Best Bombing Poems
In an old, crumbling town,
Everyone's been feeling down,
Children crying in despair,
Planes bombing in the air.
The war is intense, sad and deep,
But it has promises it yearns to keep,
Tormented with nightmares they never sleep,
Thus they can only sit and weep.
Soldiers defeated, arms chopped off,
Horses dying in the loft,
The dead child lay limp and soft,
It’s mourning mother holding him aloft.
A single lightbulb lit the room,
A hidden flower will never bloom,
Buildings on fire will never be saved,
The screams inside will forever be caved.
Don't weep, shed no more tears,
Remember us over the years,
Even though our lives did end,
I know this will happen again.
(It's really hard to ignore the videos of the injured kids... It really is heart wrenching)
.
And then the night turned red
And screams were heard
of kids painted in blood
And a tiny hand waved
From beneath a wrecked home
Kids with names printed on their wrists
Crying for mothers in refuge camps,
Some bathed in blood on hospital beds
That too gets bombed
Now no water, no food, even the air is poison
Though once upon a time, it was a house
But got stolen in bright day light
My hearts cries for you, o' Palestine
~30th Oct, 2023
I’d like to sing to you a lullaby
To make all your troubles disappear
Tell you there is no need to cry
That you will never know hate or fear
But I must tell you about the boy in class
With a gun tucked in his backpack
And how life can be taken in a flash
And some mistakes can’t be taken back
I would like to tell you a Fairy Tale
Of how friendships made will never end
And true love will always prevail
A world where evil will never win
But I have a different story to tell
About the maniac with a bomb in his car
Planned his action far too well
And left the shopping mall a lifeless char
I would like to hold you in my arms
To place a kiss upon your brow
Tell you I will keep you safe from harm
And always be there for you somehow
But a different song of fate I must sing
Not “Hush Little Baby, Don’t say a Word”
‘Cause the world is filled with monstrous things
With boiling blood and hatred stirred
So sleep tonight under a peaceful sky
Let tomorrow bring what may
I can only promise you that I will try
To keep all the monsters away
THE BOMBING OF DRESDEN
February 13, 1945
Pathfinders lit the night to show the way
for bombardiers too hungry for the word;
as Dresden's dark was made as light as day,
all hearts were stopped before the blasts were heard;
and as the din was heard by all their ears
the sound it made was not reality
but far removed from all the hopes and fears
and what they thought would never come to be.
They loved the Fuhrer--sin enough for all
to die the fiery death of sweet revenge
brought on by those who had enough of gall
to drop their loads in wartimes heated binge!
And when the fire consumed all that it could
the winter of their lives was understood.
A deluded and deranged miscreant.
Rode in a rented Ryder truck,
Sadistically opposed to his government,
He delivered a two-ton bomb.
After parking the fateful vehicle,
With time fleeting and fuses lit,
He fled to his car,
Parked, not far away.
Hearing the explosion, he made his escape,
With a gleam in his eye.
One hundred sixty-eight victims died,
Leaving countless loved ones behind.
April 19, 1995,
A date that lives in infamy.
The guilty one was caught that very day,
And eventually paid his life for the reprehensible deed.
The Oklahoma Ctiy National Memorial
Now graces the ground
Where the Alfred P. Murrah
Building once stood.
A lone American Elm tree
Survived the blast,
A symbol of resilience,
And the will of mankind.
Hopes of closure for the victim’s families
Followed the perpetrator’s death six years later.
But closure will not fill the empty chairs
Left in the footprint of the building.
THE BOMBING OF DRESDEN-- MONSIEUR L'VAMPYRE -
There was a night, I still recall it now,
as winters cold had turned to soft and mild,
and gave us hope, that time would still allow
the passing by--of death--as death was filed.
What manner of a beast, or tyrant king,
would set the path to bring destructions' fall
from out the darkened sky, who dare would bring
such catastrophic death to one and all?
Was not my Dresden safe from what was heard
of cities to the north--they fed the flame;
these questions yet remain, who gave the word
that made the good and bad turn out the same?
All evil justified and made in haste
is evil just the same as any waste.
I'd only just returned, in my own way,
within the dark from Paris, where I be
caught up with joy of liberation day,
when love was made alive and running free.
But lo! My thirst was filled, before too long,
my heart grew weary to be with mine own,
so in the dark my flight was swift and strong
and ended at an inn that few have known.
Perched on a hillside looking down the plain
from off the balcony, the Dresden lights
gave glimmer to a cold and drizzle rain
a beauty unsurpassed by any rights.
Invited for a night of talk and wine,
I settled in with a new friend of mine.
And so we wined and danced--into the night
not thoughtful of the war, though raging on,
and Gretchen, lovely Gretchen, felt my bite
upon her neck until her soul was gone
and part of all the loves I ever knew
so thus she came to be one of my own;
and shaken, we both did as lovers do,
and stared into the night for things unknown.
