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Death Places Poems | Death Poems About Places

These Death Places poems are examples of Death poems about Places. These are the best examples of Death Places poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | I do not know? | |

Behind Bars!!!

The time that I've wasted is my biggest regret,
Spent in this place i will never forget,
Just sitting and thinking about the things that I've done,
the crying,the laughing, the hurt and the fun.
Now it's just me and my hard-driven guilt.
Behind a wall of empty ness I allowed to be built.
I'm trapped in my body, just wanting to run
back to my youth with it's laughter and fun.
But the chase is over and there's no place to hide.
Ever thing is gone, including my pride.
with reality suddenly right in my face
I'm scared, alone and stuck in this place.
Now memories of the past flash threw my head
and the pain is obvious by the tears that I shed.
i ask myself why and where I went wrong
I guess i was weak when i should have been strong.
Living for the drugs and the wings I had grown.
My feelings were lost, afraid to be show en.
as I look at my past it's easy to see
The fear that I had, Afraid to be me.
I'd pretended to be rugged, So fast and so cool.
when actually lost like a blind old fool.
I'm getting too old for this tiresome game
of acting real hard with no sense of shame.
It's time that i change and get on with my life,
fulfilling my dreams for a family and wife.
What my future will hold I don't really know,
but the years that I've wasted are starting to show.
I just live for the when I get a new start
and the dreams I still hold deep in my heart.
I hope I can make it, I at least have to try
Because I'm heading towards death, and I don't want to DIE!


Details | Free verse | |

Moments In Time

The sweetest sounds of burning trees
A gentle stroking in the breeze
The calm has lasted past the storm
Cloudy visions, Satan’s roar
Too many sights have passed my way
A time found only in the haze
The softest screams are running bare
My aching bones creak as I stare

You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark

The battle’s started at the end
No one is coming to repent
The sinners grab their wine from prey
No judgment calling here to stay
The sport is reckless to be told
The one is laughing at his souls
It falters nowhere to be sure
The power grows forevermore
Like a spirit in the wind
I have no say in where you’ve been 
But cross the line to come to me
And pay the price for ecstasy

You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark. 


Details | Rhyme | |

Plockton - Wester Ross

The greatest holiday gift I ever received  
Goes back so many, many years
Before my life became turmoiled
And before my tears for fears

I was a child like many out there
Torn, strewn and split of kin
Mother and father in differences
Confused at seven, wearing their same skin

For I was one of the lucky ones
To a Highland Estate I would go
It's on the west coast of Scotland
Where my holidays desired me so

Secretly I internally smiled
For a whisper of where I was heading
To live with a movie star hero
No longer my life was in dreading

We were picked up by a man so fine
His manners were an absolute joy
Regimental he was in his approach
To me, just a seven year old boy

We travelled through the village of Plockton
Crystal clear waters edged to it's shore
I knew from this very moment
Being here ebbed previous family sores

On entering his house I was in awe
Movie pictures came to my view
They were images of James Bond
At seven I was totally through

A voice called to me
Hey James! sit down and I'll tell you me
Still in circles in walking awe
This is what he told thee

My name is Patrick Dalzel Job
In the Second World War I served
But this recognition I bestow
Humbles me to it's deserve

This honour that's been given
Was blessed by a colleague in war
What desired Ian Fleming to be so striven
Possibly, what we were fighting for

We served on the same destroyer
Fighting to make the future free
His tribute, in his novels I became
James Bond, it's incredibly me





Not many seven year olds have stayed with James Bond.
This seven year old Scot's boy has, maybe I learnt?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Patrick_Dalzel-Job


Details | Quatrain | |

The Vietnam War

The pro-Hanoi Vietcong many years ago
In the 1950's Diem's government they'd overthrow
All opposition was crushed killed or jailed
These elected ones to their people they failed

This Buddhist country so religious in belief
Now politically torn apart, impending future grief
In the early 1960's with the CIA in place
Discussing with Vietnam's generals, Diem, assassinated in disgrace

With the Vietcong army, growing from strength to strength
Another communist foothold, going to any lengths
In 1965, with 3500 U.S. Marines in place
By December of that year, 200,000 in many a base

