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Mother War Poems | Mother Poems About War

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

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Details | Rhyme | |

Why the Rose Bled

Parents so proud Four sons they raised From the Highlands of Scotland In the pre-war days On their crofts they worked Morning till night Unknown to them then Of a future fight The Germans have invaded A country so free Poland was taken The world shaken visually Britain declares war As our men enlist To rid the enemy As the fighting shifts Europe's engulfed In a feverish war Many are dying To comprehend what for The four brothers Sign up to fight As a mother will pray Every night Campaigns they fight In these theatres of war Witnessing horrors Never seen before In their garden at home On the family crofts A bed of roses With petals so soft Then one day With a passing glance A pink rose dripping red In deathly stance Their mother turns To the gate she looks Telegram in hand From the postman she took With trembling hands She opens with care Upon reading the message In tear laden stare Their eldest son In Africa was lost As many many others Deaths global cost Every day As she passes the rose It's pink petals bloom Her tomorrow's fear grows .


Details | Rhyme | |

My mother, my earth.

Into the light I see,
with rays in clouds and warmth in me.
Brittle is the air around,
no voice is there, nor sweeter sound.

Within my scars and broken back,
there are my kin, there love I lack.
The oceans turn, therefore I weep,
Is it truly my tears to keep?

Now the mountains begin to fall,
like sand and dust to death they call.
I hear my children bleed and cry,
there bellies thirst and almost dry.

Some will seat and eat there fill,
"lets help them now, so now we will!
His mother would find pride within,
a pretty thing this life of sin.

Alas, my days are almost through,
my breath, my flesh and heart is too.
Let this be my final song,
for war alone is for the strong.

Into the night I see,
is there still love left for me?


Details | Verse | |

I'm Going Home

,

Lord thank you for this life,
As I have lived a full life,
It was not always as I would have like,
But I lived it to the best of what I could,
I’m going home; Home to the place I want to be,
I’m going home to Jesus where He waits for me,
I have been a long weary believer, 
As I’ve been away to long,
I now know what I’ve been searching for, 
As He's been there in me all along,
I’m going home; Home is the place I want to be,
I’m going home to Jesus where He waits for me,
I have been and seen lots of places in life’s journey,
Now I yearn for familiar faces in familiar places,
I hear familiar voices calling me to come home, 
I see familiar faces looking at me,
I’m going home; Home is the place I want to be,
I’m going home to Jesus where He waits for me,
My time is near, the hour I know not,
I see Jesus' face across the Heaven’s,
I hear His soft sweet voice calling me home,
 I can’t wait for my real life to begin,
I’m going home; Home is the place I want to be,
I’m going home to Jesus where He waits for me.

By; Rev. Samuel and Esta Mack, OMS
Copyright 2011

VISIT US AT: http:paladinnews1.blogspot.com


Details | Lyric | |

Solipsist

Let the Deicide commence.

You're a voyeur at best!
Your vampiric heart is beating out of your chest!
And you have slayed the ones whom would love you for anything less
Ready to consume the final fragments of innocence,
And for you there is no forgiveness,
On your knees pleading, screaming to a tyrant in the skies;
The father of lies.

I will never be enslaved in your superiority
The people agree: jaded of your false dichotomies.
Know: I will be whomever nature intends to be
Apollo and I will share our dreams,
and you will be forced to see
your failure!

I know who you are...
Readily the first to present your scars
Chained by some despot or mental czar
An emotional homunculus in your mind, behind bars
Reluctant to escape - even when proven fake
Your demented mind - depths no one will penetrate!
 
...And you see me suffering
Not caring of any casualties
Just as long you recieve your safeguard of sympathy
So very wary of the masses and their Anarchy; Liberious ways

Solipsist - Is there no one you can see?
Even if she was presented burning?
Solipsist - Is there no one you can believe?
Even if Sophia was screaming?
Solipsist - Know you have killed and abused me
Imprisoned in your own  personal reality 




Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

The number the brand

When I met her , a very old lady she was , yet inside lay a frightened child .
I felt my heart cry , I felt as if I was touching history itself , as I made this older lady, child,  chai .

I remember the day , and so many tears I have cried
I have cried before she and I met 
As a child , so many tears, left confused inside .

Not understanding Why , and how could we stand by and live our lives as if this never happened ?

It happened , we are left in dismay of the movies seen the accounts taken of History 
My self ..I have caught stereotyping the very people whom did this to she , the rest of her Family erased .


The white candles we light , we try and forgive , or just simply block this pain out completely.

It occurs , over and over , as it has been said History will repeat .
When thinking of my children , when I think of that little girl losing ,  cold and scarred , feeling only defeat .

There is a lesson here and I pray , that all whom have been taken from life , have no pain and are gifted spirits throughout eternity . May they be warmed with love,  and reunited with the ones they lost .

The first time I met her , her old hand I took and warmed it with mine , I held it for a long time . 
You could not,  but notice ..the Evil imprinted on skin , the Evil only to remind.
This very old Soul , in her eyes you could see . 
The child that once lived , so innocently free, not aware yet,  of the Hostility .

I speak of a Little girl, I speak of a old woman , I speak of a Jewish,  chosen Religion.

There as I held her frail , old hand  , a brand , a number stamped in Evil a long time ago .   In 1945  , once in our distant, yet Frightening  past . 

We should never forget , never forget it happened , never forget all the names .
If we do , we have learned nothing , A World living in Shame .
                                " Etta Babooshka Kofman  "


Details | Free verse | |

The Old Salt

The Old Salt was a special man who came along in a time
when he was needed most.

A time that is now gone forever.
When men believed and sacrificed, when hero’s walked the earth in mass.

When patriotism was not just a word
but,
by what men lived and judged the worth of each, 
a man who lived a life most of us cannot comprehend. 

An era now gone as this warriors tour of duty ends at this station, 
and begins anew in the heavenly fleet. 

Sail on Sailor into your unaccompanied tour,
we salute you.

What greater honor, that when a man moves forward, 
he leaves behind in each of us the best of what he was. 

A defender, protector, supporter, victor, a warrior, 
the last of the breed from an era when ships were made of wood
and men were made of steel.

The Old Salt has reported for duty that takes him away from us for now. 

Those of us who remain behind,
remember, and will continue to remember, 
because he now resides forever in our hearts.

As I look up at night, I envision The Old Salt,
a beret draped just above the eye, 
as he draws upon his pipe, 
quietly he waits.
The guardian of heaven’s gate.



Details | Couplet | |

What Do I Know About Being German

Born American, sixth generation of great-grands all German,
not much liking sausage or sauerkraut, English speaking all the way,

except the Germany of my ancestry was fought over and broken
so I’m a bit of France, Germany, Poland, Hungary all the Holy

Roman empire, dissolved down, fought over, egotized, horrified 
and remade Into some new state where English is as common as German.

We share a love of flowers in the face of cold and rain, I drink less beer
and wine, meet up somewhere, anywhere around the world on a beach.

From my parents and grandparents, I know to serve up too much food
seven sweets, seven sours and drink and whirl the night away to a band.

Hardworking sorts, unafraid of a little dirt, loving dirt, the turnover
and young sprout brought to fruit, wearing overalls and then washing up.

To sit before a pressed linen table cloth, served up on the finest china,
the cha in my father’s name, the uff da, and other exclamations.

The morning rosaries, the blessed churches where we give thanks for all good
and the setting aside of pride while we work together to make our food.

Sure there are aprons for cooking. Shorts for summertime. A dive into any pool.
What do I know of being German, not much, it's just somewhere in my roots.


Details | Free verse | |

10 Little fingers 10 little toes 2 little eyes

10 Little fingers 10 little toes 2 little eyes everyday they save a life.
Every day she will arise to go to work 9-5 flipping burger's and dunking fry's.
10 Little fingers 10 little toes 2 little eyes everyday they save a life.
Every day hold's a new surprise from those 10 little fingers 10 little toes and 2 little eyes.
one day shell realize 10 Little fingers 10 little toes 2 little eyes are not so little any more.
Those 10 little fingers get bigger and one has a ring on it.
Those 10 little toe's get bigger no longer barefoot a boot on each.
Those 2 little eyes no longer so little looking strait up the middle ready for combat.
10 Little fingers 10 little toes 2 little eyes everyday they save a life.
Her 10 Little finger's 5 little toe's 2 little eye's finally come home.
and like I said 10 Little fingers 10 little toes 2 little eyes saved Their life.


