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Quatrain War Poems | Quatrain Poems About War

These Quatrain War poems are examples of Quatrain poems about War. These are the best examples of Quatrain War poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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The Phantom Horse

A phantom horse came galloping 
beneath a silver moon
across a field of recent war 
where corpses’ bones lay strewn.

With thunder in his hoof beats,
again and then again,
he raced along a river which,
like blood, ran through that plain.

Though frightful he appeared to be
on land that reeked demise,
a sole intent gleamed strongly
in his sad and ghostly eyes.

Then finally, as dawn began
to paint the broad stretch red,
the unrelenting stallion stopped
and seemed to bow his head.

He briefly knelt, then stood upright
and bore away, with speed,
the spirit of the knight for whom
he’d been a trusty steed!

For the Not Just Any Old Quatrain Poetry Contest
of Kelly Deschler

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Blanket of prayers

I may not believe in war
Yet I still believe in you
I am one of the many
You are one of the few

You are standing in harms way
While we're safe in our bed
We're amongst the living 
While you're faced with the dead

Horrors I imagine
For you are oh so real
You choose to face the darkness
In your hands you hold cold steel

Yes you fight for freedom
A bastion for what is right
Your greatest weapon your heart
With it you hold back the night

Your life is truly precious
I am sad that you are there
I ask for God's protection
Rest in blankets of our prayer

For Mystic Rose's write to our Heros contest.

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The little soldier boy

His daddy is fighting in Iraq.
His mommy is fighting tears.
His brother is fighting death.
He is fighting his desolation and fears.

Friends are but a dream
and companions are an illusion.
School is a concentration camp,
but he stands, though alone, in the midst of confusion.

His training school is loneliness.
His milestones are fears, thrust in lies.
His only weapon is faith
and his bullets are soft "hallelujah" cries.

Strength left his fragile body
and he lost the fight in life so coy,
yet on his knees he conquered agony
and I call him the little soldier boy.

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King Vlad Redux - Second Cold War

Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin’s grimy fingerprints on current history
are for him nothing to gloat about—au contraire I say emphatically:
His actions bespeak one who’s not an architect for peace—not at all,
rather a quite deceitful dictator and a harbinger of a Second Cold War.

King Vlad’s old Soviet-style actions are clear for all who care to see,
and make no mistake about it—he’s without remorse and a soul to boot.
The real picture he portrays in world politics is of a “Master of Malarkey,”
and an “International Bamboozler Supreme,” with not one iota of conscience.

King Vlad has risked a Second Cold War with his violation of international
law concerning the blatant, illegal annexation of the Crimean peninsula.
With his brand of new style Soviet adventurism on the march, the Old 
Soviet Bear has been resurrected anew—and it’s hot on the prowl again!

King Vlad’s new found spirit of nationalism for Russia is not at all progressive
as evidenced by his ongoing war on certain ethnic minorities—Jews, Tartars, 
Armenians, Gypsies—to include anyone who chooses to resist and protest
against his dark new age fanaticism rebranded anew in the twenty-first century.

King Vlad’s lineage to and proclivity for the old Soviet Union and its dubious
cast of some past gangster luminaries: Lenin, Stalin, Beria, Molotov, Brezhnev 
and Andropov—to name a few, is quite telling since it gives us a deeper view 
of the real nature of his psyche and the tragedy he brings now to the world stage.

And lest we forget—the ghosts and innocent souls of the murdered passengers from
flight MH17 in eastern Ukraine cry out, as do their families, for justice against this 
vile international thuggery and hooliganism perpetrated by King Vlad in support
of certain proxy groups that do his evil biddings soaked in lies, treachery, and deceit.

King Vlad takes distinct pleasure in fulfilling the fanciful role today of the old Soviet
Bolshoi Nachalnik (Big Boss), whose historical antecedents from former Soviet Big
Bosses of past fame, does not augur well for the future of democracy in New Russia,
and certainly does not mesh with the precepts of good governance and human rights.

King Vlad’s treachery and deception are open for all to see, if they choose to do so,
and as he executes his plan of disrupting the balance of the current century world
order, we all should be forewarned of the clouds of tyranny and aggression that
could be unleashed at his behest on the European continent and the world today.

King Vlad, despite all of the polite remonstrations and economic sanctions imposed 
by Western leaders and diplomats, understands really only one word rendered so 
demonstratively in the German language: die Macht (or Power), which lurks ever so 
behind his public mask as part of his psychological makeup as a former KGB officer.

King Vlad’s actions and deeds reflect his real virtues of lying, denying, accusing,
rejecting, criticizing—all poison arrows in his quiver as a master of prevarication.
His real mask is that of a monster who had the very best Soviet teachers and now
wishes to tilt the axis of his New Russia on a collision course with the Free World.

And so Generalissimo Stalin . . . how do you like your nasty little boy now???

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved (November 30, 2014)
(Narrative Quatrain)

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Jungle War

So thick with rain,the rancid air
into the jungle pours.
Young soldiers with their feet on fire
keep on despite the sores.

This war is one that no one wants
and no one understands.
Young men and women give their lives
in these far Asian lands.

Back home these kids are shown disdain;
they're spit upon and worse.
When they come home from Viet Nam
in airports they are cursed.

A blight upon our history
was this long standing war.
But we should show the vets respect
for suffering they bore.

written by Deb Wilson 
January 12th, 2013
for contest "Historical Modified Quatrain"

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Baby Brave

A boy lines up plastic soldiers 
In straight rows across his floor.
He knocks them down with callow ease
In a naive game of war.

Far across the deepest ocean,
In between rich, well-known places,
Little boys become those soldiers -
Grow hard lines upon their faces.

Guns weigh down their frail frames,
As they march in groups like drones;
Passing by jumbles of bodies -
Messy piles of flesh and bones.

One cries softly in the corner,
Another cannot bear the sound.
He takes the blunt side of his gun
And beats the other to the ground.

In the streets they pass right over
Mothers murdered, sisters raped,
Countless men whose limbs are broken,
But whose empty eyes still gape.

Narrow roads become red rivers,
Neighbourhoods go up in flames,
Backyards turn into cold graveyards -
Still they play this twisted game.

Far across the deepest ocean,
In the richest, well-known places,
Boys line up their plastic soldiers
With blind smiles upon their faces.

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Remember the Alamo

The Texans weren't supposed to be
 Holding the old mission.
Sam Houston sent Jim Bowie there.
 Said he had a vision.

Bowie wanted to save the fort.
 So did Colonel Travis.
They say when Santa Anna came
 Carnage there was massive.

Two hundred men would die that day.
 One was Davey Crockett.
He couldn't save the Alamo.
 Too few men to stop it.

Santa Anna won the battle,
 Taking back the city.
He killed each and every soldier.
 Showing them no pity.

Santa Anna was defeated
 Outside San Jacento.
The Texans bore the battle cry,
 Remember Alamo!


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Bore after bore fell silent eventually Abhor I do feel through my eyes Gore and sore now abundantly plenty Tore through clouds, wondrous skies Despair in abundance appears all around Where in the world has all our love gone Stare into our abyss, and see it abound There is no tomorrow, there is no dawn <*>

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With Sword and Lance and Bill

Come by the Sword, Die by the Sword

They stood in ranks a thousand long
High upon the hill
The Roman legion, fierce and strong
With sword and lance and bill

The Briton hoards below them stare
With wild fanatic eyes
They jeer the foe and beg them dare
With anger and despise

Come and fight you cowardly foe
Come and meet your fate
We’ll cut you down, row by row
Send you to heavens gate

With scoff and scorn the Romans yawn
What empty threats you speak
We’ll rip you limb from limb this morn
You’re scrawny, thin and weak

Down below, laughter roars
Your bellies, we will slice
We’ll lay you dead, in your scores
Come prove your men not mice

We will arrive and make you pay
For indolence and taunt
You will eat every word you say
When they come back to haunt

It’s easy up on high to gloat
But everybody knows
It’s our intent to cut each throat
And leave you for the crows

But when we make our move towards
There’ll be no shy nor rests
We’ll plunge our sharp and bloody swords
Deep in those ragbag chests

Think of your girlfriends, mothers, wives
For them there’ll be no gains
Will be, as we, cut short their lives
When we spill out your brains

