War Abc Poems | Examples

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


the new morality

The New Morality

Trump has spoken, we get up from our chairs and salute, actually not. 
The fact is, we are tired of this endless war
That is economically viable for many, an industry of death
we do not see on the factory floor where weapons are made.
A morbid industry, many states need to stave off poverty and
unemployment. Weapons used are someone’s property.
We are backward, us humans we have yet to understand that
most work is not needed, give people money so they can go
climb rocks and go fishing in the stream, swim in the ocean, and
enjoy life, which is an interval between deaths. We have finally
reached the zenith of existence, yet we, for an outdated reason, insist
everyone should work till they drop. Relax, let the Middle East
find its own nirvana.
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.


the ending re-written

The Ending

The only tree left in the  whole world
was opening its leaves to welcome
the day to the survivors 
Among extinct animals
the Tasmanian tiger, beside the Hubro
They had been friends since 1936
There was no artificial light, and the stars
had paled as night became day
Humanity was missing; it had not made
The transition to a planet at peace
dropped heavy bombs killing their own
A war cry, after us, there will be no one
The enemy of peace will be vanquished 
even when we too died
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.

a magic moment

A magic moment sonnet

The only tree left in the  whole world
was opening its leaves to welcome
the day to the survivors 
Among extinct animals
the Tasmanian tiger, beside the Hubro
They had been friends since 1936
There was no artificial light; the stars
had paled as night became day
Humanity was missing; it had not made
The transition to a planet at peace
dropped heavy bombs killing their own
a war cry, after us, there will be no one
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.

unhappy lunch

Unhappy lunch

I could sense as soon as we entered 
the restaurant that was a family run business
there had been a turmoil in the kitchen
the servers were father and daughter who 
normally worked well together, but to day he
was in the kitchen, his daughter said, when
I asked
There were still many costumers, but they
kept a low profile and spoke subdual when
eating, we had entered a war zone
when our food came it was served on a dish
where my meat was grey like it had been
boiled, fries were uneven remanded of sailor
who had jut made ashore from a sinking ship
falling exhausted to the ground, and the
fried egg had been killed into a hard shell
However the salat, possible made before the
civil war, was good
Needless to say I refused to eat the served
my wife more skilled in diplomatic niceness
told the girl server to pack the food to take home
that I for some reason was not hungry
the lesson is, do not upset chefs in their kitchen
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.

how it came about

How it came about

It is impossible to imagine an endless Room
and no planets, and that one of them had
the possibility of life, planet Earth
A friendly planet not given to extremity, it
also had a temperate climate, sometimes it
could have been millions of years later, but
Since time didn't exist, that is academic 
Green plants grew in soft soil, our planet
was that green fruit in the trees a livable place
without animal life, an abiogenetic period 
That gave the beginning of what we call life
Finally, the emergence of the humanoid
that had a thinking brain that could solve
the problems of daily life and hunting 
It is worth noticing that a creator was absent
But that and its many wars it caused were
endless war between races and their odd
faiths, based on an abstract Paradise 
Not seeing our Paradise is also our planet
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.


digging deep

Digging Deep

My dreams are bigger than my talent
The mission warned us against females
Women should be sure 
It was understood that the withdrawal 
from the competition, it is overlooked
 It is morning on a gray day, and mist clings
to our old bodies that smell of time
spent in the underbelly of society 
We lost the cruel war to be the master in
The battle of words of truth
I have stopped digging the deep well
It was dry and had the dust of dead air
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.

a small war

A small war


At the outskirt of Europe, a war
has broken out in countries where everyone drives Lada
mothers interviewed are proud of their sons
defending their land.
Should one son die, a big picture will appear in the living room
neighbors invited to coffee and cakes
his proud mother will tell what a good boy he was
and he died with honor.
I suppose in Nazi Germany, mothers said the same
until there were no sons left.
There will be peace, and everyone will claim victory
life will go on among the semi-literary people
who are doomed to live among high mountains and not learning
from past mistakes
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.

the will to war

The Will to War.

We are living in a difficult time for European  leaders
They are preparing us for a war that will go on forever
beneficial for the manufacturing industry
They don't want a real war, but need psychoses 
of war and steal our democracy 
people in the Nordic countries are asked to buy
food to reserve at home should a crisis occur  
What are they talking about? Most of us live from
paycheck to paycheck
Furthermore, we are asked to zeal our homes 
And stock up on ion tablets, do they think that
Everybody lives in a suburb, and most of us have
flats, often cramped, in big cities 
Our right to speak our  minds is undermined by
those who are social democrats in name
There was a time in the sixties and seventies 
when democracy in the north was vibrant and
alive, although you could freely shout  
without being censored, but we could open  
a business or settle somewhere else without 
Should you feel aggrieved, the X will listen
If you disagree with your missives
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.

