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Violence Death Poems | Violence Poems About Death

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

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Details | Free verse | |

9 11

                                    
                                                               
                             America the Free  ~             America the Brave ~
                           Freedom with price              Capitalism attacked
                            the many taken                   hearts broken still
                              one World                           try to rebuild
                            sadness and tears               fall hard with fears  
                            guilt by association             many accused still
                             souls evaporated                shattered dreams 
                            tears fall on innocence          left with anger 
                             The proud fearless             knew the inevitable
                              policeman fireman             many lives lost
                            grieving does not stop           12 years later    
                               New York city once          proud  & shameless 
                             refusing to let fears in          protecting ours 
                                left in shock still              question's unanswered                    
                               nothing learned                     nothing gained  
                                ready to attack                   many left behind
                              anger greets denial              anger meets rage 
                               unacceptable still                 refusing new love 
                            wanting days to rewind           let us go back in time 
                              acceptance  allowing           the victims leave in peace
                              the brave taken young           leaving us sadly old
                               haunting dreams                     lost spirits dwell
                               no answers to hate            never forgetting that day
                               Evil entered suddenly              unforgiving fate
                                entering our City                we stand with the fallen
                                 How to fix                            how do we Change 




           
            This can be read many different ways ~ This is a poem I am so proud to write ~









          


Details | Rhyme | |

Water Wall


As he slept in tranquil dream, 
Suddenly he flew, it seemed. 
Thrown and landing on the floor, 
Shaking walls and splintered doors. 

Just as quick, the room grew still. 
Distant tremors he could feel. 
Out the door, and up the rock, 
There he stood in sleepy shock. 

How could oceans disappear. 
Then a hissing he could hear 
And a trembling, heavy roar 
Headed for an empty shore. 

Sunrise turned a greenish hue, 
As he climbed, a better view. 
Seeming far too large, he saw 
What must be a water wall. 

Thought of ancient stories told 
Of a wrath that could unfold; 
Sucking oceans with a breath, 
Spewing endless waves of death. 

Instinct quickly cleared his mind. 
Panic now, he clawed and climbed. 
Up, despite the screams he hears, 
As a village disappears. 

Once an evil came to call, 
Scooped them up and took them all. 
Now he's old, his stories wane, 
Of the morning Satan came.


Gene Bourne 
08-18-14


.

.

 


Details | Rhyme | |

When Hell Froze Over

When Hell Froze Over


 Trees shed their leaves,
 the worms dig in deeper
 Mothers cry and grieve
 woman is the best weeper

 Cold blasting each night,
 birds froze on the ground
 Sad hell was the fight
 no hope was ever found

 Winter ate their souls,
 the keepers of evil hearts
 Soldiers fought epic goals
 the dead filled the carts

 War or cold killed more,
 dead is dead, hope gone
 Wasted prayers to implore
 heroes frozen all alone

 Trail, path frozen dead,
 winter sent home too soon
 asleep but not in a bed
 never to sing another tune

 Retreat frenchmen knew well,
 as their army frozen there
 Now germans found this hell
 in the frozen land of the bear!

 Robert J.Lindley, 09-20-2014
 Note:
 Hitler's armies were frozen out just as were Napoleon's in the previous century. Russian winter was an enemy that killed mercilessly.The winter of 1941-42 was one of the worst in  recorded history. Daily temperatures fell to 40 degrees below zero. German soldiers had not been issued with warm winter clothing as Hitler believed that the invasion would be over by the winter. Soldiers froze to death in their sleep,
 diesel froze in fuel tanks and food was in very  short supply. Russian soldiers had been issued with winter clothing and did not suffer as badly as their German enemies....


