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Life War Poems | Life Poems About War

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

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Details | Rhyme |

Disposable Wisdom

Each day Annie Lesley opened a can
Her eighty-six-year-old hands trembling
As she sat with her cat and ate pet food
What is wrong with this elder’s rendering?

Pride swallowed to remain independent
Large, sunken eyes peered from her weathered face
Her late spouse a decorated hero
Annie’s lifestyle a national disgrace

More enlightened cultures all over the world
Have revered their seniors throughout history
Asians and Native Americans
Are just two who honor their ancestry

Polynesians, other Pacific tribes
Respect the wisdom that comes with age
Seniors are welcome in family homes
But here in the states they’re placed in a cage

Bone-thin Annie Lesley chose to be free
Amazing neighbors with her endurance
When social services tried to intervene
She fought with remarkable resilience

Old photos on walls told many great tales
But only purring Tibby was listening
Each morning she rose to care for her cat
Until the day that Tibby went missing

In tears she claimed he must have been poisoned
Though in cat years he was older than she
Each day she sat by the window, staring
Awaiting the homecoming of Tibby

She’d been abandoned by society
Lost in the world’s most “progressive” nation
For sacrificing her spouse in World War II	
Annie received little compensation

This widowed war bride never had children
Her mate had met his fate in Normandy
Posthumous awards she dusted each day
Annie’s life was defined by loyalty

To a man and a cat who never came home
And the vigil she kept all alone
Ended quietly one warm summer night
When an angel came to take Annie home

With a can of cat food in hand when found
Annie had nothing else to eat in her house
This is the way a veteran’s wife died
And tear stains had blemished her faded blouse

Although seniors’ wisdom is heeded
In societies that grow from history
Too many like Annie lead lonely lives
Wisdom untapped, they die in poverty

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2009


Details | Monoku |

Hope

You see hope when two kids share marbles between a volatile border.


Date: 16/06/2017

Copyright © Teddy Kimathi | Year Posted 2017

Details | Couplet |

My Pen Collection

As the waves forever kiss the shore
One shot leaves you wanting more
My heart and soul, strong and true
With all the love they hold for you
Sometimes my life leaves me bored
Like a swordsman with no sword
These are the times that I write
Memories can be hard to fight
I write out my heart and soul
Controlling my mind is my goal
Each new word released by my pen
Is another spiritual battle I win
The war rages on day by day
Through the poem prayers I pray
It's a war that I will forever win
Long as there is ink up in my pen
In prison I had quite a collection
Each one held it's own reflection
I saved them after they ran dry
Baptized with the tears I cry
I just couldn't seem to let them go
Little memories of my heart and soul
Sometimes I like to take them out
Little memories of what I'm about
What I'm about angel on my shoulder
Making this world a little less colder

Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2007


Details | Rhyme |

His Background

This enlisted soul
At eighteen years old
Barely a man
Not even street wise told

From the proms, to the camp
He kits out tomorrow
His future he stamps
Never knowing bloodied sorrow

In just under a year
He's older and wiser
To a theatre so different
Says his military adviser

Overseas he heads
Thoughts of back home
What goes through his mind
In eighteen years old roam

Where could he have been
In so short a time
Colouring books
Making joining words rhyme

As he looks to his background
What does he see
An eagle soaring
In the land of the free

The statue of liberty
And the bill of rights
With the thirteen stripes
And the stars to delight

He is just a boy
In grown up clothes
Another one lost
To a cause we will loathe




http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war-4.php

Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2009

Details | Rhyme |

Goodbye, My Child

Where cradled canyons sing
Of ebony wood in the forest
There lies a gurgling spring
Where cockcrows sing their chorus
To the melody of singsong birds
There I’ve concealed my sensuous words
Filled with befitted signs
The saccharine whiff of my designs

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

Where the fogs of night are fountains
Spills of glistened moon ignite
By distant silhouette mountains
We dance with passion of fight
Entwining ancient stance 
Mingling hand in hand we dance
Till the mountains smile on high
Near and far we spring
To pursue the realest of dreams
While the world cries at its seams
Anxious in trouble to cling