Details | Rhyme | |

I Hate Aunt Floe

NOTE: This poem is a humoruos stab at PMS from a mans point of view

I can see your blood boiling
through  the blades I once called eyes,
they were once beautiful  like jewels
now they hurt my deep insides.
cutting at my guts
and like a noose on my  lungs;
your words seek like bullets 
your mouth like sniper guns.
I’m hit with each inaccuracy…
Being killed by words untrue;
and you even got the nerve
to tell me what you think I do.
But let me get mad
and try to plead my case;
then suddenly the world
is a f--ked up place.
You got tears running down…
What the Hell did I do?
We were just sitting and laughing
I could swear that we were cool.
Oh God…
Oh no…;
I should have seen it… 
It’s Aunt Floe…,
This battle can’t be won or reasoned
I think its best I go.
Cause I hate Aunt Floe 
and she hate me too;
she sit and talk sh-t
about the gum I chew. 
The color of my shirt…,
She say my look is a stair;
She say my best has no worth
And she doesn’t stop there.
I didn’t change
I’ve been the same 
these 28 days,
 but now I’m f_ckin A__hole 
Aunt Floe gave me that name.  
She said get out my face 
This aint your home no more,
But I’m more puzzled by 
What was said before.
I love you 
With her glossy eyes 
I knew it was true, 
But horribly sly
You see these words
make me the fool.
The one that’s cruel
That a__hole dude,
That sparked the fuel
To this f__kin feud.
But I swear to God
I didn’t start this sh_t,
Why would I give up my love 
To live my life like in a pit.
 This is horrible sh_t 
Wasted days spent,
On nothing but the worst
I could be bathed in your sent. 
You could be laughing 
While I’m smiling
But Aunt Floe Won’t let this be,
And the only way to make this right
Is hold my tongue  a week.
And that ain’t gone happen 
I’m a person too,
Not soft
But I got feelins
and don’t know what  to do.
Now its been six days
Unbelievable  rage,
She locked herself 
In the room
I call it her cage.
I smell a sent in the air
It wasn’t there before,
Now lookin down the hall
I see an open door.
Is this a trap 
I’ll guess I’ll see,
If I fall for another
 You know that’s dumb ass me.
Curled in the bed 
I think I know that girl,
But where’s the hells Aunt Floe
The one that f__ked my world.
She packed up and gone
Didn’t even say good bye,
Just came wit gang of bullsh_t
And vanished in the sky.
Is that you my dear
Can you please come here,
Listen close and crystal clear…
I hate Aunt Floe
 Next time she here
Make sure I’m stocked
with weed and beer.
I love you punk.  ?


Details | Ballad | |

The big cat roars


A big cat roared in the wilderness,
As the birds fled to the skies,
As the echo's of the thunderbirds
Be drowning out their cries.
As mad, mad man goes off to war,
And young men die 
Oh Lord what for?????

The dark green bird with the big propeller 
Be dropping off some fine young fellows,
To fight a mad, mad, war in tears
As anguished mothers face their fears.
As boys, some dying for leaders pride,
Be forced to thrust their souls aside.

The Romans march they off to war,
They're still with us, and that's for sure.
The Gulf, Iraq and Vietnam
Does anybody give a damn???
About boys dying in the night,
And who be wrong and who be right.?




Details | Burlesque | |

Suburban Spring

Suburban Spring	
(4.15.10)


	Springtime fills the air, 
			like laughing gas.
		(Or maybe more like whiskey.)
The suburbs are drunk on the nectar of it's dawn.
	Middle-class houses 
			are starting to dance.
		(Or maybe they're just wobbling.)
They vomit whole families onto their lawn.

			I watch them the same way dogs watch TV:
				Confused and intrigued, 
		with a slight urge to pee.

	The father cuts grass, 
			like a sleepwalker.
		(Or maybe more like a zombie -
Ravenous for cheap beer, instead of brains.)
	A six pack later, 
			he starts washing his car.
		(Or watering his driveway.)
He's spreading on wax so he's set when it rains.

	The mother kneels in dirt, 
			tending the garden.
		(More like digging in a sandbox.)
Her spade is rusty.  (Figuratively, at least.)
	A sunset later, 
			she cooks family dinner.
		(Or maybe orders some pizza.)
(If every mouth is fed, she can call it a feast.)

			I watch them the same way dogs watch TV.

	The son plays war games, 
			dying for fun.
		(Or maybe more for practice.)
He whines about fruit drinks, as well as the heat.
	A full pitcher later, 
			tweaking on sugar,
		(Or maybe just corn starch.)
the war escalates, 'til its time to go eat.

	The daughter makes a picnic, 
			inviting her toys.
		(Or maybe not.)
(Her plastic spread can only spread so thin!)
	After the tea time, 
			she's off picking flowers.
		(Or maybe weeds.)
(As long as they're pretty, there's a vase that they'll fit in.)

		They gather, as a family, at the table to say grace.
		They hold each others' hands and say, "Amen."  
			(And proceed to stuff their face.)

	The dog sits by the boy - 
			Loyal and true.
		(Or maybe just hungry.)
He drools as he stares from the corners of his eyes.
	After dinner, 
                     he offers to help with the dishes.
		(Or maybe he demands it.)
The boy sneaks him a bite.  The dog is not surprised.

	Bedtime comes soon after.  
			The kids are sent to brush their teeth.
		(Or maybe just to run the sink.)
They put on their jammies, and to bed, they go.
	After tucking them in, 
			the parents watch TV.
		(Or maybe they just dream they do, 
					sleeping in its glow.)

	The dog is changing channels, 
			looking for a better show.
				Confused and intrigued, 
		he pees on the carpet below.


Details | Haiku | |

What People Were and What People Are

People were
Many things.
Strange or not

People were
Different and
Odd and fun.

People were
Monsters but…
That’s not all

People were
And still are
Strange and odd.

People are
People. For
life is life. 

Yet not.
Not is lies.
Truth seeps from

Every mouth
Lies, lies, lies
Move, move, move

But somehow
Lies prevail.
Lies are life.

Lies are death.
Lies are homes.
Lies are pain.

Lies are truth.
Yet somehow.
Truth prevails.

Truth is life.
Truth is death.
Truth is home.

Truth is pain.
Truth is lie.
Truth is that.

Lies will die.
Lies will cease.
Nevermore.

Truth will live.
Truth will be.
Forever.


Details | Blank verse | |

Bloody Observance

We fight this war as enemies
Yet if we threw away are weapons
We could be the best of friends
We would never know

We fight on impulse
With a fear of slaughter and pain
We came face to face
We did not speak
Only our fears fought  

I now stand above you
Then kneel and close your eyes
I have killed you
I search your pockets and find a photograph
It’s of your mother, wife and children
It’s wet
I look closely and see tears 
Streaming from their eyes
I fall and weep in victory

We were only boys 
Who wanted to laugh and play
And stay alive
Only boys


Details | Ballade | |

Sacrificing boys

Sacrificing boys

Do you ever wonder why?
Our leaders take for soldiers
Little boys too young to shave
Why don’t they choose them older?
At eighteen years they’re innocent
And still they want to play
And have their fun with girls and stuff
But then they’re dragged away.

A man matures at thirty years
That’s when full strength he gains
That’s when he has his full resistance
Can withstand all the pain
But they can’t bully guys like this
And bend them to their will
They want boys they can repress
And make them fight and kill.

So they take boys with shiny faces
No stubble growing yet
And force them out to maim and kill
And cause their mums regret
So parents have to mourn for lads
Who’ve had no life at all
As they are sacrificed for war
And beneath the guns they fall.

10 May 22014 @ 1745hrs.


Details | Verse | |

Through A Prison Glass

You came unexpectedly, and i was surprised,
you smiled and placed your hand on the glass and cried.
I leaned my head against the glass and told you i am sorry,
i whisper through the phone line, ill start a new story.

You knew i was innocent but you still didn't believe me,
the only person i thought that would stay by my side but you couldn't be. 
Mom standing by your side and not wanting to talk,
i got really upset that you came at all cause i didn't want to see you walk. 

I needed you, when i was in need,
i was there for you when ever you didn't want to bleed.
I loved you and i cherished you with all my heart,
but before you left your words hit me like a really sharp dart.

You said i failed you,
you cried to me and i knew it was true.
But i needed you to understand me,
but you went your way and upset me.

The glass is now empty and i cant find you even with the fact that I'm out,
i tell you i love you but all you do is shout. 
I've lost you for good this time, 
so i think i have to do one more crime. 


