Before the guns and bombs were made
the clubs and fists were swung
names for numbers now we trade
the senseless turned all numb
crumbled blocks broken down
create, destroy, rebuild
a three ringed circus paints a town
the crop gives up its yield
when fields demark a hospital
operations carry hope
what's kept for some is lost for all
descent, a slippery slope
the yoke is held on common ground
the round encasement smoked
logic is stuck on what was found
when starched and staunch men spoke
to quote with quaint eloquence
will mask whose fate was sealed
an absence of benevolence
when truths have been revealed.
America rewards Putin for naked aggression
excludes Zelensky from negotiating sessions
Trump now says Ukraine started the war
a boldface lie the world will pay dearly for
Europe’s poised to fall again
thanks to a modern Neville Chamberlin
I am pouring aggressive tea into cup for drink
Don't stare! I am really gonna drink
Fun fact is, I do not like flower's beds
They give environment a pleasant scent
Why these fearing face you are showing
Cause of you my happiness are ruined
Consumption of aggression is my right
What do you think I'll show you a torturing sight
Aggression is my personal taste
You don't worry, you can go away
I ain't hurt any of you
I just want you show, what are conditions of mine
I am pouring aggressive tea into cup for drink
Don't stare! I am really gonna drink
Fun fact is, I do not like flower's beds
They give environment a pleasant scent
Why these fearing face you are showing
Cause of you my happiness are ruined
Consumption of aggression is my right
What do you think I'll show you a torturing sight
Aggression is my personal taste
You don't worry, you can go away
I ain't hurt any of you
I just want you show, what are conditions of mine
Growing old and forgetful, her mind betrayed,
Barbara, once gentle, now a tempest's rage,
Alzheimer's cruel grasp, a storm unchained,
Innocence lost, memories on a fading page.
Her eyes once filled with love, now distant, wild,
A caregiver's heart, with patience, reconciled,
But as she battles demons, lost in her despair,
I'll shield her from the storm, though it's hard to bear.
Through every violent tempest, I'll remain,
A lighthouse in the night, a steadfast chain,
For in her darkest moments, love's my creed,
Alzheimer's can't extinguish the love we need.
Though storms may rage and test our every turn,
In this battle, love's the lesson we must learn.
snakes uncoil...
ready to strike
before
rattling their tails.
flames of rage crackle;
white-hot on
highway.
two drivers
hissing,
exchanging
invectives
madness reigns supreme!
game of Russian roulette
played...
with lives on the road.
Writing Challenge - Yalto Form - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
Date: 12/03/2022
The big bully of the civilised world the Russian Federation
Launched a barrage of missiles today hitting a NATO nation
Two innocent people lost their lives in the country of Poland
It's time for the west and NATO, to man up and make a stand.
Intentional or not the west and NATO, they should not ignore
Or we going to accept it was accidental until they fire more
Russia will no doubt blame Ukraine, that's the story they'll tell
The west now needs to send Putin a message and unleash hell.
Vladimir Putin the aggressor started, this war in Ukraine
Its now time to stand to him and inflict on him great pain
You cannot reason with a terrorist country and that is a fact
No more pussyfooting around ,NATO and the west needs to act.
From day one that psychopath has been spoiling for a fight
He now needs to be shown the power of NATO's military might
Putins ageing equipment from World war 2 is no match for the west
Its now time to put our firepower, and highly trained armies to the test.
Written on 15th November 2022
It's about love, is abhorred aggression in literature
Keep within due limits words' compassion in literature
It should feel like real even if it is mere a fiction
Never give an unnatural impression in literature
What will you write when your heart is sleeping in dark jungles
Always those rise who for sights have passion in literature
Never try to write if you support social injustice
You'll speak the truth, make this confession in literature
You are not the only one worthy of being described
Everything in world should find expression in literature
Make rational future plans but never forget your past
Do you know what's progressive regression in literature?
August 30, 2022
I don't care what she had to say.
Secretly, we weren't friends anyway.
We stand on the brink of a savage day
Astounded by the onslaught of fighting
In Ukraine, a beautiful land, so far away
Where the fires of cannon are igniting
Flames of hatred, fear, and mistrust
As the free world stands by in horror,
While a dictator satisfies his greedy lust
Like a modern-day reincarnated Fuhrer.
The best course of action seems hazy
But we’re told everything is on the table
To send American troops seems crazy,
Still, we must respond as we are able.
Perhaps warning of the long-term effect
This incursion upon innocents warrants,
We can, hopefully, impress upon the tyrant
We will punish his disregard for respect.
It seems a small, insignificant response
But we have the power to cripple his might
Let him not take what appears nonchalance,
For his nation will suffer a crippling plight --
Ostracized by all peace-loving nations,
Strapped for needed materiel resources,
Unable to trade for the necessary rations
Essentially embargoed from available sources.
written February 26, 2022
new straw did appear
fix up lawn for new year
glad it will be here
presumed possession
confession of obsession
with much aggression
was a mind bender
always has been big spender
done by each gender
presumed promiscuous
we knew was ambiguous
also prestigious
another agent
was highly intelligent
which is prevalent
in every essence
she (he) would need conval
The late night sleep,
Spent my days with the phone in my hand,
And a pair of speakers in my ears
Doesn't defines me.
All day with phone in my hands,
Songs played from the list and,
The energy I receive,
That defines me.
The words I speak,
With the aggression people give,
For a minute or more,
Doesn't defines me.
The aggression people give,
The way I act as them around me,
The way I love,
That defines me.
The way I roam,
With no wants of my own,
But the responsibilities I carry,
Doesn't defines me.
With wants of my own,
Not careless but carefree,
The satisfaction shown,
That defines me.
The person people choose,
Me to be,
The way they take me,
As granted or luck,
Doesn't defines me.
The way I take them,
Eyes of hater,
Or the ships to take care ignoring how tough
That defines me.
I assume that my limerick obsession
has to do with aggression repression.
I compose and compose,
and I never repose.
This prevents my aggression’s expression.
When we’re off to a war, we are full of elation.
But that feeling is subject to rising deflation.
Once we’ve lived through privation
and have prayed for salvation,
we are left with vexation, frustration, stagnation.
1. Stay low,
2. Strike a blow,
3. And go with flow.
Or wake up on the bench
With that ammonia stench.
"How many fingers do you see?
What do you do on 50-Slant-C?"
"He remembers the plays again.
He's okay to go back in-
Just an elbow to the chin."
1. Stay low,
2. Strike a blow,
3. And return that elbow
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