to love your enemy

To love your enemy

I should not say this, but there is no way to hide
I had a wonderful childhood when our country was
at war and occupied  the mighty German army
walked in and out of an army barracks, riding on their
enormous horses, dark chocolate, drinking morning milk 
until peace broke out, and it was back
to stark poverty that felt as if the daylight had been
switched off by an unseen hand 
Headlong into communism, almost a humorous, but
That, too, had its sell-by date, and a cold war began
As seamen, we were in demand moving American 
made gods around them had moved their industry
abroad and only exported wars
Once upon a time, I loved the USA, and I still have a pair 
Of the jeans bought in New York, the jeans have shrunk
But I keep them as a memory of a glorious past
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.

apocalypse

Apocalypse 


I saw the storm approaching. It had a look of evil intent 
People were seeking shelter in the town's only café
I didn't like to share the place with so many
 and I had to find my dog before the storm hit
I found what had been a bus shelter, a bunker from a war 
only remembered by historians, or a would-be writer 
The storm hit with a roar of death and insane destruction 
When it was over, the town had disappeared 
A field of sea green grass had taken its place, the stillness 
so acute I could hear the grass incessantly whispering, that
made my dog nervous,  we moved and walked on the sand
of the newborn 
We could not stay still, walking on in the hope of finding
a past that could be helpful when we arrive 
where the future was,  not sure if the old past and the new
The future would merge into a seamless whole
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.

monday morning

Monday morning

woke up at eight, it was a splendid morning
cool before the day becomes serious and
demanding attention 
belonging to the 1% of people born before
the second world war, I'm often awake 
in the night before falling asleep again 
my first thought was not profound, but
about coffee, I had to drink it black since 
I had forgotten to buy milk
switched on the computer, reading the news
scanned an article about the lack of sleep that
only spoke to the middle classes
to those who sit in nice offices filling in
forms and are unspecified planners of
something they think is  important
 not about building workers, or about those
who begin their day at six, shift workers
were overlooked, ditto the army of cleaners 
a psychologist from Leeds had a word in 
he had nothing relevant to say other than
He had a doctoral degree in sleep
 not to be undone, an article about X that
was tendentious with no understanding
how important is it for our future
Dismayed, I went back to bed thinking
how idiotic the world is, full on self
important people and their tiny world
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.

Changing world

Changing world?

In Peru, they import potatoes
In Guatemala, they plant thousands of trees
drink cacao, sit in groups, and sing
think they are new agers 
the new war in The Middle East began 
because Israel saw the need to attack
Iran, this to defend itself
Netanyahu is in uproar with the Iranians
has bombed a hospital
A Jewish lady tells me about the killings in Gaza
is done by Hamas, and it has nothing
to do with IDF!
Iran is in chaos, totally ruined, and ready
to surrender to regime change 
but the lack of potatoes in Peru worries
me the most
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.

clouds of hell

The Cloud of Hell
It was a perfect day, cobalt sky and azure, glittering sea
When a stygian cloud came from the east, the Lord of Wars
spat phlegm, spraying us with horror

Inside this monstrosity, body parts, headless, were
Flying by the noise was unearthly, and my little dog
sheltered under my coat, I bought in Hamburg.

When the cloud had passed, I saw a landscape
Devastated as Ypres in the Great War when then
 as now millions of people have died for nothing.

My dog was limp and had stopped breathing. I blew
Life back into it and in the terrible noise of the sky
We heard nothing, not even the stillness.

The master of wars was visiting us the peace
We had enjoyed it for too long; it was time for
Bloodletting, the revenge of the sand dwellers
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.

the Jewish couple

The Jewish couple

I have written about this before, but somehow
 didn't  get it right 
My perceived brusqueness made them think of Cracow,
they had fled, their relatives lost in the turbulence
of a war where they, as civilians, 
but Jews had their life made into nightmares. 
There was a small sweet shop near my café, 
selling my chocolate with nuts, so 
one day, I walked in there to buy a bar of chocolate
The man behind the counter bent down and changed his hat.
His wife reached out and tried to give me a sweet. 
The man wore a Panama hat 
I spoke English to them, which eased the situation, 
this tall Nazi-looking person was not a ghost from the past, 
just a person with a sweet tooth. 
I bought the chocolate, and we shook hands, told them I was in business to
had a café near them, 
The sweet shop had visitors,
and the chocolate I bought had been in the shop too long; it was green. 
But when I left the shop, I felt they didn't want me to come back, 
I reminded them too much of the horror of Cracow.
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.

the past and the future

The past and the future

A war was coming our way as a patriot, I enlisted 
Although I was a bit elderly, I was accepted 
sent to a camp, with the rank of sergeant in
charge of the kitchen 
When the war ended, I took the bus back to my
village that looked the same as before, and my dog
sat on the steps waiting for me, she wanted to
go for our usual walks in the woods
After half an hour, I called the dog; it was time to 
go home, but the dog had disappeared, think she
had run home waiting to let her in, but she and
The village was not there,
Instead of a man with a golf club in his hand, I thought
looked like Trump telling me I was trespassing
But there was a village here, yes, but we got rid of
it when constructing the golf course
He looked at me and said, Are you from the past?
Yes, I am, but this is the future you are in the wrong
place, you'd better go back before your time is over
I walk to where the road and horizon merge
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.

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