Details | Bio | |

The Man Behind the Mirror

Behind the mirror, the man is seen Where on our streets surrounded, Friends Thousands met cold, untimely death With screamed echoes of souls unrest Bullets flied, guns blasted ceaselessly Children dead in their mothers’ arms Father, for his lost son searched Found him only, with parts cut in shreds. Behind the mirror, was the man there? Our Young children, to soldiers turned Educated only in field of war Guns carried, bigger than they can bear Faught battles, of no cause but fear To read or write, they dared not do But to shoot or kill, well informed they were. The man behind the mirror, how did he rest? Our babies, dead while he sound slept In his glorious, paradise mirror he kept Still offered nothing, but violence more Promised, inflicted upon innocents, murder If anyone dared open their mouths to speak Or, if orders came of his seat to render. Behind that mirror, my freedom he took Our homes Burned; our stores looted Citizens, chased out of a land to love Forced into exile for years so many Adapted to a culture so not ours From scratch, we started to build Until bit by bit, we rose so high above Like an eagle, up up and away. The man behind the mirror, for him I always blame The color so dark, on our backs stained Bruises so deep, forever left to heal Visions of his bloody watch, repeatedly, us plagued Flashbacks of dear ones loved, Snatched, And palmed away by cruel, hateful death With tumbled bodies over bodies All soiled up into one tiny hole. Behind that mirror, the man will always be With blissful look in his red, budging eyes Wishing evil gleefully, with a dark smile His laughter,joy, through my anguish I see My heart beats fast, like a thunder sound And the more my hate for him increase Oh how I wish, that mirror came crashing down Then, a taste of his own medicine, he shall get


Details | Free verse | |

A Mother's Prayer

I kneel in front of the alter praying the rosary and asking Dear Jesus our Father to keep my sons protected while they’re serving their country to keep us safe. A son in the Navy, station in Bahrain in Desert Storm. While the ship is in close fighting and providing navel gun support, the men are inhaling the smoke of the Kuwaiti oil fields fires. Saddam Hussein ordered the wells to be blown up and set a fire because he knew the war was over and he didn’t anyone else to benefit from its riches. While the oldest son is stationed in Washington making bombs to support the bombing campaign in Kuwaiti.

By Eve Roper 11/12/2014



 


Details | I do not know? | |

Woman's Day

Women's Day


wiping away those tears

of the brutal truths of your past

wiping away those tears

your spirit rises up, far beyond your scars

and your strength resides deep within you 

with an unshakeable resolve that shall forever last


...the weakened men whose brute force is so macho and empty 

and that has always been in your face

are now nothing but specks of aging, obsolete rust

flitting past you, for you hold it all together

as you always have 

rising up firm and strong from being shoved into the dust


...you are a mother, a lover, a daughter, a wife, and a worker ... above all a worker you have been

tying the loose ends together time after time

always there 

yet unseen


...a woman you are 

of fibre 

of courage

of being the bedrock on which we trample 

on whose shoulders this world stands

as you continue to work ceaselessly on

with lines on your face

and with raw wounds on your hands

but...

now your time has come

and no longer will you silently bear

the jabs and taunts of men

for now you proudly declare

that a mother am I, a daughter too, a lover and a wife as well

and now the time has come for them to awaken

to the tolling a new bell


...a bell that tolls for you

for you have taken back the pride and dignity that they stripped off you for ages

for now theirs is a lost cause while your battle still defiantly rages

through cities and homes and villages 

and in town after nameless town

for now the bell has tolled

and the time has passed for you

to be ever
again
put down


Details | Couplet | |

Why the Rose Always Cries

Night after night, she sits down and contemplates
In her mind she knows her loss, but still she sits and waits

He, her husband, another statistic he has become
Killed in a far away land, another soldiers blood has run

Day after day she's taken back, to moments they had shared
Carving their names on a tree, showing teenagers cared

Through green fields of pastures new, season after season
At fourteen years old they clicked, love was a reason

Whilst she paces their family home, his steps gone forever
Killed in a far away land, another life now severed

In her time their kids will be told, daddy's never coming home
For the angels have asked him to stay, just to let him roam

Memories of their pasts resonate within her mind
For she knows she'll find no other, for he was one of a kind

Outside the window where she stares, under many seasons skies
She sits down and contemplates, why the Rose always cries









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


Details | Free verse | |

Draconian I

[The Cypress Is In Bloom]
The cypress is in bloom
I see the evil, the efflorescence of decadent doom
Eloigning, with thy clandestines of the Dead September's reign
My belovéd Penelope, abscond from the coven so deep, the glades of misery
We must face her in the grove, for arcany, the path we must take
She's in my mind, vaporously,
Lauding with my, dangers and fears
Lie, with ephermelcy's broken truths
Leading me go Cypress, Marigold
Immortally, willows, forevermore
Forevermore

[To Question; To Know]
My argentine silence, your only condonicy 
Ends with such eath
The Mockingbird in me--died
Resting in one ounce, an abundance of shame
With an infinity of joy
Exiled, by the ones, who give all, names
My breath starves for only more
The façade, the veil, the austerity dims with Aquarianlore 
She falls to her knees, why for?
Celandine she will be
Celandine is she

[Bead]
The lair within, free from their causalities of their sins
Shadowy primroses begin to grow, the season will never end
In there I dream to be like you, violet blue, White Flower of Lisieux,
La Fleur Blanche du Lisieux,
So Celandine are you
Celandine are you

[Draconian]
Draconian--Reach for the shadows within
Draconian--Break from The Fallen's Sin
Draconian--Their Empirical lies, only die
Draconian--Reach The Shadows Within


Details | I do not know? | |

Why Should We Live?

Why should we live if we have 
nothing to live for?
Why should we live if we have
nothing to die for?
Why should we live if 
no one cares?
Why should we live if you're
loved by no one?
Why should we live if no
one likes you?
Why should we live if 
no one loves you?

Each day is just a day
Each day is a day closer to death.
What's the point of living?
Some may say none,
Others may say why.
Why should we live?
Tell me and I will think about your answer.


Details | Sonnet | |

Foreign War

I know my son was inside with their dogs
And women dressed in uniforms who held
Their sharpened knives and made my son undress.
This is the way Americans fight war.

Confusing thoughts enter my mind
Combined with anger, sadness. ****.
The Lord, is my child to die?
If it is your will, please end him.

How could the Lord let this happen?
My sweet poor boy and his humility
He is nothing but a toy to women.
This is the way Americans fight war.

My family weeps for my son.
My country prays for their own sons.

-Caroline Youngless


Details | I do not know? | |

American Heart

America resides within the heart of all Who believe in freedom, choice, voice and opportunity Deny, not, the display of pride within yourself Or else you’d deny pride in this land of the free America, more than land, it’s home to you and me Some dare tread, take arms against and try to squash All that America ever stood for, which is evident to all They fear the freedom, strength and all that’s offered As they know, against us, they would never stand tall And for all their attempts, America makes them fall This 9-11, let us not focus on terrorist actions But, on those Americans lost, that still live in our hearts Remember and honor them by living the American dream Exhibiting the ideals and always doing our part Showing all, America has muscle but lives through its heart


Details | Rhyme | |

Missing In Action

Private O'Toole was only eighteen when he marched off to war.
He glanced back to see his tearful Mother standing in the door.
Across the way he heard the mournful wail of the midnight train,
Waiting to hasten him away from his Hoosier home adding to his pain!

He was deep in thought as the train slowly glided from the station,
Recalling that his Grandpa and Dad had fought in wars of liberation!
He felt a twinge of pride, yet he would miss the love and warmth of home,
Tinkering with his '37 Ford and roaming the fields with his dog, Jerome!

He leaned over the ship's rail watching San Francisco's lights slowly wane.
Like countless heroes before him, he wondered if he'd ever see them again.
The sergeant told him he was taking a cruise to Korea to stem the Red Tide,
And to just settle back, to always wear his dog tags and enjoy the ride!

Private O'Toole was a combat infantryman and was taught to kill.
His unit fought courageously on Korea's infamous Pork Chop Hill.
Artillery pounded them day and night and he fell with an anguished cry!
His remains were never found - they were taken by death's furtive scythe.

His dear old Mother opened the Western Union telegram with dread.
"We regret to inform you that your son is missing in action!" it read.
A Gold Star Flag was displayed by the grieving Mother in her windowpane,
Reminding all of the precious gift she gave the nation in a war so insane!

