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Violence Farewell Poems | Violence Poems About Farewell

These Violence Farewell poems are examples of Violence poems about Farewell. These are the best examples of Violence Farewell poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Dramatic monologue |

What Happened

As you ended our video call,
You suited up,
Just another day in that god forsaken place,
As soon as you stepped off the plane it felt like being in an oven.
But hey,
What did you expect.
The boys and you all load up into the Humvee and take off with the rest of the Caravan.
Just another day.
Just another day…
There wasn’t supposed to be an explosion.
There weren’t supposed to be screams.
There wasn’t supposed to be any blood shed.
It was supposed to be just another day.
But all of that did happen.
And you were taken away from me and Mom and Dad and our little sister,
In an instant.
You were supposed to come home.
We were supposed to celebrate your birthday together,
Our sister baked you a cake for when you came home.
But… now you can’t,
And you won’t,
Ever again.
Because you’re gone.
And you can’t ever come back.
But know that we love you,
Know that I love you,
Know that I loved you, My Brother.
Most Importantly know that we miss you,
every waking moment.
Because you’re gone,
And we’ll never see you again.
Did I tell you Mom and Dad still pay your phone bill?
They pay,
So that we can hear your voice on your voicemail recording when we miss you.
I call,

Copyright © Katelyn Roussell | Year Posted 2014

Details | Vaasokht |



Scene---A Dying German Agent/A Soldier`s thoughts/reflections just before death 

On this periphery of life
Let blue jeans of my ice blonde Brenda wear me to marry with death
Fire will be her gown, ashes shall be my girdle, shattered is everything beneath
Smokes so discerned sprawling
Some will say it was a poetic corpse after so deadly the strife

Wrapped in unknown funerary fetes
My blood will be poured in cask of mimicks
A yawn concealing me in semicolon as I saw I was dying, 
sickened of the sicks
All the ravens of sorcery lurking the corner in full stops
As if I knew nothing following the wisdom of Socrates

Boots and kilt emphasizing my lost treasure
At last the casket to embrace me from the provocateur
No persuasive argument will be my candy,
a keepsake solidarity in barter 
A marked plot spewed by shrewd men
An aftermath velvet and a last squint of Prussia far and near

Death so dear only to see if the lady in red silk I loved has red roses
My dear Soviet plezhvadya
for the wide-brimmed black hat, red bloody eyes hers, a gunshot
,yellow mouthful venom of words oozing out in raucous abuses
Hatred carped in end and unend Olesya, good as gold my Olesya

Now the bastion they called bastards buccaneered before her epithet
Kaliningrad`s cloud full of black so black an obnoxious smoke
Davai! Davai! they shouted and again nemesis eavesdropped
Eagles died I know not if a death of glory as I felt I saw an 1871 gauntlet
That’s my last shot of life before I became death`s forgotten lucky bloke

Vocabulary --1-Plezhvadya(Russian/Czech)- A Soviet dish
                   2.Davai!(Russian)--Let`s do it, Come on!
                   3.Obnoxious-extremely unpleasant 
                   4.Gauntlet-An armored glove of the tectonic Knights
                   6.Barter-Exchange,Trade,Swap without use of money

Copyright © Reynold del Rey | Year Posted 2015

Details | Elegy |

Black Tea

To arise alone in a half complete bed
asymmetrically warm
half of what was once whole

A drowsy confusion
guides brown eyes to
the white letter
calmly resting in the mornings light

The beautiful present
written within the white
brings forth blurry vision
forgetting in an instant all that was to be
their future

He was already treding
his destiny that he
beckoned on himself
from early days
of tea and training

Of a frightening home
a loving brother
to a barren land
now eyes of hate

To have known
what was awaiting him
at the end of this road
and to keep walking
toward the beast
he had created

To die in the arms
of the one he’d raised
of the one he betrayed
was his fate
of that mournful day

Copyright © Kay Ham | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Dear Dad

Dear Dad 				
Why don’t you love me? 
The small brown eyed girl asked her father as he beat her at night,
 then with a smile in the morning he’d scoop her up in his arms to play.
Why don’t you love me? 
The bigger brown eyed girl asked her father as he walked out and
never came back.
Why don’t you love me? 
The young brown eyed girl asked her boyfriend of two years,
As he walked out the same door her father did eight years before.
Never to return.
Why didn’t you love me?
The older brown eyed girl asked her father at his funeral.
As she leaned over the edge of his casket and kissed him gently on the forehead,
Tears running down her cheeks.
Why couldn’t you love me? 
The oldest brown eyed girl asked as she lays Jasmine’s and roses
On her father’s grave.
Only a row down from her old boyfriend’s,
With love that never dies.
And her question is answered in the wind, 
As the answer is whispered in her heart.
How could you love me?
If you couldn’t love yourself?