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

To where the ridges merry make 
From the beaks of wooden bright
In sparkly pools the ghouls awake
That scarce to stir our night
We watch for seekers down under
Muttering secrets in their soul
We bid them lucks of shivers
Dipping gently in
From reeds that hide a tear of a foal
Under the gentle rivers

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

Far away she shall ever churn
The taciturn eyed
She’ll listen no more to turn
To the working mills beside
Or the scrubbing of the barn
May peace weave in her song
She shall wave in the yarn
To a haven known as Belong  

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

For she comes, the mortal youth
To the wild realm of her truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only her tears be found

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative |

Battle Scars

Don’t judge that kid with her arms all scarred
Don’t brand that kid as bad
You never would have survived 
If you had the life she had
So say a prayer and show you care
She’s paid more than her share of dues
Don’t put her down or say bad things
Until you’ve walked that mile in her shoes
Those who suffered in war earn respect
They are greeted like super stars
She came from a war you wouldn’t understand
On her arms, the battle scars
Her own home was the battle zone
The desperation, feeling all alone
A situation she felt no escape from
Then late at night the urges come
Innocence lost like a bad dream
No self respect, no self esteem
It is an ongoing battle to feel whole
You can see the beauty within her soul
Sometimes I pray for a Judgement day
You have no heart if you look away
Flashbacks come and the anger stirs
The guilt she carries isn’t hers
There is a need for justice long past due
A need for acceptance from me and you
With anger, despair and fear demanding
The child needs some understanding
In spite of all the tears she cried
There are still battle scars deep inside

Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr. | Year Posted 2009

Details | Quatrain |

Baby Brave

A boy lines up plastic soldiers 
In straight rows across his floor.
He knocks them down with callow ease
In a naive game of war.

Far across the deepest ocean,
In between rich, well-known places,
Little boys become those soldiers -
Grow hard lines upon their faces.

Guns weigh down their frail frames,
As they march in groups like drones;
Passing by jumbles of bodies -
Messy piles of flesh and bones.

One cries softly in the corner,
Another cannot bear the sound.
He takes the blunt side of his gun
And beats the other to the ground.

In the streets they pass right over
Mothers murdered, sisters raped,
Countless men whose limbs are broken,
But whose empty eyes still gape.

Narrow roads become red rivers,
Neighbourhoods go up in flames,
Backyards turn into cold graveyards -
Still they play this twisted game.

Far across the deepest ocean,
In the richest, well-known places,
Boys line up their plastic soldiers
With blind smiles upon their faces.

Copyright © Heather Ober | Year Posted 2012

Details | Couplet |

SOMEWHERE

In dead-man's land
red poppies grow,
Fertilised by blood,
sun and winter snow;
And on widows' weeds
streams of sadness flow,
Lost freedoms seeds
beneath ignorance goes
To no-man's land
where,there were but crows;
With Spring's new life
real peace they can know,
In the Morning Star's
perpetual glow!



 *Afghanistan

Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |

All is not fair in love and war

People say that love never fails,
That all is fair in love and war,
But really, how do you know,
What love can or can not do?
And if all is fair in love and war, then
Why does someone always end up getting hurt?
I know my love will never fail,
Because I love you with all my heart and soul,
Because I would give my life for you,
And everything I am or have just to be with you.
However, I can not be fair to all
Because all is not fair in love and war.
I wish to hurt no one, so I don't,
But by doing so, I hurt myself.
My heart wants to be with you so much
And yet I wish to hurt no one.
So I don't, I don't confess my love for you,
I keep it locked inside,
And as a friend I stay by your side.
My love for you remains forever pure and unchanged.
I love you, Yes, I do, with all my heart and soul,
With all that I am and hope to be just for you.
My heart untamed and wild, dreaming of what if,
But it's cut in half by the love I feel for both.
My heart belongs to you but only half,
Because I gave the other half away to him.
Now I suffer for my love, for both are great,
But only one, I wish I could be with forever.
All is not fair in love and war,
So I love you both and suffer much,
Because my heart is wounded, torn in half.
I can not speak of my deep love for you,
I can not confess my feelings to you.
So I go on with my life pretending nothing's wrong.
Why must I go on without your love?
It's faith, I guess, that I suffer so.
It's destiny to love you so.

