Best Caught In The Crossfire Poems
In a land torn by evils cruel hands
where innocence once thrived in golden sand
echoes now haunt barren torched lands
of children lost, tears fall in graves of pain
Fourteen thousand souls, too young to know
caught in the crossfire, victims oppressed
their laughter silenced as dreams cut short
in a horror of genocide where all limbs bleed
Babies cradled in arms, so tender and small
now lie cold and lifeless, victims silent in white shawls
their tiny hearts, once filled with hope's embrace
now silenced forever in a merciless disgrace
The army's march such ruthless crimes
leaving devastation in its tide
families torn apart by Israels cruel wand
as they mourn the loss of those they held fond
Oh, may their memory be a solemn vow
strive for peace and harmony, lets end sorrow forever now
for in the wake of such unfathomable hate
lies a plea for humanity to erase this state
Spirit broken again
Her spirit was broken again
as the police broke the news!
Her beloved Enrique had just been killed
shot three times,
caught in the crossfire of gang violence
in Toronto's west side.
Helena,35, now was left hopeless, and in despair
how could she care for her 3 children?
You see, Helena was a refugee from war torn Syria. Sadly, she had lost both of her parents about 2years ago, they died when an artillery shell blasted their little apartment in Aleppo. At least they died together in their sleep.
Helena was crushed, obviously,
by the sudden news,
and her spirit was broken.
Her husband, Enrique who was in a settlement camp in Germany, called with the news that he qualified for refugee status and the whole family could start a new life in Canada.
Elated, Helena picked up,
all the little pieces of her broken heart and spirit,
and what was left of her family, and headed for Canada.
Helena and Enrique were so excited to have finished their English course, and Enrique had been working for two months, at a food distribution center in
Brampton. Their new life together as a family had just got started and then this tragedy! Helena was watching the news of a tragic shooting never imagining that it was her husband, who was killed...and then the knock at the door!
God help her!
John Derek Hamilton
September 22,2016
The sharp horn of the rhino cannot protect his kingdom
The ivory cache of the elephant cannot buy his freedom
Hide the bullets from the machine gun
He aims at his children and fellowman
The sharp thorn of the boma cannot protect his village
From the suicide bomber who seeks only to pillage
His pride 'The King of the Jungle' is shot
Hunted and endangered by the men for sport
Shave his beard to give him a new expression
Take off his old veil to shed his radicalization
African minds aspire for a new economic empire
Aiming for the west, Africa is caught in the crossfire
Absorbed by happenstance, left flailing in the pouring rain,
As it dripped from the hanging trees,
The branches wept, stripped bare again,
Riddled with winter’s disease.
How scythes cut nerves when I saw no return
When I reached the perimeter fence,
Holding the wire, tears that burn
Jewels of ice so intense.
The parkland turned to arenas of mud,
And the bandstand of concrete visually crumbled,
Run, I would have, yet the chilling of my blood
Caused my mind to trip on thoughts that stumbled.
Distracted by leaves, you didn’t see me by the side of the road,
You declined and you turned a blind eye,
The motorcars jammed as some new highway code
Commanded the engines to die.
Caught in the crossfire and bound to reflect,
As you surfed past the rush hour flow
On paths that once crossed, no more intersect,
Just traffic with no place to go.
The windows turned to mosaics of frost,
When the glass and its patterns slowly imploded,
I could not reach you from days that I lost,
Just stood by as my future exploded.
Turmoil looms over private skies
Thick with fog firmly affixed to a bedroom ceiling
Though squinting escapes clarity's eyes
Of love and hate in the brotherly cloud of feelings
Of flesh and blood consumed with rage
Over jealous tirades turned warriors gun
As woeful stains turn the scrapbook page
On a mothers memories of her sons
Must steps so steep decline to this
For boys to prove they're men
To stand a savior when comes a crisis
Yet left but a splinter his heart he'll rend
One brute one tongue thrice will leave
A mothers love the referee
Her tug-rope heart torn from anxiety
Caught in the crossfire of sibling rivalry
A crystal tear center stage
On the battleground that began with play
So it falls till you reach that age
When you learn the wisdom of walking away
Sometimes i just wanna cry
As i look up to the sky and ask god why
22 years and still can't figure it out
All the pain and suffering
With an endless reign of doubt
Decisions decisions when all made to bad
Disappointment was to make so many
mad
I try and i try
But with no luck there is no hope
Stuck in this life
Figuring how to cope
Theses things i have made a mess
The power of feeling less
Deep depression left to wonder
What is happened to my mind
Twisted games not all to kind
In the end left searching
Myself to find
Will i change just in the nick of time
Or will another mark be added to my
lifeline
Yet hearing the whispers
Of so many who want to judge
To prove wrong
Not for you but for me
Will the judgements finally cease
Caught in the crossfire of two lives gone
wrong
Blowing up like a bomb
But no i must stay strong
Its within these moments
When the struggle is great
Is when destiny shows itself
And i find my true faith
Woe betide he!
Condemned from the very beginning to ultimate destruction
Preoccupied with recruiting souls with reckless abandon
With a mandate to wreck havoc on mankind before his time is done
The hour of reckoning for the mastermind of all evil at Armageddon shall come
For in hell eternally shall he burn
Woe unto thee!
Agents of the prince of darkness
Shedding innocent blood and leaving in its wake the fatherless and motherless
Destroying destinies of countless
Alas! Judgment shall come in its uprightness
For the verdict shall be an everlasting sentence to the abyss of hopelessness
Woe is me!