Details | Free verse | |

Slouching Toward Ferguson

His life was gentle, and the elements
so mixed in him that Nature might stand up and
smolder

bodies in unregistered cars idling softly toward oblivion

some quick to anger
some quick to profit
some quick for justice
some tigers lapping blood
some mothers still at 3AM

hands on shoulders with coos commanding
that in a tear and turned cheek there be 'integration'

parody: an orphan annie reboot
parody: 'little black sambo 'round the tiger pit he go!'

we have rioted the last of our colors
bleated them with flexed toes to the wall at the edge of the universe to reverberate starless between
eternity
nothing
and madness

we have bleated the last of our colors
with centuries gone by without tongue, sockets or lobes

we will bleed the last of our colors
some quick to die
some quick to steal
some quick to burn
some quick to 

lend me your car keys

in a night of full of Alarics
I will bury you

in a night full of piccaninnies
I will melt you to butter

in a night where flames are fishhooks
Sir I need you to step back please

O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,
that
we have cried Havoc
let slip
and with purple'd prose stamped this hollowed earth

We who have lived so long
Sir?
shall with our breath turned mist
I need you to
stain only under stones
step
that pave with slippery breath
back
a headline for last weeks massacre
step
and tomorrow's graves
I need you to
I drew a line in the sand and you crossed it They are not breathing
Look! Look there!
No. I will not.
He dies


Details | Rhyme | |

Bonnie and Clyde

They were bank robbers and their names were Bonnie and Clyde.
They robbed banks in six states until 1934 when they both died.
In addition to robbing banks, they also robbed stores and service stations.
They killed thirteen people, they were dangerous and caused devastation.
In 1933 the dangerous duo teamed up with Clyde's Sister-In-Law and her husband, Buck.
Clyde's brother was killed four months later and Bonnie and Clyde soon ran out of luck.
The next year they were driving on a road in Louisiana and they didn't know they were in danger.
They were ambushed and killed by a posse that was lead by a Texas Ranger.
The posse fired one hundred and sixty-seven rounds and Bonnie and Clyde were hit fifty times.
They were deadly murderers and thieves but they ended up paying for their dastardly crimes.

(This is a true story about Clyde Barrow and Bonnie Parker who were killed on May 23, 1934.)


Details | Narrative | |

I HAVE DIED SO LONG AGO

I have died so long ago.
The pieces of my bones were buried in Sheol.
It was so dark where I lay now.
My flesh is rotten and almost gone.
I have lived once in this world,
Where a loving family I was involved.
A dearest mom who loved me so,
Loving siblings I treasured most!
I'm a free-spirited young lady.
I love to entertain the world,
Wind hums as I hit the notes.
The nature  became my hidden world.
I was once  a fruit in a tree.
Until one day, a harvester picked me.
Still unripe, too young and fresh.
He stole my innocence.
Too many years past and my seed grew.
I have started bearring fruits.
But the harvester did not content, 
He pulled me out from where I'd been.
He murdered me on one darkest night.
Then buried me beneath the ground.
I'm so helpless, no voice to shout!
My breath is counting one by one.
Until I surrendered the last air in my lungs.
I have died so long ago.
This girl that you used to know,
Isn't the one who writes a poem.
She had died so long ago.
She walks every night to find her home.



Details | Lyric | |

Odin's Army

I fell in battle, sword in hand, 
Invading someone else’s land.
Then I saw her, and she reached down, 
To escort me from the battleground.
I’d let her take me anywhere, 
With her winged helmet and braided hair.

She had me stand ‘neath Odin’s throne, 
Where each warrior must stand alone.
One-eyed Odin judged me to be 
Worthy to serve in his last army….
Daily killed and resurrected--
(Not quite the afterlife expected!)

Samurais taught me to sword-fight.	 
I learned spear and shield from a Hoplite.	
Vikings taught me the battle axe, 
And the Persians taught me sneak attacks.
We die each day and then come back, 
Always practicing for Ragnorak.

She brings me mead, my Valkyrie, 
And sometimes at night she favors me.
Since she’s nearby, it’s just as well--
This isn’t Heaven, but not quite Hell.
We’ll fight and sing to the war drums, 
Waiting the day that Ragnorak comes.


(Chorus)
Our days are spent in miseries, 
But at night we have the Valkyries.
Riposte and lunge, thrust and parry; 
That’s all we do in Odin’s army.


Details | Rhyme | |

I Am One Of Them

Life's Hard
It's filled with pain
And misery
My mind is stained
Stained with every memory

Sometimes I think today will be my last day
This place causes me so much pain
I wish I didn't have to stay

Some days are worse than others
I'm starving
Dying for food
I'd do anything

To many things go through my head
Will I be able to keep down my next meal?
Will I live for tomorrow?
Is this terrifying place even real?