Placed No. 4 in Susan Burch's "Missing" Contest - March 2012


Details | Lyric | |

Halloween's Song

Its your Halloween rave, having your mascaraed
With all your best friends from back in the day
Liz Lauren and Blake and while they're dressed like skanks
I'm on the front line of battle
Howlin like jackle with A real nasty cackle
puttin a razor blade in the sack of Blake's apples
crack in Lauren's snapple
Staddle Liz like mclovin
But I am more like faghole As I babble at her ass
Axe her fast and mash her up like cattle
Sneak back and tackle your dad and put him in shackles
Shove sour patch kids Down your trap and gaggle
Its abominable, so unbelievable
But its inevitable, the end is kissable
I have rattled these kids psyches 
squirming like a centipede, cutting them like celery 
hear their squeamish screams echo in the streets
as the  creepy bells of the chapel ring


I remain a mystery
You'll need nancy drew, and at least 3 of the hardee boys to find what I'm up to
Theres this gloom that looms down in your basement room
Consuming shrooms, enhaling fumes to escape your doom
Witches zoomin by on their brooms makin sonic booms
Quick call scooby doo, but I killed him too
You heard a loud pound cause I cut the fuse so you
Run away to a motel room, assuming your safe
And As you look the other way,
I got my fangs in your veins and stranglin your neck
Too bad you didn't text your friends to tell them who is next
Hmm let me think for a sec. As Hex your boy  rex 
with an incessant twitch, till he is dead in a ditch
Hang him from bunny man bridge
Yo dude turn the lights on
But there's no flip to switch , I have flipped the script
Its bewitched with no miss to kiss
Exorcist with no priest to dismiss the spirit

So the town clock strikes half past 3
There's one last gas before i must sleep
Or i will crash fast if the light touches me
Put on the mask jack, just like the sixth scream 
I need to grasp havoc, till i hear shrills and shrieks
Please back rabbit, these chills aint for teens
As I stick a cherry bomb in your moms exhaust pipe
Run up on you  with nine a knife, and the head of your wife
Its useless I'm the nuisance that's abusive yet conducive
To your fear that I am near So close I could whisper in your ear
Smell the shampoo in your hair Wipe the floor with your tears
And as you look up in the mirror
I'm there ready to smear your blood all over the chair
as I stab you with my spear I crush a coors beer then
Leave you re crops there dead, red spread on the floor
But I hear a knock on the door
Are you okay honey? "Yes mommy,  just got a cold sore"


Details | Prose Poetry | |

kindle for the fire

 
This chair has chipped paint.     
Its shadow is long by its side.    
Due to the light pouring through the window    
Slanted only like the sun in the middle of August    
      
Fragments of dust float around the chair    
Like suspended stars, or the pixel points on an LCD screen    
Through the shaft of light streaming in    
Through the heat oozing, and seeping into the pores    
     
This chair envelopes like a warm embrace    
Soft ruby pink cushions impressed:     
Feathers where the cushion is ripped stick to your bottom     
To be annoyingly brushed off    
     
(Like brushing the curiosity of a stranger aside,   
Yet this chair is no stranger!)    
      
The chair’s white coating wilts within the dankest humid air, and you feel it:    
Like the skin you wanted to shed when you first entangled from sheets this morning
     
 This chair rocked my great grandmother and her children, and my mother    
Creaking like an anchored boat on a calm day at sea.     
       
Exposed grey brown wood now soft to the touch unless it is where it splinters   These jagged pieces are small and piercing at certain points    Like the penetrating eyes of a gaze that commanded long ago-   
To take her son.          

For this, the entire chair will be kindle for fire in autumn.    For this is where she sat and remembered.    
     
She remembers watching fire settle on the waters-     
Red and orange arms spreading- 
         
War in the distance is better.           

Her heart was slammed shut and darkly cloaked.    
The blaze after two black holes collide disappearing    
And she was not comforted by the arms of the chair, when war came too near    
This I remember, on this too hot day in the middle of August. 
 


Details | I do not know? | |

Happy Mother's Not

Thank you mother,
you birthed me,
you nursed me,
you fed and clothed me.

You loved me,
when seems, the word had loathed me.
I'd not want that love in vain.

However this is not your day.

Thank you mother, 
for your support,
and your optimistic sheen,
it's inspiring
and always has shaped the person whom I am.

But this is not your day.

It belongs to the greeting card companies.

Who've robbed another holiday.

Robbed it of all meaning, 
all substance and heart.
Robbed it of it's very soul.

Deformed it,
corrupted it,
chewed it up and spat it,
till it's obscure meanings long forgot;
faded into history, a mother's not.


------------------------------------------------------------------

Dedicated to my mother, whom I love. 
Also dedicated to Julia Ward Howe who invented a holiday meant to end war and poverty.  And to 
celebrate all families.  Who died before her dream could ever be realized.

And...to Anne Jarvis who forced through the holiday, hoping to continue Howe's work and end war 
and poverty and create a better world for all,  only to see that dream shattered as Greeting Card 
companies and greedy conglomerates perverted it's ideals to nothing more then lip service 
dedicated to selling cards and candy.

To celebrate some mother's publicly, while other's have their health care raised and their social 
security stolen.  While single mothers have to risk their health and their lives to barely feed their 
children.  

This holiday is an abomination.  It doesn't celebrate motherhood, it degrades it. Women don't need 
to be celebrated nearly as much as they need a good world in which they can better raise their 
children.  A world in which they can feed their children. This holiday is a Mother's Not and so is this 
world.


Details | Quintain (English) | |

Ross, A Very Good Man

My favorite hat says, “Air Force Mom”
Pink words printed on tan.
I wear it proudly, with aplomb.
Ross is my son; I am his fan.
He serves our country as a U.S. Airman.

War is no joke, not a sitcom.
Preserving our freedom a serious plan.
He does his job without a qualm.
Courageously risking his lifespan.
Protecting everyone, not just our clan.

Men like him deserve praise and psalm.
They burn in the heat while we get a suntan.
Whether sitting at desks or dropping a bomb,
Obeying orders, doing the best that they can.
I pray God preserves each serving airman.

I love my son with his demeanor calm.
Memories of his childhood I often scan.
Yes, I am a very proud “Air Force Mom.”
It wasn’t imagined in my life’s preplan.
My favorite hat, I wear for my son…a very good man.

© March 29, 2011
Dane Smith-Johnsen


Details | Free verse | |

family feud over inheritances im missing from my own life

my grandfather was in a coma
my grandmother was a cripple
my family was excluded from my grandfathers estate

my father was hit by a drunk driver
my father left my brother and i an inheritance
my uncle was the executor of the estate

i havent recieved a phone call from him ever
he wanted me to have a tv, a computer and a vehicle.

my step mom has done this before

a group of people that had a problem with my father even buying me a birthday present
a group of people my father bought all the christmas presents for
that never had anything nice to say to my father about me

i could change the world,
sve the emperor of china from a hostage situation
i could be a torture victom of a drug ring scrambling away in homelessness
and get the big "so what" as they sit in my dads three houses

im not sure why the only thing they wanted me to participate in was cruelty

and shotgunning beer at a funeral party is really not classy


just for future reference when these people make the news


Details | I do not know? | |

They Left so Abruptly

They Left so Abruptly

(for the countless South Africans, of all colours, who dedicated their lives for freedom and democracy)

the valiant ones
countless
many known
many more nameless

the truest sons and singers
husbands and poets
lovers and wives
daughters and farmers
workers and sisters
brothers and friends

they left so abruptly
with quiet pride
steely courage
gentle dignity

they left so abruptly
leaving us our tomorrows
brighter
hopeful
filled with promise

they left so abruptly
so that we may breathe
the breath of liberty
the air of freedom
the warmth of justice

they left so abruptly
leaving with us their parting gift

freedom
inkululeko
swatantrata
liberte
azadi
vhudilangi
libertad

they left so abruptly
yet we remember them all
today
in the days that slipped away
and in the many more that we await

they left so abruptly
yet they remain
hewed into our memories
etched in our consciences
engraved in our hearts
they left so abruptly
and yet they endure
with us
within us
now and forever more


Details | Free verse | |

Once upon a time in ZigZigland

I was only 48 days old
part of my mother then
when I knew about
what happened to ZigZigland

I felt it ,I was a part of it
I loved it much more again
when I couldn't read yet
while I've known it's place beforehand

If you believed in haven
ZigZigland was a part of it on earth
It was the kingdom of all human beings
the mankind's place of birth

The father, mother and
children were all living there
Story of happy family
the glory of  endless welfare.
 