These U.S. Marines, in their defensive mode
Over the coming months, peace would soon erode
With the Tet Offensive upon us, and the "Battle of Hue"
The Americans were now involved, this bloody war now brews

One decision to end this conflict, came in 1969
Nixon sent 18 B-52s, bordering Soviet airspace line
He wanted to show he was capable, to end this bloody war
But as the months and years progressed, the body count would soar

The anti-war movement was gathering strength, also in 1969
But the "Green Beret Affair" started to undermine
A U.S. Army platoon raped and pillaged, the village of My Lai
Where civilians were massacred, and many left to die

In 1970-71, Cambodia incurred wars wrath
Where they and the country Laos, were in the U.S. bombing path
Also in 71, there was the cutting of the Ho Chi Minh trail
But arms and supplies got through, this mission to no avail

Later in the same year, the Anzac's withdrew their soldiers
The U.S. also reduced, many of theirs from Vietnam's borders
In 1973, Nixon declared the suspension of offensive action
The Paris Peace Accords took place, peace with this warring faction

Between the years 73 - 74 under Trà, the Vietcong grew in strength
There was no mass offensive, to lure the Americans to their trench
Gradually they marched to their target, to see their enemies eyes
To their city of Saigon, now over a million humans have died

The average age of the American to die in this bloody war
Was just nineteen years old, never knowing what they were fighting for
So many came home from this horror, leaving themselves behind
Because so many came home different, home with a different mind

Even to this day, many Americans look back and ask
Why their elected Congress, feed them to these tasks
The sad thing about Vietnam, it continues to this present day
Where governments make decisions, asking guns to hear their say




Details | Rondeau | |

Banshee

The banshee wails within the gale
and unease weaves its wary tale
across fair Eire’s inland moor,
a Lord will die by ancient lore.
The banshee wails.

Her hair is torn, her face so pale,                            
her gown a tatter shrouded veil,                             
bringing only dark and horror.	
The banshee wails.

'Tis but a warning, a mournful hale		
a piercing sigh, the end's exhale
soulful sound, a mother’s clamor,		
cutting through the shields of armor                                                            
though death, the sound, will not delay.	
The banshee wails.			



Details | Prose Poetry | |

Kilted Warrior

He stands proud and strong, this kilted warrior
head held high against the unending pain
of a heart born out of sadness
for the loss of those who came before him
and thoughts of those who would
continue on when he himself was no more.
Proud men one and all
vows made, till surrendered in death
to defend that which
was their birthright, the very land
upon which he now stood.
The call to battle though long since silenced
came from within his very heart and soul
blood of the ancient ones raged in his veins
his sword by his side...shield upon his back
he stood ready to charge into battle
to do what was expected of him since birth
to fight as those before him fought
without fear, but with a strength
only a battle hardened warrior
knew and understood.


Details | Quatrain | |

Average Age 19

Once again, the powers that must
In rise again in what we trust
An overseas conflict, another war
Just what in the hell are we fighting for

Families are asking, Korea has just passed
Generations again reft, how long will it last
A country in need, to rebuild again
Flags at half mast, in wind and rain strain

Once again into war, sent by the Washington Post
To send back reports to hit home the most
Military observers were the first to be sent in
Another chapter of man entering existing sin

I'm witnessing our ariel power, Lam Son 719
US planners determine their incursion, saying all will be fine
Along the Mekong River, we'll carpet bomb their supply trail
Tons of munitions and napalm, this spread surely cannot fail

Many sorties are being flown, for the wounded and the dead
Whilst Nixon and his cronies, aren't thinking with their heads
The news of losses has reached me, nineteen have been killed
Eleven missing, fifty nine wounded, more American blood spilled

Seven fixed wing aircraft, more sons in action loss
Whilst back at home more protests, fading the dyeing's gloss
To to this job that I do, I was never prepared for this
To witness such bloody scenes, and ignore that life is bliss

How can I write about a soldier, whose name I'll never know
Killed at nineteen years old, his family he'll never see grow
Or even explain to his parents, when carried from the AH-1
His body bullet riddled and limp, when lifted it bloodily run

I never went back to the theatre, called the Vietnam War
Having witnessed the wanton killing, what were we fighting for
This colonial conflict that started, us on the side of France
So many came back as strangers, many to live in trance





James Fraser's entry into the contest " WORLD OF WAR: VIETNAM "



Details | Ballad | |

TO LOVE YOUR COUNTRY

To love your country,
you must commit yourself indefinetly;
there are no doubts, or fears
when it comes to defend it fervently..
do it for the sake of  your family,
or your countrymen who wish for peace!