I feel so alone
Yet I'm surrounded by people
But this place could not be called a home
There's no life in these places
Or in these faces

Everyone looks dead
As so do I
Most of us haven't been fed

My eyes have been marked
With these dead bodies that lay upon the ground
Without a soul I still look at them
Soon I may be found
As one of them


Details | I do not know? | |

Now

I feel the world crashing around me,
my breath fading.

Pain surges through my body.

I fear my hope of life is diminishing.

All is lost I can feel the regret of every lost sole.

I long for relief but all I feel is torture.

When will it all end, when will the last hour be, how will I suffer death?



Details | Dramatic Verse | |

Chronic Pink

~~Chronic Pink~~ 
(Parents Peril * The Nightmare)


Evil sits and whispers -sweet lullabies
Chimes within my head,
I feel damnation scratching at my conscious
Of what was and is!

ASLEEP……………….

Water running down my toes
Rain taping at my windowpane
I fear; I’m reliving my childhood days
~~Dark April showers have a chronic look~~
Motioning me to escalate before daybreak, to face a colorless what!


The trickle of musty wind mesh under my skin
The panics initiates,
But all I conquer and collect is a gash of movement that very moment

SLEEPWALKING……………….

Feelings and wants exist inside my head
Visions of slitting my wrist from end to end
My  subconscious is no longer my friend
At night, praying is what got me through the dark-mares.
I held my own hand that very night
Telling myself it would be all right

EYES OPEN WIDE……………….

Walking down the narrow hall
These Chimes, these Chimes!
Grew with entanglements of crime
In my parent’s room, is where the lullabies were coming from?
Shhh!!! Hush now, I’m humming to the evil sweet chant… 
Whispers of dust suddenly stop
The envelope opener, I punch in and out each neck
One by one, they look up to only see me
A demonic child’s laughter erupts
Chronic Pink escape…

Pacing myself off the bed
I did not realize at that moment of what I've done

Cries of nothing led me back into my room.
There and only there water still sits under the sheets
The emptiness in my head was a sign that finally I can go back to sleep.
Falling asleep too the quietness that spilled around me
Waking up to, the parents peril sight every night

My subconscious held no sympathy
But, my chronic pink eyes relive this everyday memory

I cannot stand this….
Once again, I begin to hear the sound of scratching violins
Where dreams of ANGELS come in Chronic Pink.


by;pd
9/10/2012 


Details | Elegy | |

Oh Syria

Reality is lost and I fear…
That someday…somewhere so near…
I will fall amongst the people so dear…
I fear…that I’ll just be another one…
Another one lost…

I wonder what the cost of my life is
not to get too political…
But I want to know what the cost of my life is
Is it money…is it land
I do not own any of them…I’m just a simple man

I remember…When I ran across your land…
I remember when I kissed my grandmother’s hands…
But you ripped my away from her…From my home
you ripped my away from my heart…you ripped me away from my soul

I feel helpless…I feel low…
It’s hard to play along when I know…I have no role
I have become a slave.
After all the love I gave.

When I look at my country…people I want to save
When I look around me…people I need to change
It seems like a hard thing to do…
when the range of people is way bigger than you

Freedom…oh how much I’ve heard that word
Freedom…oh how this idea has become absurd
when God gave us life…
He warned us only he can take our lives…

Oh Syria…my home
Oh Syria…my all
Oh Syria…what did they hurt you for?
Oh Syria…I’m here…I won’t let them hurt you anymore…
I am Proud to be your son…


Details | Epitaph | |

John F Kennedy

John F. Kennedy 1917-1963 The great 35th president of US It wasn't really a success He tried to stop the missile bases There were lot of angry faces When there was about to be a war Peace was what he asked for Texas was the place he was shot Later, the criminal was caught He didn't survive the pain His people cried like the rain


Details | Iambic Pentameter | |

Park Bench Ghost

 
 
Why am I emerging from the dark 
Staring at a bench in City Park. 
Breathless air without a bird in song. 
So I sit, unknowing, yet belong.
 
