Best Armaments Poems
I cannot presume
To tell anyone
What a warrior is.
Nor do I claim
To embody any
Of his qualities.
All I offer here
Is a collection
Of impressions
Or meditations.
A warrior is
A state of being;
Armaments
Are mere props.
The only weapon
He might possess
Is implacable resolve
In the face of
Extreme adversity.
A warrior's language
Or internal dialogue
Has no allowance
For the phrase,
"I can't."
All the same,
He discriminates
Between causes
That are just and
Those that are not.
He determines the
Character, as well as
The time and place
Of his battles,
Investing himself utterly.
And he remains
Ever prepared
For those who would
Bring their battles
To him.
Yet a warrior meets life
On its own terms
With no delusions
Of bending it
To his own will.
Self-pity is a
Useless indulgence,
Yet he has compassion
For the weak; he never
Places himself above
Others, for how can he?
All this being said,
And human nature
Being what it is,
His greatest enemy
May yet be none other
Than himself.
Categories:
armaments, conflict, courage, hero, inspirational,
Form:
Free verse
I know the land where the lemon trees flower,
where we made love not war, we had flower power,
casual clothes, had an occasional shower
we loved nature, youth of the human race
old generations thought we were a big disgrace,
was our generation, our time to live
a time of change, to forget, to forgive
expressing our love, peace, we were hippies
we were loving children of the sixties,
supporters of peace, all armaments we opposed
protectors of all natures assets, unexposed
end all wars, live and let live was all we proposed,
to live in the land where the lemon trees flower,
land of the free, where every hour was happy hour,
was our generation, our time to live
a time of change, to forget, to forgive
expressing our love, peace, we were hippies
we were loving children of the sixties,
Unfortunately our decade came to an end
our message of love, peace they did not comprehend
into turmoil, darkness and hatred did descend
our wonderful land where those lemon trees flower
is alive in our minds, we will never cower,
was our generation our time to live
a time of change, to forget, to forgive
expressing our love, peace, we were hippies
we were loving children of the sixties.
7/16/2018
Categories:
armaments, age, conflict, confusion, desire,
Form:
Lyric
Recall the midwife
To the cenotaph
War is over
For now at least
Nothing but poppy petal buttercup remain
in tact to blow away this coming eve
Or grow from flounder's red sodden field
To flutter on a chasten solar breeze
Up and up so only downward grave
can see
So pray the world outside relent drunken
on the floral scent
Sprayed by white tailed doves formation
flying overhead
Signaling in semaphore
Death is dead once more
We've little left to fill a casket
Apart from surplus faulty armaments
Scattered across the length and breadth
of no man's lands
To carry these giant's home
To mother's
Wishing they we're never born
Or had a daughter instead
Amen
Categories:
armaments, love, slam, war,
Form:
Free verse
What a misbegotten soul am I, to be lost upon isolation’s paradise,
Marooned on desolation’s tropical island of plenty, except for
Human championship, humanities driftwood a captured cast
Away, from civilization’s socialization, thus I’m alone survivor
Of life’s shipwreck!
Collisions hardship volunteer trapped, upon the coral reef
Beyond stresses everyday reality, rocked by the sounding
Stormy seas here I’ve lain anchor, as the swift currents
Undertow heaved at my chains of living cutting at them,
Biting at them, until the metal broke apart, leaving me here
Stranded, naked and afraid!
Hail winds torrent clouds tare at my towering sails, breaching
The structure of my humble world of complacency, until nothing
Remained solvable, but a small piece of mine own dignities
Silvery pine beam, at the break waters merciful edge of
Existence I’m so dashed against the rocks of mine own
Oblivion!
In these dangerous waters treading I swim without
Life preserves protection, amongst me others are
Screaming, drowning beneath the crushing waves
Thrashing, I reach outwardly for these lost souls,
Yet they seamlessly slip away, on the tidal rips
Slanted curve!