Copyright © Elizabeth San Miguel | Year Posted 2006

Details | Haiku |

The Internet: Rtrn

A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
Procrastination!

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

THE LOWEST OF THE LOW

You may see me out on the streets Lying curled up in a foetal position my sleeping bag in a shop doorway Trying to get a few hours sleep here in my latest home in cardboard city … I never stay more than a few nights in one place can never really settle; these streets aren’t safe You may see me out on the streets I’m sitting on the cold damp pavement with an empty coffee cup in my hand Hoping for a coin or two so I can have some real food in my aching belly Still you hurry past, trying to avoid making eye contact… Believe me, it’s so degrading rummaging in the litterbins like a wild animal But some days it’s the only way I can get any food to eat The biting cold and wet weather is my worst enemy I can never get warm even when the sun shines This is no life, just a way of surviving another day Guess you think I’m a waster, a dirty tramp You walk on by; judge me without knowing what lead me to life on the streets Bet you think I’m a druggie or an alcoholic I guess most people seem to think that They see my filthy clothes, straggly hair and grey beard Just five years ago I was like many of you I had a career, a beautiful wife, and two lovely children Spent many months away from home fighting for my country But then I got sent to Afghanistan… I saw scenes no man should ever have to witness I was traumatised Forever suffering flashbacks of the faces of those innocent people The children, oh those children – made me think of my two boys back at home I couldn’t cope any more, had a total mental breakdown I was a broken man … My wife could no longer deal with the mood swings , the erratic behaviour The Army did little to help – discharged me on health grounds, then basically abandoned me Now I’ve lost everything … my wife, family, my dignity Many of the people you see on the streets are like me … We all have a story to tell, but no one gives us the time of day Passers-by avert their eyes and hurry past like we are invisible Your eyes may tell you one thing… but please don’t judge me Because you don’t know me 07~21~15
Premiere contest #7 Sponsored by Skat A Contest Any poem meaningful to you Sponsored By Broken Wings

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Agree to Disagree

                                               
                                               Mankind's greatest
                                                 accomplishment...
                                                       
                                                      

                                                      is death.

Copyright © Vincent Rossi | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rhyme |

Ana

She writes her songs and her poems,
not one person know 'em.
She listens to the sound of her music,
she's stuck to it like a tick.

If someone took the time to listen,
her true colors would glisten.
She's put on a mask,
and hid everything when someone asked.

She was the type of girl who would always laugh,
making you wish it would last.
She was the type of girl who would smile the day away,
too bad it is no longer that way.

She is now the girl who is depressed,
I bet you're impressed.
Since no one could tell
that she was going through hell.

Everyone thought she was happy, 
when really, she felt crappy.
Everyone thought she was having the time of her life,
who would have guess her best friend was a knife?

She spent her days alone,
she seemed to do everything on her own.
Never once wanted help.
Thought she could do everything herself.

Then the day came,
when she lost the game.
She fell apart,
and everyone saw her broken heart.

They saw the way she overreacted.
Oh, if only you saw the way she acted.
She bruised herself, scratched herself, and made herself bleed,
no one knew what it was that she needed.

They saw her tears,
and that was what she feared.
They found out she wasn't okay,
oh, she hated that day.

Everyone found out about her secret,
and she wish they'd just forget,
but she knew they couldn't,
and that they wouldn't.

She left that town and started over,
no one knew she went undercover.
She said she got better,
when really... something else occurred. 

She secretly hurt herself,
and walked away from help.
Everyone thought she recovered,
when really, she was undercover.

She secretly wanted to get worse,
no one knew of course.
No one cared to ask,
if she was wearing her mask.

Now it's too late,
she locked the gate.
Killed herself,
everyone had forgotten she needed help.

Goodbye cold world,
this was a story of a girl
who once loved everyone
then feared who it was who won.