Sudden waves of anguish flood my mind. 
Feral, vicious, senseless bursts of time. 
Then a calming whisper fills my ear
And my reason now, for being here.
 
Minutes of my final day proceed.
Mockingbirds and peanut squirrels to feed.  
Speckled sun through breezy treetops sway 
And two hidden figures inch my way. 

Choking arms, a weakness, loss of breath; 
Forced behind a thicket to my death. 
Off they bolted free without a trace. 
Now I'm vengeance. Patiently I wait.

I'm aware each footstep, as they move, 
But this peaceful park is where I choose. 
Soon they stalk again. I know the place. 
Little do they know the wrath they face.

Gene Bourne
11-29-13



.


Details | Villanelle | |

The Arrow

The arrow pierced his armour
causing an open painful wound
he had thought there would be glamour

He lay waiting feeling amour
as he saw a woman gowned
The arrow pierced his armour

His wound she did kindly cover
to her spirit he's attuned
he had thought there would be glamour

she poured into it liquor
which stung making it burn and pound
the arrow pierced his armour

It was now letting out odour
she made sure it was tightly bound
He had thought there would be glamour

At his grave a single mourner
her tears were falling without sound
the arrow pierced his armour

No glory here just some clamour
dead he lay no longer earthbound
The arrow pierced his armour
he had thought there would be glamour



sadly many young men think war glamorous
until they face the battlefield soon to
learn there is none just pain, suffering 
and death.


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

What Happened

As you ended our video call,
You suited up,
Helmet,
Armor,
Gun.
Just another day in that god forsaken place,
As soon as you stepped off the plane it felt like being in an oven.
But hey,
What did you expect.
The boys and you all load up into the Humvee and take off with the rest of the Caravan.
Just another day.
Just another day…
There wasn’t supposed to be an explosion.
There weren’t supposed to be screams.
There wasn’t supposed to be any blood shed.
It was supposed to be just another day.
But all of that did happen.
And you were taken away from me and Mom and Dad and our little sister,
In an instant.
You were supposed to come home.
We were supposed to celebrate your birthday together,
Our sister baked you a cake for when you came home.
But… now you can’t,
And you won’t,
Ever again.
Because you’re gone.
And you can’t ever come back.
But know that we love you,
Know that I love you,
Know that I loved you, My Brother.
Most Importantly know that we miss you,
every waking moment.
Because you’re gone,
And we’ll never see you again.
Did I tell you Mom and Dad still pay your phone bill?
They pay,
So that we can hear your voice on your voicemail recording when we miss you.
I call,
Everynight.


Details | Terza Rima | |

False Pride


I have fallen in deep with pride tonight       
My good intention used against me             
I’m beguiled by ego’s pompous might         

Dismissed was true grace; now I see          
When clouded judgment led me onto           
The reefs below and turbulent sea            

‘Take a moment... maybe turn and run!         
From false pride, you must disengage          
Heed your conscience or come undone         

Hear my words, do not become enraged                                                           
Endless is haunting of conscience, near dead   
In this I implore you, with me, engage!'              

What you choose this night determines tomorrow..                                                             
Turn about my friend; turn away from sorrow'.                                                                      

~*~
7/18/13
For Craig's "Terza Rima Sonnet Contest"
(My first attempt at this and I'm afraid it's far from perfect) 
Thanks to the friends who gave me much needed help...still revising.


Details | Enclosed Rhyme | |

Shock and awe

Shock and awe




You can take away my freedom
You can take away my rights
But you will never take away
What I believe is right

You can hunt me and chase me
You can try with all your might
But you will never take away 
What I believe is right


For 100 years or more
You have been knocking at my door
The tyrants and the despots
The army and the law

But there will come a day
When we'll be free
And we will live in harmony
And the world will live as one

Bush and Blair they have no cares
Now there both millionaires
They talked about shock and awe
But all we got was a horrible war

With 100.000 dead
And many many more
We will never know the final toll
But we know who ran off with the oil

The tyrants and the despots
Are they the ones to blame
Or is it Bush and Blair
Who should hang their heads in shame>


