Best Bombardments Poems
I've read many accounts on that horrific war that was WWI ,it was supposed to end all wars.
It was trench warfare and men fought and died in hellish conditions.
It inspired me to write this fictional verse.
The posters said come fight with us and make your country proud
Went to town my friends and I to sign on the dotted line
I remember the scenes in town, the cheering of the crowd
They said t'will soon be over and everything will be fine.
Naive were we and believed them and everything they said
Some basic training they gave us on how to use a gun
It did not help my friends though because now they all lie dead
To us this was a big adventure, just a bit of fun.
I was assigned to B squad, trench number forty seven
And had to stand in mud so deep it came up to my knees
Soldiers had put up a sign that said ' shortcut to heaven '
After a while my skin was itching someone said it's flea's .
Night time bombardments were the worst and my ears were ringing
Often they'd strike lucky and parts of the trench would disappear
We'd try to drown out the roars with patriotic singing
In the eyes of the boys I was with you could see their fear.
Everyday bodies were brought out and placed upon a cart
As the stretcher bearers passed we'd think thank god that's not me
A gruesome sight I witnessed were those bodies blown apart
I could not help but think that from hell those souls were free .
In November ninteen eighteen the war was finally over
We cried with tears of joy, we were finally going home
After a few hours I saw them, the white cliffs of Dover
Tears rolled down my face and I vowed never again to roam.
Home for me was a struggle and it didn't seem quite real
At night I'd have bad nightmares' and I would wake up screaming
Often I'd wonder if my mental scars would ever heal
My mother she'd rush in and say " son you're only dreaming ".
It's been ten years now and the wars still raging in my head
And I often ask myself how ever did I survive
Nine friends I lost in that war and now they're forever dead
Wars are a game of chance, whether you die or stay alive.
Written 30th September 2019.
My Son Kidnapped
My story is thee only one I needed to write
one year In captivity underground me and my son
days passed by we were prevented of food & water
bombardments outside were heard, suddenly a militia ran towards my son kidnapped him to be killed running after him screaming his name I knelt to pray
Oh my God without him I will die show him the way to come back
sleeping on the floor one night I heard him call my name I knew he came
we held each other tight our tears had no end.
5/1/13
Therese Bacha
Bricks from blood, bricks from the flood of Earth's mud,
bricks of clay, turf bricks, stone bricks, flesh bricks,
all shaped, treated and wrought in the furnace of Will,
texture of brick varies by material & method like animal behavior
projected to achieve certain results,
sometimes bricks are smooth or polished
or rough & pocked,
I have cracked bricks, large and small ones,
red & brown, white, black & beige ones,
some keep strong for eons,
some flake or crumble from weathering or ineptitude
some bricks I replace, some I repair or salvage
as birds reconstruct nests
ravaged by the tumult of atmosphere,
these bricks have personality, vitality, loyalty,
my bricks do not always withstand Life's bombardments
but they do serve their purposes,
I will survive where Jerhico, Constantinople, Berlin & Hiroshima ashed,
hut & hovel I have been,
pyramid & palace too,
a bakery, butcher's shop, and Baron's bastion,
a bunker and a boarding school,
always it is me,
a shelter of creativity -
J.A.B.
The invisible war, cataclysmic bombardments of frequencies,
digital layers, decrypted upon logical analysis with ease.
The spectrum of light, manipulated by the thoughts of man,
equations designed to deliver calculated back up plans.
Through the silence of high speed bandwidths and fiber optical illusions,
your choice to connect is the assumption of your conclusions.
Underground cables, run deep under the sea floor,
transferring ones and zeros faster than anyone has told you before.
Take a piece here and take a piece there, add up the analysis,
invisible implementations can cause visible paralysis.
Encrypted ciphers, kept under lock and key,
don’t look at them as they are, but as they could be.
Sixty-four, one twenty eight, two fifty six, and one thousand twenty four,
we can only learn what they tell us after the cyber war.
Life will go on, the digital Gods will need it,
that is exactly how it goes, the cyber war secret.
We live in strange times, my brother
men make money
with war dances
and occupation...
Do you not see the bombardments
and the pillaging?
Under the boot
you are worn out,
these days
the sweat of your brow
no longer serves you!
Tanks come from distant lands
passing down your streets
demanding to know
why you were born!
And you can say nothing.
Soon, if this continues,
it will be the course of progress
to be denied learning.
One speaks of the rights of man
here and there.
Do not believe those rumors!
You see that nothing is in place now!
We live in strange times my brother,
arms dealing,
construction
governing the land.
Is it so difficult to understand?
They sell the merchandise of war!
Come listen to my counsel.
Don't marry, it is unsupportable
to suffer the massacre of your children.
The success of your affairs depends
on producing fictitious enemies
to menace...