Until they came out from
the middle of nowhere, 
they fell downfrom devil's nest
father died fighting, the mother
starved feeding her youngs
blood of her breasts

They walked around destroying
burning the haven all the way down to hell
the children left their home
that was so sad for a farewell

Those creepy creatures stole
history, land, the Name
looked to the world victims,homeless
The world was blinded with fear, what a shame

They'll come for you if you speak out
eat you up and throw your bones
and the'll come back after all,lay down
beside you with their bloodied hand on your gravestone

whispering in the dark: Say it !!!
One word and you'll rest  in peace
give in their Justice : Peace
they're talking about in the middle east

Hope you stand there and roar
Land is for it's people, for all mankind
It can't be stolen, ask her and she'll
answer who she is,Just bear it in your mind

So, when they ask you again who you are
look down deep to your spine
answer them,surely the true answer:
I'M FROM PALESTINE


Details | Rhyme | |

One Mother's Sons

She bore five sons, strong young men,
All volunteered way back then;
The youngest lied about his age
So he could join, engage
The enemies of freedom's band,
Threatening the peace our land
Holds precious. They said good-bye
To fight on land, sea, in sky.

Part of the greatest generation,
They fought the Axis federation.
Many brave men did not return,
Their grieving fam'lies left to yearn, 
Longing to find, to know one spot
That is for them a sacred plot.
Thousands of graves were never marked
Save in a mother's or wife's heart.

Somehow my grandmother's boys were spared;
Death did not take them unprepared.
Safely home came all five sons;
The job complete, the war was won.
But, it's never done for those who fight,
The horrors in their minds recite
Round and round for scores of years:
Price exacted of our volunteers.

July 6, 2014


Details | Free verse | |

Lost Where They do not Belong <> End Line Poem

Parents and spouses to their photo's they look,  Another
           hero was killed fighting for our freedom.   Lost  
                       so far from his home and family,   Today
       we continue to send our sons and daughters,   But
                                there will come a day when,   They
                                      will live as free as we do.   Will
                         we ever learn from these theatres,    Never
                       again should we out live our children.    Be
  cause' another was lost today, but they will never be,    Forgotten



" I hope i have done this form devised by Dane Ann and HG proud "




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


Details | Rhyme | |

My Daddy Was a Fly Boy

In honor of Father's Day - here is one of the tributes I wrote to my father and my 
mother who was both father and mother to 4 kids.

My Daddy was a fly boy
My Mom an Army nurse
They met back in the second war
When the world was at its worse

She was stationed in the Philippians
He was stationed in the air
They somehow found each other
And became a loving pair

They were married in October
When the war was through
She planned to raise a family
And that’s just what she would do

And he kept right on flying
Then Korea came around 
He said my place is in the air
Not down here on the ground

So she stayed safely grounded
While he flew off to war
And in-between those secrete flights
Came children numbered four

Then one night in October
His plane did not return
They searched his route from end to end
Yet nothing could they learn

No oil slick upon the sea
No debris anywhere
No sign of him or of his plane
He just vanished from the air

But Mom, she never gave up hope
That someday he’d be found
She waited for her fly-boy
Till she was heaven bound

We pray they’re back together
As true lovers all should be 
And that they go on loving
For all eternity

Yes - my Daddy was a fly boy
Back in the 2nd war
We lost him in Korea 
When I was only four
My Momma was an Army nurse
Served in the Philippians
They married when the war was ‘ore
Fulfilling perfect dreams


Mdailey	12/29/09


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

My Son

These words I write with tear filled eyes, 
As a new dawn comes to light. 
Another day without you Son, 
Nor' a star filled winters night. 

Your Mother sends her love dear boy, 
As our hearts are torn in two. 
A Major came to see us Son, 
He brought us news of you. 

He told us of your courage, 
Of the fight that lay ahead. 
The soldier that we knew you were, 
Then he told us, " you were dead". 

You left for a tour of duty, 
With the army in your heart. 
We are proud to have had you in our lives, 
We won't always be apart. 

You fought for Queen and country, 
Now your duty sure is done. 
A man, a friend, a soldier, 
And my ever loving Son.....


Details | Free verse | |

Requiem for an Unknown Tigress Cub

still the climbing green lianoid lass


her tender tendrils torn  


massive metal lying like a cutlass


in her lap forlorn


                       finger on trigger                                                                       


 


                           still the wetness    thighs   eyes


      the breasts peaking


                                       the quick quelling blushing frenzy


            the slightly forwardthrusting awkward turgidness of the torso 


                                                       the stalk-neck craning 


a young pallid green palmyra on the thrust


               the dusky knuckly fingers strict and bony   quivering


            the gangly gait now stiffening


                                                              and within alert grasp


an AK-47


                rounds of bandolier bullets


          nipping her nipples  


  fatigues for jungle sarees   loose silk anklelength skirts


       over rough cotton jodhpurs


           rubbery canvas shoes for Ali Baba leather sandals  


 sandalwood clogs


 


      the loin-length sesame-oiled tresses severed at the shoulders


           the rationed tampax crushed in the back jodhpur pocket


    the drilled march still aching in the pelvic girdle


                                                              the shoulder blades   


too  tendon-strained streaky shark’s fins


 


her mind on her mother’s diurnal diabetic needle


           and the relief    the dowry promised to the boy next door    


      the lightly tripping fiesta truant feeling         


 a matinee show  


    the classes  well the classes   but for the maths teacher   


        she was just then getting on the mend 


           


her mind shutting out the homely odour of steaming    


                                                              puttu and cambal


                                                                    itiyappam and coti


                                                                             rasam and rice


 


     the rat-a-tat of sudden staccato fire    


the screaming blinding flash of shells


   the dirgeful thudthud of bursting bombs    


the grating crackling of armoured car chains  


             and the distant muffled blasts    


     droning planes swooping


the bark and shriek of schrapnel...


 


  then the raspy clipped yelp of the platoon commander  


                ends her reverie


   


    her face crushed against a mound of freshturned sod  


             her right knee twisted   trapped in the hunched cavern of her       


        pubertally pulpy belly


the breath expelled in an urgent wheezing crushed moan 


                                     the last stifled desperate cry  


for her long distraught mother  


(© T.Wignesan – Paris, May 1st., 1997 ; rev. 2012 ; from the collection : Words for a Lost Sub-Continent, 1999.)


Details | Free verse | |

Hug

1.

"Have you hugged yourself today?"

I still remember that question.
I was not able to answer it.
But there you were, you always so,
if you ask questions
you have had the answers.

"Your arms are too short for your body.
but certainly long enough for me."

Then you came into my arms
and dwelt therein.

"Do you still keep that hug?"

We asked each other.
Then we laughed together.

A hug is the only
answer to the question.
Then buried us into memories.

2.

My wife prefer to hug than to say a word:

"i love you, boy!
i love you, hubby!"

As if the two arms
can convey all the secrets.

Our children grow
loving arms more than words.

That is why every night my wife
prayed to be an octopus.
And all of us come into
the hugs of her hands.

3.

One by one, the body
will escape from the hug

then our arms
began to carry guns
and wars.

The body was destined
to belonged to a hug
then later owned by bullets.


Details | Ottava rima | |

WAR SEEN THROUGH A YOUNGSTER'S EYES

Born in that historical and eventful year
when changes were sweeping this country,
peace songs were heard in the scary, tumultuous air...
not realizing the dear cost for the quest of liberty
when soldiers would have gone to a foreign land so far,
to defend what others thought was sheer folly!
And their blood was shed in jungles and on dusty roads,
never feeling selfish pride by carrying the heaviest loads.


And from those sad and tragic memories,
my lyrics were written and sung to myself
with the hope of revealing them with teary eyes...
remembering what took for them to face pain without relief
and whenever letters were delayed in the mail mothers
began to fear the worst, if not a horrible death...
many went to churches and synagogues to ask God for mercy,
and yes He heard their pleas, but war had no clemency.


Many of those soldiers were given Purple Hearts
for their remarkable courage to have confronted danger without surrendering to the enemy,
others were forgotten in wheelchairs without legs and arms,
and they wept with no one offering comfort, warmth and sympathy...
but on those heart so proud of their Motherland they wore American flags,
unable to forget their commitment when they were asked to fight for their beloved country.
O brave soldiers, if no medals or honors were given you...let me reward you for your fright:
by erasing all the atrocity of bloody scenes that still are troubling your longest, coldest night. 
    


Details | I do not know? | |

Watch The Horizon

That orange-pink sky
takes my breath away.
So pure and lovely
it spreads across the horizon.

But as the sky grows darker and darker
The pink fades to purple 
The orange to red
The light blue to a colder blue
Night is coming.

Before i knew it
The sky was glimmering in stars
The full moon shining brightly over head
The wind picked up a bit
And i shivered

The night was cold 
And the dark made it colder.
As an action to stay warm 
I pulled up my collar 
But it didn't work.