Awakening from this living portrayed of a nightmare,
I cling to the dream of an off shore utopia, yet in
Poverty’s deficiency’s my iron clad shackles remain
As retrains locking bars, and left in tarots armaments
I know this is my only lot in life to bare alone!
A beach comber of yesterday’s remembrance, I drift,
Watching through my badly damage telescope,
Waving in retrospect motion, hoping for rescues
Leveling hand of salvation!
What misbegotten soul am I, to be lost upon isolation’s paradise,
Marooned on desolation’s tropical island of plenty, except for
Human championship, humanities driftwood a captured cast
Away, from civilization’s socialization, thus I’m alone survivor
Of life’s shipwreck!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Categories:
armaments, adventure, conflict, emotions, fantasy,
Form:
Free verse
DURAN KORAN
Banners blow while a silken flag waves
Both signifying a country gone awry
Men dig ever more six foot deep graves
As I stand aside and wonder why
American flags must surely be costly
What with all that red, white and blue material
While the deaths of countless soldiers seems immaterial to the Commander In Chief
Who seems chiefly unconcerned about supplying armor for vehicles who drive directly into harm’s way
Occupied by occupants who occasionally incur the horrors that too often occur
While their vision becomes a blur from the sand and significant insanity in a land of lamentable leaders bent on brutality
As I become buried ever deeper in regret Bemoaning every unnecessary casualty of a war wrought and fought in futility
As corpses continue to constitute the inconsistency of combat
Like Corporal Carl Conway who died trying to liberate a country inhabited by an alliance who owe their allegiance to Allah
And believe in what might as well be a cookbook they call the Koran
Man, they may as well adhere to the doctrine of Duran Duran
So I have a superlative idea indeed
Take all the silk they use for the red, white and blue
And instead of causing casualties of war to bleed
Sell the silk for armor and armaments our heroes are so aptly due
© 2013 copyright…..~free cee!~
Categories:
armaments, angst, war, war,
Form:
Free verse
If I had the chance to place a quarter on the dollar
I would just stand by and just wait and watch just to see you holler
Your bold your face full of contend and disgrace
Now you starch your head and wait for anticipation
Rise up young soldier rise up and bear arms
Stand tall rise to the restitutions
Calico rise and mount up to the cause
Often quiet often wrong
Strip yourself of the skins you bear
The heathenistic armaments of despair
I watch, I wait, I shudder yet still I ache
Like a rotten body discarded enact fallen off a mountain floating in the lake
Entreat yourselves to a cup of honor
Release the self-pity lay down the drama
Calico rise and mount up to the cause
Often quiet often wrong
Strip yourself of the skins you bear
The heathenistic armaments of despair
These young folks act like they don't even care
But better be careful, better beware live long enough you'll be here
Rise up young soldier rise up and bear arms
I shout you wake
I holler you speak
I yell you take the promises we keep
Strip off skins you bear
The tattoos and markings of covering of your hair
Standing tall against the new malignant
Often quiet, often wrong
Entreat ourselves to a cup of honor
release the self-pity lay down the drama
Stop your belly aching for I tell your mama
Calico rise and munt up the cause
Rise up young soldier rise up and bear arms
08/06/15
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
Categories:
armaments, analogy, caregiving, destiny, engagement,
Form:
Free verse
Each new day begins with a sunrise.
As the night gives way to the light, the sun slowly rises.
As you watch a new day begin, you see a greyish glow.
Then daylight overcomes the darkness the new day begins slow.
It starts with the chirping of the birds.
They can be heard signifying a beginning their small voices heard.
By the clouds or the clean air you can virtually tell the weather,
Either a picturesque new day, or cloudy with rain. This day could be the last day of forever.
The Lord tells "Us." that tomorrow is not promised.
So in faith, this could be the new day our Lord comes for His kids.
Being watchful, being vigil, we pray for His blessings for this earthly world.
Knowing not His return we pray today is the day, maybe this glorious day is God's way, as His plan is about to unfurl.
Across the earth sadness, hate, envy, greed is predominate.
Why? because the evil one, the devil, is hate incarnate.