For one last time you’ll see the sky
Cause you’re not leaving whole
When heathen head is raised up high
On legion victory pole

Gasp deep upon your final breath
Invader of our land
Your destiny this day is death
By rude and brutish hand

With sword and lance and bill
All break into their stride
With voices booming still 
Blood fills the wide divide
,         ,         ,         ,         ,
,         ,         ,         ,         ,
,         ,         ,         ,         ,
,         ,         ,         ,         ,
,         ,         ,         ,         ,
,         ,         ,         ,         ,
,         ,         ,         ,         ,
,         ,         ,         ,         ,
,         ,         ,         ,         ,
,         ,         ,         ,         ,
,         ,         ,         ,         ,
,         ,         ,         ,         ,
,         ,         ,         ,         ,
,         ,         ,         ,         ,
,         ,         ,         ,         ,
,         ,         ,         ,         ,
March forward to today
Though forces re-arranged
And ask them in what way
Anything has changed

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As Far As I Can

Sore to the bone
Running on a drop of energy
Just gotta push through
I'll rest eventually

My shoulder has gone numb
But my body feels her weight
As if she's gotten heavy
Since her unconscious state

If I could, I'd stop right now
But who knows how safe it is here
And if I could even start again
I may fall asleep I fear

Soon my body will give up
But I'll make it as far as I can
And hopefully haven isn't too far
And I can put her in helping hands

Walking all day and night
It's hard not to think on past
And any thought I come up with
Has me struggling to hold sobs back

I've kept my ears open
Trying to focus on only sounds
But all I keep on hearing
Is my shoes crunch on foreign grounds

Bang. I hear it softly.
So far but still so near.
Bang. Another gunshot sounds
And I've collapsed in fear.

I close my eyes but another goes off
This time in a memory
And now I'm filled with rage
At how repulsive humans can be

My thoughts turn to my baby
Slipping off of my shoulder
I set her down and examine her
Bloodstained gown and skin colder

My worst nightmare but it can't be true
I listen in for her sweet breath
No. No No. No No. No No.
What's this silence? This isn't death.

This time I don't close my eyes
I see a sight that makes me sob
Memory of the last I saw my wife
And now my baby's with her mom.

Each one of us left covered in crimson
By a monster, a gunshot, a blow
Their death is the death of me.
This is as far as I can go.

May 2010
Inspired by Morris Gleitzman's novel "Once," a historical fiction about a boy in Poland
during the Holocaust.

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Vietnam's Unwelcome Heroes (Co-written with Tim Ryerson)

We gave Johnny a gun and a uniform
Trained him to kill, in a regiment conform
Sent him deep into Vietnam jungles warm
With little regard to how we did him harm
     So certain we knew what we joined to fight for
     We were shipped off to fight an unwinnable war
     A war of "containment," unlike those before
     Mothers screamed, fathers wept, siblings ached to the core
By parachute dropped to a ghastly death scene
Johnny ached for the life left behind, so serene
His family, fiance did not know what war means
Especially the haunting of lost children's screams
     Those of us who survived thought we'd just done our jobs
     We returned and were shamed by violent gobs
     Of silver-spoon white kids in hate-spewing mobs
     Spat-on and welcomed as baby-killer slobs
No heroes welcome would await these young men
No ticker-tape parades were staged for them
Just jeers from crowds, uncaring government
Greeted the lonely Vietnam Veteran

     Too classy and noble to demand our fair share 
     We lay in that shabby old hospital there
     In a closet-sized room with no visitors' chair
     Understaffed, underfunded, with short-handed care

The "benefits" they found would astound all now
And it leaves one to wonder how our hallowed ground
Would be filled with unnamed graves of men once proud
Before the rows of white crosses we should bow
     Our Wailing-Wall stands now in Washington, D.C.
     So shiny but black, a telling-tale of the fee
     We have paid for our nation, our land of the free
     Will you come pay respects? Will you not at last see?

Some veterans still suffer disgraceful neglect
So please explain who more deserves our respect
Let us pause with angelic choirs and genuflect
To show gratitude as on this Wall we reflect

Friends, Dane Ann is among those who served in the army during the Vietnam war and is 
now recovering from long-overdue hip surgery performed at an old VA hospital in 
Gainesville, Florida.  Thank you for your prayers on her behalf.  Many thanks 
to Tim Ryerson, another Vietnam veteran, for joining me in this write.

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If You Ever Cross Me

I am never jealous, but theirs an evil in my eye
Step forward and cross me, and soon you'll wonder why
No matter where you are, it doesn't matter where you hide
For I'm the clever one, who'll find you and watch you slide

There are some things that you will never own, nor I, so read my words
For if I have to find a reason, my actions are seldom heard
These actions I speak about, are the watching of your life fade
And the squealing through your last breath, your body in dying cascade

I am never jealous, but theirs an evil in my eye
Step forward and dare to cross me, and soon you'll wonder why
The world is small enough, it takes nothing for me to try
I can only ever promise, take what is never yours, and you will rightly die

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World War

I would like to start a world war
And enter it with blindness
Attacking every country
Fully armed with kindness

I'd fly over the no fly zones
From ten thousand feet above
I would drop my greatest weapon
And splatter them with love

Medals would be given for  caring
There would be a hatred ban
And heroes would be judged
On what they did for their fellow man

The war would rage on land
In the air and on the sea
And the war would never end
Until every man was free.

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I see before me

I see before me a world filled with despair.
Yet people turn their backs and refuse to care.
I know there are many things that truly aren’t fair.
You just can’t give up and choose to live nowhere.

People take their fingers and point to blame,
While other feel sorrow that fills them with shame.
Why can’t we understand we are all not the same?
Instead there is conflict as we call each other names.

Why can’t we understand and all just get along?
War drums are beating that same old sad song.
Tears start to fall for all those who are gone,
We seem to survive but just for how long?

We have to learn to put our differences aside.
When all is gone it won’t matter which side.
We all need to learn that this life is a gift.
To reach out our hands and help to uplift.

The alternative is that we all shall die.
I think this enough reason to learn to try.
Though we won’t always see eye to eye,
When it all gone who will be here to ask why?

I see before me a way to make amends
To reach out a hand rather than to defend.
Peace should be something we all can afford.
We shouldn’t have to live and die by the sword.

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Defend as Men

With armor pierced, I’m battle scarred
For enemies swords had struck their mark
Though weary, I, I raised my sword
To continue fighting in the dark

The battle started hours before
Fighting strong, with me, heroic men
Yet, common men with noble hearts
For mother land, they now defend

No formal training, nor fighting skills
But, armed with will and make shift swords
These men of honor fought for right
For losing homes, they can’t afford

I, their leader, their chosen one
Selected for strength and outward pride
Am honored to fight aside these men
Else, not fighting at all, I shall have died

Our homes and family are what we are
The marks of us men are lineage and land
We go into battle, each as a boy
To come from the battle, each as a man

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Vietnam Quatrain

Within my breast I carry ancient death; 
Its face is pale and white as marbled clay. 
Consumed with guilt, I struggle for each breath 
Still sour with napalm death of yesterday. 

The fractured colors formed behind my lids 
Are monumental rainbows round a pit 
Where hues of crimson-reds crisscross the grids 
Profuse in bloody lines and squares to fit. 

Profanely perfect patterned memories 
Of riddled bodies huddled on the ground, 
Where bloated skin slips off fatalities 
As ragged maggots slither-squirm around. 

The jungle flora breathes forth mystic sighs 
As soldiers wander through symbology. 
They see suspended phantoms' floating eyes; 
A catapult to horrid memory. 

No temple of communion colonnades! 
No transubstantiation in the heat! 
No priestly servants hidden in the glades! 
No promises of paradise wrapped neat! 

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Two Shadows

Two shadows on the wall
The slightest hint of swaying
If I knew any better
My sanity's decaying

The pendulum moves silently
And casts a double shade
If my thoughts weren't haunted
It would be a sight of grace

Though instead it reminds me
Of my consuming dread
That perhaps he won't return
Perhaps my love is dead

July 2010

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One Out Of Three

That homeless guy out on the corner,
Carrying a sign that says he’s hungry;
Maybe he’s just a drunk or a ‘stoner’, 
But he might be that one-out-of-three.