I quickly made my way home
Being sure no one saw
For they didn't know i was out.
For they didn't know i was waiting for my miracle.

I wake up early the next morning
And head outside.
The birds were starting to wake up
The sky was turning that soft pink color
Of sunrise. 

I quickened my pace 
to make it on time.
And just as it began i made it to the stop

The sunrise was beautiful
and it took away my breath.
I smiled to myself and thought my wish.
I had a feeling,
Something good will happen.
All i had to do was watch the sun set.

With hope in my heart 
And joy filling my body
I jogged home.

The day was passing 
and the sunset was coming
I needed to get out
Right Now!
I excused myself and quickly went outside

I ran to the stop.
Panting and tired i made it a little late
The sky was an amazing orange/purple color
I smiled despite the day i had. 

Once again the sunset was ending
But today it was different
Today a figure walked toward me
And deep in my heart i knew it was you.

5 years, 8 months, 12 weeks
25 days, 24 hours, 30 minutes 
was all it took

To see you walking back to me from war
ALIVE.
And all i did 
was Watch the Horizon


Dedicated to all those families who have a loved one in the military. We wish for their safe return. God Bless them all!


Details | Rhyme | |

HE WAS THERE

I know that there are some that still can't pray
and others that ask, 'Where was God that day?'
HE was there with each tear that's shed
as the news reported, There is thousands dead!'

HE was in the hyjacked planes so out of control
His angels collecting each passenger's soul!
HE was there at the buildings of the World Trade Center
with Heaven's gates wide open bidding all to enter!

HE was there in every tired body and grimy face
that refused to give in to another trying to take his place!
HE was there amongst every common place hero
who repeatedly dug through the rubble in New York's ground zero!


HE was there with the passenger's of Flight 74
whose sacrifice kept the enemy from the White House door!
HE was there with those that died at the Pentagon
when another plane flew into them like a bomb!

HE was there when thousands of passengers landed
unable to get home, so on Canadian soil they were stranded!
HE was there in the smiles of the Maritime youth
who came with blankets, fresh clothing and hot bowls of soup!

HE was there when the President cried out with pride
'This will only make us stronger, we have GOD on our side!'
HE was there when AMERICA was at Iraq's door
teaching the Taliban what happens when you provoke a war!

HE is there today as countless others reflect on the loss
just as HE watched HIS only Son die upon the cross!  HE WAS THERE!

©11/09/2012


Details | I do not know? | |

For Aung San Suu Kyi

For Aung San Suu Kyi

manacled
you remained unyielding
bruised by their bayonets of power
you remained unyielding
gagged by their coarse brutality
you remained unyielding
today you return
and we salute
your spirit
that remained
and remains
unyielding


Details | Free verse | |

Silence this

“Hence when did thy breasts hate to feed me?
Hence then haven’t they heaved to need me?
Oh Mother! Why art thou so silent?

Those bombs and those ammos from the machine guns, they bother me no more.
They sound like a lullaby to me.
Wasn’t it you who reassured me that ‘this is life’ even before I was born?
Now why do you still lie?

I heard Papa’s plea to let you go before they shot that merciless bullet into his head.
I saw it Ma, I saw it all...
ripped, stripped and writhing in pain,
I heard your final beg to let me go.
I cried then Ma, I cried aloud, I cried my best with all I could; 
thought that hearing me cry they would let you go.
They never stopped and choked I lay.

My eyes still won’t open full and I only see darkness around.
Tears mixed with trickling blood have dried 
and my voice too fragile to rise above the noise outside me.
Oh Mom! Why don’t you shout for me now?
Was it wrong that I was born to thee?!

Why have they taken it all even before I can understand 
in a life time or more what war and hatred is all for?
Tell me Mom, tell me now from up above
Why won’t a bullet silence me too?”

Note: This is a poem that I wrote disturbed by what I saw while visiting a war zone 
in an island nation...


Details | Rhyme | |

This Memorial Day

We salute every soldier who’s
 served this great nation.
And offer a heart of thanks
 and appreciation!

We salute each member 
of our armed forces.
And are thankful for their
 efforts and resources!

We salute the many who 
protect our borders too.
We’d be in trouble…  
If not for people like YOU!

We salute every son and 
daughter lost in a war.
YOU are what serving this
 country is meant for!

We salute the officers who’ve 
guided our women and men.
Our prayers are with you!  
And our love from within!

We salute our veterans!  
Wherever they may be!
Those who served on
 land, air and sea!

Offering prayer to the
 Lord is our belief…
That he will guide our
 Commander-in-Chief!

As we observe Memorial Day this year…
Let’s offer our soldiers
 love, hope and cheer…

May God bless them in
 all they endeavor
And his peace be with them
 today and forever!!

By Jim Pemberton  05/21/10


Details | Rhyme | |

Dear Santa Iraq

Dear Santa.............Iraq       

Candles burning sure and bright, 
Shining through the Christmas tree. 
Santa's coming 'round tonight, 
Bringing presents here for me. 

I sent a letter some time ago, 
I asked for things I'd need. 
For these are things for Mum and me, 
It certainly wasn't greed. 

For I am thirteen years of age, 
I asked, "please bring Dad back". 
I miss him; Mum is so upset, 
Since he died inside Iraq. 

I cry myself to sleep some nights, 
I can hear Mums sobbing heart. 
He's the only present we will need, 
"Don't keep us all apart". 

Dear Santa, no more toys or clothes, 
No gifts from that Christmas sack. 
The only thing that we all want, 
Is to have my Daddy back. 


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

The Last March

Our soilders are marching in the street with demons dancing at there feet;
Mision bells ring out a cry, As soilders lye in thier path and die.
Conchesness is fading in and out as he trys understanding what all this war's is about.
                  A million miles away, or so it seems ;
A mother wakes up troubled with fear,
 T'was gun shots she heard or another nightmere?
Unable to sleep she runs down stairs, A knock at the door,
The mother falls to her knews and starts to cry;
  Dear god how could you ? Only sixteen and hardly a man,
Are we fighting till our death, over pride?
                                            CLEAR; CLEAR okay one last time ; CLEAR!!!!!
                                                 Sorry mamm there's nothing more we can do.....
Soilders marching in the streets,
       Demons of death are at they're feet.


Details | Rhyme | |

I Love You

I love you is more than just my words,

 

It is this deep down driving force of a silent sound.

Love is a magnet igniting sparks to try higher light.

Love connects beaming light twinkling at midnight.

Unmistakably, I’m assured audibly to get this heard.

 

I love you is more than me,

 

Love is pending in the depths of me I touch.

This is more than what I can realistically feel.            

It is a bargainer’s deal for the sweetest steal.

Evidently, I run wild because I set it all free!

 

I love you is less than you,

 

It is an uncut gashing wound,

With lifetimes of a scored scar,

It is a typhoon of who you are,

Apparently, it is difficult to do!

 

I love you is less than them,

 

It is always lost,

It is never found,

It binds to a cost,

Hearts are bound.

 

I love just like you,

And you love just like me!

 

I swear to my God Almighty from up above my heart is pure and true!

I really do embellish everything my love is suppose to do just for you!

 

Forever and ever, the whole world shall open their eyes daily to see!

In lieu of this unconditional love, it is here I will always want to be!

 


Details | I do not know? | |

Fourteen

Twisting, turning tearing apart
Your like a Tornado to my heart
Every time I pick up the peaces put them back
Here you come again with another attack

I can not forsake you
Or walk away
You are my baby boy in blue
I have to stay


Details | Lyric | |

RETREAT

Mother! Only a few, few days remain.
Worry not, I will return, return again
Like birds that in their nests do enter
Tearing the torturous traps of hunter.

I know each night you make extra meal
And wait in slight hope that I will, will
Come to eat supper being too, too tired.
But I am here so far, far away, starved.

Mother! I, I too linger for your affection
On the riverbed where lies my skeleton.
My two bony hands still, still, still seek
Your sacred feet that appears now bleak.

I will not go away from you again, again.
When you would sit solitary in the Eden,
Don’t think I have given you a new bluff.
Turning, you’ll find my face with laugh.


(In memory of freedom fighters in 1971 war. Many of them never returned home)


Details | I do not know? | |

Pointless, Worthless, War

Why do people have to die,
for something as stupid as war?
It's pointless,
It's worthless,
and causes nothing but pain.
There may be that moment,
when the victory is great.
But there's always after,
when the sorrow sinks in,
the tears fall,
and hearts break.
Fathers and sons are lost,
leaving wives and mothers behind.
Alone to grieve,
alone to weap,
and to scream at the sky,
despising to world.
It's something that she,
will never ger over.
That she lost her som or husband,
to the squables of countries.
There is no joy in this pointless bloodshed,
that causes nothinf but heartwretching pain.
It's pointless,
and it's worthless.
So why do so many hace to die,
for something as stupid as war.