Copyright © Ana Jusino | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

The Vietnam War

The pro-Hanoi Vietcong many years ago
In the 1950's Diem's government they'd overthrow
All opposition was crushed killed or jailed
These elected ones to their people they failed

This Buddhist country so religious in belief
Now politically torn apart, impending future grief
In the early 1960's with the CIA in place
Discussing with Vietnam's generals, Diem, assassinated in disgrace

With the Vietcong army, growing from strength to strength
Another communist foothold, going to any lengths
In 1965, with 3500 U.S. Marines in place
By December of that year, 200,000 in many a base

These U.S. Marines, in their defensive mode
Over the coming months, peace would soon erode
With the Tet Offensive upon us, and the "Battle of Hue"
The Americans were now involved, this bloody war now brews

One decision to end this conflict, came in 1969
Nixon sent 18 B-52s, bordering Soviet airspace line
He wanted to show he was capable, to end this bloody war
But as the months and years progressed, the body count would soar

The anti-war movement was gathering strength, also in 1969
But the "Green Beret Affair" started to undermine
A U.S. Army platoon raped and pillaged, the village of My Lai
Where civilians were massacred, and many left to die

In 1970-71, Cambodia incurred wars wrath
Where they and the country Laos, were in the U.S. bombing path
Also in 71, there was the cutting of the Ho Chi Minh trail
But arms and supplies got through, this mission to no avail

Later in the same year, the Anzac's withdrew their soldiers
The U.S. also reduced, many of theirs from Vietnam's borders
In 1973, Nixon declared the suspension of offensive action
The Paris Peace Accords took place, peace with this warring faction

Between the years 73 - 74 under Trà, the Vietcong grew in strength
There was no mass offensive, to lure the Americans to their trench
Gradually they marched to their target, to see their enemies eyes
To their city of Saigon, now over a million humans have died

The average age of the American to die in this bloody war
Was just nineteen years old, never knowing what they were fighting for
So many came home from this horror, leaving themselves behind
Because so many came home different, home with a different mind

Even to this day, many Americans look back and ask
Why their elected Congress, feed them to these tasks
The sad thing about Vietnam, it continues to this present day
Where governments make decisions, asking guns to hear their say



Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2010

Details | Rhyme |

War and Peace - Interlocking Rhyme

A silent prayer, a call for peace
War and winter takes its toll, birds sounds cease
The cold penetrates the soul, the Canada geese arrive
Bitter frost kills, the sound of geese bring winter alive

Peace in the world, the tips of the bulbs begin to show
No matter what is happening, Mother Nature will still grow

Penned 11/01/2015

Copyright © Seren Roberts | Year Posted 2015

Details | Terzanelle |

An Epic Battle With A Simple Question

A beautiful heart pines from afar. To parallel freedom, we choose our master. In Love, the Dragon and Unicorn are! Celestial winged heart beats faster, Over mountain and ocean meet polar eyes. To parallel freedom, we choose our master. Embarking from sun brewed and moonshine skies Two alien races, in war, collide. Over mountain and ocean meet polar eyes. All brothers' swords raise, marching with pride. Sisters of heaven let feathers fly. Two alien races, in war, collide. The angered clouds rain blood from the sky. A new path finally found. Sisters of heaven let feathers fly. Brothers' swords low now to the ground. A beautiful heart pines from afar. A new path finally found. In Love, the Dragon and Unicorn are! In universe Out bound energy Where are we when we die?

Copyright © Edward McCormick | Year Posted 2013

Details | Terzanelle |

Night Has Come

Night has come, the fog is slowly wreathing
Crying soft, a form is moving forward
Now she walks through mist, 'tween shadows seething

Past the ancient walls she pushes onward
Mid the shrouded stones she pours her sorrow
Crying soft, a form is moving forward

Now she weeps amid a ruined palace
*Starting when the distant forest trembles
Comfort is not nigh to ease her sorrow

In her hands she bears a broken chalice
She that once was rich is now the poorest
Starting when the distant forest trembles

Deep within the shadows of the forest
Wars were fought that changed her life forever
She that once was rich is now the poorest

How could men her castle cruelly sever?
Night has come, the fog is slowly wreathing
Wars were fought that changed her life forever
Now she walks through mist, 'tween shadows seething

Day is dawning
Light scatters shadows
What hope will morning bring?