That one-out-of-three is a veteran,
Who in uniform served his country.
There’s a good chance he has an addiction,
Or is still suffering from PTSD.

One out of three of those ones-out-of-three
Fought in one of America’s wars.
Did he scream on a beach in Normandy,
Or did he at Inchon go ashore.

Did he hunt Charlie in a rice paddy?
Was he in the Balkans, or lost in the sand?
One out of three of those ones-out-of-three,
Were the heroes who once took a stand.

If you can spare a few dollars, then feed them.
If not, at least hear what they say.
Their country may no longer need them, 
But they don’t deserve to be thrown away.

They might not have all bled in battle, 
But each one came home a casualty.
With your help, they may someday be able
To leave the ranks of the one-out-of-three.

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Summers morn

Summers Morn.

This summer morn the birds sing out with magic
Their mystic echo fills my heart with love.
Whilst far away those shells so loud and tragic
They shower down their murder from above.

The trees they dance in splendour all around me
As the morning sun it fills my heart with joy
And everything just feels so free and easy
Whilst mankind has the mind to life destroy.

It’s hard to understand the minds of Humans
They cannot rid themselves of fear and hate.
They cannot see the light, their eyes are blinded
Can they not see the Karma they create??

The lazy river sparkles in the Sunlight
It conquers all yet stays in serene bliss
Whilst man he has to kill, why can’t he see it?
The truth of all this foolishness of his.

Awaken man, awaken from your sleeping
Just take a look and see what you’ve become
Your madness it be sunken right into you
It seems to me your heart be really numb.

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As willows weep along the walls
And fall mums start to bloom
The wind still echoes hallowed 
From Nanking's souls of doom

With little food and daily raids
There was no safety zone
From genocide of men and 
For none were left alone

Their butchered bodies 
Lay piled in ponds and roads
In bloody streets a river there
Flowed heavy 'neath the loads

This holocaust was filmed that 
Priest John Magee did plod
Now as his son he too could say
He "touched the face of God".

deborah burch

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The City Sleeps

Corridors, power, call it what you like When shadows fall, on this hot June night These walls, this place, I'm absorbed I wonder why They, the inflicted, their embers, we now throw them to the sky Sleeping giants of Auschwitz, in mass production die Good boy psycho killers, into their new world they tread To look for new horizons and leave behind their dread Behind half moon meadow, now decaying in ancestral creep Amidst discarded gates and ditches, this, the city sleeps Their corridors of Epiphany, whilst Christianity weeps <> Written using the track titles to the Touchstones album <> The City Sleeps

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I Met A Veteran From World War II

I met a veteran from World War II
who, eighty-three, reached out to shake my hand;
at Normandy, who'd seen his brethren killed,
now walks the streets of Berlin, Maryland.

He models life, simple yet abundant,
by stocking up a van with meat and cheese
and, seeking out the tired, poor, and hungry,
and greeting them with a "thank you", and "please".

He mentioned D-Day once, as I recall -
said he couldn't number those he had slain,
yet, the other soldiers jumping with him
all dead the moment they leapt from the plane.

To think, this man, who held the mortal coil
of all the nations longing to be free,
who vowed to suffer death, should it have him,
would stoop to honor men, the likes of me.

I asked myself "do I take for granted
my freedom, bled and died for, in this land",
the day a veteran from World War II,
at eighty-three, reached out to shake my hand.

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I went to war in Vietnam which wasn't my idea
the army never asked for my advice
I slogged on through the jungles there and watched some soldiers die
out country where the farmers grow their rice

The months went by like in a horrid dream of blood and death
and nothing I could say made any change
one mission here. one mission there just made no sense to me
but there was no way it would rearrange

We came to do our duty and to save South Vietnam
from communist incursions from the north
The tunnel rats went into where no one should ever go
And daily, squads were sweeping back and forth

The enemy was everywhere so telling friend from foe
was just about the hardest thing to do
then just about the time you may have thought you had it pegged
some little "friend" would make a fool of you

I finally got home last month, free from an ugly war
but landing at the airport gave me pause
a woman with a little kid called me a nasty name
and spit at me without a hint of cause

This war I did not advocate and never wished to go
I never had a choice in going there
I only wish the people at my home would understand
and put the blame on those who sent us there

I simply cannot understand the hatred aimed at me
for doing what I really thought was right
it seems that people aught to see the reasons why we go
and know that it's our duty makes us fight

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The Earl of Sandwich

Please, sir, some meat and bread
I've not had a morsel for a week
It would stop this terrible hunger
My prospects now are terribly bleak

It's said the Earl is tender hearted
And oh so bloody awful rich
If I could have a taste of his
I'd call the thing a Sandwich

I hate to just come a beggin'
But I'm so hungry I am seeing red
Won't you ask the Earl again
Please, sir, some meat and bread.......

For Joe's Sandwich

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Valhalla - Vikings' Paradise

In Asgard, kingdom of the mighty God Odin
a place awaits all battle fallen warrior heroes
It's in Valhalla where there is endless feasting
and an ending of all griefs and sorrows

The Valkyries, Odin's warrior daughters
carry the fallen heroes from the battlefield 
to Valhalla to join other fallen warriors
where they are restored to life fully healed

Each day the warriors fight on Asgard's plain
Their battle skills to sharpen and maintain 
Every evening wounds and injuries they sustain
are healed and each warrior made whole again

They dine on liquor and fresh cooked meat
that is always in great abundance for all
providing a delicious gourmet treat
at Odin's banquet in Valhalla's dining hall

July 18, 2014
Here is the poem which aroused my childhood interest in the Vikings, and to 
which I referred in my reply to Shadow. I would like to share it with others.
It is "The Sea King's Burial" by Charles Mackay. It recalls the days when a 
Viking chief died and his body was placed in a boat. The vessel with full sail 
set and a fire lighted, was then sent drifting out to sea. It is a long poem so I 
am only quoting the first and last verses:

My strength is failing fast 
   (Said the sea-king to his men). 
I shall never sail the seas 
   Like a conqueror again, 
But while yet a drop remains 
Of the life-blood in my veins 
Raise, oh, raise me from my bed, 
Put the crown upon my head, 
Put my good sword in my hand, 
And so lead me to the strand, 
   Where my ship at anchor rides 
If I cannot end my life 
In the crimsoned battle-strife 
   Let me die as I have lived, 
      On the sea.

Once alone a cry arose, 
   Half of anguish, half of pride, 
As he sprang upon his feet, 
   With the flames on every side. 
"I am coming! " said the king, 
Where the swords and bucklers ring, 
Where the warrior lives again, 
Where the souls of mighty men 
And the weary find repose, 
And the red wine ever flows, 
   I am coming, great -All-Father, 
      Unto thee! 
Unto Odin, unto Thor, 
And the strong, true hearts of yore: 
   I am coming to Valhalla 
      O'er the sea."  

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Battle Horse

As I plod along the boggy fields
Master on my back
The heavy armour on my chest
The mud upon my flanks
The smell of blood in the smokey air
Of man and beast entwined
The thrust of decay beneath my hooves
Tension in the skies
As cold April winds
Lash into my eyes
I keep myself in check
To heed the masters voice to me
And his command upon my neck
His spurs, they push into my flanks
As the enemy approaches
I twist and turn, rise and fall
As metal upon metal clashes
Fast I must hold, stumble not
As the master fights the battle
Heart beating hard, mouth dry as earth
Blood coursing down my chattles
Treading hard upon the ground
Regardless of the dead
Then the day is won,the bugle sounds
"Homeward men its over"
Wearily I trot beneath the sun
To green fields of grass and clover.

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I Never Thought It Would Be Like This

     War, I Never Thought It Would Be Like This !!!

  I never thought to see man’s bones glistening white.
 Nor see disembodied limbs flying left and right.
 I never thought to see mud the colour of red
 Nor see young men blown to bits or lain dead.

 The rain isn't water it's blood mixed with tears
 Trenches full of bloated corpses, lice, fleas and fears
 No time to bury all, but those that receive an earth overcoat
 Are disturbed, exhumed by bombs, blown in stagnant trenches to                        float.

 Blasted from their resting places, scattered far and wide
 Dodging not only bombs and shells, but limbs landing by our sides.
 Men caught and ripped to shreds with razor wire and tracer shells.
 Left to die hanging there, moaning, screaming, no funerals no       church bells.

