Damned Rain

It is in the late of day and still raining as I gaze upon the carnage of the day. Through the rain, the smoldering of cannon fire still lingering in the air. It has a acrid smell of gunpowder, mixed with the unmistakable smell of blood, and burnt flesh. The fences have bodies on them, and the valley has death written on it for all time. I see the wagons overturned, and some are still burning in the rain. The wounded still moaning for help as others are carried away. Some are dead, while others are dismembered. This valley was once a land of peace, till we came here. The rolling hills, and small creek running through this valley with its lofty soft pines, are now littered with broken men, and weapons of war.

 Men can do terrible things to each other in the name of god, and country, and never learn from their mistakes. The land however, heals itself, and re blossoms with life covering, all ravages man has done to it. Nether side won this day. Only death has won. The broken men, and cannons will be covered over with time, and no one will remember this day. It is raining harder now, and the creek is running red with bloody water. I think I will go back in my tent, and rest this shoulder wound. It is bleeding again, and my aid is worried. Brother against brother, father against son. Dam this war, and dam this rain.

The rain has finally let up. It's wet and mucky. Trenches are only good for killing you. The other side is using chlorine gas, and it hangs in the dam trenches blinding then killing you. No quick or easy death here, unless you catch a bullet. Even then, you might just linger on, and die slow, and painful of gangrene. War is a rotten way to try to settle a argument. Politicians never fight. If they had to, their would be less wars, and less lives lost. Dam... raining again. Now its going to get even colder, and the muck in the trenches will stick to us even more. Wait.. an advance on the other side in this rain. Are they nuts? Dam, I hate this damned rain, so cold so wet so miserable. Dam this rain, dam.


How did I get here? God, it so dam hot. This stinking jungle, I think every godforsaken bug on earth is here taking a bite of me. Dam, I hate this place. It's ether to hot or..... dam its raining again. Just great! I can't move from this spot. The bad guys are to close, leaches sucking my blood, rain running down my back, bugs biting, legs cramping, I hope they step into the trap we set for them. Pay back for tony. They got him the other day and..... dam what they did to him was inhuman. Half a click, that's all it was, and we could still hear him scream. We went out, and dropped a round in their lap. Poor guy, I hate this war. I hate this damned jungle rain. Go figure, it raining heavy now. I hate this rain.

Perfect Creek

It"s a beautiful fall morning with just a bit of cool crispness in the air. Just enough to wake you up, yet not enough to keep the fish from biting. The creek is crystal clear and about four to six feet deep. The fish are good size an look to be large bass, bluegill, and catfish, from what I can tell. Everyone says that the small creeks are not worth fishing.... well, to tell you the truth I am glad that they think that. Well, for now, lets try our luck. 
I am going to use a old trick that I learned from my grandpa. You take three number six bait hooks, and put them about four to six inches apart. The hooks have to be on a loop to swing free. Then, take about a inch of worm looped on each hook with about half of the worm free to move. Then flick it out, and let it float to the bottom. After a  minute or two, give it a lite tug, and let it float to the bottom again. It drives the fish nuts, and at times it never gets to the bottom. Its kind of like chumming with three chunks of bait.
What a beautiful morning to relax and enjoy some fishing. Aw man, It looks like I may have a problem fishing this morning. Old bear dog has decided he wants to go for a swim and chase the fish. Oh well, I love watching him chase minnows in the shallows. He caught one and you should see the look on his face as it wiggled on his tongue. You know that uckkkkoooo nasty look that's just plain funny.
Well, guess he got his fill of fun he is headed for the truck. Glad he is in the back, I at least wont smell of wet dog when we go home. Oh well, on to another creek.

The Healing

Cold steel will cut the flesh deep,and the wound will throb and burn. But the flesh will heal and scar, and fade with time and natures help.
So the question is, what will heal, what soothing balm will ease the pain of a lanced and wounded heart. What will heal the deepest wounds upon the deepest part of the ones own soul?
Marks upon the flesh will fade with the passing of time, and loss of pain. To be forgotten, and lost in the minds vast memory.
But, when the heart is wounded the scars, and pain remain unhealed long after the loss of one loved. And yet, even with time a heart may heal, although never will it be the same. For a love once found is never lost, it will forever have a name.