In this manner
they take over small countries
one after the other
under the pretext of saving them.
While you fight amongst yourselves
others consume your underground resources.
What should I tell you;
do these times plant sorrow
in your hearts?
Be a little understanding!
Increase the number of fratricidal wars,
divide your people further
to make the lives of the invaders easier.
Do not forget that to destroy love
requires only this:
Live in a society without love
and don't educate anyone...
Live in the clarity of obscurity,
depend only on yourself!
The sun rises and sets on time...
the throats of cocks are cut
that sing before the hour!
We live in strange times my brother,
men make money with war dances
and occupation...
Do you not see the bombardments
and the pillaging?
By Uzeyir Lokman CAYCI
Paris - 17.03.2003
Traduit par by Yakup YURT en français
French free verse translated into English free verse
by Joneve McCormick - 2003
the moon’s sunny teeth
greeting
the elder’s
receding feet –
just on the thresh-hold
of the god’s bolted
wheels
our laughters shall out-wit
the crocodile weeping
over crude bombardments –
for blood –
o, blood! our kins’
blood must flows?
and whole clans
must dance naked
into some sudden eternity?
the priest
and the maidens
go afloat –
o, they go afloat
this niger’s torrent!
they go afloat
bearing their wearisome
oblations
in vain appeasement
of returning angels.
Men and boys answered the call
Some returned home, others did fall
Young volunteers' thought an adventure it would be
Older ones joined up to defend their country.
Constant bombardments' all night and all day
No place to hide, they just had to stay
Stuck in the trenches with mud knee deep
Explosion's and gunfire, no chance could they sleep.
Some were injured and they sent them away
Others not so lucky and they died that day
Conditions were atrocious, with fire and rain
With disease and vermin adding to their pain.
Freedom they bought us but paid a heavy price
And they'd do it again, they wouldn't think twice
But we live in a land now that's happy and free
And we remember the sacrifice they gave for their country.
Something is coming in my mind now.
I think about the destruction of Iraq
And some iraqis Innocently
by some arrogant politicians
who could not find
weapons of mass destruction
which they suspected in that country
And they could not think to repair the lives
And a lot of things destroyed in the wars
Which they created.
The state president was hanged publicly
Because of some lies and jealous of his
few colleagues who hate the development of others
Some iraqis took refuge to where their problems
came from to heal and prepare future revenges.
they are silently angered like bombs
which are ready to explode soon.
Now, they have some good positions
in the governments of these countries
waiting for the days to start some bombardments.
As some people don't want to destroy injustice
in the World at this early moment...
Will they stand some attacks from inside
and outside?
Answer is " no
and no."
The more some oppressors continue oppressions,
The more victims infiltrating among them
to hit their heads
seriously.
It will be late to fixe the problems
When some people will start singing ,
the first shall be the last
and the last shall be the first."
This is not a prophecy
But It is a reality.
Some big thinkers
Can think of it daily.
It is an open alarm
That sounds loudly.
July 5th 2023
I have a secret hidden vault
With weapons that can assault
Anybody who won't learn
If you try to hurt and turn
Hearts into sad painful things
I'll go postal and will bring
You worse sorrow than you dish out
Cause my life is all about
Making sure there's no neglect
From the world showing respect
To others who they pass by
It just make me sad and cry
When I see a world so scary
Leaving hearts and souls so weary
When they listen to the racist
Comments that are getting basic
And used way to much and often
They need putting in a coffin
With other judgmental types
That is wrong and so not right
No one should make fun of those
Who always get a daily dose
Of hurtful and rude comments
Being hated with bombardments
Of words that tear them apart
What happened to peoples hearts
So many mission will go on
Till everybody gets along
And there's not one more tear shed
Just smiles and joy ahead
it must be near the forest beds -
near! oh, near the forbidden beds
of ancient pigeons and sacred doves
that flock’d along the lofty niger beds -
and came she – sudden and sullen
came she with throat song-swollen
like some sands of fast and fluty men
singing like some sword-beak'd hen
that flock’d along some weird river beds -
and well-wrap’d were her strange signals!
and came she – a sinister creature wild
of baboons and monkeys - a like-mind
who must twist-blew in the wild songs!
who must sing and dance baboon songs!
and father thot a monkey could sing
drumming on the native ancestral drums
and mother thot a baboon could sing
dancing to the native ancestral drums
and death came, oh! young death came
wearing a cloak of fiery ferry of primates
oh, the stretch of lands under this tame
plung’d into the great wisdom of primates
and this death welds a sledge hammer
each son and each father along this niger!
some harsh bombs in a hand-shake
with my forests chas’d rest out of town
and in turn the baboon’s good estate
took such a lifeless state of a leaf-brown
where baboons and monkeys drench’d
in soft-humour of bloody strife
where whole villages lie fully sack'd
from ancestral lands by a new lord of strife!
and father a-jok’d of such a lifeless figure
and mother smil’d at such a lifeless figure
but the harsh bombs of lifeless bombardments
brought a silent vacuum in the forests!
oh, stubborn lords of my cut-throat gentr’y
my niger beds a-crop the sly seedlings of beauty
tho’ baboons and monkeys a-swim like the swine
in blood of self-immolation, a-crying … crime!