Details | Free verse | |

Truthifiction of the bible

The author of the bible must have been god
for Jesus himself never wrote it
and i wonder if Jesus truly existed
then why are we not studying timeless works of art written by the first people
that learned how to read and write?
Another question plagues me
why are there legacies of family traditions of stories in families talked about
handed down from generation from generation
that yes your gret great grandmother was a witch burnt at the stake
or your great great grandfather was a black slave
but why I ask do we never hear those who brag 
through the testimonies of legacies of stories around campfires
that did you know your ancestor touched the hand of christ?
and this story of those days has been in our family for generations?

no one using logic how the world works?
true how quickly we forget
even war veterans pass down terrors of war tortures and terrors of such things
so why did we stop passing down the story of a god?

Is it because the author of the bible was god?
and he knew everthing that happened with jesus and Job
cain and Abel?
or was it just that one day there was a belief
and it was accepted
replaced an old belief
and murdered the old
and we praise it now?

Is this proof we are brainwashed?
gullible even
the fact that the old religion has more stories handed down in generations 
in family 
than this supposed god
who taught us all how to read or write?
I'm sure if i was there to be the first people to learn how to read and write
id write down some stories of the lessons i was taught
tell everyone i knew
of the man i had met who taught me
if the bible is true
and there were that many witnesses

I know id pass it down to my children
and my grandchildren
nieces and nephews




Details | Monorhyme | |

REBELLION AND LOYALTY

In the restless fifties, teens had to face many realities:
join the draft and go to war or rebel and bear absurdities,
the neutral ones stayed in college and avoided penalties;
oh for God's sake, why should any youngster fight enemies?
Hippies rebelled against the government and shouted obscenities;
they wanted to smoke pot, make love and have lots of babies.
When Motherland calls her soldiers, there are no certainties...
either you fight to survive, or you surely die without strategies.
All mothers cried as they departed to meet their destinies;
did anyone hear them whispering those rules to assure safeties? 
The young soldiers did, not discarding hopes and possibilities.
The Vietnam War was a long one, stretching into the seventies;
many didn't return, some did to enjoy serenities and liberties...
and proud they were to have served well, shunning insecurities.


Details | I do not know? | |

WAR

I saw a child, on the lap of his mother. His mother was seeting, beside the grave of his father. His father was a solder; who died last night. He was the captain of his team, oh!wat was a horrible fight. The mother was blasting into cry, the child dont know what in die, he just looked at his mother's eye, and gave his father a silent goodbye. Today the graveyeard is full of crowed, and the chest of their country is full of proud; the enthem song is too loud, that they can't feel their pain. Some people are looking at the sky; and streached their hend up, may be they trying to give them last goodbuy. Some are too shocked that they can't cry. other's are waiting for their turn; they are ready to burry either their brother or son. I dont think,this is a bravery; no!it's not a bravery, it's the countries shy, will be expose one day, no matter how much they try.


Details | Free verse | |

WAR

Atrocity all over,
Belligerent in parts,
Catastrophe in houses,
Denial in all the minds.
Effectiveness of weapons,
Ferocity in souls,
Geographical locations
Itineraries hold.
Justifiable crimes and
Knives cutting hearts away.
Lonely are the ones that leave;
Mothers often weep and pray.
Nobody cares at all,
Only power they must seek.
Poor are the ones
Quite eager to stay safely meek.
Random killings all the time,
Some for money 
Too many for none.
Under the sword of Aries the fight
Varies the price it carries.
We all suffer, war’s no gift
Xenophobia can excuse,
You can’t think the whole abuse
Zen-like-wisdom does inflict.


Details | Narrative | |

SCARCE HARVEST

War World II was raging over this
southern Italian town* spared by a miracle...
a deluge that suddenly occurred: 
a night of blasting sounds, of rising flames 
as American planes bombarded its buildings;
the Nazis fled to occupied Naples.
In the North, the Fascits were executed,
as the Dictator Mussolini himself was. 


The farms could not be furrowed deep and neat,
fear hung over the farmers' shoulders;
and wheat couldn't grow abundantly to make bread,
and brazen women to a distant granary they went, 
risking their lives to grind the wheat kernels;
they were no young men in town, or the older ones
who had gone to war for a concept so deceptive.
Many youngsters and soldiers were kidnapped by the Nazis, 
to be taken to Germany as prisoners of war...who would have 
challenged the Third Reich, or disobeyed?


Old women with handkerchiefs on their heads, weeping loudly
and mourning the tranquil town it once was...so lovely and happy, 
and their cry was too bitter and inconsolable to be hushed;
now, even bread was taken away from them,
damning the cruel Duce, who had betrayed them for vanity...
why did he bring prosperity to Africa, not to Italy?
Why was his ego so manipulated by Hitler's cleverness...
that he could have conquered peoples and lands?


Ruins and dead kindred...a scenery of dread and abomination,
and the lively memory of begonias on their sunny balconies 
brought a sweet nostalgia in an hour of horror and death;
and gathered among the crumbled walls, their rosaries  
recited with graceful whispers, gave them 
the strength and the courage to desperately grieve:
"Peace, o beloved peace, have you overlooked
the kindness of such humble and honorable spirits?
 

Darkness brought the silence they had sought under the glittering skies,
to hide the ugliness of the war in their gloomy shadows,
never to reveal the devastation of their town;
and with the new sun rising, hope would have been 
renewed in the sunrise's lasting glow.
They would have seen those wheat golden kernels 
bend under their heavy weight and bow.... 
and heard themselves saying," Mercy, o mercy
of our righteous God, let prosperity abound...
as the misty rain slowly comes down!"   

Southern Italian Town:  Baiano

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


Details | Free verse | |

An Early Morning Summons

On a cloudless morning
I awoke to the incessant pounding on my door.
A firm voice on the other side.
A stranger calling my name.
He repeats his call.
Looking out, I see his stripes,
Boots shining brightly,
crisply pressed uniform.
Dread fills my soul
with trembling fingers
I unlock the door.
He asks for me by name.
I confirm.
With tears in his eyes
He tells me the worst.
Of how sorry he is to inform.
Of how I should be proud.
How our country has lost another
proud soldier in this fight.
I say thank you, tears fill my eyes
and I wonder how
I will tell her wife
that has no rights.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

NUMBERED SCENT (Ohduhkellee)

A mothers gift ,

Generally at Christmas .

Easiest option which I hope she will like .




( Eau De Kelly)  Fragrance for older ladies , who do remember ...


I have just "invented "this new form of poetry . 

As you can see it is the 4~7~11 .

First line has 4 syllables , next 7 and the last has 11 .

And , if you think it stinks......... yes it probably does......


All rights are reserved ( and a few lefts).


Details | Free verse | |

WarZone

a boom,
a crash.

I'm afraid.

You left me for a gunshot.
For all I know,
you could be dead.

Mommy is scared,
she cries all night now.

I just don't want to get the picture
of blood, read as the roses you gave mommy,
all around you.
I don't want to picture that bullet, heading to your head.
I don't want the image of a bomb,
tearing your limbs apart,
to haunt my mind.

Please,
leave the War Zone.


Details | Senryu | |

We Will Remember Them

Dying for Freedom
American and British soldiers
Will be remembered

 

" Dedicated to the losses our countries are taking to fight for our freedom "
                                 Haiku or Senryu matters not


http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war3.php


Details | Free verse | |

Severed Family Ties

In this game of who gets who worst. 
Its about getting even , regardless of if feelings get hurt.
So what if this has escalated , you've wronged me, 
since that moment I had placed you in a hurst. 



Ironic is that you were the brother who taught me the meaning of family.
Now you are the one whose existence is a bother.



More push than shoves , more disdain than love. 
My personality determed by " I " but the attitude by all of the above. 


Those qualities of yours that ensure that we will quarell. 
Those lies that enticed my pride to be swallowed. 
No longer will I take the blame for you. 



My older brother. My older brother , both father and brother.


What a short distance you've fallen from the tree , hurting all those around you , your siblings and even our dear mother, just like the one who betrayed you , our dear father.



For the lust of materialistic dreams that you seeked youve trampled upon the ones who didnt even understand the concept of envy.


First you lie about your family name.
Then you gamble with our savings. 
Then steal from me , was I not part of your family?