Details | Narrative | |

A Doctors Ballad

I never really understood people until I took apart my old school chum Rick.
Now I know exactly what makes the human heart tick.
The intricacy of the human circuitry is Gods most artful work without uncertainty.
Like a great operatic performance accompanied by a grand orchestra, all our organs sing as one and all together.
To give such life as this in a manor of theatrical grandeur, but life comes at a cost however, this is something that we can not sever, for one soul to live it must take from another.
You see hunting a human is just like hunting any animal, you always track those that are weak and incapable.
I study those that indulge greatly in life's pleasurable sins, I always proceed to take them apart starting with their limbs.
To squander such a gift is a crime against those souls no longer living.
It is a crime that should be dealt with swiftly and unforgiving.
You may find my words harsh and cruel but punishment is dealt where punishment is due.
The scholars and gossips call me a Devil worshiper or a Satanist.
But I am an admirer of God and I dream to be like him, a great creationist. 
To some I'm known as the mad doctor who haunts the river Rhine, but to my acquaintances I'm known simply as Victor Frankenstein.


Details | Rhyme | |

Bukowski

Was it said before? Sure.
Was it said this way? I doubt it.
Perspective is in no way obscure,
And his works are nothing without it.

His motivation’s observed in daily life,
Misery, not just some vague inspiration.
He begs for reason, some way to lessen strife;
His words reflect a resounding desperation.

There seems a need at times to clarify, 
But that’s allowed in his terms only;
So many thoughts seem somewhat ‘rarefied’,
Fed his fire, but made him lonely.

No ‘underachiever’, not just another fool,
But still seeking solace by the glass;
Tempering his stagger and his drool 
With just a bit of ‘kiss my ass.’ 

But, usually, genius ‘sots’ come to ground,
Lucid moments - on the square;
Their driving ‘bolts’ of genius, word or sound,
Only written because they dare.

Yes, you can feel the written “heart”,
But few of us can realize that sort of pain;
No isolated misery… of many lives a part,
Each begs an answer... “Who’ll stop the rain?”

Yes, he’s lived it, seen it, and told it well;
But Timing is the Master of one’s Fate.
Is the timing right?  Funny…only time will tell…
Will you will be a whining sot or dare to be great?

One success can be lucky, we’ve seen that before.
One book, one song, then quietly fade away.
But six novels later, we should know the score;
He must have had something to say.

So, at the perfect time, someone heard.
Someone who was “someone” took someone under wing.
And to those with interest and empathy, they sold his words;
Saying they “are genius” and with “ugly truth” they ring.

But did he create any redeeming changes or impacts?
Yes, what singular influence did all his artful whining bring?
None... just a relentless, repetitive diatribe of sad facts.
Oh, yes…..and a little “ching ching”.

Entered in the "Idiot or Genius" contest 27 March 2014

not so genius

 


Details | Free verse | |

Goobers

“Goober Peas” is southern slang for peanuts.
“Goobers” is southern slang for stupid morons
whose brains are about the size of a peanut.
By definition this means that all of the members
of Al-Qaeda, Boko Haram, Hamas, Hezbollah,
ISIS, the Muslim Brotherhood and the Taliban
are indeed certified goobers – brain dead morons.
They train their sons to grow up and become kill crazy maniacs.
They treat women and girls as second or third class citizens.
They have sex with donkeys, sheep, goats and camels.
We should stop saying that they are from the Middle East
and start saying that they are from Gooberville.
Let all sane human beings support the Jewish people of Israel
in their continuing battle against the Goobers from Gooberville.


Details | Rhyme | |

Is it to late

Can we stop it?

It’s a crazy, hazy world
All filled with crazy people
The danger we are in
Its sky high, like a steeple
It’s reaching a crescendo
It’s touching air and ground
Earthquakes, hurricanes and floods
These be so often found
Is it too late to stop now?
Can we really turn it back?
Or is there mass destruction
A short way up the track?


Details | I do not know? | |

All Lives Matter

Fear is what they clothe them in.
Fear of losing their life because of one mistake.
Fear of losing their life because an officer is having 
a bad day.