Copyright © Jazmine Russell | Year Posted 2013

Details | Sonnet |

Blood Red

A young boy stands, surrounded by shadows
Within the midst of a glittering blade
He says he can’t bare to see his morrows
Preparing for his final escapade

He indolently raises with a grin 
This shining dagger with its deadly head
The boy is committing his dying sin
This glistening dagger is now blood red

The boy falters to the floor; He’s now dead
He quickly realizes in disarray
He’s awoken within a fiery spread
Punished for the being that he would slay

He's trying to pray for his salvation
But he’s here for his deathless damnation

Christian Scott-Myers 11/17/2015

Copyright © Christian Scott-Myers | Year Posted 2015

Details | Tanka |

The Survivor's Curse

Here I stand, upon
This hill, this hell of gunshots,
Pouring blood, whiskey,
Cadavers made into walls;
Unashamed generals lead
Color-adorned men
To untimely demises,
No food, no water,
But you must not leave The Cause,
For you have been called to fight
On the battlefield
The broken-hearted, dead past
A survivors’ curse.

Here I stand, upon
Lucky men who succeeded
In getting out of
The Cause’s grasp. If they died
Not, others would have instead.
Honor the Dead. For
The real reason we shoot at
Strange, potential friends
Is them. For them I stand here,
In crossfire of friend and foe
On the battlefield
The broken-hearted, dead past
A survivors’ curse.

Here I stand, upon
The cold, hard, sure motherland,
Iron-tipped boots clack
To attention; another
Round goes off, some soldiers fall,
The Cause does not see
Its men pass into slumber
Forever. They squirm
On the doctors’ amputation
Tables, their last, faithless hope
On the battlefield
The broken-hearted, dead past
A survivors’ curse.

Here I stand, upon
Conquered, bleeding land
The stench of carcass
Drifts up from the trenches dug
Around an area not
Ours. Yet it is ours.
Men impaled for The Cause prove
That we should be here.
But what is The Cause? It is;
Fight for Its glory, think less
On the battlefield
The broken-hearted, dead past
A survivors’ curse.

Here I stand, upon
The trench lookout hill, I spy
Officers speaking
To comrades of their color,
Red. Red as blood. Red as Death.
Emblem on their caps
A symbol of hatred of
The Cause, and all good,
But I pity these poor men,
Stuck in the same place as me
On the battlefield
The broken-hearted, dead past
A survivors’ curse.

Here I stand, upon
The landscape of wilderness,
Polishing my gun
So that when I join my friends
In Death’s tender, firm embrace
I will look a man.
The final bottle makes its
Rounds before we load
And run out to meet and shoot
Men who know The Cause’s truth.
On the battlefield
The broken-hearted, dead past
A survivors’ curse.

Here I stand, upon
The ruins of a kingdom,
The Cause – what cause? Won,
Masking innocents’ crying,
Feeble, never to be heard
By the ruthless. They
Listen not to all the Dead;
Too busy gulping down
Alcohol to kill painful
Memories of The Cause
On the battlefield
The broken-hearted, dead past
A survivors’ curse.

Copyright © J. Amorose | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |

Feast of Chaos

The undertaker prepped him voguishly
Like there was a party six feet below
The earth where anosmic maggots
Were tamed by steep fragrance

He is dead, he is dead
Of what use is a tinseling treasure
To the naively rich sands?

The gold plated casket glitters
In the mourner's eyes
How classy is death in its house?

A gang of aggrieved groupies
Hallowed to a one time
Shylock-baron unleashes its ruckuses
At the swanky funeral

They teemed tiny shell
At the casket and in a tick
The casket transmuted into
A gold plated basket

He is dead, he is dead
The bullets ran its errands
Through and through
But death was poker faced

The deceased wife face streamed
Down tears...The triumphant groupies
Prod the remains for mockery

Until wee in the day
When the police came for a sweep
The shylock-baron was in a feast-
Romance with the houseflies...
Until the groupies dispersed

He is dead, he is dead
He who dies once is lucky
But he who dies again has lost his soul
And would be damned

What was his crime?
That he was having 
More than he needs.