They will send you to distant lands,
away from your loved ones...
to uphold freedom and its sanctity,
and you'll shine with bravery!

Anytime peace is threatened,
you'll retaliate and engage in combat,
true soldiers always fight with self-confidence,
never retreat in any circumstance!

There'll be days of fright , of darkness and despair,
and nights to shed tears on cold pillows;
no tender eyes to glance into or arms to embrace,
but  surrendering distorts your honor! 

As the mission comes to its end suddenly,
and you are one of the surviivors to declare victory,
although you'll also grieve for the fallen ones:
you'll wave your flag to the calmest skies!

To love your country,
you must avail yourself of dignity
and protect its borders vigilantly;
be aware of its tremendous cost:
risk your own life,or allow
the enemy to toast!  


Details | Rhyme | |

Pulp

Pretty soon, night will fall upon the city,
And lives of crime animate spasmodically
As Gene Pitney croons “A Town Without Pity”
And the clubs and the gin joints open methodically.

Hepcat jazzmen smoke reefers, shoot junk,
The pimps clean their nails with switchblades laconically,
Fedoras pulled low as they mind-jive to funk,
And the neon lights crackle and buzz electronically,

Breast enhanced blondes catch the eyes of their johns,
Pouting and winking, the sale of depravity,
For a price any vice can be practiced upon
The surface of flesh, any crevice or cavity.

Cops pound the beat twirling nightsticks around,
Turning blind eyes for a bribe taken willingly,
Failure to pay brings the world crashing down,
“It just ain’t your day,” the cops whisper chillingly.

Wiseguys hold court in an old pizzeria,
Smoking and drinking and eating the scenery
Their empire of family governed through fear,
The rule of the gun and Sicilian ancestry.

Corporate needles pierce veins of the damned,
Chalk drawings map lines around death’s ideology
Cigarettes sparked and the siren howls slammed
Through the meanest of streets of pulp fiction mythology.    

In the world of the scribe, this pulp writer hack
May exaggerate slightly for sake of the narrative,
Yet film noir seems grey when reality’s black,
At the end of the day everything is comparative.


Details | Free verse | |

City of Shadows

A lonesome boat in the harbor rocks insanity.
Big waves of the black sea roll across the white sands
that fade into darkness for eternity.
Far from the life giving drops of rain are predators
in the city of shadows.
Feelings from the last solem breezes blow.
As the evening sun fades slowly into the night,
the pavement glistens like cracked glass
from the earlier evening rain.
A lack of silence remains.
In the city of shadows,
screaming voices creep in the corner of your mind.
Visions of the garden where the flowers died.
The dark alley reveals the emptiness of peace within your soul,
and death reveals the cold, cold truth way beneath the black crumbled earth.
Slapped with a strike of lightning,
disrupting the fall of silence where secrets crawl to hide,
in the foxholes of one's mind.
In the city of shadows, bewildered minds tick with the time of the clock.
Breath by breath falls perfectly out of place,
and darkness opens a new gate.
Tunes of the violin slowly fade away.
A new awakening to blindness,
in the city of shadows.