Some say it's not racism;
"It's police brutality."
Whatever you call it, I can't 
help but ask "where is humanity?"

Mothers weeping because they're losing their sons.
Teaching them to fight back with silence
but that is no weapon compared to a gun.

Six feet under, leaving families to fight for justice
over their lives.
Societies getting tired of it all-
starting riots and constructing strikes.

How many more time will history repeat itself?
Or are we still writing [his]tory , using coverups
as help?

All lives matter despite of their race.
All lives matter despite their mistakes.

In times such as these justice will demand to be served.
No matter how chaotic, crazy, or obscured.

Life is a gift, one that we should all treasure.
Because all lives matter and we need to protect them;
no matter the measure.


Details | Narrative | |

It Was Me

You were taken to soon.
Ripped away from us.
You knew it was our final goodbye.
But the truth was hidden.
With a tear in your eye,
There was one last goodnight hug.
I wiped away the tear,
Then smiled and walked away.
By the time of the morning light
It was already too late.
You were gone and to a better place.
Never knew of your acknowledged your pain.
Of your suffering
Sometimes I wonder,
"If I only cared more
Would you still be here?
If I only hurt less,
Would you still be here?"
I'd deny it if I could.
But inside we both know,
I am the reason
You went away.


Details | Rhyme | |

A legion of Soldiers

 A legion of soldiers right by my side,
 Ready for battle, we shall nor run nor hide;
 Courage and honor our vows we keep,
 Searching for triumph and not knowing defeat,
 As the enemy approaches, we have no fear;
 My sword yearns for battle, as the time's growing near,
 I turn toward my men on this cold winter night,
 Look upon these soldiers ready to fight,

" Tonight Men! You may sacrifice your life, 
 You may not go home to your children and wife,
 We stand up for glory, no matter the cost,
 We shall not go home with this battle lost,
 We fight for our people and hold our flag high,
 Showing true courage on this very night,
 Our enemy shall buckle underneath our strength,
 We will show them no mercy for we are not weak,
 Gather your armor and follow me now,
 Time that we make our country proud."

 I feel the cold steel, of my, blade in my hand;
 I shall conquer the enemy who tries to steal my land,
 My horse rides swiftly, valiant, and true;
 The time is now for what I have to do,
 The sound of the cries, agony, and pain;
 It's filling my ears and testing my brain,
 Can not feel guilt of taking one's life,
 The pain sheers my side, as I, feel the knife;
 I feel my head spinning, as I, look around;
 Bodies of men and their blood on the ground,
 The realization begins sinking in,
 What is the outcome? Who really wins?

 Every man here is giving their life,
 So who's really wrong or who's even right?
 I fall to the ground and the darkness sets in,
 Remembering my life, family, and friends;
 The life of a soldier is not an easy one, you see?
 We sacrifice ourselves for others to be free,
 As my life leaves my body and my limbs grow cold,
 I remember a story my grandfather told,
 
 " Everyone says there is glory in dying,
 The fact of the matter, maybe, we're lying;
 I've seen many battles that tortured my soul,
 Memories to haunt me, as I, grow old;
 It's good to have courage and strength in your heart,
 But that's why there's wars tearing us apart.
 I don't regret my service or leading my men,
 I just always wondered, when does it end?"

 His words had no meaning, until, this very night;
 My breathes grow shallow and there's clouds in my sight,
 I may die a hero and go out in glory,
 In the end, I only, remain a story;
 We are all equal people with lives to live,
 Why can't we find peace and put war to an end?


