did fall?

Of this bridge so cold and metal

All classified as mental

Needed love, was all

I will complete the pattern now

I’ve thought enough of who and how?

I will jump and end my life

Killing with this ‘tragic knife’


Death is best

I’ll join the rest

In the world of lost and found

Stop the traffic with deathly pound


I propel forward blocking the light

I know that I am doing right

To where my body will lie I dive

Life too heavy to let me stay alive


The world is too heavy to let me write

I often see no reason to fight

I would jump right now

If only had the will and how




But I have not yet reached a stage

Where no more would life let me live

The bodies that bled from the height

Are not remembered by driver’s sight


I’ll go home, never to know

How many died? How many let go?

Just to think how cruel it all is that

No more would life let them live


One day - No more life will let me live


Until then, the souls pile and grow

Along the hand rail, row on row

In cruelty born and died alone

Never seek peace, always unknown.


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