His hate for all that is good His hate for the "Word."
His time is short so as many as he can corupt the better, He knows it's the eve of our Lord.
One hundred years ago circa 1913, we didn't have the means to destroy all.
Today, drones, diseases, nuclear bombs, famines, droughts, are predominant and hate is his rallying call.
As the birds sing of the new day we as carnal man must look to God for salvation.
Or else we shall all perish, the evil one wins, and he'll destroy all nations.
Proof? Well look to your Holy Bible it's all there.
Circa 1913, we couldn't field 200 million men for war.
Today, armaments, destructive devices, mans obsession with killing, we are doomed.
Without God's "Word." with His intervention, we are doomed to destroy all living things, we have a destoyed faithless way to gloom.
Categories:
armaments, devotion, faith, day, hate,
Form:
Rhyme
*Holly (Vault Dweller)*
Hey bartender,
Who's that girl over there,
The one nursing the whiskey in the corner,
She has that press hat one that makes her look...strangely debonair.
*Bartender*
That'll be our little Ms. Piper Wright,
She runs the local paper,
Spends all day looking for a story then types the rest of the night,
Bit standoffish at first but quite the looker.
*Holly*
Hahah I'll say,
Just look at that red trench-coat and suit,
And that piercing stare,
Comes off tart as a mutfruit,
But it just bounces right off her wavy hair,
And goooosssh those lips,
Their silky sheen betrays the steel of her gun,
Dangling from her buxom hips,
Armed with an unabashed tongue,
Clearly her deadliest weapon,
Complimenting her feisty spirit perfectly preserved in an hourglass figure both fair and young,
Fully stocked with an arsenal of wisecracks, worthy armaments for free speech's most sensuous bastion,
Avid journalistic endeavors personify her inquisitive nature,
Reporting the most controversial conspiracy or the latest Publick Occurrences,
With jaw-dropping headlines fueled by her insatiable determination not even the mayor can escape her snooping typewriter,
How this vixen has eluded both the aging of time and voraciousness of lovers is beyond me,
And I think I'm allllmost drunk enough to go over and talk to her,
Should only take me another couple of rounds before I'll have the guts to...ah who am I kidding,
I'm over 200 years old there's no way she'd ever go for a pre-war relic regardless of who well preserved.
*Bartender*
News flash buddy, she's single,
Read today's headlines and you might find the subtle hints,
Listen to her playful comments of life and lust weaved in-between the innocuous babble,
The words may take their place in the articles but her true message is hidden underneath the paper's yellow tint,
She's young and lookin for love just the rest of us here in the Wasteland,
So what've you got to loose hotshot go get her,
Or do you need another round on the house give you the upper hand?
*Holly*
Well damnit bartender one more round it is,
If you don't from her till morning it'll be one of two things,
Either I've been utterly rejected and lying in a ditch,
Or I'll be too busy ignoring the world trying to make her mine.
Categories:
armaments, crush, drink, girl,
Form:
Rhyme
or A COFFER OR A COFFIN
“Rage on,” my friend said unto me
“Guard what’s yours with urgency
For walls can be scaled by scoundrels and enter your domain
So keep a steady eye on what treasures you were blessed to own
Small trinkets of gold or a large diamond ring
never allow a stranger to lodge with you or accept that which he may bring
Lest your coffer be missing when sister sun shines in a criminal’s eyes
Be wise and wizened by wisdom wrought of rightful indignation
And let no man diminish you nor cause ye somewhere to surrepticiusly hide
Avoiid not the fact for every man to know where you alone can be found
with armaments for destruction, devastation and all out war be yours
Allow the will of your castle never to be denied
As you hide not the pride you feel inside
And grow greater from all the grief
Stand stagnant ready to be relegated to belief
The fact that no man is unable to protect himself
if be he armed with confidence
The necessary weapon that will bring his enemies down
And the conviction akin to the rosacution seen within his glare
With a countenance of strength
For you were birthed, born, made, created, and molded by the steady hand of the
overlord of our universe
So suffer no man’s ill will nor any fruitless curse
And as unfolds your destiny decided long ago
No matter what the masses may say
I say, Rage on my friend
Because to you I might seem very kind
But turn your back on my shadow
and I’ll rob your f******g castle blind
(2011.….Poefree
Categories:
armaments, visionarymay, universe,
Form:
The varnish cracks and peels away,
and little eruptions from below the surface
suppurates before us the underlying truth:
An animal awaits...nine meals from anarchy.