Details | Narrative | |

Physically and Mentally Abuse

I was born in a world of poverty and soiled life of a third world country
The way I lived till I was five years of age was walls of boundary
These walls had towers of guards that had no heart or care
If a child would try to climb the wall they lose their life I swear

Father had drank and threatened my mother with a knife
My father lost his job and wife and that was the hardship of life
He stopped my mother from taking off with me in her arm
Hoping that my father would ignore and left me be with no harm

When my father went off to drink one night and came home with rage
My brothers stood by my crib and took a beating that set up the next stage
My father had woken up to three scared children half starved and in pain
His final words as he walk away from the orphanage gate live life do not go insane

I was still a baby in the orphanage; the caretakers did not really care about the babies
They stole items and materials those wicked men and maternal evil ladies
They starved all the babies because it cost a lot to keep them alive
As a child of that age I could feel the sins and greed that gave out bad vibes

I was ignorant about what I drank and ate, as I see white maggots move in my bottle
As I see them move I thought about how they were playing and some were hostel
They ate each other to keep each other alive in a manner that took me by surprise
In the back round I hear others throwing things with sounds of painful cries

I got very strong at a young age I was able to start pulling myself up over the cage
My feelings were to see my brothers with strong lungs that I cried out of rage
My two brothers came to see me and sneak food into my crib
The caretaker would find the food in my hands as they grabbed it and hit me on my ribs

As painful as it was I kept eating the food with blood in my mouth as it was instinct
I sometimes laid in my crib dazed and confused with smell of death so distinct
With all my might I kept myself strong and climb the small wall
I finally was old enough to get out of the building and I could hear my brothers call

With tears of joy with short legs that ran as fast as my heart
I ran to my brothers arms and held their hands to have a new start
I grew stronger everyday but more things came into my life in a manner of dismay
If my brothers stay by my side I could smile and everyday their would be okay



Details | Rhyme | |

Cold World

If you thought the war was cold before,
take the temperature of Putin
Worry about a country that is your own,
do not invade what is Ukraine
No blame is dealt on citizens of either
but on poor leadership within


Details | Free verse | |

The Strand

This expanse of land has seen things. 
Things all of us can only see in dreams.
It's seen war, it's gotten it's fair share of scars.
Bombs bursting, bullets throwing sand into the air like it's a volleyball tournament.
The sand running red with blood silently mocking our arteries.

This magnificent stretch of land has seen heroes' tears fall; dropping to their knees while sadness envelopes their fallen brothers but also looking up to their beloved whilst carrying a ring in their hand. 

It's seen bright days, the sun glimmering over wet sand, footprints of past loves being washed away as the sun smacks the horizon. 

This expanse of land...has seen things we can only imagine.

T.K


Details | Ballad | |

Be careful what you wish for

Now here is the story of a restless young man
Who dreamed of fighting in South Vietnam.
He’d learned about war in the comics he’d read
And he knew in his heart that for this he’d been bred.
As soon as it came up, the lads eighteenth year
He went off to enlist for an army career.

He saw some old major and he sat for some tests
Then the  shrink and the doctor saw him with the rest
Of those gallant young fellows that wanted to fight
And give to their country the force of their might.
When all this was over it was late in the day
So feeling elated he for home made his way.

About two weeks later a letter arrived
And reading it’s message his spirits raised high.
For he’d been accepted a soldier he’d be
And the feel of the message did fill him with glee.
He had to front up in a couple of days
And then for Kapooka he’d be on his way.

Ten weeks in Kapooka it taught him a lot
He learned to make war and leave bodies to rot.
He was taugh how all commies just murdered and lied
And that he and his country had God on their side.
And that no sacrifice could be too great to make
And it’s an honour to die for a great country’s sake.

His training all over he joined a Platoon
He’d made Infanteer he’d be fighting soon.
It was off to corp training to learn even more
About all of the goodies that go with a war.
He kept seeing his image all tough, mean and strong
For he was a fighter and this was his song.

It was just eight months later that his posting came through
He was off to the jungles, his dream had come true.
Well his plane soon arrived at that sad Nui Dat
Where he first heard the guns as their missiles they spat.
He was fearful at first but he soon became calm
These guns were on his side they’d do him no harm

A month or two later he’s out on patrol
As tail end Charley He’s playing the role
They were deep in the scrub with peace all around
 Then the air came alive with this terrible sound.
He felt himself falling “Lord is this a dream”
He asked as he heard he his God awful scream.

He lay there not hurting but sensing the worst
As he felt all around where his stomach had burst.
Where once it was firm gaped a warn sticky hole
It seemed that again war had taken it’s toll.
It seemed like a nightmare, a terrible dream
As the medic assured him that it weren’t like it seemed.