Quite suddenly the groan of engines' roar
though distant, filled the night, and deafening
and over Dresden, telling what's in store,
the fallings lights lit up just ev'rything.
And lighted by Pathfinders, Dresden knew
what ending all our world was coming to.
© ron wilson arbuthnot
aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
MONSIEUR L'VAMPYRE - THE BOMBING OF DRESDEN
There was a night, I still recall it now,
as winters cold had turned to soft and mild,
and gave us hope, that time would still allow
the passing by--of death--as death was filed.
What manner of a beast, or tyrant king,
would set the path to bring destructions' fall
from out the darkened sky, who dare would bring
such catastrophic death to one and all?
Was not my Dresden safe from what was heard
of cities to the north--they fed the flame;
these questions yet remain, who gave the word
that made the good and bad turn out the same?
All evil justified and made in haste
is evil just the same as any waste.
I'd only just returned, in my own way,
within the dark from Paris, where I be
caught up with joy of liberation day,
when love was made alive and running free.
But lo! My thirst was filled, before too long,
my heart grew weary to be with mine own,
so in the dark my flight was swift and strong
and ended at an inn that few have known.
Perched on a hillside looking down the plain
from off the balcony, the Dresden lights
gave glimmer to a cold and drizzle rain
a beauty unsurpassed by any rights.
Invited for a night of talk and wine,
I settled in with a new friend of mine.
And so we wined and danced--into the night
not thoughtful of the war, though raging on,
and Gretchen, lovely Gretchen, felt my bite
upon her neck until her soul was gone
and part of all the loves I ever knew
so thus she came to be one of my own;
and shaken, we both did as lovers do,
and stared into the night for things unknown.
Quite suddenly the groan of engines' roar
though distant, filled the night, and deafening
and over Dresden, telling what's in store,
the fallings lights lit up just ev'rything.
And lighted by Pathfinders, Dresden knew
what ending all their world was coming to.
© Ron Wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
MONSIEUR L'VAMPYRE - THE BOMBING OF DRESDEN
There was a night, I still recall it now,
as winters cold had turned to soft and mild,
and gave us hope, that time would still allow
the passing by--of death--as death was filed.
What manner of a beast, or tyrant king,
would set the path to bring destructions fall
from out the darkened sky, who dare would bring
such catastrophic death to one and all?
Was not my Dresden safe from what was heard
of cities to the north--they fed the flame;
these questions yet remain, who gave the word
that made the good and bad turn out the same?
All evil justified and made in haste
is evil just the same as any waste.
I'd only just returned, in my own way,
within the dark from Paris, where I be
caught up with joy of liberation day,
when love was made alive and running free.
But lo! My thirst was filled, before too long,
my heart grew weary to be with mine own,
so in the dark my flight was swift and strong
and ended at an inn that few have known.
Perched on a hillside looking down the plain
from off the balcony, the Dresden lights
gave glimmer to a cold and drizzle rain
a beauty unsurpassed by any rights.
Invited for a night of talk and wine,
I settled in with this new friend of mine.
And so we wined and danced--into the night
not thoughtful of the war, though raging on,
and Gretchen, lovely Gretchen, felt my bite
upon her neck until her soul was gone
and part of all the loves I ever knew
so thus she came to be one of my own;
and shaken, we both did as lovers do,
and stared into the night for things unknown.
Quite suddenly the groan of engines roar
though distant, filled the night, and deafening
and over Dresden, telling what's in store,
the Christmas trees lit up just ev'rything.
And lighted by Pathfinders, Dresden knew
what ending all their world was coming to.
© ron wilson aka Ron Arbuthnot
aka Vee Bdosa the Dolestown Poet
Bombing Indonesia
So they broke the law and smuggled drugs etc. How about we drop some 1000lb bombs on Jakarta and nuke each individual Indonesian air force, navy and army base? FOR A BIT OF FRIGGING FUN? FRIG YEA. What comes around goes around.
The Aussies lied on scrapping their F-111s. A recon bird flew high over Indo land. She drew up the motley bunch of Flankers and got splashed. As intended. She was unmanned. Manned F-111s went in and cluster bombed the Indo bases. F-18s gave top cover.
When the flankers showed up, the F-18 pilots confirmed what we all knew: the Indo Flankers had no missiles. Just a gun. Every Flanker was brought down. Their F-16s did better and splashed two old Hornets. But the Indo F-5s got three Super Hornets, in turn being wiped out by the Super Hornets who were actually bombers. A pilot smelling blood is a rabid dog. Reports of gunning civilians are that, reports.
There were some who said that Indonesia under the Soviet dogs was better armed. Equipped with Badger bombers and Fishbed fighters. Could they resist Australia? And bomb the F-18 bases? Or be like Saddam Hussein and wiped out? Indo Flankers did no better. War, all for a few executions...
Jolo Sulu blasted again
For politicos personal gain
Says nothing to blame
Except they said terrorists team
Which team comes from them?
