Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership


Age Places Poems | Age Poems About Places

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

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

Details | Quatrain | |

Average Age 19

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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





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



Details | Rhyme | |

Is It God We Trust Or Leave In the Dust

Is It God We Trust? Or Leave In the Dust? As our courts remove God from this great nation. We are left with a confused and lost generation! As God is taken away from our public schools. A huge tide of immorality is what “rules.” The Bible is often mocked and discarded. It was on it’s principles this country was started! Just about anything of God seems to get scorned. So many “rush” to worship many ungodly forms. As God’s name is often tossed and thrown out. We tend to forget what HE is all about! Too often, his plans for living are tossed and abused. No wonder, there’s many who are lost and confused! As people forget God and worship the fallen creature. They look to themselves and “glorify” their features. Many ignore God, and get involved in deep addictions. And with this, come disease, heartache and afflictions! As God looks and sees this nation “bleeding.” It’s his righteousness, that we need to be seeking! If we would humble ourselves, he would hear our prayer! He loves all of us! And he really does care! Won’t you come to HIM, And invite him in? Won’t you allow him to be your master and friend? He brings strength and nourishment to the soul! It’s only in him that we can be made whole! By Jim Pemberton


Details | Rhyme | |

A Page So Waging The Age Of Time

The age of time bears acts forbidding...
wrongs, deceit and vice,
In its course worldly facts are riddling, 
as poetry shares its eyes.....

In the age of time, such things of want...
be more so than things of need,
as realities warrant...
such heed being greed,

In the age of time, the wealthiest show,
such boastfulness beyond belief,
while human poverty continues to grow...
in worldwide tribulation to no relief,

In the age of time, destitution keeps rising...
in need of real want and care,
as worldly governments are aware and disguising,
hunger and pestilence toll be to bear,

In the age of time, many are doubting...
true fairness of human law,
and many are shouting,
for justice for one and all,

In the age of time, many are awaiting...
for God to stretch out His hand,
to end all wickedness, tyranny, sheer hating,
thus bring peace throughout the land.


Details | ABC | |

Grey Bird

On that cloudy weekend in June 
I hear a soft and graceful tune 
from the grey bird on the tree 
branch 
Singing sweet lullabies felt 
blessed in the moment 
My body tingles of joy at sight 
Gazing out through 
my open door,
Letting thoughts fly free
Releasing love out into the horizon 
Heart filled with emotion came 
over me 
Grey bird stood playing its tune 
for awhile and on the wings of 
letting go
Then as the rain fell from the 
sky the grey bird flew away 
gracefully 
I blew a kiss to the clouds and 
utterd these simple words of I 
Love You father ( who's now in 
heaven ) and yet I hope to hear 
that grey bird sing again once 
more for me 
Farewell, love your son

Poem contest for Debbie -referential


Details | Rhyme | |

Fame

She dreams of a throne
where she is not alone 

Dreams of stars 
That aren't to far 

Wishes for peace 
where pain is least 

Hopes for grace 
where she can see his face 

And still know her fame 
hasn't changed 
her name


Details | Free verse | |

Home

                  Home
Cosmopolitan suburbs take shape
Form, not far from the metropolis
Streets bustle, enlist design, become cities 
Drawn down the street, concrete solid
Buildings line up one by one
In the calm one structure at a time evolves
There on the outskirts of timid town
Rising from the dirt, from nothing
A flirt with creation on the street
Laid down on asphalt beds, no secrets
Familiar as a name not said, aligned
Not far from metropolitan streets
Enlisted are construction workers to create
Drawn down the road to concrete city
Blueprints sit pretty
There on the outskirts of town, worthy to build on
A home, a structure to call your own
Usual forms materialize with nature in layers
Seem to build themselves communities
Cropping up as large as life
Sometimes it is hard to find your way home
With so much going on
The road to success is always under construction
My house has a number above a wooden door
Such a detail can be useful to have to get inside
Steps lead the way on silent stones 
When I go home, get in, my world slows down
Universe stops or shrinks in size, to be defined
There are many wooden skeletal chairs there
Fixated around a dining table when I arrive
Waiting for a holiday or family to come together
No prayers are said these days 
It’s just a dining area, nothing else
A bed is hidden in another room
It keeps secrets but mostly it keeps sleep
Buried under pillows and quilts and sheets
Furniture remembers everything
The kitchen is the center of it all
It comes in reds and yellows with a sink and range
Fires from the stove ravage meats and vegetables
Such alterations make them manageable to eat
Ice cubes in the freezer trays stay there complacently
Waiting for someone’s drink, a friendly hand to warm them
Home has a shower down the hall
Cabinets full of towels and soap lie beneath the sink
Clean thoughts from wall to wall
TV turned up loud in the living room
To keep life serene and meek
An old phone in plastic black rings and rings out emptiness
Lies lazy on the antique table, stationary, waiting 
Sits by the ancient sofa hugging floor
Listens for someone to answer the call
There is an echo running through the halls invisible
But no one picks up the receiver
No one is home
Only the ghost of a ringer

    


Details | Lyric | |

Drifting

Set aside on a whimsical ride,
to drift the day away ,
pole in the water;  
but it doesn't matter, 
if a fish catches my hook along the way.
I'll just enjoy the travel, 
that will make me unravel,
months of cooped up dismay.
To recapture me,
to punctuate my being,
in a world that keeps me at bay.
I escape into the scenery,
of the foliage and greenery,
cottonwoods, yucca and sage.
Drifting along, 
to a whispering song,
of a youth;  all but,  passed away.
Glistening leaves, 
above on the trees,
as my squinty eyes capture the way.
I dream of when,
I'll be here again,
and this time maybe I'll stay.


