Best Bomber Poems
Wrong place wrong time
big crowd in the market square
demonstrators milling
heavy atmosphere
tourists exit coach
I kind of see a flash
feel a thud
am covered in
the blood of a child
suicide bomber
mixed with flesh and blood
of fifty others
as I stumble to my feet
and much later
I wonder what must the
suicide bomber feel
when they detonate
the explosion tears
them apart so fast
yet in that instant
when your body mass explodes
you must feel just
some of that
utter violence.
Beware the Bomber - Epulaeryu
They call them “Belly Bombers”
Onion steamed burgers,
They say to, “Take home a sack”,
Square, holey patties.
I ate too many,
And I got,
Sick!
Original poem written for the contest:
“Fast Food Epulaeryu” ¤¤ 3rd Place ¤¤
Composed 4-28-2011
You are a monster, a devil, a curse
Where you go crowds disperse
Death and disability, you gift to society
Cities littered with corpses in variety
You blow your own body to shreds
Along with it you annihilate hundreds
You kill women, children, young and old
As a reward your family wins some gold
Heaven is promised as your share
You for hereafter your life spare
Your turning of streets and roads into blood’s pool
Is a heinous crime you lecherous fool
You nothing but God’s wrath earn
Your body and soul will in Hell burn
Persecuted, tormented, lashed and cursed
Your bleeding wounds left un- nursed
The blazing Hell that never chills
Its belly with likes of you fills
Angels accounting for the blood spilled
And the number of innocents you killed
Who but you is to blame?
Those on whose bidding you played the game
Will not be there to rescue you
From lashing of angels black and blue
The Bomber knifes right through your guard
You duck and weave, a bobbing loon
Contentious crashing, bodies scarred
His lightning fists cradle your doom
Twelve timeless rounds against the champ
His blinding hook you never saw
The mildewed taste of canvas damp
Burnt failure sticking in your craw
Faint echoed cheers resounding deep
Thick sweat and blood now sting your eyes
Concealing bitter tears you weep
To throw the towel in or rise
Surrender is the only shame
You stand and square with woozy smile
There’s naught to lose now in life’s game
Better the taste of blood than bile
6/19/16
©Thomas W. Quigley
Mostly iambic tetrameter
Discovered a new computer term, “Hover To Play!”
Applied to the bedroom, hmm, interesting I'd say
Let your mind take flight
Tell me, “how was your night?”
Bet you learned lotsa new stuff as you dive bombed per se
© Jack Ellison 2015
If heaven is a rest for the imbeciles,
the banes of hell my portion must be.
If cloud nine is a bordello,
and the streets of gold are carved along the red-light-district,
then god must be a panderer.
Am I not already rewarded?
My woman is: an orange, perfect in the sun;
a watermelon, succulent;
a mango with sweet nectar;
a passion fruit, freshly plucked.
One woman is ecstasy,
two is hell’s gate.
A saphead is a glutton for pure virgins.
Lives foolishly forfeit for peculiar sayings.
Let not this bird fly,
for the two that is promised?
When god became a sexist,
it came to pass that man recreate himself, a lunatic,
and the woman he objectified became the dominant sex.
Covet not the splendor of paradise,
where the mansions in my father’s house are brothels
perfumed with the scent of intercourse.
A gift of seventy-two maidens
is an everlasting punishment.
BOMBER COMMAND
It won’t happen to me
he said,
we’re Bomber Command.
It won’t happen to me
he said.
We must blow the enemy out of the sky
he said.
we’re Bomber Command
The pride and belligerence of the Reich
it’s Hitler’s war on Europe
and it’s my sixteenth sortie out tonight,
he said
we’re Bomber Command
Somewhere in the Rhineland
his body lies
He gave his life for his country
but he gave mine too
in Bomber Command.
One week ago, a suicide bomber, a murderer took many lives at the Manchester Arena
The police are hunting down his accomplices to subpoena
It seems that the papers have nothing better to do than to show his face to us every day
Replaying each and every horrific moment to his families and relatives: including his unfallen, his prey
Go on let’s make him famous, some journalists seem to say
These are the images that imprint themselves in the minds of relatives and friends
What kind of a message does this ultimately send?
This story really sucks
News makes big bucks
Who is going undercover to catch these monsters that lurk?
Has the world gone completely berserk?
When it came to the crunch, they caught the evil leaders not so long ago
They knew where and how to overthrow
Those in power know how to catch these wicked murderers if they really want to
Instead, they sit back and hold up their hands up in horror as if to say how can this be true
The reality is who is selling weapons to the enemy
Their identities will surely put them in jeopardy
So until someone commands the word “GO”!