 I never thought to see these things, just victory, honour and glory
 Not see death destruction waste and sites disgusting and gory.
 I only wanted to fight for my King, family and country
 I never thought it would be a massacre that mortal  eyes should        not see.

© 27/07/2012 Lids aka ~GG~
They signed up so young and full of their patriotic duty, yet this is how is ended for most of them.

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Poetic Soldier

Battling the page,
Writers block at the brink.
Assassinated words,
Hemorrhage colored ink.

Rivers of ink flow,
From a massacre of words.
Stanzas of pain, grace the page,
Like of flock of olden birds.

Ballpoint swords strike:
In written catastrophe.
A stained battlefield resides,
With bloody poetry.

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Look and see

Look at the swallow
sounding the promise of rain
with silent trumpeting of flying shallow
while the bitter sunlight brings stain.

Look at the concrete forest
turning vile hearts of men to stone
with the race to no rest
while blind to wounds inflicted to the bone.

Look at the choices unjustly made
to impress by assumed wisdom
with a mask one day to fade
while wisdom stumbles over married knowledge and boredom.

Look at the mysterious skies
proclaiming what is bigger than vanity
with gentle light telling no lies
while stubborn kingdoms lose all sanity.

Look at the pondering people
among the slums of scorched life
with desire of the mercy of a crossed steeple
while receiving crucifying glances worsening their strife.

Look at how the past 
stands out with a fist clenched
with iniquity passed on to children of last
while forgiveness from others by unforgetting hands is wrenched.

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The Vikings

The Vikings were a race of men
That conquered many lands
They fought their wars with might and main
And power in their hands
They sailed the sea in dragon ships
Explored and conquered well
But now their greatness lies beneath
The rolling ocean swell

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Hates' Jungle

Running through flowers in the glen,
Curly hair and golden skin shining,
Beauty  in the sun, fleeing maiden.
Gunshot sounds in the distance blasting.

A new dawn dying to begin.
Her mother lost behind her ... found.
Black ... bound and beaten by madmen.
But Bea ran faster than the hound.

War Between the States had begun.
Her hope soaring like an eagle,
Freedom glaring in the bright sun.
Brightened her way through hates' jungle.

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Why Fireworks Scare Me

People just don’t understand
Why sometimes I jump in fear
Or why I cry and cower
When a loud noise I hear

People find it amusing
When I start to shiver and cry
They simply have no idea
Or know the reason why…

Fireworks are a horror...
To try to enjoy the display,
I have to cover my ears
And pretend that I’m OK

Loud noises send me screaming
Away to find a safe place
They make my go for cover
As I try to hide my face

I just feel like suffocating
As I relive bomb shelter days
The smell and the sickening sounds...
How I was always in such a daze

Dad would yell at us to hurry
As he’d lift Mama on his back
MS meant she couldn’t walk
Would they survive this attack?

We scrambled down the stairs
The bombs' whistles in our ears
I could hardly take a breath
I was choked by incessant fears

In the dank and smelly shelter
We could do nothing but pray
As we counted all the neighbors
We wondered how long we’d stay

Then came that awful day
The blasts set the campus a flame
Our pine trees were burning up
The men tried that fire to tame

I ran to the bomb shelter
But no family was there in sight
I started to scream and cry
Would my family be alright?

They finally put out the fire
But oh, the devastation
People were dead and dying
In all parts of this nation

Shrapnel came through our closet
And chewed up all our clothes
We were thankful we weren’t there
Or we too would be full of holes

Then on campus they brought a tank
But they’d warn us when they’d start,
That gruesome work of shelling
I saw our lives just fall apart

My friend’s father lost his life
Some saw loved ones blown away
My brother and wife were lucky
But they carry scars to this day

Lebanon is steeped in beauty
But the war has marred me for life
Sometimes memories flood back
And I’m reminded of all the strife

It’s when I hear those loud noises
And I feel the ground start to shake
I feel my life will be over
“Protect me, for heaven’s sake!”

So when July 4th comes along
And you celebrate liberty
Think of the firework display 
And what that does to souls like me.

Eileen Manassian Ghali

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Vietnam's Broken Souls

Surviving war can break a soul
Leave deep inside a jagged hole
Workings of a mind pay its toll
Getting through today our furthest goal

They called you at that early age
Nothing really more than boys
Thought you were invincible at that stage
But M16's became your toys

When those of you who did survive
Got back to this land of the free
You were barely more than alive
But spat on by people like we

Work for you was hard to find
Seen through eyes as though were blind
Said no heroes welcome awaited us
Just a lonely ride on a quiet bus

Asked were we right or were we wrong
To with these acts go along
In this place did we belong
*Thoughts invaded by a trumpets song

Too many questions without answers it seems
Hope for happiness towards negative leans
Blood and anguish fill your dreams
You wonder what this torment means

Was God there and could He see
Things suffered both by you and me
If so how could He possibly be
A God of love for answers you plea

If He did and feels your pain
Then He knows at His feet you've lain
This broken soul in which you no longer believe
It's future now in His hands you leave

So many hurt so many dead
So many things left unsaid
Did they realize or even care
Their fear and pain you always share

And if you could you would go
To where they are and they would know
That every day that you have had
You remember them all and through the bad

You'd say your memories are here with me
And each of you I long to see
Where ever it is that you may be
I pray your souls are resting peacefully

When you're gone and leave this land
I know you'll search for your brothers and
Eagerly reach out your battered hand
Beside them forever stand

*Enemy blew trumpet before attacking

©Donna Jones

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Perished Might

       Those that believe might is right
   Are itching on paltry issues to fight

           Show them in the mirror of gone by times
The perished Cyrus and Caesar’s might

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One By One From Guns They Fall

For my father who sleeps
with all the veterans of
WWI..every one now gone.

Piper pipe a song for me,
And for ev'ry soul now free;
Brothers all who heard the call,
One by one each one did fall.

Fall no more good soldier's dead
On this hallowed ground soaked red;
Hear their mothers wail and weep
For their baby boys who sleep.

Sleep in peace my gentle ones
Face no more the crash of guns;
Angel wings on hillock knolls
Wrap around your silent souls -

Souls once vibrant. Souls so brave.
Souls arising from their grave;
Brothers all who heard the call,
One by one each one did fall.

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A Posting to Remember

We met during the war on this now famous sunny isle
Like a moth to a flame, was her infectious smile
I was in the Navy, stationed aboard an MTB
Keeping shipping lanes open, for the Mediterranean Fleet

Whilst the war years progressed you could sense the islands bravery
Heavily bombed and damaged, under threat of Axis slavery
Although we lived amidst, we could only marvel at their spirit and guile
They fought hard for their liberty on that famous sunny isle

I'll never forget the times, endured during this terrible war
Camaraderie became their strength, for what they had fought-en for
Simple life went on, amidst the cafes and the bars
My new found love from this famous sunny isle, became my married dove

We still recall the radio broadcast, declaring that war is over
As we headed back to my homeland, to Scotland and live in clover
The day that we embarked, many a tear fell from our eyes
Looking back at this famous sunny isle, under peaceful azure blue skies

Many a word we spoke, whilst we sailed to Southampton Port
Now demobbed, to a civilian, hopefully the war mongers are brought to court
Although the war years showed their horrors, respect was never far away
This famous sunny isle, wears the George Cross in deserved display

Heading home to Scotland, past fields in harvest bloom
This proud Royal Navy sailor, with his bride and he a groom
We cried as we passed the war torn, not only was it the famous sunny isle
For the war had been so expansive, in it's putrid inhuman vile

We settled on the West Coast, amidst the heather and the glens
Bringing up our boys, praying they'll never be fighting men
Many nights we stayed up, answering questions of our past
From that famous sunny isle, our true love would always last

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Soldier's Forgotten Valentine

In the hot desert night he sat all alone
holding a letter in his trembling fist.
A lone tear rolled down his cheek as he read;
her reasons so neatly declared on a list.

She claimed that the love light had drifted away
just as he had to that far distant war.
She'd met someone else while running on empty
and she just didn't love her soldier any more.

Now he rummages through his few belongings
searching for an old valentine card.
He feels like a sentimental fool
and he sure hadn't thought he'd take it so hard.