Details | I do not know? | |

Today Is Terrible----

The cracked spine of
the book I dropped
at the call.
A chip in my
windshield left by a
pompous *?#@! in a
red sports car as I
drive to the
service.
Rain expectorating
from an ashen sky as
the dirt is turned.
Today is terrible.
Though this is less
terrible than the
crack in grandma’s
spine from her fall
down the stairs.
The chip in her
amazingly smart mind
after eighteen years
as a teacher.
Tears running,
dripping from my
Mothers ashen face
as she cries “My
mama’s dead.”
Today is terrible.
Though this is less
terrible than the
cracked family
emotions left raw
and empty.
The chip in Grandpas
numb mind at the
gathering… “Where is
Irene she should be
here?”
Faces gone ashen
with dread, do we
leave him numb or
remind him that his
wife is dead?
Today is terrible.
Though this is less
terrible than the
empty silences,
missing the jokes
Grandma used to
crack.
Grandma’s laugh and
her endless smile
which always exposed
that tooth with the
chip in it.
Without her the
world has become
empty, bleak, and
ashen.
Today is terrible.

                   
                   
                   
          Summer
Gratias


Details | Rhyme | |

holokauston Page 1 of 2

Around that table, picture the scene
Self appointed leaders if you know what I mean
What were the topics on the Agenda that day
The Jewish race is about to pay

Who gave the right for this decision that's made
Who has the right to cleanse and degrade
To decide who lived, to decide who dies
Another chapter, I still wonder why

They came in the day they came in the night
Women and children pulled out of sight
Herded aboard like cattle and sheep
Many a family awoke from their sleep

Dazed and confused as they are taken away
Where will they be at the end of the day
From their warm houses and their warm beds
What must be going through their heads

As they travel through days and through the night
Up ahead, they see lots of lights
They depart the trucks and board the train
Their faces scared under the strain

Asking questions from family and others
Generations, sisters and brothers
Why are we here, where are we going
Windowless carriages with no way of knowing

We come to a stop, soldiers aplenty
Towers and wire, topped with sentries
What can this place be they have taken us to
As we head to large gates as they shuffle us through

Families separated, herded in file
Women and children, not one did smile
Taken to rooms where our heads were shaved
Is this the way humans behaved

Clothes discarded, as we enter the shower
No signs of water no signs of power
Doors slammed as we are all crammed in
History will recall this evil of sins

As we stand in the dark, chanting Jewish faith
Can hear the voices can't see the face
Noises above, do the showers start
The event has begun that tells us Humans apart

Questions and sighs, as walled vents show daylight
Some thing is falling then their slammed tight
A strange aroma starts to fill the air
As all around are screams of despair

Twenty minutes have passed and the quietness is rife
Two thousand people, two thousand lives
Pellets called HCN, or Hydrogen Cyanide
Contribute to this Genocide


http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war-2.php


Details | Free verse | |

Silently Still

Hidden spirits motherland,
    destructions chosen horror.
Decayed barren grounds,
   ravaged territories dilapidation.
Debris leftover magnetic fields,
   crawls nuclear poisons contamination.


Ruins

           graphics

                          stand

           strongly

obscure.


Details | Rhyme | |

The Mayan Declared

The year is 2025 I have come back to my past To witness the Mayans Who said Earth would not last 2012 Was the year they declared That the planet we knew Could never be spared An Asteroid shower We could never comprehend Sends this heaven to hell In catastrophic spend The first to hit Was the daddy of them all Our axis twisted The human race in fall Just of Madagascar In the Indian Ocean It's where it all started That set our demise in motion Tsunami waves Like giant tower blocks Swamped Indonesia As Polynesia rocked The force of impact Reverberated west On the Canary Islands A dormant volcano so reft It's massive mountain side Into the Atlantic slipped To the eastern seaboard Of the United States it shipped A second Tsunami Half the world long Would submerge the east Taking the weak and the strong The second to hit Hit a place struck before Tunguska in Russia Receives another sore Daylight turns to night As earth meets our skies Fallout from the reactors In shattered demise Radiated clouds Eventually filter down Leaving bleeding lacerations As we humans death drown Smaller asteroids Some just a few hundred feet Around the world they were marvelled Until they meet their greet The place where I stand now Was Yosemite National Park Now dark ridges of black So bare and stark It's been many many years Since the sun shone through the screen When I close my eyes I remember When the earth was lush and green How many of us survived Will we ever know Was this in our destiny I think all around me, now shows