Details | Quatrain | |

I Remember His Words

I remember his words, not that long ago Telling of such times when crimson flowed My Grandad, my hero, who's memories told My bedroom window I look, it all unfolds Neighbours fighting neighbours, why I cry People talking yesterday now in furor I'm young, I'm eleven, asking myself why What's changed overnight, fueling this score In panic surround Dubrovnik is now where I stay Walled city, Grandads house, from Serbian tirade Seven months endured, walls holding well Wishing it's over ending our imprisoned hell Again his stories unfold of countries in ruin Fighting with Tito, heroes they one and all Repelling the Germans, killing their doing Repulsed he is, by their murdering thrall Back to the present and a silence exists Can it be that the fighting has now ceased What I'm seeing aged eleven, people I know Holding back tears of whom known deceased It's now 2015, I'm a Lawyer of human rights I've lived many nightmares, said killing sights For my Grandfathers memories, he and all There will be justification, when no one will thrall .


Details | I do not know? | |

Abortion at seventeen

Abortion at seventeen 
=
The shades of black within you surface
before you lose consciousness on the 
sanitized bed of the hospital.
No friendly face is waiting outside.
Your age is seventeen… almost.
This is the age of the quick use and throw.
The shades of black make you take an oath, 
just before sleep, medicated sleep,  
that you won’t attach yourself to
anyone for long. You are cured
from romances, immune from love.

These are the words that belong to past, 
I urge to tell more to see if tears 
are going to make you less of a goddess 
which I think you actually are.
=© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar 


Details | ABC | |

DEFENDING SOLDIERS OF THE TENDEREST AGE

Throughout the world's history,
we read compelling stories
of the defending soldiers of the tenderest age;
and we can be moved to tears
by the purity of their courage:
they died on the battlefield,
never breaking their promise
or fall short of integrity... 


Defending soldiers of the tenderest age as handsome
as the daffodils of the undulating fields,
nothing scares you when it comes
to protecting your motherland with that freedom: 
as intrepid as the eagles in the open skies...
Defending soldiers as true as warriors,
you push forward with the victorious thought
of becoming nothing more 
than the boldest soldiers:
seeing the smokey sky blast;
rescuing the wounded and closing the eyes
of the fallen ones bleeding on the burned grass...


If I were younger, and I had the same resistance,
I would fight with the indomitable spirit you own;
but my contribution is merely sympathetic words on paper,
which one of you will read on your return
to the homeland when all wait on you united in fond prayer:
with ribbons on trees and flags in their hands....   


Defending soldiers of the tenderest age,
all past heroes had one special trait:
the persistance and will to prevail,
and the final victory on their breath;
when everything else seemed to fail,
an indisputable faith prevented another threat...


Copyright 2008 by Andrew Crisci


Details | Free verse | |

Mental victoms part I

Arthur was 16 when he entered the system
i could never ask him why
he was too old when i met him
he was on soo many pills
and not very pleasant to talk to
he heard voices
he would sometimes get up and punch someone
but who knows if they deserved it 
or not
after being in a mental institute
from the age of 16 until the day you die
wouldn't you go crazy

the first real guinea pig
i met him
i never cried for him and his pain
but he always wanted to check my shave,
perhaps a victim from some sick war crime
I'll never know

Graham is not from our country
and I've written amnesty international concerning his welfare
they say its not any of their concern
as he wears shackles and chains on a daily basis
and goes to the bathroom in a diaper and eats cold food like sandwiches
because he hits people
mainly his doctor who lies to him
in my opinion
just like the doctor lied to my dad about me trying to bite him,
but i have no proof
just lucky I'm not in chains 
going to the bathroom in a diaper
I know he committed a crime but two years locked in one room
alone with a window curtain opening and closing to spy on you
is enough psychological insanity to inspire mania if you ask me

Andrew was a crack head
and held up some convenience stores for some money
so he could get drugs
now hes been in the funny farm for like twelve years
still trying to get a hold of his next hit
watching his youth disappear
watching his life fade away
jumping through the hoops of a system that holds your freedom above you
that may or may not ever grant it
Andrew ran away
gave it all he got
saw people chained to the wall
people dieing there from the age of 16 for ridiculous crud
and knew they were toying with him
so he ran away
now he on a unit where god only knows 
what mind hell they're putting him through
what rainbows hes swallowing down

Shelley was the meanest woman i had ever met
but it was always worth seeing her smile
don't know haven't figured out if the drugs really helped her
but she was in that place since she was seventeen
and died in a group home from some sickness 
they claim wasn't related to her meds
I'm no fool, the stuff they pump us full of is deadly and toxic
i never made it to Shelly's funeral to see her murderers 
there crying fake tears
for someone they would never really miss


Details | Couplet | |

Space Age

The mystic lips of the moon
Propelled man to races
Sucked...lost...ended dust
In the silence of darkness