I have listened to,your stories
Heard your talk on Human Rights
It’s warmed the cockles of my heart
On many a Bastion night.
The next time I come across,
And I know I surely will
The indiscriminate victim
Of a Taliban kill
I won’t get upset
Or have any sleepless nights
I’ll know the Tali did it in defence
Of his version of Human Rights
And when we leave this country
After years of combat and bravery
And the Afghani woman are
Returned to their Burkha’d slavery
And ISIS cross the channel
Because our security is so bad
And unleashed chaos on the streets
In pursuit of their Jihad
And they demand Sharia law
In my native England
I’ll try to stay calm
And try to understand
And I won’t get upset
And try not to hate
Those religious fanatics with views
Five hundred years out of date
For I have listened to your story
Heard you speak of Human Rights
It’s warmed the cockles of my heart
On many a Bastion night,
Written sone years ago, but the repression goes on with women being denied education and treated like chattels/
A three-year-old lies in the dust naked and hungry
While a civil war rages around him in Ethiopia
An Afghani teenager lives every day with terror--
Her future more tenuous than the government
In parts of the world where to be different means
Born into inevitable hopelessness, fear, and death
Many of the world’s children orphaned by Covid
Childhood for them will never be like we knew
Free of terror, churning hunger, ravaging disease
A childhood of fun and frolic, schooling, each new
Day promising new adventures under a parental lid
Born in America we never worried for our next breath
Never surrounded with war’s devastating scenes
Never really wondering what our existence meant
Whether our being was some kind of divine error
No, fact is, most of us live in a comparative utopia
And if we understand their situation, we must agree
written October 30, 2021
[a poem written in my reverse
rhyming style]
Afghanistan is a country at war.
We fought by their side for 20 years
To keep the Taliban from
Destroying families, destroying lives.
We taught them to be independent;
We taught them to fight for their country.
After 20 years of fighting, it came time for us
To retreat and let them fight for what’s theirs.
Things may have been different,
But Trump decided to let thousands
Of Taliban, ready to go back and fight,
Free from captivity that kept the Afghani people safe.
Because of lack of a clear vision of the future,
Or perhaps because Trump didn’t care,
Our troops are retreating; our citizens are retreating;
Everyone but the Taliban is retreating.
Why did we cage the tiger to save our friends
And then let the tiger free
To kill and mame
As we fled to safety?
It is a no-win situation.
Twenty years is more than enough;
Enough lives lost, enough money spent.
Things could have been different,
But because of politics, it was all for naught.
AmazinG courageous heroes, Rangers, Seals and Delta Force of AmericA
Militarily defending freedom and liberty against radical, jihad terrorisM
Around the world defeating all evil men with an Anti - American agendA
Zemzem flows from Mecca the oasis for good & evil, all the way to SueZ
Israeli support is given for Hebrew hate in Syria, Iran, Iraq and AfghanI
Navy Seals #6 killed Usama, Anglicos got Saddam out of hole he was iN
Guardians & defenders of all men everywhere, they are simply AmazinG
Amazing Acrostic shadow style with "Amazing" the first word and the last word
A tribute to America's Special Forces
Ha! Ha! The first letter’s the last,
Like the zinnia, the zho, the zufolo, the zoo of animals, the zebra of Sahara, or the zeal of youth.
The second letter’s the first,
Like the Kashmiri apple, the Turkish apricot or the almond of Badam-waar
The third letter’s the second,
Like the beasts in the Lidder-forests, beer of Afghani grapes, beads of rosary, bed of dreams or bell of South-Indian temple.
The fourth letter’s the fifth,
Like the eyeball of eagle, ear of rabbit, emerald grasses of Gulmarg, evening of mid-summer or in autumns’ nights—enlightened streets of Srinagar.
The fifth letter’s the fourth,
Like the duck in Dal-lake, dog of my street, den of Himalayan lion, deer of Danchigam, the drama of life, the drink of heavens, dying of a saint, the door of heavens or the desire of my heart.
The sixth letter’s the first, and not nothing like the second!
Oh! As plain as this art in my verse or as obscure as that art in thy beau.