Deadlier than any other living thing,
prepared to kill anyone,
even its own kind.
No other creature sets a lower bar.
Surely the wonder of Nature never foresaw this.
Linguistic casualties:
integrity; heroism; courage; sacrifice and love,
for such things sit uneasily with weaponry.
The words of a leader
reverberate in our minds:
"God is on our side:
the enemy is the lowest form of life,
its armaments and behaviour
horrendous in the extreme."
Yet he desires more from his own productions lines
and urges his people to a glorious
victory.
Dignity, goodness, sensitivity,
and empathy,
the basic decency of many human beings,
nine meals from anarchy,
and 'Mental Cases'.
Easy prey.
So does even the shame, the regret,
that searing, the scarred memories;
the tears, the guilt, and the fear,
fall upon the consciences of the good?
To suffer the rest of your life,
an innocent.
Euphemisms, and stirring myths, and lies,
encircle the globe,
like mental fall-out,
nine meals from anarchy.
The protective layers of pretence and language,
unfold and peeled back,
until,
naked,
everyone is enemy?
Categories:
armaments, fear, hate, life, mental
Form:
Free verse
or A COFFER OR A COFFIN
“Rage on,” my friend said unto me
“Guard what’s yours with urgency
For walls can be scaled by scoundrels and enter your domain
So keep a steady eye on what treasures you were blessed to own
Small trinkets of gold or a large diamond ring
never allow a stranger to lodge with you or accept that which he may bring
Lest your coffer be missing when sister sun shines in a criminal’s eyes
Be wise and wizened by wisdom wrought of rightful indignation
And let no man diminish you nor cause ye somewhere to surrepticiusly hide
Avoiid not the fact for every man to know where you alone can be found
with armaments for destruction, devastation and all out war be yours
Allow the will of your castle never to be denied
As you hide not the pride you feel inside
And grow greater from all the grief
Stand stagnant ready to be relegated to belief
The fact that no man is unable to protect himself
if be he armed with confidence
The necessary weapon that will bring his enemies down
And the conviction akin to the rosacution seen within his glare
With a countenance of strength
For you were birthed, born, made, created, and molded by the steady hand of the
overlord of our universe
So suffer no man’s ill will nor any fruitless curse
And as unfolds your destiny decided long ago
No matter what the masses may say
I say, Rage on my friend
Because to you I might seem very kind
But turn your back on my shadow
and I’ll rob your f******g castle blind
(2011.….Poefree
Categories:
armaments, visionarymay, universe,
Form:
Where are our young people now
Why are they not storming the gates
Perhaps they are being taught that
Ukraine's fight is not linked to their fate
Where are the defenders of freedom
Why are they not storming the gates
Perhaps they think their blood is redder
that Ukrainians' lives don’t matter…
Tens of millions should be marching on Washington
demanding to arm Ukraine with more missiles and guns
Ukraine has the skill and the will to defeat Russia and Putin
~ Just give Zelenskyy* what he needs; his men will do all the shootin’
Stop Russia now; help keep Ukraine free
Don't let Putin, allied with Xi, start World War Three
_________________________________________________________
*Volodomyr Zelenskyy, President of Ukraine, who has been lobbying for
more armaments from the US for over a month now.