As night wears on in the midst of this warfare
he battles a hardening heart from within.
He finds that old card and he rips it to shreds
then plasters his face with a sad ,crooked grin.

written Friday February 8th,2013
for contest "Forgotten Valentine"

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Worth the climb

Who can un-travel the journey of love
of a thousand and one contradictions
of moments more - then less than enough
the weapon for a minds ammunition 

for all get wounded in the unsought war
the plight of being shot by friendly fire
eye on the enemy while at the door
lie the unsuspecting repercussions of desire

Much like soldiers fully geared
suited with the warfare of Cupid 
It's not just the suffering that we fear
but the suffering because we were stupid
There's more to marriage 
than want of bliss, more than euphoric kiss
lest it leave you with no more than a vestige
one must weigh their hope with the risk

And so with cautious heart we trod
this road we cannot un-travel
and hope beyond hope there is a God
for loves journey is a fragile battle

It can crush and it can kill
or make all your dreams sublime
make no mistake this journeys uphill
but in the end you can only hope... it's was every bit worth the climb

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Oh Mum:
Oh mum I’m so sorry I have to send  this to you
You never wanted me to go, but I am not one of the few
Oh mum, remember when you kissed away my pain
I wish you could do that once more - yes again.

I’m so sorry mum on the day we did part
I remember your bravery even though I’d broken your heart.
The noise and the wet here and the terrible smell
I never believed your teachings of hell…

But I now know there is hell on earth
I’m here for a while for what it is worth
Remember when I had a stick for a gun
We played at war as children, it was such great fun.

I wanted to be a hero or soldier at best
A hero with a gun, and bullet proof chest…
You soothed and cajoled but I never did change
Oh mum how I wish this wasn’t so strange…

Remember when you wiped away my secret tears
I was angry you saw back then I had fears.
The rain is mingling mum, with tears running now
If only you could wipe them from me, someway, somehow.

The stench is overpowering the noise is intense
The bombs all around, dead men hung on razor-wire fence.
The death and destruction is all around 
I’m floating and falling my thoughts do abound.

Oh mum, I wish I had listened to you
The glory I thought would be mine - and yours too
Be proud of me mum but I feel so helpless and small
I am not sure now- but I think I will fall.

 I love you mum and I remember it well
The storms after dad died but you managed so well
You did a good job that’s what I like to think
You saw me through boyhood, manhood and drink.

I am here mum, I signed up I know I left you that day
I thought it would be fun like when I used to play
Here is death and destruction, and I don’t want you to read this
But I must say good-bye mum, your love I do miss.

The kisses you gave, you never did falter.
You watched over me, and I think I did alter...
I came to this war a man, I never realised the boy was still there mum
Today mum my last; I am your frightened little son.

My fears are now that without me, will you cope?
Without me mum - there is no false hope
I love you so much more everyday
But it’s time to say goodbye and I feel today is that day….

I wrote this after doing my family tree and found one of my great Uncles, the only one of thirteen siblings signed up and went to WWW1, not needing to do this as they were farmers. He died in the last week in France

©GG 18/07/2012

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Love And War

How does one define the word love There are many degrees to this passion There's love of a job, a love of a sport Even love of an exciting new fashion The way I describe love is very simple It's the feeling of hearts intertwined The bonding of souls in loving harmony There's nothing like love in it's prime Forever, love's been the driving force The reason why wars have been fought Rational thinking doesn't come into play Levelheadedness isn't given a thought It's gung-ho ahead, straight for the prize Enthusiastic, eager and unthinking All else is secondary occupying our minds Tight in love's grasp we start sinking There's no hope now, it's much too late You've succumbed to that age old game Of chasing her till she captures you For centuries the game's been the same © Jack Ellison 2014

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Rappelez Vous, Remember

(English translation below original French)

Rappelez-vous les petits fils 
Qui ecoutaient leurs grand-peres
Raconter des histoires d’ infanteries 
Et de battailles de la premiere guerre.

Rappelez-vous des braves garcons 
Qui s’imaginaient etre des soldats,
Qui plus tard servaient le drapeau American 
En tant que veritables soldats.

Rappelez-vous des pauvres parents
Qui ont recu des telegrammes et des lettres,
Et qui apres ont place indefiniment
Des etoiles d’ors aux fenetres.

Rappelez-vous de chaque petite amie
Qui esperait un jour se marier
Avec son beau voisin-ami
Qui ne va jamais plus rentrer.

Rappelez-vous des nouvelles jeunes veuves,
Avec ses petits orphelins des peres,
Qui devaient subir les enormes  epreuves
D’elever leurs enfants sans l’aide des peres.

N’oubliez pas les anciens jeunes garcons—
Les chanceux qui ont survecu
Et regardent souvent  les horizons lointains
Cherchant leures ami-fantomes qui ne sont jamais revenues.


Remember the grandsons
Who listened to their grandfathers
Tell stories of infantries
And battles of the first war.

Remember brave boys
Who pretended to be soldiers
Who later served the American flag
As real soldiers

Remember the poor parents
Who received telegrams and letters
And who afterward indefinitely placed
Gold stars in their windows.

Remember each girlfriend
Who hoped to marry someday
Her handsome neighbor/friend
Who will never come back again.

Remember the new young widows,
With their little fatherless children
Who had to undergo the enormous ordeals
Of raising children without a father’s help.

Don’t forget the former young boys-
The lucky ones who survived,
And often look at the far horizons
For their phantom-friends that never returned.

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One, Two, Three, Four We Don't Want Your Stinkin' Wars

Johnny got his gun that May day
sent by Nixon's cronies to betray unarmed souls
to Kent State with rifles, bayonets,
and thirteen students were gunned down on the grass knoll.

With cries against Dick's bloody war
young civilians burned and swore, "bring the warriors home."
They had enough of gore and lies
of Unconstitutional Wars and napalm bone.

We've guns at home, guns abroad
"What are we fighting for?" they cried out, and were killed
Few even remember a name 
of four young people, Allison, Jeff, Sandra and Will.

A Republic formed by revolt
remembers well how to gain, get your gun my son
for Big Brothers got his again
and a bullets a very hard thing to outrun.

*The Kent State Massacre - May 4, 1978
Never never forget your own government took rifle toting
bayonette pointed troops onto college campuses and killed
four unarmed students, youths and wounded more, paralyzing 
one. If they could do this.....

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On a wild rampage
I ride through the night
Livid with anger
Redemption in sight

Set out to pillage
Your heart and your soul
Leave nothing standing
No, nothing left whole

A prisoner of war
I will take you to me
A slave bound and tied
Not meant to be free

Part of my booty
You’re mine to demand
You must pay your dues
Obey each command

I’m furious with rage
My anger I’ll vent
You thought me serene
No, I am hell bent

There must be payment
For breaking my heart
My revenge is sweet
I’ll not spare a part

My siege is complete
My honor in tact
I’m a fierce warrior
There’s nothing I lack

You thought you’d use me
And then you would flee
You figured it wrong
Look straight into me

I've come to avenge
I see how you shake
You poor little lamb
Your stronghold I break

I know your weakness
And with it I snare
You can’t resist me
When beauty I bare

With weakness exposed
I bind you with might
I torture you well
All through the long night

I play with my toy
Until I tire
Then toss you aside
Charred by my fire

Left helpless and weak
You bemoan your fate
While I ride away
Now calm and sedate

Eileen Manassian Ghali

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world war

Guns are firing
bombs in the air
people are dying
it's just not fair.

Tanks and armored weapons
injuries so severe
we will never truly know what happened 
during these awful years.

Now the war is over
crosses all around
the fields are calm and peaceful
poppies lay on the ground.