God do you see me for who I am?
Why do I have to constantly prove myself
To you?
Why do you nitpick so much?
Why do you correct me so much?
I can’t deal with constant bombardments God
I am human
And I will make mistakes
I will know that I do something wrong
As soon as I did it
So God I don’t want you to make me pay for it
That is the same thing as saying
You are that and now you pay
Whatever God
I don’t know what You are going to do
But I hope you know the person I am
Deep down
Because I am not going to fight with You God
I am tired
And whatever
This is war
Babies just got killed
No justice
For the innocents
Deadly bombs
Blood throughout the streets
Criminals
Are ubiquitous
Poor babies
Are executed
What a shame
The truth is handcuffed
Yet, we want
Everlasting peace
North and South
No justice
West and East
There’s no peace
And yes, no justice
Bloody streets
Civilians are killed
No cease fire
Stop the injustice
The devils
Are roaming the streets
Bombardments
Are ubiquitous
Where is God
In this brouhaha?
Stop fooling
The whole universe
Stop the lies
No democracy
It doesn’t rhyme
With evil
But hypocrisy
Does not rhyme
Either with Hell
Stolen land
Is not an award
A reward
Is complicated
We want
Everlasting peace
By no means.
Copyright© January, 2024, Hebert Logerie, All Rights Reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry books.
Unrelenting blitzkrieg deadly
assault upon psyche
pounded defenseless
vulnerable mindscape accustomed
to shelter within aproned crease
mama proffered manna, especially
when untethered meek docile lad
subjected to blistering hellfire
infamous hoodlums wantonly unleashed
verbal bombardments lobbing poison
spear tipped invisible blackened barbs
manifold times more agonizing
piercing, targeting, xraying...
guaranteed fatal skull and crossbones
unseen insignia wrought utmost damage
one hundred percent accuracy
ferociously besieging, jackknifing, pummeling...
successfully character assassinating,
a diminutive boy cursed with ideal traits
strongly tempted, delectably savored,
violently bullied (short of physical
stature violated, though seditious)
emotional violation wrought lifelong
oppressive worthlessness complimented
amply by absolute zero self confidence
distilled thru conception in utero
until parturition on a bitterly cold
January thirteenth (apparently small,
medium forces at large, sans right
buffalo wing conspiracy) instigating
ear splitting wailing testing threshold
of tolerance, no crying game, but
palpable anatomical and physiological
dislocations afflicting yours truly
with breathing difficulty courtesy
submucous cleft palate pronouncing
strong nasality, when acquiring speaking
ability more cause to ridicule upon
commencing attendance within Lower
Providence School District, where kids
said nastiest, meanest, foulest, cruelest...
unsolicited comments pointedly jabbing air
mocking severe twang plus pigeon toed gait
the latter rectified with custom made
contrivance crafted by papa that forced
little feet turned outward during sleep,
which less significant aberration became
corrected as I got older, but self shaming
and blaming assimilated thru incessant
intimidation, inundation, invitation...
passive personality tacitly allowed,
provided, and enabled entire classroom
to assail helpless looking human creature
'pon entering home burst into tears!
Not everybody is having a safe and joyous Noël
Not all are enjoying a holy and holly jolly Christmas
Many people find themselves living in pure Hell
In countless countries, civilians are apprehended en masse
They are under sporadic and constant bombardments
Brigands violate the rules and the Ten Commandments.
Many people find themselves living in pure Hell
They are under sporadic or constant bombardments
Not everybody is having a safe and joyous Noël
Bandits violate the rules and the Ten Commandments
In countless countries, citizens are incarcerated en masse
Not all are enjoying a holy and holly jolly Christmas.
Copyright © December 2023, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
As the bombardments
are increasing in Gaza
614 innocent palestinian children
and 370 women alredy passed on.
Do you think International Criminal Court Juges
will arrest Benjamin Netanyahu for crimes
against humanity?
Do Palestinians consider to be human beings
It the eyes of some owners of this World?
Why injustice?
Why arrogance?
Why pride of being untouchable?
some people always forget the time of trouble.
there were some biblical cruel kings who cried day
and night when they saw double trouble.
What about these cruel leaders of these days?
Will they live ,
living
and
living ,
and not cry
Crying one day?
Will they continue to kill
Killing
and killing innocent people every day?
It is said," the robber days are forty."
October 14/2023