Categories:
armaments, people, success, usa, war,
Form:
Rhyme
DURAN KORAN
Banners blow while a silken flag waves
Both signifying a country gone awry
Men dig ever more six foot deep graves
As I stand aside and wonder why
American flags must surely be costly
What with all that red, white and blue material
And the seamstresses sew with precision see their creations as being imperial
While the deaths of countless soldiers seems immaterial to the Commander In Chief
Who seems chiefly unconcerned about supplying armor for vehicles which drive directly into harm’s way
Occupied by occupants who occasionally incur the horrors that too often occur day by damnable day
While their vision becomes a blur from the sand and significant insanity in a land of lamentable leaders bent on brutality
And nothing that goes on there can be classified as banality
As I become buried ever deeper in regret
Bemoaning every unnecessary casualty of a war wrought and fought in futility which some choose to forget
As corpses continue to constitute the inconsistency of combat
Like Corporal Carl Conway who died trying to liberate a country inhabited by an alliance who owe their allegiance to Allah
And believe in what might as well be a cookbook they call the Koran
Man, they may as well adhere to the doctrine of Duran Duran
So I have a superlative idea indeed
Take all the silk they use for the red, white and blue
And instead of causing casualties of war to bleed
Sell the silk for armor and armaments our heroes are so aptly due
© 2012….copyright...PHREEPOETREE~free cee!~
Categories:
armaments, angst, war, war,
Form:
Rhyme
DON’T THE COUNTLESS COUNT?
What if “what if” didn’t matter at all?
What if the word “if” didn’t exist?
Would madness and sadness continued to call?
And would disdain, pain and petulance persist?
There are countless millions of people waiting to see if……….
If…. the world implicates impotence in the imposition of an implosion
And an explosion of exponential proportions
If….. children will still suffer starvation with a lack of elation
While adults liberate libation from the arms of repudiation and renunciation
Without the justification of abjuration
If…… politicians will persistently pontificate to people with platitudes and perforate their dreams with dreariness and dread
If…..The Bible continues to be a book believers were born for
And sinners in sanctimonious seclusion harbor only scorn for
If…gun metal will be melted down to make buckles for children’s shoes and no longer create ornaments of atrocious armaments
With supplemental supplication and subjugation is no longer sorrow’s creation
If……love’s loquaciousness leads to a land where lamentable liars are held liable for their lies
And become predisposed and prone to sincerity and integrity that is integral to intelligent and incisive ideology
If…..the universe will rise above a curse with the consistency of cantankerous and consternating cruelty
If…...the collective mind of mankind will conceive of conviviality and make merciless malice a triviality
If…..we will ever answer all these “ifs”
What if no one need ask if this or that will be?
What if calm champions and honest campaigns trumps over combat and war?
What if calmness finally comes to you and me,
and those countless millions who find battling a beleaguering bore?
© 2008…..free cee!
Categories:
armaments, angst, people, people, integrity,
Form:
Free verse
They suddenly barged in their tanks and trucks
Covered in various armaments of war.
Their vehicles droned, piercing the silence,
Cutting deep wounds in that fertile land,
And desecrating the once sacred ground.
Rockets flew like meteors across the skies;
Bullets sprayed from the barrels of the guns.
Some found their mark, but some strayed from their path,
Leveling all that within their reach stood
While fire, smoke, and dust turned day into night.
The cries of the wounded were all but drowned
By mortars and missiles that hissed above,
Spitting out deadly incendiaries,
Causing grand monuments to come tumbling down
And the once fruitful fields to vomit ash.
Scarcely had the blood of the slain been dried,
More bodies fell to fertilize the soil;
Some were washed, dressed, and decently buried,
But some were left to rot in shallow graves--
Unknown, unclaimed, and, oh, unmourned.
Innocent souls were expelled from their homes--
Only sanctuaries they had ever known.
Clutching the remnants of their former lives,
Forced to be crammed in dingy undergrounds,
They lived each day in constant fear of death.
Oh, how ghastly the scene that war had wrought!
How heartless must be he who does not weep
To witness such bloodshed and suffering
Of a people who just want to make a stand
And live safe and free in their borderland*!
*The name “Ukraine” likely comes from an old Slavic term for “borderland.”
March 23, 2023
Categories:
armaments, 10th grade, death, grief,
Form:
Free verse