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Through the window of life I look
To tomorrow, a different day
Thoughts of my husband my love
Lost to wars theatre decay

When I awake every morning
And look at the faces of our kids
When do I tell them their daddy's gone
And lift our lives from this rid

What do I tell them
Every time they hear the door
When they think its their father 
Who won't be coming home anymore

What do I tell myself
When I retire every night
Touching the side where he once lay
The one who held me tight

What do I tell them
When I'm tear laden day to day
What do you tell twins of one year old
When they don't understand what I say

When do I tell myself
That tomorrows a different day
Reflections are left of what could have been
For war has left its say

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Time Traveler

Imagine if you could travel back through time Choosing any era to explore What time in history would interest you? Mine would be nineteen thirty-four Why, you ask, would I choose that year From all the great epochs in time Just wondering how my parents survived The crash of nineteen twenty-nine Another era that's interesting to me The late fifties when I was wed I remember it was very scary back then Nuclear war was hanging over our heads But here we are in the twenty-first century With all these amazing inventions The world hasn't become any friendlier now We still have the same old tensions Perhaps if I live a hundred more years Nations will have stopped waging war I know, I know, you can call me a dreamer We'll all just carry on as before Do you know my answer to all of this Keep on giggling the whole way through Sing happy tunes and tell funny jokes A little loving wouldn't hurt too! © Jack Ellison 2014

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The Fallen

The sun hung low
over the valleys girth,
ready to enter 
the bosom of the earth.

Dust rose up
into the blood red sky,
a line of horses
moved as if to fly.

At the end of the forest
they hastily turned,
towards the enemy 
as they firmed.

Then at a gallop
they approached,
man and horse
lives to be poached.

Swords glinted as they
were sharply raised,
towards the enemy 
they came unfazed.

With a sickening thud 
they fell in the mud,
as they were mowed
and death was sowed.

Horses and me just
floundered about,
some did scream 
and others did shout.

Crimson breath bubbled
as they lay huddled,
horsemen now rested
for they had been tested.

Medics attended 
as others commended,
at a charge that was 
supposedly splendid.

Horsemen stood before 
their wounded steeds,
and put an end 
to their heroic deeds.

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Inspired Byard

You all know me as Percival Jack But my real name is Charles Byard So you know, it's pronounced by-yard Living with this name has been hard You guys are probably wondering Where did that name originate Certainly never heard it ever before At least that's what most people state Well here's my tale, every bit is true Uncle Byard in World War One Died a big hero and was given a medal But he never ever carried a gun Before the war he was incarcerated For his nefarious safe cracking exploits The army thought they could use his talents At burglary he was very adroit So Byard was released and joined the army To make use of his safe cracking skills Sadly, one day while defusing a bomb My uncle, the hero was killed Was nicknamed Jack, but won't get into that It's what I've been called me ever since I'm thinking of changing it to 'Inspired Byard' But my wife will be hard to convince 'And now you know the rest of the story' As radio man Paul Harvey used to say I've hated that name since I was a pup But 'Inspired Byard' is okay! © Jack Ellison 2012

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And Still The Troops Are Marching

The loaf is stretched, a wretched game, 
need is the arbiter of taste 
as pride takes on another meaning, 
duty is the call that summons, 
love and hunger both the same. 

Hope directed to the cause, 
troops in uniform are marching, 
those left behind forever searching 
for reports of dead and wounded, 
bitter tears and strained applause. 

Hunger troubles starving children, 
and the hearts of those who've worried, 
servicemen and sweethearts, wives 
and mothers with good feelings buried, 
lives on hold, a crushing burden. 

Spring appears and goes unnoticed, 
the crocus unappreciated, 
flocks of starlings block the sun, 
black as the barrel of a gun, 
and still the troops are marching. 

The sea is grey with gulls and smoke, 
waves broken like the battered land, 
sounds of conflict rise unceasing, 
troops advancing and retreating, 
marching, marching, 'til the bitter end. 

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Best And Beast

Oh, to be the victim of the conflict you create in me,
Internal opposition from the masterful dichotomy, 
You beautiful confusion, you're the cause of chaos constantly,
And I rely on your command: you're both the best and beast in me.

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Begin Within The Yin

My longest stay has been a year
Of grinding time in lowest gear.
Asylums say the stay today
Is three months run then on their way.

So please don't ask me why oh why?
Do mad young ones choose youth to die
For I've learned not a single grain
Insightful to my own insane.

But madness dragged me back inside
To blackness wrapped in suicide,
When my dear friend, quite mad at best,
Chose 42 for his last rest.

His life depression won the day
As it took my sweet muse away.
Then next a friend from Vietnam
When ten years home was one night gone;

In Nam his pistol worn in sight
While flying Hueys to the fight
To pluck up soldiers stuck in mire
Then fly too high for hostile fire;

While fighting fires in his own mind;
Bipolar fires we both did find
Should play no part of our war game
But soon became its roaring flame.

He used his gun's one round to quell
His screamin' demon head from hell.
hero till the day he died,
Is still a Nam caused suicide.

No matter when or where the fall,
Their names belong upon the wall;
How many Vets their balls still bent
Died prone alone on cold cement?

The naked act and will to kill
Brought some men home for killin' still,
Like those who went with troubled souls
Found napalm lies too full of holes.

A gallant soldier fights till dead
Too often for past lies he's fed.
Now who among you disagrees
That horrid wars fill histories.

No matter where or what you do
Some leaders find a war for you
To fight until that war is done
But what then do you tell your son?

As we leave every century
Still bleeding with hostility
Can insights deep within the Yin
Begin the Yang's defeat of sin?

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The color of America

You said to pick one color but I had to do three
they represent one thing that we Americans call free
but the sound it makes, sounds like death to me
the red, white, and blue can you see

I hear an air strike
bombs light up the night
so many screams
how can they say its right

they've gotten a nuke
it just makes me puke
so many screams
caused by our fluke

a deserted land
covered in sand
so many screams
caused by our hands

secretary of defense
went on the offense
so many screams
when are we going to pay penance

when I was three
was taught we were free
so many screams
right here in our country

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from antiquity of the Peruvian Inca mountains
'til today's unsheathed bladed Java buttons clicking
the numbers add up to incessant discounting counting
to sacrifice our own graven image sown sickening

if she floats - she's a witch and frankly must die
if she sinks, well, obviously she's sufficiently pious
when down on the bottom, we can't hear her cries
of sacrifice, still, very little can get by us

filed and defiled is all the better all the while
as the former digits click off of our palms
fingers and toes, complete legs fall away, as do 
whole heads mounting kill count without qualms

virgin girls, citizen children, soldiers of play
their sacrifice is for civilization after all
us, uh, i mean the gods, won't have it any other way
they must have their place on our wailing wall

the altar so sacred, so blood red royal
C-4 strapped around plain white-robed torso
from handlers who assure they have the will of God
sending heavenward, pink clouded supplication - more so

for the sacrifice of the body than of the soul
robed theocratic surgeons who cut off our noses
in a perceived attempt to maintain their control
of those around them that might be opposed to

notions that they need not explain themselves,
or that God demands carnage for reasons unknown,
that their actions should beget peace in our time
that they shan't pick up, to cast, the first stone

that we all could be better humans I suppose
if we sacrificed our pride, instead of our fear
if we worked hard not to be taken for a ride by
admitting things aren't what they might first appear

dunno, but if there is a god for us to pray to
then maybe we could pray to not be preyed upon
and sacrificed for that bloody old world view
time to cook up some whorled peas - and move on

© Goode Guy 2012-08-02

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Through Tearful Eyes

What can she be seeing as she looks through tearful eyes
Images of her love, being downed from war torn skies
The needle in her hand now paused, she contemplates
For she knows he'll never be home, for her love she truly waits

What can she be seeing as she looks through tearful eyes
Images of her past, when they met through love struck sighs
The children that she wanted, no memories will be of he
Tormented torn and tearful in sullen looks does she

What can she be seeing as she looks through tearful eyes
Revisiting cries of old, to wars in total despise
To rob her of a lover, a husband, friend and father 
For decades she has sat and sewn, past memories always gathered

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Fading Anguish

Forced down onto the thick mud
the stench of this rotten blood
Determined for this to be surreal
My fate would change if it were real

My life begins anew In my head
From the time mother put me to bed
Father took me to my first Yankee’s game
Where I was inspired by their fame

To keep the kids soundly in bed
My blood, I fear, I must shed
Not knowing whether I would live or die
the anguish is consuming my thigh

The pain is slowly dying out
my destiny is nothing but a doubt
Laying on the red infested loam
Guadalcanal, you are my last home.