He sensed the black silence and quickened with fear
For man stands alone when his end it be clear. 
Then something within him gave way to great peace
As his wisdom did whisper that all things must cease.
Then the great mother came, took him gently away
From that place of man’s anger where a body did lay.

A true story of a friend of mine who died in Vietnam written in 1975....Peter


Details | Rhyme | |

Nothing More Or Less

Millions of lives and souls untold
And to account it all
Words, lines, films
Imagination trims
A sliver of soft, scarlet ribbon
Hollywood rounds
Quills deliver
Writers flare with passion so strong
Filling minds with fantasies, reveries, histories
Tragedies
We consume it all like freshly baked bread
We feed until we are engorged and fed
A viral, universal mess
Ideas and unmade memories
Nothing more or less

My eyes remain glued to the screen
Living it all out
Tears dare to flow—to doubt
I should have thought of that
Can I truly let myself believe,
Someone else lived that!
Pound away your directors, script-writers, fighters
For miles and miles of stories remain unread
While the unknown remain in the grounds of humble malnourishment
Dead
Careers for the mind with a twist of the fable
Left us savage for the meal and the crumbs under the table
I can never let the raw truth rest
Naked, bare and empty—soothed
Nothing more or less

I cringed for originality 
Observed the world through the unedited scripts
The very act, the poetry pact
The wild animal drooling in the back
I was slapped in the face by my boss who had cracked
As the reviews bloated less and less
They wanted something awful, something flaw-ful—something new
And this empty brain in agony—HISSED 
I have lived in no epic battle of account
Of the collateral sufferings of my brothers
The stories the red carpet smothers
And still I ache to create
Before the other ones discover
I returned with ‘‘oh me’s’ and ‘oh my’s’’
With a work of pure genius—a storybook of lies
Nothing more or less

Little have I lacked to dream
Of contortioned pulls and dramatic fire
Stories that rarely brittle or tire
I fiddled with precious glass on edge
Foully eager for self-damage
As if it would trigger some legitimate spark 
Searching for creatures and features in the dark
No one unlocked the passage that night
For the starving idea-parched malice of right
But all welcomed with open arms
A pale mannequin filled with jewels and charms
Consuming, fuming dooming
All ghosts hoping, screaming, looming
Hoping that one day they would find themselves on the big screen
Their legacy real as it can possibly get
Nothing more or less


Details | Ballad | |

The ballad of Tich Thomas

The Ballad of Tich Tomas
.
A dog was howling in the night
Perhaps she knew the truth
That Tich would not be coming home
This dog needed no proof
That the man who she loved so
He’d come to her no more
Because Lance corporal Thomas was
 A victim of the war.

Now Tich, he was a country boy
His farm it was his life
A boon to his community
He’d give in times of strife
He learned his trade in farming school
With honours he’d come through
Then settled down to work his farm
That’s what he planned to do.

But then, one day it came to him
The news he did not need
He’d been called up for army life
He went off without heed
To do his time in Puckapunyal
To get him set for war
He soon made it as Infanteer
So he joined a fighting corp

He worked real hard and gained a stripe
This showed he had potential
He earned his skills in jungle fighting
And then there came the call
For he to go to Vietnam
To five RAR he was sent
Charlie company was his unit
When off to war he went

It was in April sixty six
Our man went into battle
There in the Phuc Tuy provence
Those guns did roar and rattle
Our Tich he fought real gallantly
So brave was he, but then
The shrapnel done it’s evil job
He joined the fallen men.

They brought his body back to those
Who were waiting for him there
The whole town came to welcome him
And helped with grief and prayer
They buried him with all the honours
That came to fighting souls
Who died to keep their country free
Courageous in their roles.

More honour it was placed on him
By the country where he’d fought
They built a statue in his name
And his likeness it was caught
By the sculptor who did honour him
And carve him into stone
And now Tich Tomas guards the park
As he stands there all alone.

If you’re ever down in Nannup town
Go to the park that’s there
You’ll see the statue of young Tich
As his spirit everywhere
Will fill the souls of those who see
This fighting man, so brave
Who’s body lies so peacefully
In his own town, in a grave.

2007