Copyright © Timothy-Paker Nwaorgu | Year Posted 2014

Details | Lyric |

I am Trayvon Martin

I am young, I am blacc, I am wrongly judged. 
While I'm proud of my skin, my skin's strongly grudged. 
Any place in the United States has racial relevance. 
Oscar Grant, Sean Bell, and me stand as evidence. 
Everyone argues about equality and justice. 
But look at the victims of profiling, and it's just us. 
How's walking down the street in a hoodie suspicious? 
How does stalking with a gun not define lethal intentions? 
What can you say to justify taking me from my family? 
Or robbing me of a lifetime...how can you answer me? 
It isn't fair, but who can we expect to care,  if we don't? 
Who's gonna take the initiative to protect us, if we won't? 
The system promises us safety, but it's easy to lie. 
And yeah, I fought bacc tooth and nail, I wasn't eager to die. 
You only see me through your eyes, but your view's tainted. 
But you'll see the picture clearer, once the truth is painted. 
I'm just a testament for the young blacc man, in a sense. 
And even in death, I maintain my innocence. 
But you can keep me alive,  just stay on marching. 
I'm a son, a brother, a blacc man, I am Trayvon Martin!!!!

Copyright © bruce griffin | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

Forever Bros

We made an oath
To stick to the code
We raised ourselves
Caught up on the block
It’s called a trap
Lives up to the name
Just a few of the guys
We fought
We laughed
We cried
I lived they Died
Just a few of the guys
The axons keep churning
In my troubled mind

Copyright © William Hernandez | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |


At the crossroads where the devil lurks behind the old, dying tree,
near the cotton plantations that mold green and grey with age
turn to relics of the brutal Southern past.

Hear the southern bell sing her sweet song
to her Negro runner, as she watches him turn and blow her a kiss goodnight,
a Romeo and Juliet love affair,
that stops at the crossroads of black and white.

Near those run-down shacks is where she hid him,
till the night came overhead,
and that dirt road is were they left together,
on a big, white stead to the North,
till a shotgun blast silenced the night,
and ended the love that flew sweaty in the air,
like the death of a mockingbird.

The Devil himself took a soul back down to hell,
and the crossroads painted red with hatred and pain.
Dead young lovers hand and hand,
a picture painted in southern heat
on a Monday morning in a black and white newspaper,
written in black and white,
that's all it was, two colors that go good together.


Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2014

Details | ABC |


Today he said he loved me
He hasn't said it for a while
He uses his shirt sleeve
To dry tears from his eyes
He said that he forgives me
For all the things I did
Even if it was nothing 
In his eyes it was something. 

Today he said I looked beautiful
I wore the red dress that I loved
So many reminders of hurt
That fabric held inside it
To sexy,  to slutty , go on fix it
I paired it with gold heels
Yes , the ones he bought me
They make me feel special. 

Today he said my makeup looks good
Little does he know , it hides the bruises
The ones he left when he smacked me about
Oh what good was it to scream and shout
He pulled my hair, and slammed my head
So many times I wished I were dead 
But,  today someone took special care
Did my makeup and did my hair. 

Today he brought me flowers 
The white Lillie's I like
The pain built up inside me
It cut like a dull knife
Slowly , but surely it hurt alright
He couldn't see , it couldn't be
He was taking my life. 

Today he kissed my forehead
He has not done that it years
He puts on a show in front of our peers
He cried and bawled,  held his hair tight
Played the role of a husband all through the night
I watched from above as the man I loved
played the scene to a capital T
I watched them lay into the ground
My still,  white  decaying body. 

Stop domestic abuse #itsnotalright

Copyright © Makayla Gilchrist | Year Posted 2016

Details | I do not know? |


I'm drowning under your ridicule
Sick and tired of listening to your rules
Fed up of being beaten black and blue
It's gone too far and now I'm leaving you

You got no right
to beat me up
This relationship's over
Now face the dust

No more a puppet 
Dancing to your tunes
No more words hurting
Or cutting me through

You've crushed who I was
Took the soul out of me
I'm a phoenix in the ashes
And I'm setting me free

I'll spread my wings
And fly on the breeze
One day a Mr Wonderful
Will capture me

I can build me back up
Whilst you're on the ground
Learn to smile once again
With less pressure around

Copyright © Anna-Marie Docherty | Year Posted 2014

Details | Verse |

Mouse Trap

Pitter-patter, pitter-patter
Here and there like that 
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter
Look out for the cat!
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter
(Sniff, sniff) Cheese is in the air! 
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter
It’s coming from over there

Pitter-patter, pitter-patter
No sign of any trap
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter
Nibble, nibble...... Splat!!

Copyright © Philip Royle | Year Posted 2017