- *Starting is a sudden motion or spasm caused by being alarmed. -
-  The part of this poem that is in Terzanelle form is also Trochaic Pentameter, meaning that it is ten syllables per line and alternating between a stressed and unstressed syllable the whole way through. -
- First place in contest, "Terzanelle Fantasy with a Questionku Chaser".

Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rhyme |

The Undyings' Curse

Deep in the earth, a crypt of rock
slumber guarded by casket locked
Lips grope silence ‘ever more
 rasping thought, remembers whispered lore
Outstretched palms the roots do clench
tranquility stilled by festered stench
And eyes, sleep caked, are propped ajar
ignites no life, but collapsed star

Burned blades sigh, Winds’ dying gasp
bones brittle snap within her clasp
A lonesome howl the moon does draw
vigil broken, it twists its maw 
Upon an arena of endless stone
the granite gates they’ve passed alone
And entered a world of burning eyes
eluded the judge of smoldering cries

A faultless gait, no stumbled draw
a reaping brought  by scythe and claw
Opal edge which shrouds a cause
aberrant blade shapes nature’s laws
Dictate a script, the stars can share
an open secret, a language bare
Steps continue, feet are drawn
across gray grass, undying pawn

Copyright © Avery Swarthout | Year Posted 2015

Details | Verse |

In Gratitude I Bow


_______________________________ In silence and in prayer................. _______________________________ For those who gave everything and never failed to protect for those who left loved ones and tried hard not to look back for those who made it home and for those who's spirits flew on... For you my hat is off in Gratitude I thank God for people like you.. I remember with thanksgiving in painful facets from within each man and women who fought for this country until the bitter end.. Come home my proud soldiers come home once again come home my mighty soldiers come home to mend... In Gratitude I bow... _______________________________ A Debbie Guzzi Contest

Copyright © Rick Parise | Year Posted 2011

Details | Verse |

Another Dawn, Another Day

(Out of Eden: Act V)

Have you heard the sound of hooves go….. ‘clickety clickety, clop’?
That is the sound that the Pale Horse makes, when down on Earth to shop.
That Reaper mean, the one called ‘Grim’,
Takes tortured souls with wanton whim.
That rider of the Pale Horse smirks - goes….clickety, clickety, clop…..clickety, clickety, clop.


Have you heard the sound of chests go…… ‘boom-a de boom-a de boom’?
That is the sound that the poor heart makes in throes of gloom and doom.
Horrors unleashed you freeze with fright,
Hormone screaming ‘flee or fight!!!’
The stricken heart pounds deathly beats - goes .’….boom-a de boom-a de boom’….boom-a de boom-a de boom’!


Have you heard the sound of guns go ….rat-a-tat, rat-a-tat, tat?
That is the sound that the nozzle made when out, it’s bullets, spat.
To claim a life and rip apart
The victim …and a loved one’s heart.
That nozzle spits out rhythmic hate  - goes…rat-a-tat, rat-a-tat, tat! …rat-a-tat, rat-a-tat, tat!


Have you heard the sound of bells go ..ring-a-ling, ding-a-ling, dong?
That is the sound that the Church bells make to mark a Victory Song.
Men may die, and many shall mourn
But Life itself is not forlorn.
Be brave, take heart…the Church bell peals, ..goes: ring-a-ling, ding-a-ling, dong…ring-a-ling, ding-a-ling, dong!


Have you heard the sound of the Cock; go …kook-a-doodle, kook-a-doodle, do?
That is the sound that the rooster makes when light, the days, renew.
Days will come, and days will go
And Life goes on the way we know.
So listen. Hark. The cockerel crows - ….it goes: …kook-a-doodle, kook-a-doodle,do
………..Kook-a-doodle, kook-a-doodle,do…………Kook-a-doodle, kook-a-doodle,do
Another Dawn….another Day …….kook-a-doodle, kook-a-doodle,do!

