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War Quatrain Poems | Quatrain Poems About War

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

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Details | Quatrain |

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


Details | Quatrain |

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.


Details | Quatrain |

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.


Details | Quatrain |

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"


Details | Quatrain |

Despair

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 <*>


Details | Quatrain |

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




Details | Quatrain |

Nanjing

Nanjing

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

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

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

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

deborah burch
02.28.2013


Details | Quatrain |

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!

1/15/2013
RAY


Details | Quatrain |

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.


Details | Quatrain |

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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