Humiliate your siblings infront of your friends for laughs. 
Calling us the bastards that God should've never had.
Thank God our mother can't see what has become of you and I. 
You almost murdered me because I wouldn't lend you anymore money.


Thank God our mother can't see what has become of you and I.
For you succesfully murdered her spirits too.

You only came to the funeral to lay claim to your part of the money.


Tomorrow our family ties will be physically severed. 
But mother taught us all shall pass.

When tomorrow comes I hope this is true. 
So in high spirits I know this is something else that shall pass,
 something I must go through.

For with the last heirloom you did not take.... ,
our grandfather’s knife... 

Your life I shall take from you.


Details | Rhyme | |

The Right For Freedom

You think having money and power are the ways to go?
When innocent people are killed,
You turn around and say ‘’so”?
What do you care if ‘they’ live or die?
Do you even care about these innocent lives?
Every minute,
Every second,
Another person has gone,
Whether shot, hanged or hit by a bomb!

You live in disguise,
It’s my people you despise,
Thinking we should hide.
You see this ugly plain picture of ‘us’,
Thinking we are the ones who are evil,
Why is it us you can’t trust?

Have you ever watched your father, sister, mother or brother,
Being killed before your eyes?
Knowing they are gone forever,
Still you think you’re the ones being terrorised.
Have you ever gone a day without any food or water?
No one to hold you tight at night?
No place for shelter?
Do you know what it feels like to be trapped?
Have you ever experienced every day being attacked?
Ever watched them rape your mother and sister?
Do you really want to listen to that prime minister?

Forget religion, race, colour and creed,
Stop living in selfishness and greed.
Still,
Why are you believing everything the media portrays?
Why can’t you change these old ways?

Iraq, Afghanistan and Palestine,
Why are the deaths of my fellow Muslims your crime?
Why do you judge a sister for keeping modest?
Why else do you think we hold these protests?
We are trying to stop aggression and murders!
Still,
Why is it you want my kind to surrender?

You judge a man for his long beard,
The long clothes we wear,
Why do you think it’s weird?
Why do you always have to stop and stare?
You can keep your eyes and ears closed,
And not listen to those innocent souls,
Or, 
You can give a chance to practice and preach,
So all our minds are put to ease!

At the end of the day,
You have your faith and I have mine,
Lets shake hands, be friends,
And put our differences aside.


Details | I do not know? | |

Left Handing on a string (2005)

Since she left this world, everything went dim
Family broke away and he was left in a pool where he couldn’t swim
As a lonely child no one offered a single hug 
Siblings fight for resources like a war of tug
Fathers love was nil 
Only a hand ready to batter and kill
Brothers let loose on a war field
Hard times now only you’re back to shield
Have you ever seen a rose amongst weeds?
You are that rose that grew up from a broken seed
Your mother’s love is what was holding you on a string
I wish I was there so I could take you under my wing


Details | Free verse | |

Tears For My Son Michael

I shall water the foliage
Upon the grounds
In which he has grown
With my tears.
For he now is
in route to a war
by his own choice
May the army
prove to be all
it is meant to be
and bring my son
home to me
not in a body bag.
God speed my son
May your brothers
find you in the
desert across the
seas. I will be 
praying every night
for all of you upon 
my callous knees


Details | Verse | |

The Poor Bitch's Rock

The Poor Bitch’s Rock

A woman who lost everything she owns stands there 
by the waterfront where the waves beat upon the shore.

The woman-transformed-bitch is a prisoner of war 
being carried to the foreign land of an enemy general 
across the sea; she cries ceaselessly tears in her eyes 
for the unbearable sorrow, she barks fiercely in intolerable anger.

In the eyes of the woman who gazes up 
the top of heaven from the bottom of the deepest sea.
She sees the last images of her blood-stained husband,
her dear sons and daughters, died in agony.

For her husband, she shared everything she owned;
for her children, she cradled and lulled them in her bosom to raise—
except for one son who was abandoned in the field at the time of his infancy because of an oracular ill omen. 
All these sorrows are unwanted bitter memories to recall, crueler than 
the cruelest fate for a woman to undergo.
  
Now, she climbs higher up the mast 
to appeal to her deep inner heart’s mortification;
to let others see her transmuted figure, an ugly bitch,
her annoying bark reaches to the furthest point of the sea.

Is Amphitrite heard her heartrending cry?
For the ship lists by the billow Poseidon rises,
alas, but then, she loses her balance and falls 
to the deck vomiting blood, she ends her pathetic life;

this bitch’s resentment tossed by the raging waves,
at the end, was thrown upon the shore and became a standing rock.

The rock beckons the ships that pass the straits to tell her grudge, 
but to the heedless seafarers’ ears it sounds like the mere surges 
that come and hit the rock. However, at times, it sounds 
in their ears, like a bitch barking feebly from her bleeding heart 
because of all her puppies are taken away; 

that’s why, legend says, 
the sailors called this rock “the poor bitch’s rock.”


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Fallen'

Rounds are fired,
The young soldier falls,
Young no more,
Forward into a rice paddy,
The silence is eerie
Ten thousand miles away,
His mother senses,
A long, long wait for her,
Her tears will make an ocean,
His girlfriend cries,
From unknown emotion,

Twenty years from now,
Will anyone remember him?
Why he was there,
Where is he now?

Elsewhere a weathered grave marker,
Strips the dead of their identity,
Doesn't seem to matter,
No one will come to see

Billions die such pointless deaths
In hopes they've made a difference
And done a duty,
So ill defined,
To drift into the past,
Away from time...

Away from reasons,
They will never understand,
Nor many of us,
In this great land.


Details | Narrative | |

Sometimes Mothers Don't Know Best

She took his hand, and said," I Do",
wondering all the while, will he be true?
Her mother warned her, before the big day,
honey, I don't believe he has had time to play.
Oh mom, I know this is real,  please don't ruin
my wedding day.
Her daddy walked his daughter down the isle with pride,
while mother was uneasy, and only cried.
It will be alright, mom, just you wait and see,
I know you will love him, as you love me.
They had a great life, he had a great job,
a big fine house, and a little boy named Rob.
Mother finally realized, he was the one,
and her worries were over, all but one.
Mom found out, he had enlisted today,
and planned on leaving on Christmas Day.
Crying and praying, she got down on her knees,
God please protect him, he means the world to me.
Rob was growing, and his questions were quite a few,
"I miss my daddy, and mommy does too."
Promotion, after promotion, he was good at his job,
as the war raged on, he grew closer to God.
Then one day, came some exciting news,
he knew his calling, he knew what he had to do.
 As he was studying to be a minister, his mother-in-law
finally faced the truth.
One God, one nation, one wife, one job, the best life she
could ever dream of, and a mother-in-law, full of love.




Details | Narrative | |

How Do They Sleep

Not a day goes by , my thoughts are not with you,
thinking maybe, someone will have the guts, and 
courage to say, "OK, I was wrong."
Daily our troops are killed, and  wounded so bad,
trying to start their life over, but it will never be what they had.
Is this a war for peace, or a war for oil, all I know for sure,
our tempers are ready to boil.  
Our leaders are backing up, when it comes to our troops,
but they don't have a problem sleeping, for what they do.
How many now have been killed in this war,
How many now will never walk,
How many now can't see their children,
How many now have been abandoned,
How many now have been burned,
How many now can't hold their wife,
How many now can't get help,
I think our country has done enough,
If they can't handle their problem,
well that's just tough.
Our troops, our money, our sacrifice,
something here is not right.
Their land, their oil, and they keep it all.
Somebody better open their eyes, and
then maybe explain to a mother, why her child had to die.




Details | Rhyme | |

Now I'm Pissed!!!!!

My adopted son Michael
Left Sunday to go fight this war
I'm wrapping up some loose ends
There's so much more

Mike owes his step dad money 
for a car in which the engine is now blown
I can't keep it here with me
So I asked Ed to pick up what he rightfully owns

The swearing came
Full blast over my phone
Unbelievable profanity
From this mans heartless tone

Where is that a--hole!
He still owes $900 dollars!
I don't need the f---ing car!
He just kept up the hollers

Sir, please pick up your car
You have the title from what I know
I don't know when Mike is coming back
If you don't, it will have to be towed

I'll ring his lieing F---ing neck
A--hole owes me, I want the s--t when he gets out
I'm not f---ing taking a f---ing car
He was just a solid continuous shout

This is why Mike 
Is my stepson I do believe
And now he's fighting for my right
To kick his step dads a-- if him I see

I said "I know it's not right
But the car belongs to you.
Thank you for your time.
I'm sure he hates you too"

That is why he is MY son!