Copyright © Robert Amure | Year Posted 2015

Details | Couplet |

The war wife

They said that it would never come,
This war of hate, and not for some.
  A sleepy hamlet, far from all,
But now it’s happened, god helps us all.
 It’s not a year since they were wed,
But now he’s gone, she hopes not dead.
 They are in love, for his touch she yearns,
   A tight embrace, the longing burns.
The closeness only they can share,
 You can see the magic in the air.
A knock then comes upon the door,
As her mind’s brought back to this wretched war.
  Her heart now breaking, and is hoping no –
  She had pleaded with him not to go.
  Is that all to this that makes up life?
 When all she wanted was to be his wife.

  

Copyright © nicholas windle | Year Posted 2008

Details | Free verse |

Shock and Awe, Coming Back Home

My friends come home draped in flags 
I pause at the edge of the airplane door
Facing a tunnel leading me to a muffled joy
Strangers tell me I am related to them...
I deny a woman with three kids... her kiss
My friends are slipping in trucks with flags
They are loaded and back doors explode shut...
..............................................................

I wake up in a trench of blood and clean pillows
The same woman from the airport next to me
 Peacefully breathing...and I thought she was dead...
I think I am finally home, fans are not propellers
Camouflage doesn't bear swing sets in backyards
My friends' helmets, guns and boots line up in my head
Patrolling with weapons made of aluminum foil
-------------------------------------------------

There is too much silence for a dead soldier walking...
I think I FEEL the kiss of the woman with three kids ...







Copyright © iolanda Scripca | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |

Into your Hideout

Into your Hideout


The ruins of my mind
The bombed out places so so unkind
Lost you in the haze of hells fire
Bombs making humanity expire

I have dreams they call out as nightmares
You are running away from your fears
Amongst such destruction and horrors
A borrowed bicycle your only escape

Yet here I am, and you know not the truth
I am alive, and running, just as you
Through the ruins of this city so destroyed
I am chasing you, and screaming, stop my love

Stop, arête no more need to run
The enemies and nightmares ran out of guns
That day when the sky rained barrels and bombs
Wounded, I survived, our love kept me alive

In the deepest of dreams, I hear your screams
Love please know soon, we will be in the sun eating ice-cream
I will never stop my endless pursuit
Of finding you my love, my wife, my meaning of this strife

I shall find your hideout in the depths of hells fears
We two shall resuscitate our hearts, humanities fools
For all the terror, the war and hate
One day me and you shall smile at lovers garden gates

My blood is yours, my veins joined to your soul
No soldier shall stop us, from our hopes and loves ultimate goal
When I sit caressing your hair in the shelter of hidden despair
The hideout no longer needed

Us lovers, together, finally in gods sun and the fresh air


Dedicated to all the innocent victims of the horrors in Syria

I would like to thank a fellow poet, for her support, encouragement and exchanging of ideas, Casarah Nance. I was discussing how often music inspires my writing, and was sharing some favorite songs with her, when this idea came up.

At the same time, tonight we had a workshop on www.baffn.biz  #Poetry room, and I would like to also thank Tim, Casarah, Jan, Maverick, Halil, Samantha, Armand, Keith and Joe for the wonderful comments and suggestions. Great to see poets encouraging other poets. That’s how it should be!

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme |

Plockton - Wester Ross

The greatest holiday gift I ever received  
Goes back so many, many years
Before my life became turmoiled
And before my tears for fears

I was a child like many out there
Torn, strewn and split of kin
Mother and father in differences
Confused at seven, wearing their same skin

For I was one of the lucky ones
To a Highland Estate I would go
It's on the west coast of Scotland
Where my holidays desired me so

Secretly I internally smiled
For a whisper of where I was heading
To live with a movie star hero
No longer my life was in dreading

We were picked up by a man so fine
His manners were an absolute joy
Regimental he was in his approach
To me, just a seven year old boy