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Earth Burns

We are the first colonists from the Earth. We live in a few Quonset huts on Mars. Here, our colony lives in peace and mirth. In the nighttime sky, there are a plethora of stars. Our home planet is a tiny blue speck in the sky. It reminds us of the distance we had to roam. The great void is something nobody can deny. There are a hundred million kilometers from home. There is ominous news over the wireless this hour. The nations of the earth are embroiled in war. This announcement turned everything from sweet to sour. At least ten million are dead and maybe more. Our blue planet appears to be mottled with red. This has given rise to much speculation. Exactly how many of our compatriots are dead? Will the earth survive after this conflagration?

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Ghosts And Goblins

The world is far from being a perfect place Pretty sure that's a well known fact If it was, world peace would be the name of the game Instead of killing and unprovoked attacks It's hard to imagine what that would be like It hasn't ever happened before It sure would take a whole lot of getting used to So foreign, a world without wars What would we do with our war machine Dismantle it and sell it for scrap With no further wars, countries aligned as one No need for any of that crap Is this old guy dreaming, did I nod off for a while Better belt myself on the noggin If I happen to survive for another hundred years More likely to see ghosts and goblins © Jack Ellison 2014

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As we Await the Next

Another night of shelling another night in hell
To lie in stench filled trenches watching bodies swell
Seeing the grimace of death engraved on ones so young
From Utopia they were born, now I'm in among

I can't think how ludicrous it is to await the next
Seeing futures disappear, oh! how it leaves me vexed
Trenches, bolt holes and craters, filling with rotting flesh
Barbed wire like human snares, now a crimsoned mesh

My eyes in tears now close as I hear the dying cry
Whilst a solitary shot sounds out, invisible through the sky
This silent assassin awaits their unsuspecting foe
For through a lapse in theatre, another life will slow

The evening I dreaded is upon us, this is no fireworks display
It's another sign of man, and their self destruction play
Many hours ahead now await in this shell shattered surround
How many of us will still be standing, or swallowed by the ground

The above is all I can remember from those days from a war torn past
I'm so fortunate to recall so little, whilst many colleagues cast
I've lived a life of years, so many more than them
What or who decided to chose from these heroic fighting men

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War And Fleece

The governments are fighting.
They're handing us their guns.
Which one will we call evil
and will ours be the ones?

Our enemies a soldier
who's married with a child
who's fighting for their country
for fear that it has riled.

Their leader is a danger
of everything we know,
but when they start to mimic;
we'll shoot them full of CROW!

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Thank You

I don't know you, yet In my heart I know you well You are the American who puts his country first You've left your home and loved ones on this soil And are fighting for the freedoms for which we thirst I don't know you, but I love you just the same You are my father, brother , and the boy next door The lover, grocer, and the immigrant who believes As in wars of yesterday, the richest and the poor When you're frightened, I'll hold your hand And whisper my thanks in a melody of tears Know you are thought of in these dark days You sacrifice remembered through the years

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At a time like this, we need to remember We can annihilate ourselves in an instant A fact I think these aggressive war mongers Don't get, their actions are so flagrant They fail to see past their dirty big noses These egotistical self centred maniacs So scary to think we're totally at their mercy Their capable of devastating attacks The only thing stopping them I certainly hope The realization the aggressor dies too A totally senseless and barbaric act No one gains and everyone gets screwed It certainly isn't me I'm thinking about Happy with the path that I've taken All those young'uns with their whole lives ahead Must be constantly in fear of armageddon Why must it constantly be on our minds Since a child, it certainly hasn't been perfect Too old to expect to ever see the day When we witness an end to these conflicts © Jack Ellison 2014

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The 90s

I somehow missed the nineties
As far as pop culture was concerned
I spent a lot of it overseas
Watching as the Balkans burned

I had learned Russian for the Army
But the Russian Bear was no longer wild
About the time they reunited Germany
I gained a brand new wife and child

With the fall of the Soviet Union
I thought the world might finely be sane
Then I cross trained into Serbo-Croatian
As Yugoslavia went up in flame

The Army was not a free ride
I did several deployment rotations
Monitoring war crimes like genocide
Or in Macedonia with the United Nations

The nineties ended quietly
At least from what I remember
I was focused then on family
Until that fatal 11 September

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The World Within Mood of Autocrats

I see daily war torn countries in the news
I feel pain and fear internally in my heart
O God! What is happening here I scare?
I get hard to separate human and animal.

We have to survive for one time in a life 
Although, how much difficulty there is?
Which lessons give them ideal sense?
What lessons make them feel humanity?

Killings and damaging are the supremacy
Every greedy of power and wealth thinks 
They know better themselves even pretend
As nothing known about the awful results.

These weeping, these crying and low faces
I seem, they are coming in my dream to bite
I can’t sleep because of seeing rolling images
In front of my eyes I feel then I weep and cry.

My pain and agony do not touch anybody
More than me thousand times sufferers have
I only could say this is not good to drink blood
But who understand in this world of Autocrats!

Bhaktapur, Nepal

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Yet Another Damn War

It's seven in the morning The sun's shining bright What more could we ask What a glorious sight Sure great to be living On old planet Earth There's no greater feeling Than a new day's birth Some wake with a frown With a miserable face With all that we have That's an utter disgrace The one's that are fortunate Are the ones that can laugh Their world's in the dumper But they know it will pass The sun will come out We'll be singing once more As we come to the end of Yet another damn war! © Jack Ellison 2014

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Spare Souls

A story of a thousand souls,
Two thousand runs into three,
Who are just as dead, decaying, gone,
Despite self-serving heraldry.

A story of a thousand souls,
And thousands more to be killed,
Who never reached for bomb nor gun,
And died to keep our gas tanks filled.

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Love Is The Answer

We read about it in the news
Sad parents given right to choose,
Decided gift of life should go
To daughter of their ancient foe.

Not ours to say who’s right who’s wrong
In war that has been waging long.
Violence will not end the fight,
But oh, a love like this just might.

Now our own country is at war.
Our loved ones’ blood flows out once more.
Before that next heartbroken cry,
Why not give love another try?

A foe this year could be a friend,
If we could only learn to mend
Our differences with acts of love
As taught by our own Lord above.

		(Written about the case of the Israelite parents whose daughter was felled by violence and they made the decision to give needed organ to Palestinian child.)

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ComE HAVE Some gUN in THe wOODs


I’m talking to you about a young white boy wandering bad neighborhoods
You never warned me about the wolves in the woods
You simply walked me to the edge and you left without a word
You didn’t tell me how to wage a war without armaments, or an army
So there I was to either waste away or war with the weather
Storms were just something to beat
And it’s death, 
To defeat 
or battle back in the bleakness of horrid heat  
To win over the frigid fiascoes 
the rain with its virgin drops and unholy wind
And it ain’t going to do me no good to start having contrition now because I’ve sinned

You never forecasted a forest filled with fiends and fear
You stealthily took off and left me there
Alone again to find a way to find what I need most
A forest in which I had to fend for myself
And defend myself

I looked out for snakes that slither the city sidewalks hawking their wares
The ones like I with needles and need
You didn’t tutor me on how to feed myself or find shelter because money is a thing of the past
Since every vagrant penny goes in your arm
You didn’t explain how easily my physical being could meet Hell or come to harm 
Walking into a trap because the man says he’s got that which  I am there for
Then he puts a gun to your head the minute he closes the door
And the money that was supposed to buy you peace was no more
The woods, the forests, the darkest avenues of avid scum out to avenge something or someone

because in the woods there are a lot of hungry people 
and others who can live on revenge alone for what someone else has done

And in the forest  there are varied types of fruit growing on trees that tremble for my trouble
But not one tree opted to shade me from the sun or not be withered by the wind
And the birds of prey that come in pairs  praying that death be mine
You never told me about the darkness with a tunnel baring no exit of any kind
For we were none so  blind
You left me here with society’s victims who all wanted the same thing
 A way to wage a war, a way to weather a storm, some hope and three thousand bags of dope
When you put that first needle in my arm you knew it was a scary slope and that I  would conquer or fall
Yet and still you thought I knew it all
Doing what needs to be done and done for good
However here I am again, still searching for powdered peace in a bad neighborhood
             © 2011.….~free cee!~