This remains to be one big psycho show!
She broke down
Like a Ford in a storm
Anything to garner a reaction
Who could resist that pretty little red dress,
Soaked, and covered in oil?
Not anyone I knew,
And I knew myself well.
I slowed to a lame dog's pace
to get a better look
As she pulled a rusty iron
From a burlap bag in the boot.
She very well coulda been
Holding a Bible
She looked so sorry.
I changed in a phone booth
Quick like the wind to her back
And flew in on my red n' blues.
A bomber makes a fine umbrella
For a roadside Stella.
And, by starlight she watched
An artist in his element.
She did her best to shield me
With our leather lean-to
As my hands made
Their way under the skirt
Of the broke lady;
Handled with a delicate firmness
Only experience can bestow.
I knew what I was doing.
Graciousness was God's gift
To her it seemed,
As she lit a cigarette to
Spite the rain
And pressed it to my lips;
my hands were spoken for.
A look and a smile
Was all I could muster as
The deluge made quiet
The victorious purr
The old beast let out in relief.
"Thanks" with a kiss to my cheek
Was the moment I knew.
She scurried off to slam the door
Before I realized she was gone.
I was gonna miss that jacket.
Said the terrorist,
Terrorized and
radicalized by what the mind dictates.
Spreads it’s evil into the eyes,
stares into arrogance
justifies presumptuous actions
and forces you to comply.
Did I not think?
Once done,
irreversible these actions?
But no,
this rude bravado
assumes it carries the weight of God.
Who am I to dictate such ignorance?
They do on to me and so I do unto them?
Revenge?
For whom?
Did God ask you to take revenge?
No that is of your choice.
I chose my actions.
The devil speaks into both ears,
into your eyes,
into your visions,
into your hands,
into everything you do.
You become the devil’s advisory,
a chilling killer.
Think again!
God is not on your side!
Why do we do what we do?
our infectious mind
spreads through the eyes,
motivate our visions
till we comply.
© Al. Juman The "said" Poet 7/7/2016
Dive bomber carpenter with red-stained teeth
suicidal
buzzing sound
creeps me
out
4/24/2019
Tetractys This Poetry Contest
Sponsor - Charles Messina
What happened in the sky over Detroit Christmas Day,
might have very clearly, turned out a very different way
When a man from London, with a bomb in his pants
how he got on that plane, just who can say,
Another passenger though, spoiled his plan,
who saw a blanket on fire, that covered that man
He sprang into action, without even a thought,
to try and stop a terrorist, to do what he can,
He tried to put out the fire, little did he know,
the terrorist had a bomb, he was trying to blow
He snatched the terrorist, out of his seat,
and pulled him out into the center of the row,
The man put up a fight, when his bomb wouldn't blow,
the passenger put him in a chock hold and wouldn't let go
The Pilot landed the plane, without a delay,
the passenger in twenty J is now called a Hero.
the wellington bomber dropped something
people screamed and ran for cover
but then paper pieces fell
softly fluttering down
falling like snowflakes
someone shouted:
it’s raining
dollar
bills
Jack Horne for Nette’s Imagination contest, 7th June
i and my killer
standing face to face
i can see the redness in his eyes
he would have not slept last night
i and my killer
we have never met before
we are complete stranger to each other
perhaps he not knew neither i
why he is going to kill me
i have kids back home
he is in his teen should be alone
but now the time has finished
we are ready to go in the tunnel of dark
we will be no longer i and he
we will be a news article hereafter
i have no fear
i have only worry
how to save my kids
from becoming a next suicidal bomber
o my killer
let it be the last victim
let the world lovely as it was before you
u need my blood its there
not for ugly thoughts of you
but for the promising new peaceful world
A policeman speaking to another officer
After a large explosion in the city
1st Cop: Do you think it was a bomber?
2nd Cop: Why would Obama have done it?
1st Cop: I’m not sure who, but I think it must have been a bomber?
2nd Cop: Well, if you’re not sure, then why do you think it was Obama?
1st Cop: How can you be so sure it wasn’t a bomber?
2nd Cop: Because he’s in Washington!
1st Cop: Right now??
2nd Cop: Of course!
1st Cop: Then you know him?
2nd Cop: Not personally
1st Cop: I’m confused
2nd Cop: I’ll say
1st Cop: So why don’t you think it was a bomber?
2nd Cop: Because I just saw him on TV
1st Cop: What the hell are you talking about?
2nd Cop: Obama!