Though treated as immunity
Still feared the community
This recipe of politics
Much time to take at rest
Many lives lost
Children’s blood host
Mothers cry out loud
The severing dead body clouds
Ending of this when
Perhaps if sinners chained
But innocent yet still the victim!
Dedicated to the recent bomb
victims in Jolo, Sulu. Bombing happened
on Tuesday July 7, 2009.
Written in Sandakan July 10, 2009.
After coming back from church last night, wishing everyone a Happy Easter, my sister's only wish was to watch The Greatest Showman. So, my mother and I took our seats next to her and watched, right in the dining table, with our dinners in front of us. It was past eleven when we got back to bed.
The next day dawned: the last day of the holidays. It started quite alright, with mom, dad and I plucking down a several ripe papayas with the help of a bedsheet and a stout wooden pole. Then my dad went home to work, while the rest of us busied ourselves in our own work.
I didn't note the time, but I did hear mom's phone ringing. Half absorbed in Pip's world, I hardly even noticed it. But my eldest sister got a call from dad, almost after the ringing of mom's phone stopped. She told mom to call dad immediately, telling something about the Kochchikade church, a church which I've known ever since I was small.
My mom gave a call and went to see my eldest sister, and she sounded serious. I overheard her speaking about the roof being blown out. I thought it was the wind. I never expected it to be bombed.
Everyone was calling. Most of them knew that we went there. Within those moments when we assured those horrified voices, we got to know the six other attacks. Now, everyone was paniced. Everyone was expecting curfew at any moment.
Dad hurried to the supermarkets to do last moment shopping. He told us that there will be curfew from 6 pm to 6 am of the following morning. During this time, I heard a strange throbbing and hum, which lasted only a few seconds.
After dad came back, we checked the news. Curfew had already started, and won't be lifted until further notice. Then there was something else. The 8th bomb explosion for the day: a housing scheme in Dematagoda, only a few kilometers from our home.
The strange hum echoed in my mind, as all of us stared at our neighbouring building through the french windows of our home. We were staring at the grey wall of the tall housing scheme, which stood majestically in front of our veranda.
4/21/2019
Fire in the sky.
The sun must have exploded.
Now darkness descends.
When America bombed Hiroshima our city,
Three days later without pity,
They bombed Nagasaki and ruined the city.
Killed at least 200,000 people.
It was a normal day.
We were all going either to work, or school.
That day, I was very excited because
I was chosen to be “it” for hide and seek.
I was counting down, when I saw
A big ball of light that came out of the sky.
It was getting larger and brighter.
Warmer and louder.
And all of a sudden,
Boom!!!
I felt like I was falling…….
The school building was crashing under my feet.
I heard kids crying,
And I felt pain and blood all over my body.
I felt somebody carrying me.
A soldier………
He carried me to a safe place,
Where I could be healed.
But, there wasn’t really any safe place.
Being carried around,
I saw dead bodies all around me,
Burned to ashes.
Those who were still alive,
Were screaming for help.
And more…….screaming from pain.
I saw a mother who was trying to help her kid.
The kid was screaming his throat out for his mother.
“Mom, Help me….. Mom where are you”
The fire was eating him without mercy.
Not able to help him,
His mother cried and said
“Sorry…..I am so sorry. I am a bad mother”………
The city that was 15 minutes ago full of life.
Was now full of nothing but ashes and a RED ocean.
You couldn’t recognize people anymore,
Nor buildings.
Those who where still alive were wishing to die.
They were hungry and thirsty.
And they were ALL in pain.
Yet, there wasn’t really any body to help them,
Nor any food or water to drink and eat.
After about 6 hours,
It started to rain.
The rain was as dark as the dead bodies,
But nobody cared.
They were so happy that they finally found water.
They didn’t know it contains acid.
Moreover,
They didn’t care.
They drank and drank.
And people started to get poisoned,
And died.
August 1945.
When my people lost their life.
A day that can’t be forgotten.
Nor can have another discussion.
August 6, 1945.
When America bombed Hiroshima our city.
Three days later without pity,
They bombed Nagasaki and ruined the city.
Killed at least 200,000 people,
And ended the war.
With a big smile and a party,
More with no heart.
Was it him?
No,
his brothers
tied grenades.
on dead black birds
heaved them high.
to fly, wings tied back,
up to a third story balcony.
I only hear the silence as I stride,
Twixt granite chairs neatly set in rows.
The 169 chairs epitomize each life,
Now neath a sea of grass that grows.
My psyche periodically visits this place,
All be it, here, their Spirits do not rest.
However, a Monument and Reflection pool,
Usher memories, as if at their behest.
Still I visualize a chain link fence,
With images, blossoms, Pandas and such.
A transitory memorial that reaches out,
To asphyxiated lives, as if to touch.
For certain, I dare not challenge,
The eternal rest, of those who sleep.
But pausing at each chair, in silence,
I recall this day's events and weep.
I would to God, that casualties,
Could discern today, my thoughts about.
Then from the quiescence of this place,
Would emerge an angelic shout.
For I tire of silence.