Details | Couplet | |

Autumn

Immersed in the sound of the low rustling wind
Memories and places they haunt yet again
Passed by so quickly as each falling leaf
Drifting and flowing on an unyielding stream
A current to carry from birth right on through
Filling our moments with cares which ensue
A mind lost in remnants of lovers and friends
Babies and children and time long since spent
Familiar, intangible, just out of reach
Longing for ghosts that my heart doth beseech
Winter is looming and summer is past
A time for remembrance the years gone so fast
Beauty is captured in my last breath of life
The sparkling colors in the warm golden light
Do mimic the glory and wonder be told
In those bright days of autumn and a life to behold
 


Details | Rhyme | |

holokauston Page 2 of 2

After the quiet we all have to go
Dragged and carted by the Sonderkommando
To be dumped in pits covered by lime
A race to dispose by it's Human slime

Auschwitz, Buchenwald & Dachau slaughtered
Many a son, many a daughter
Experiments on children women and men
Some aged 90, many under 10

In 45, their end was near, how many alive would reappear
As Russians, British and US troops
Chased the Hun to their German roots
Each camp reached showed it's sordid past
Where millions of me, were massively gassed

In Auschwitz, to this present day
Birds don't fly, no animals play
The reminder is all for there to see
Those terrible days what happened to me

It's 1948, our Nation is born
From histories past, populations torn
To all who survived I wish you well
And our new born world, called Israel 


http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war-2.php


Details | Verse | |

And You Will Know Me By The Trail Of Dead

And you will know me by the trail of dead,
the whistle of wind in cutthroat pipes,
the jolly japes and spring heeled capers
in the sepia pulp of the Sunday papers
and in all the Jack Tar bilge in your head,
for you will know me by the trail of dead.

And you will know me by the trail of dead
the gory tales of bright crimson stripes.
the intestinal spool of viscera and gutting,
the slashing swipe of steel blades cutting,
and the opening wounds awash with red,
for you will know me by the trail of dead.

And you will know me by the trail of dead,
the love-a-duck and strike-me-blind,
the dear boss letters and cunning stunts,
the hunter or hunted in Whitechapel hunts,
and the feverish sweats in every bed,
for you will know me by the trail of dead.

And you will know me by the trail of dead,
the buckle-my-shoe and daily grind,
the Juwes and gin and pea soup nights,
the whore flesh slaughter and ghastly sights,
and the legends of all I did and said,
for you will know me by the trail of dead.


Details | Rhyme | |

With Him goes a Rose

It was only a few days
On their barren soil
Through a doorway he went
So many lives now spoiled

An explosive device
Plastic in design
Could never be detected
Now a life resigns
 
The regimental medic
Rushes to his aid
To stem his internal bleeding
Through his eyes he fades

His lifeless soul lies lonely
As he is gently stretchered away
Where he will be flown back home
To where the angels play

In honoured ceremony
As he is carried to his carriage
On the tarmac awaits
His fiance, without marriage

In the chapel of rest
She stands in a tear laden pose
Her tribute to her lost one
With him goes a Rose

For tomorrow she will awake
A new day in her life
As she remembers her love
Who would have made her his wife




http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/loss-2.php


Details | Rhyme | |

Wars of Difference and Different Wars

Dream on man
War is constant
It has gone beyond
Catholic or Protestant

Religious wars
From our short lived past
Will never dilute
As long as we last

In this modern world
We fight for different reasons
What ever the excuse
And in any season

We fight over land
Imaginary WMD
Even over soccer
How the hell can that be

We now fight over oil
In a camouflaged war
Taking innocents with us
In public deplore

Guerrilla, assault
Bombing with precision 
We vote them in
As they twist their decisions

Dream on man
War has changed
Greed has taken over
From the pasts deranged




http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war-3.php


Details | Free verse | |

Gum in a N.Y Subway

Retired sweetness paints
a tiled mosaic of
unpredictable patterns.

Black, brown shapes
spatter the 
grey concrete of 
an underground kingdom.

The fresh ones burn
pink and seafoam 
green against
this steely blue 
and yellow lined world.