We travelled through the village of Plockton
Crystal clear waters edged to it's shore
I knew from this very moment
Being here ebbed previous family sores

On entering his house I was in awe
Movie pictures came to my view
They were images of James Bond
At seven I was totally through

A voice called to me
Hey James! sit down and I'll tell you me
Still in circles in walking awe
This is what he told thee

My name is Patrick Dalzel Job
In the Second World War I served
But this recognition I bestow
Humbles me to it's deserve

This honour that's been given
Was blessed by a colleague in war
What desired Ian Fleming to be so striven
Possibly, what we were fighting for

We served on the same destroyer
Fighting to make the future free
His tribute, in his novels I became
James Bond, it's incredibly me





Not many seven year olds have stayed with James Bond.
This seven year old Scot's boy has, maybe I learnt?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Patrick_Dalzel-Job

Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2012

Details | Choka |

FREEDOM IN THE ARENA




hot is the noon sun melting flowers in the mud… arena cheers for raw blood I glare at my foe his dagger raking bruised knee …weight of life upon my shield fierce blow cracks his neck rudis pressed on stained chain mail… breath smelling of freedom’s prize audience casts flowers thumbs hunger for next combat more slaves to kill… but not me. © *rudis---when a gladiator is set free as a slave after a bout, he is given a wooden sword, named rudis. For Amy Green’s Choka for Chokehold By nette onclaud

Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2012

Details | Couplet |

Peer Pressure of the Worst

Peer pressure of the worst no matter who they are
They can be a boy or girl that they believe to become martyr's

Strapped to these young souls, is something they just don't understand
Yet the cowards who persuade them to miss, becoming a woman or a man

What, where, why or when, does this quest justify it's means
For it arises in the warped depraved, in twisted confused dreams

For in this book that they all crave about, this they cannot do
It's against their religion to request the suicide of you

For all their Cleric's whom they are, they sit and witness so
Not one has ever spoken out, to stop this exploding blow

Why is this I ask myself, for they fear the bullet of a gun
Because it's easier to suppress their young, terrorism has again begun









http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war-8.php

Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2011

Details | Free verse |

Cloud Weavers

Little child
Your tiny hands hold a little flower
Delicately, you start weaving a story about peace
In your gentleness, you understand how happiness works
It is the sanctuary of warm softness in the heart
Free of all clouds and stormy weather
 
Little feet
You walk on soft white sand
Eagerly, you pull yourself up after each fall
In your curiosity, you discover what makes you happy
It is the freedom of making your own choices
Unconstrained by necessity or fate
 
Little heart
You embrace everyone without judging
Innocently, you follow the impulse of your instinct
In your imagination, you build the foundation of harmony
It is the pillar of mutual acceptance
Co-existing with different beliefs
 
Now, a grown young man
Your hands are no longer soft and delicate
In your journey, you learn how betrayal works
Painfully, you slip and fall each time
It is the feeling of deep hurt in the heart
That pushes you forward
 
Now, a capable man
You walk on a long winding path
In your trial and error, you finally grasp the true nature of humans
Disappointedly, you sigh at the people who create war
And those who instill hatred in today's youth
It is the sense of rightness that moves you
 
Now, a man of experience
You let your thoughts flow upon paper
Dipped in the ink of blood, words continue to flourish
Seamlessly, you integrate your enchanting imagery
With the blessings of God's living water
You paint a ladder of inspirations reaching the horizons
 
Seeds of the new generation
They are dreaming of a better future
Far from the opening chambers of blind heartaches
Those who drowned in the darkness of their moonshine spirits
Burning sinners and hypocrites
Drunken smartass slurring in a poetic oxymoron slang
 
Evil minds
Your eyes grin when you take away lives
It is the cold heartless stare that you exude
Until your victims' breaths leave their bodies
The demons in you rejoice in your attachment to them
Your souls are no longer your own
 
Unfilled vessels
The windows of your souls are sealed off
You have fenced yourself in to keep out the goodness
Spitting in Love's face, you bow to your Demon God
It is the hatred that you cling onto
When you weave long threads of recorded bad memories
 