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The World's In The Dumpster

The world's been in the dumpster forever An intolerable state of affairs Isn't it about time we changed our ways It's badly in need of repairs Let's start a pact to end our disputes Some think it's beyond possibility Need somebody to step up to the plate Us humans have great adaptability Think I just heard a scoff or two Now that's been a part of the problem If we all just put aside our differences We'd be much more able to solve them Probably sound like a big know-it-all To me, it just makes common sense Adapt or it's curtains for all human kind Must do something in any event © Jack Ellison 2014

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My Nightmare

if I am in its path
to resist- I won't succeed
a civil war inside myself
on my struggle it feeds
an evil fruit
a beautiful Hell
eyes closed in concentration
for rather than remove myself-
I must remove temptation

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Out of love, Eternal God sent Father Christ
His Son into the World
Because of sin, dying
Death of our earthly bodies, also eternal death

Father Christ spoke often about eternal fire
Awaits all those who reject Eternal Father’s merciful love in Father Christ
All who reject the Eternal Son rejects eternal life
He alone who he brings are condemned already

The condemnation is eternal separation from God
What Father Christ refers to as the “hell of fire”
The “furnace of fire”
The “unquenchable fire”

Hell is something man chooses
There are only two ways
Leads to Life
The other leads to death

For the gate is narrow
The way is hard
Leads to Life
Those who find it are few

The narrow way is Father Christ Himself
He said “I am the way
The truth
The life

Following Father Christ means
Following the Church He started
Following the way
Following truth and the life
No one comes to the Eternal Father
But by me”
In Jesus, the Eternal Father has made
A way to life for us

How foolish of me to refuse
I don’t like the means of help He has chosen
For my salvation
I chose to take the help He gave


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What If

What if, When you arise one day There’s no sun to be seen Everything looking grey And nothing looks green What if, You try to use the phone But you can’t make a call When you turn texting “on” It doesn’t work at all What if, When you throw the switch None of the lights turn on Dark, like you’re in a ditch You really feel alone What if, There isn’t any noise No cars are in the street Parks have no girls or boys Then suddenly there’s heat What if, There was nuclear war The death cloud on its way Nothing that you asked for All you can do is prey

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Locked Away

My husbands actions locked with my soul and remained at our frount door,
He reenlisted again and had left for the Afganistan war.
My eyes became swollen the tears begain to pour.
Then all of a sudden, for some reason, one day I wasn't mad at him anymore.
I inwardly waited to hear his keys rattle and his duffle hit the floor. 

Quatrain - a hopeful heart

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                                        WHO SHRUGGED?

The world is getting heavy from war and disease
ounce by ounce I can feel the weight increase
with all the death and destruction
when those in mighty places pray for perfection

this world is being fed too much every day
and daily I wonder how much it will weigh
bombs and heartlessness are what the world is being fed
while people overlook men with genius and peace in their head

there's really not much more to say
I just described what I worry about everyday
I fret this planet is gaining too much weight
and the earth is at a dangerous level to this date

the whole world is being foreclosed upon
and pretty soon this orb with be gone
all because of blood, war and disease
and that's why Atlas is bending at the knees
              © 2012....copyright PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~

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at the altar

what do we bring to sacrifice,
to the altar of our fears
will the fear, itself, suffice
to wipe away these grieving tears

here, a satchel i take in stride
through the machine, my will to cede
and here, too, a bag of my pride
that it turns out, i didn't need

that old man has a video camera
and a young one totes a backpack
can we turn them outta here
for the bravery that i lack

and the child so innocent beside her,
that woman there with righteous shawl,
are mother and child vengeful saboteurs
would a flash of hate burst my wall

do i send my firstborn far away
did the world change to get more hate
is that the price my dread must pay
is that all my fright can relate

when i stand on this serene beach
is evil banished from my sight
is the violent tsunami out of reach
if i waive some liberty, some right

should land's crust pull asunder
and an abyss drop before my feet
would relinquishing fear pull me under
would, then, i go down in defeat

my god, what must i do to appease
when i stand before some conflagration
to vindicate, to assuage, to please
must i change my life's foundation

or can i only fear fear itself
to live as those i remember might want
take life day-to-day from off the shelf
without hate and fear, my dreams to haunt

Armageddon might be without love
but my world today is more than this
i refuse to live life devoid of
love and empathy and a bit of bliss

© Goode Guy 2011-09-08

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War Bride

She waits for him with baited breath.
May a messenger not bring any news.
She hopes for the best, can’t wait to see.
He’s her life, she has everything to lose.

May a messenger not bring any news
from the front lines, telling of his demise.
She knows in her heart, he shall return.
A telegram would surely tell lies.

She hopes for the best, can’t wait to see
her gentleman walk through her door.
Now, she waits for him to return one day,
the soldier, the man she adores

He’s her life, she has everything to lose.
She’d be done, if he was not to return.
But, down deep inside, she knows he’s alive
For his presence, she’ll wait, and yet yearn.

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Love Will Be Thy Sword

No steed for him, his feet just fine
as he stands with conviction and power.
For he knows his destiny, his job to do,
from evil, he would never cower.
He fights for the right! He fights for the Light,
The One true God, the Lord.
So, Michael approaches the devil himself
with his hand upon his sword.
It is for He and be it His will
that Michael uses his power.
The devil’s fate, his destiny,
is met this final hour.
An angel, himself, Satan he is,
but he just wanted it all
and God being the god He is
sent Michael to make him fall.
Be cast down from heaven oh, ungrateful one!
Be cast down to live out your days!
God has granted the power you sought,
but gave it in other ways.
Live out your life in darkness with fire.
Be cursed, to Hell below!
Seek out your victims, or subjects you say
from the seeds that you will sow.
Evil, now upon knowing defeat
was forced to leave the clouds.
Michael, left standing upon his feet
was tall and strong and proud.
He fought off the evil that came to fight.
He fought for the grace of his Lord.
He fought for the good and all that is right
with pride, honor and sword.

So, even today, as we go into battle
ready to fight for the Lord,
remember always, your heart is your shield
and love will be thy sword!

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Where have all the heroes gone
In this nation facing war
Do you have faith in government now
You reap what you sew, no more.

A mother waits for the return of her son
A father is waiting for the war to be done
A son is praying for his Dad to come back
A daughter cries out, the night seems so black

Tension keeps mounting, tears have been shed
While Washington routinely tallies the dead
Where are the heroes, do they exist any more
Are the heroes the ones' protesting the war

I would die for my country and I would die proud
But over this war hangs a horrible shroud
We hear empty promises from our president's tongue
We're not saving the world, we are killing our young

There is only one fact that should not be refuted
When terrorists are caught, they need to be executed
If we don't follow it through, we can't protect our land
As death is the only answer they understand

Please don't tell us this is a necessary war
Repeating Vietnam, we've heard it all before
Tell us now as this war rages on
Where have all the heroes gone?

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The Worst Warriors After Wars

Having suffered years of grueling tyranny, 
Sand is still red which should be tawny. 
Iraq has become a land of widows 
Men are cruely killed there in rows. 

Due to war when families are separated, 
Children are those who are worst affected. 
Phan Thi Kim Phuc is name of that woman, 
Who became goodwill ambassador in 1997, 

UNESCO gave her this honorable position 
She was photographed in a piteous condition, 
During the Vietnam War, in her childhood. 
But every child victim's luck isn't so good. 

War ends, in some years country recoups, 
Civilians honor their patriotic brave troops. 
Injured soldiers medicated at country's cost, 
Children loose their shelters when they need the most. 

Educatlion is far from such kid's dream
They have to leave their self-esteem
Fighting for food, having memories of terrors, 
After a war, they are the worst warriors. 

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Victorious from the battle, 
the weary soldiers cheered
Defeated, were the foes 
that so many children feared
A blessing then bestowed 
upon all of the innocent ones
The soldiers marched from battle 
into the new day’s sun

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Our Father's Fight

Oh liberty, for liberty,
Our hands will strike with force
Oh freedom, for freedom
We’ll follow then our course
                      As men of honor, we’ll fight long
                      For our children’s sake we must
                      On freedom’s march we’ll sing our song
                      And too, in God we’ll trust
Oh men, oh women
We fight for honor and pride
Oh children, my children
We have faith on our side
	Fear not today, for seek tomorrow
	As to you, bequeathed this land
                     Remember now, your father’s fight
                     And how we make this stand