The stickiness clings
onto shining 
out of spectrum, 
before becoming
another dot
in dark masses.


Details | Rhyme | |

Tomorrow Has Come And Gone

Years have passed since i dreamt that night
Noises in my head, waking up to that sight
Overnight my city in desperate plight
 
Tragedies followed as the population began to fade
The strong wallowed, as the weak frayed
Mankind shown to be true, as their actions displayed
 
I found i was not alone, as others had escaped the curse
Their actions that i witnessed, man doing his worst
Abusing, taking advantage in their normal daily thirst
 
The ones who lost their eyes, never seen their end come
Even the deafened ones, never heard the sound of a gun
The muted ones just gaped, as they all tried to run
 
The fortunate ones had prayed, on the inflicted souls in strife
Targeting the weak, playing with their lives
The killings and the maiming in typical murderous rife
 
Eventually the fortunate, wanted more and more
They fought amongst themselves just like they did before
Everyday i look all around me, forever will i abhor
 
I walk our cities and towns, thinking what they used to be
The hustle and bustle of life, in the world of you and me
One day i will go to sleep, when i awake what will i see



The follow up too " It Will Happen Tomorrow "



http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy-6.php


Details | Ballad | |

COLD TOMBSTONE

I came here with flowers
held gently to my sobbing chest,
to bring them to my dearest;
I have departed from the living,
to come face to face with my ending...

I lay my flowers at this cold tombstone...
engraved with a name too sweet,
and yet so painful to call it out;
the heat in my throbbing veins
could warm it up with a loving wish before dawn;
but who can resurrect someone from death?

This morning is dazzled by an intense sun,
carnations, flags and tombstones
perfectly blend as the swaying pines 
offer their breeze and soothing shade towards noon;
why are the noisy larks hiding,
and melancholically sing?

I rushed here to release these tears
and let them roll from these eyes,
like raindrops falling on this very quiet place:
where tranquility is as eternal as Paradise...

I lay my flowers at this cold tombstone,
feeling a presence so known;
others before me have knelt and cried, 
not to forget whom they lost and dearly loved...



Details | Free verse | |

Home Is Where the Heart Is Stilled

Abandoned places,where
perhaps memories linger,
with wisps of wafting moments,
aware, somehow, even of  the now,
Though long forgotten by all others,
One wonders why, and surely how,
Such strong vibrations of the past,
Seem to time, to have taken a bow...

Gutted building, windows broken,
Creaking, leaking floor,
Last stepped on by the living,
So many, many years before...

Where lives were lived, and
deaths have come in their way,
To others, in a time gone by,
Who here saw their last sad day,
Tears were cried,hearts
were smashed,
Love withered, its flame 
reduced to ash...

Is this a mysterious black hole of time??
A singularity, of now and here...
Where time is not so limpid...
And death is always near,
And fear can swim in the unknown,
The fear of time's mysterious cloud...
As ticks, as tocks, somehow go forever by, 
so mysteriously, and seemingly, oh so loud...

What was the last calendar's  year hung?
The last phone call received,
And who had been the one rung??

Ghost House,
Ghost House,
Scary, time
abandoned place,
Secure in forgotten
nothingness,
And with time, 
you've lost the race.


Details | Couplet | |

Beachside Food and Drink Slinks

A is for algae, red, green, blue cells, soaking up sun, sliming teeth 
B is for bacterial mat, clumping underneath, earliest born, never asleep

C is for coral reef, the place we all find cover or the sand parrotfish chew and release
D is for diatom, all seeded calcium, all float free, all denizens barely seen

E is for eelgrass, nursery meadows of the anchovy, and other browsers of green 
F is for fan worm, filter feeder like a flower, 8000 species on which fish feed

G is for giant kelp, floating on bladders of air they’re forests of cold waters clean
H is for helmet, the royalty of snails who protect our feet, queen, emperor, king

I is for isopod, the chameleon crustacean, they color match what they eat
J is for jellyball, or cannonball jellyfish, not upside down or moon, avoid their heat

K is for keyhole limpet, favorite food of ochre stars, will erect its own wall
L is for laver, the sea lettuce of nori, it swirls red skirt as ocean falls