Unforgiving gale
It approaches with a full force
Floors tremble and vibrate
When the houses break, it will be swift and inevitable
It is an unstoppable vortex of good and evil
A battle of hurling vile obscenities
 
Demon possessed
You will curse everything holy swearing lies
Sweet talking arrogance with no bounds
Under a thousand points of light
So blind becomes the beggars vision of a predator
Rattling through the cages of time
 
Death holds a beating pulse
Harsher than physical wounds exposed
Pain burns the poker scorching hot inside empty skulls
They curl their tongues in mockery of life
Cultivating a culture of takers and pranksters
Givers are now doomed and deemed foolish
 
Where do we go from here?
Stuck in past mindsets, the old must find a way
To break the mold and make peace
The young and new blood should never give up
On peaceful tolerance and forgiving love
Let bygones be bygones, start now with peace

a co write by liam mc daid and Angeline Lim

Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2017

Details | Couplet |

Civil War

This evening I listen to a Rock 'n' Roll band
Their track is Civil War, as our world now expands

To us it's the same size but to others they despise
For the want of greed exists in their killer hungry eyes

Where do I start, to say of their evil spread
A different starvation leaving the world in evil dread

It's not our today's but our yesterdays years
That our history tells us, of our everlasting torn tears

Cambodia, the Lebannon, and Sri Lanka's Indian sun
Rebels who demand better at the end of a gun

Guaetamala and Peru with their Shining Path
Villagers in terror decrying it's ever last

Democracy is our power in it's controllable exist
Like the Shining above, how long will our future paths persist

Recent news in the Arabic World, has taken tyrants by surprise
For decades they have stolen with their torturing infidel lies  

I could go deeper and deeper to describe these evils acts
In wanton blood spillage, to increase civil war torn facts

For this is the world we live in, it appears we determine to live
Maybe in our lifetime it will be on our doorstep, we open, our lives will sieve










http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war-8.php


Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2011

Details | Rhyme |

Lakota

I'm very small
I am called Standing Tall
My story to be read as i live through it all.

Our Dakota lands are forest and vast
Where our ancestors have hunted
From long in the past.

Our tribes are, a confederation of seven
With our language of Lakota, Sioux heaven
We stand proud as we remember our past
And look to our gods, to make it all last.

A silhouette on the prairie hill i see
This shape in the distance is new to me
As we sleep in the night, we hear guns and blows
We arise from our camp, to look for the noise
We creep on the prairie to their surprise
Under the moon, where the land would flow
No longer the Buffalo.

We mount our ponies to challenge these men
What gives them this right to kill and maim
Bodies of beasts, furs cut away
Missing heads, a ghastly slay.

On reaching their camp our bows stretched
Arrows screech, hit the wretched
Watch them fall to the prarie floor
Just like the Buffalo did hours before.

Years have passed as we are moved from our lands
These poisonous men, and their poisonous glands
Bringing illness fever and strife
Ending many a Lakota life.

We reach a point in History
Which made the white man sit up and see
Their Golden Child General George Custer
And the Little Big Horn, my what a disaster.

Arapaho, Cheyenne and us Lakota too
Sliced the Blue Jackets, their Scouts too
The US Cavalry would have their glee
At the Battle Of Wounded Knee
Where Siiting Bull would finally rest
Standing Tall's story last's the test
If we Indians had the same resources
Like the silhouette on the hill
These praries we always had. would be ours still.


http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/native-americans.php

Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |

Wounded Warrior

For the torn,
for the meek.
Toward the storm,
toward the beast.

For the scorned,
for the weak.
Wounded warriors,
for the free.

In the dirt,
make my bed.
Firefight,
overhead.

Live on hope,
consume hate.
Rusted spoon,
rusted plate.

On this stage,
in my role.
Home one day,
never whole.

For this goal,
in the name.
Different soul,
though the same.

Take my life,
use it well.
Build your heaven,
on my hell.

Don't you cry,
I'll always be.
Wounded warrior,
for the free.

Copyright © David Dowling | Year Posted 2010