Battleground Poems - Poems about Battleground

The checkered board, a universe contained, Sixty-four squares where destinies are feigned. A quiet battlefield, of ebony and bone, Where intellect ascends its lonely throne. The pawns advance, a humble hopeful line, Sacrificed often for a grand design. Yet in their numbers, strength and purpose lie, A voiceless promise 'neath a watchful eye. The knights leap sideways,...

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Knocking on doors, people to meet, house after house, street after street, keeping going, day after day, whatever polls or trolls might say, there's not much time for resting feet. Car park selfies, the meet and greet, sharing stickers and printed sheets, no time to waste, there’s no delay, knocking on doors. Sunshine, showers, rinse then repeat, change is never an easy feat, when the future...

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He fell as he retreated from war’s last battleground Stray bullet lodged beneath his brain ghostly whispers in the rain… Never again will rooster crow for him the morning...

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In this chaotic world, my mind finds its battleground, Gathering fragments, one by one, from all around. Memories flood in, piece by piece, Life's battles are relentless, they never cease. Within lies a darkness, trapping me in its hold, Her eyes, like a storm, fierce and bold. A calm before the tempest, they portray, Her story of pain and sorrow, day by...

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the field is given a name battles are about where they disappear the ones that walk away don't know where the hell they are after the mayhem peace...

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Hundreds of dead soldiers lay on the area of conflict while wounded ones are being carried off the field....

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The wind is howling like a massive storm inside. Can’t let it out, can’t hold it in. Yes, I am fed up but don’t know how to flush it out. Like I am entangled in the chocking ropes. I know, it’s a difficult journey, I have to deal with it. The fear is killing me, though I am sure I'll...

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Helplessness invades into my life and into my world Chaos; Disorder Helplessness invades trying to imprison you in a box of no choices :A box made of tinted glass buried under the old, dry earth without any openings but the small split above with a glimmer of light where thoughts that aren’t your own pours in: to bring destruction to your paths of decision where...

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The hurt - All encompassing and consuming. The pain - Sharp, with deadly accuracy. The fear - So deep into the core of the soul. The stress – Simply mind bending. The rage – With animalistic aggression. The anger – Always bitter and blinding. The sentence – Fragmented and senseless. The words – But a blur in the mind. The fight – Near the white flag. The hope – Shattered. ...

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