M is for mermaid’s purse, the sack of the skate whose yolk keeps them alive
N is for nerite, the prisoner striped snail of the rocky zone as numerous as a hive

O is for oyster drills, the snails that slurp oysters and use them to lay eggs
P is for pleurobranch, a sea slug answer for oranges, with one active leg

Q is for quahog, the bivalve seaman who can survive eating the mud
R is for rove beetle, the one waiting to snatch the unwary beach hopper for good

S is for saxitoxin, those red tides produced by mating that can paralyze humans
T is for tubular sponge, they squish, bore and encrust as space lends

U is for urchin, those spiny skinned balls, no eyes or noses but dig food in sand 
V is for Venus, Music Volutes dined or Vampire Squids skimming along land

W is for whelk, not the musically inclined, but the slow moving snail in a shell
X is for X and a half, the six rayed star, hungry for anything on the half shell

Y is for yucca, blooming on the beach, they bloom nice and tolerate the sand
Z is for Zostera marinara, the address of eel grass when they're feeling grand

All of this green life is what crunches, stinks, dries and slips underfoot
The rest that find the housing and dining compatible means someone’s on the look.


Details | Rhyme | |

THE PERFECT MURDER

In his private parlor the king of Moab rests,
Having just retired from his more spacious quarters,
Where King Eglon had received the Israelite guests,
Bearing tribute, not a gift, but by the king’s orders.

Israel’s cries to God, about their being bereft,
Brought about the sending of a rescuer from the Lord.
Ehud, a man ambidexterous and lethal with his left,
Wore on his right thigh a cubit-length sword.

Ehud is sent by God to ease Israel’s suffering, 
And is quickly added with those bearing the treasure.
He conceals his double-edged sword with a covering
And, pretending to have an errand, asks the King’s pleasure.

Eglon, a king who rules with an iron rod,
Believes Ehud’s pretense of a secret task--
A special message he says is from God—
And sees Ehud in his parlor as he asks.

Eglon the king rises from his lounging,
As Ehud announces what his visit is about.
With sword in hand, Ehud is suddenly bounding
And stabbing the king until his entrails fall out.

Ehud dashes out on the porch, locking doors in back.
He dashes by idols and monuments of stone and iron,
And flees toward Mount Ephraim, following the track,
Where timely he lifts and blows the trumpet of  Zion.



Details | Rhyme | |

Why all this Destructions

Why all this Destructions? – Zamreen Zarook

God created this whole universe for the mankind,
He gave everything lavishly, thinking that we might be kind,
Even though people are able, they seems to be blind,
Whereas people failed to mind.

The sky which was created for the man started to scream and cry,
Since good morals and ethics were decry,
The fire started to do the mimicry,
As the water lands cannot bear, it came to man with a battle cry.

Land couldn't hold and it started to gorge,
Fresh air merged with chemicals and started to urge,
Whatever created for the man have started to over charged,
Stop evil and let the merits be enlarged.


Details | Elegy | |

Where are you

You flourished and blurred
like a spark on wind

Gracefully and quickly like a frightened hind
in pursuit of light

You harvested through bushy meadows
taken by blight

In struggle with plight
had you lost your might

And gave out
although never you gave up.

Where are you?
For you must be still there.

For I still can feel you
somewhere in the air.


Details | Free verse | |

Passchendale: 3rd Battle of Ypres, 1916

Even the dead reject this blasted earth.

The ground, such as it is,
Is freshly Antidiluvean,
And the corpses swim within its tumbled, heaving masses
Blood and mud the mortar
Holding the chaos together.

The sun is weak,
Ashamed to break the haze
And bring to light the obscenities transpiring here.

The whistles blow
And the troglodytes emerge
From their respective holes,
Staggering towards one another
Through watery craters
Over the mincemeat of comrades
To add themselves to the swimming sacrifice
Constantly on offer 
To the insatiable, sole diety of this place,
The Mud-God, Futility.

     They are men no more,
     Those who struggle 'neath
     The leaden skies
     The wan sun
     Of the sodden moonscape
     That is Passchendale.