From a state of nothingness, born into an awareness of mankind’s fall
Caught in the crossfire between two warring factions, of which there’s no sitting on the wall
To the light I must navigate, there’s no other favourable call
Lest the darkness subsume me and I be a fireball
Time will tell how my life’s mission will progress or stall
For after death, I shall awake to eternally know it all
A soldier in battle
Hears the bullets rattle
And is caught in the crossfire
He is draped in the flag
His medals turn to tags
Silent and without desire
Melancholy speaks truth
Eternity meets youth
Before his final salute
I'm available--
exposed.
Caught in the crossfire
of handshakes and smiles.
The smoke grips my lungs.
I cannot oblige.
I will not oblige.
So I dream.
I elope with restlessness
into the fluid incubator.
I build my own prison
where I can be free.
can we find peace
under a pillow
under the covers of
a lonely lovers bed
in a field blown by the wind
or in a back yard swimming pool
weighed down with lifeless feathers
or are we merely flying
to the tops of living roots
set for us by generations of followers
dug in foxholes dig
lonely soldier never thought it was to be
caught in the crossfire of some foe
his dream was of home
swallowed in shrapnel
we don't think on this dream much
for the nightmare has begun
life in it's short shell, impenetrable
from all .
now when we dream
are we alive walking on
live wires burnt and scathed
by angry wise men
fall back on everything find
your death and embrace it
sleep the good sleep
smile for life has begun
Died in Baghdad, April 17, 2005
Nothing can stop her!
Not a rocket
or an improvised
explosive devise
in spite
of her untimely
death.
Just 28
and amongst
the Greats.
Unyeilding campaigner
with unwavering faith
in something greater
than all the grenades
in the U.S. arsenal.
The greatness of love
of truth
eloquently spoken
by this petite woman.
Yet, a Goliath
in humans.
Her work
the simple act
of counting victims.
and compansate.
Marla dared
to ask
who were
the 100,000 plus
innocent civilians
that have died
in Iraq.
The sisters, brothers
fathers, mothers
babies
caught in the crossfire.
They had names
faces and dreams.
We sing to you
dear Marla.
There is nothing higher
than the acknowledgment
of life
and the strife
the grieving
the loss
the pain.
Marla sweet angel
your work
remains
the most dignified
the most humane
of endeavors
in this
seemingly
overwhelming
insane world.
And no one
not the president
and his mongers
not the apologist of war
can ever
take that away.
Dean Walker
Marla was the young founder of the nonprofit organization Campaign for innocent Victims in Conflict. To learn more about Marla or show your support visit her website at www.civicworldwide.org
There are many faces of war.
Some are seen daily,
on the news.
Others remain hidden from view.
They range far and wide.
The toothless old man
fighting to save his home,
a one room mud hut
and an acre of parched sandy soil.
The beautiful young woman
with long thick, flowing hair
and eyes of green,
a belt of explosives
wired to a cell phone
that she carries diligently.
The zestful young man who,
along with his friends,
attacks a lonely guard tower
late one night,
all in the name of Allah.
The small, naked toddler
playing in the water filled bomb crater,
oblivious to the danger.
A previously innocent
twelve year old boy
armed with a rifle, four bullets,
and decades of hatred for the infidels
passed down multiple generations,
takes a stand against
a well trained soldier.
The innocent bystander
on his morning commute,
caught in the crossfire.
I carry these faces
in the back of my mind.
They are etched
in my memory
by smoke and blood,
incinerated onto my soul
like the flames
that stole their lives.
We tend to lose our innocence as the years unfold
So the innocence of our children is a beauty to behold
Children sing before they know it's a song
Dance to any music that just comes along
Draw upon a canvas before they realize it's a wall
Climb so high before they understand the fall
We see innocence in our children for such a little bit
So it's up to us to nurture and protect it
But a question now arises which leads to a scary thought
What happens to this innocence when our children are being shot?
Stop a moment to remember what this violence took
The precious children our society forsook
We pray, mourn, weep...and say we're sorry too
Tell the grieving parents there's nothing we can do
And every day our country pays a tremendous cost
As more children are murdered...and more innocence is lost
Never again will they sing, dance, or draw upon a wall
Never again will they marvel at the sky, climb up high or even fall
We've stopped protecting our daughters and our sons
Just memories now of precious little loved ones
As we fight with one another in anger and ire
The children of our country are caught in the crossfire
If we want our children to survive
We must do all in our power to ensure they stay alive
If we continue to allow their innocence to be taken
In this most heinous kind of theft
There will come a time, if we haven't reached it already
When we have no innocence left
crossfire
©Rajat Kanti Chakrabarty
10/31/2014
Caught in the crossfire
He bought a Greek lyre ( we must admire)
He harped on and on–a liar
The love of God is a priceless blessing
An affection mightier than fire
Empty grave; the saints, forever singing
To die for me was his greatest desire
Shall I liken Christ to any desire?
The nails and stone couldn't retain my Lord
For my sake, He was caught in the crossfire
To the very end, he upheld His word
Heavy task, His love was the binding chord
Fragile, fragile death, thy sting is over
Torn veil, slashed by the double-edged sword
Hell is vanquished, His throne is forever
Like a seedling, He sprung up from the grave
O Captain of my life; potent, and brave
With Habakkuk Kargbo (Rabbi)
©?Poem Makers SL (31/03/24)