     They are only raging beasts
     Trading pain for pain,
     All trace of cause or reason
     Lost in the maelstrom of their collective misery -

And the only escape
Is to slay and to be slain;
To join the bitter shades
Ascending with the fog and smoke
Through the wall of cloud above,
To vanish into the icy deeps
Among the far, impassive stars.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Rwanda's Why

I'm driving through such beauty, this lush rural countryside. I find it hard to believe that my 
career has taken me to here. Being where I am is so much different to the Highlands from where I reside from.

Thankfully my 4 x 4 takes the endless rutting roads with aplomb. Mind you, sometimes they remind me of back home, councils never repairing.

As I drive, visually I see scattered belongings. Has the wind carried them to there, as I stare, whilst driving, mm!

The long and winding road takes me to where I've come from. The Coffee Plantation that allured me here initially, empowers me to think back to it's early days. The wanting of the locals, hungered for work, steady monies, quaint prosperity from their already empty existence. 

The next day, I hear on the news, that Habyarimana and the Burundian President, Cyprien Ntaryamira were on a plane, shot down, all were lost.
Having met Juvénal Habyarimana before, it saddened me totally.

The next day on the local radio, I hear there's been disturbances. Like many places in Africa, it was the norm. Onward I went about readying for work. Off I go, before I reach the entrance, a crowd rushes towards me. Angry to say is an understatement, vociferous they, wielding anything they can lay their hands on. Branches, planks, irons, machete’s to name. I'm now needing to veer, to not hit workers that I recognise.

I stop a few miles from home, sweated, shaking, as to why?

To get to my Coffee Plantation, I have to travel through the local village, town, call it what you may. As I near, like yesterday, strayed clothes abound, but different, and so much more. This time they're reddened, stained, adorning ripped bodies.

Now frightened, I travel on foot, walking through blooded carnage, my stomach churning.

Children clutching their mothers, fathers and sons I assume holding hands. Young girls taken, forsaken, their life seeping into their lands from where they lived.

As I near the village, town, there's shouting, chanting, the stench of burning flesh. Upon view, machetes wield down on many, amidst cries I've unheard of. Limbs now release, torso's tired, fired, my eyes streaming tears for fears. 

In frightened stare, I'm spotted, sadly by my neighbour. He points at me, my heart surges, scared, disturbed by what I've seen. Instinct tells me, run, and I run, Lord do I run.

Upon reaching, fumbling I am for the keys, this image I'd only thought was in the movies. Now where I ask, knowing where I am. For once amidst this, I think, border, which border, as I decide to head East to Tanzania, knowing we have a sister company there.

It's later that day, my eyes now in tears. 

On the news, knowing people I see. Their hacking children, pregnant mothers, fathers and sons.
What's taken this for the Tribes to have undone. I worked with both sides, for many a year. 

I now look back as I'm summoned, to give evidence at the '100 Days of Slaughter'
Caught up I am, to declaring Rwanda's loss, of my Tutsi wife, and our daughters



. 11th Oct 2014.


Details | Narrative | |

The Depths Of Hades

I have seen the depths of Hades!
And it is not a place of tranquility; 
Neither is it a place of rest, 
but a place of unending cursing, 
and the gnashing of teeth is everlasting.

The multitude was too great to count -
Souls served as fuel for the unquenchable fire.
Hot coals were the bed for this place,
and flames covered Hades as a blanket.

Before encountering this beast,
a very long fall takes place -
Into a vast and immeasurable darkness.
There is no point of return!

Guilt, pain, sorrow, 
and hate obscures the minds of the afflicted.
Their eyes are blinded by their unclean conscious,
and regret is all that is left.

My heart was shatter into pieces -
To see hell boundaries expanding so rapidly!
It’s mouth is wide open,
and in the top fangs - 
Were Inscribed two words: “ETERNAL - PUNISHMENT”

The scorching fire,
the burns, the sores, and wounds,
and the desire to die is a punishment too great to bare.
But the greatest punishment of all -
IS SEPARATION, FROM GOD, FOR ETERNITY.