Best Combats Poems
Whiskey on the rocks, advised by my doc
combats dementia, so bring on the blocks
no need for a glass; I'll have me the bottle
with a big bowl of ice this baby I'll throttle
The whiskey's gone, now a brandy'd be fine
my inside's on fire, there's a hoop up my spine
swigging from the bot comes at a price
I'll temper the fire with whole blocks of ice
The flames have been doused; rum, if you please?
my head's in a clamp; ice will loosen the squeeze
now, be a sport and pile on the ice
two bowls or more I think should suffice
Three bottlesh down, all on the rocksh
my tootshiesh are shtarting to curl in my shocksh
my shmile is chemented, my lipsh glued together
my fashe the feel and texture of leather
Twishe left, thrishe right my head ish shwinging
short, long, short, long my earsh are zinging
either I'm crosh-eyed or my brainsh have been fried
elsh why are my legsh by three multiplied?
I'm freefalling on shixh feet firmly earthed
alternating twixht lower and then upper berth
vocal chordsh tangled, shizhably crimped
I'm walking with a lishp and talking with a limp
I'm teetering-tottering or tettering-tortering
I've no clue which ish which and given up wondering
the world ish a blur; I musht be plarshtered
the liquor went down well; ishe warsh the barshtard
On all foursh – nay, twelve, I reach the bed
now I'm pondering and shcratching my head:
am I waking up or about to retire?
I shimply topple over, my whole being on fire
In the Land of Nod I'm harnessed by tether
in comely dreams of cowboys and leather
when plagued by a swishy feel in my bladder
swelling as fast as a pregnant puffadder
Abruptly awakened when a stream emanated
unable to move, still intoxicated
stuck to my bed and severely drenched
nausea ensued in the encompassing stench
How my stomach reacted I'd best not relate
suffice to say it was a full freight
soiled and hung-over, a word of advice:
liquor's fantastic but steer clear of ice
You are a girl with dreams.
A girl with passion and ambition
. A girl who goes crazy over little things. But combats the worst situations with her head held high.
A girl who has boundaries but is never afraid to fly.
You are a person very practical
But never fail to visualise situations that are unreal
A girl who talks witty
But often blurts out things that are silly.
You are a girl sophisticated and crazy, Smart and stupid
Sweet and rude,
Reckless and a prude
You are you... perfect.
So why do you care about these judgemental jerks ha?
Why do you care about a society that is double standard?
Why do care about people who'll you shame you if you're in a short dress;
but call you narrow minded if you're dressed modest?
Why you get hit by the words of people who do nothing but judge?
People who'll exclude you from parties. because you're too idealistic
But **** shame you for wearing a red lipstick?
Babe, remember..
You have to be you no matter what they say,
You have to be you no matter where you stray
You don't have to fit in a format..
You have to be you no matter what..
A new species
Cunning cheating
and then fleeting,
Machiavellian many
crafting and contriving,
Deceptive dishonest
frankly defrauding,
Slaughtering slaying
bloodshed of massacre,
Conflicts and combats
enmity and warfare,
Uncaring unfriendly
barbarous and brutal,
Savage sadistic
Cruel and unsympathetic,
Cold hearted cold blooded
Insensitive Inhumane.
Contrary to what
God had created,
Is it some new species ?
Written April 5th, 2016
For contest by Anthony Slausen
( A bit of drama in the garden last week)
The seed was scattered, and not long to wait,
a Blackbird was the first upon the scene,
moments later followed by its mate,
I could tell the former wasn't really keen.
It chased the female off across the grass,
a sharing bird it definitely was not,
Pigeons arrived, they couldn't let this pass
and started quickly gobbling up the lot.
Until a Magpie swooped upon the crowd
from left to right it jinked, chased them away,
to dine with such a bird was not allowed,
it smugly strutted, having won the day.
Just then, a blur of feathers from above
as bravely wading in on the attack,
unlikely was this foe, a Collared Dove
surprisingly, it drove the Magpie back.
Harassing the Magpie 'till it was gone,
leaving the field of battle with a squawk,
The combats all concluded, now just one-
but one was enough for the Sparrowhawk.
The alleyways within the maze are paved with rats and mice.
Evangelists with moneyed fists collect the sacrifice
from losers scorned and rubes reborn, and promise paradise,
while in the back they cook some crack, inhale, and roll the dice.
A bum called Boe has stubbed his toe, he’s stumbled in the gutter;
with broken neck, he looks a wreck, the sparrows all aflutter,
the passers-by, they close an eye, and turn their heads and mutter:
“Let’s pray for rains to wash the lanes, to clear away the clutter.”
A river slows neath mountain snows, and leaves begin to shudder.
Though rip-off shops and crooked cops are paid not once but thrice,
the painted girl with flaxen curl is paring down her price
and loosely tempts cold hands unkempt to touch the merchandise.
A crazy guy cries “where am I”, a schizo titters twice,
and double quick a lunatic affects a fight with lice.
The jungle teems, a siren screams, the air is filled with meth.
The Reverent Priest and nuns unleash the Holy Shibboleth.
And Righteous Jane who is insane, as well as Sister Beth,
while telling tales to no avail of everlasting death,
at least imbue Hagg Avenue with whisky on their breath.
The Reverent Priest combats the Beast, they’re kneeling down to prey,
to fight the truth with fang and tooth, to toil for yesterday,
to etch their mark within the dark, to paint their résumé
on shrouds and sheets which then completes the devil’s dossier.
Old dan, he's drunk and in a funk, all mired in the mud.
A Monk begins to wash Dan’s sins, and asks “How are you, Bud?”
“I’m feeling pain and crying rain till soon there is a flood.
And no god’s there who seems to care I’m always coughing blood.”
The Monk, he turns, Dan’s words he spurns and lets the bible thud.
Well, Banjo Boy, he will annoy with jangled rhymes that fray:
“The clanging bells of carousels lead blind men’s minds astray
to rings of gold they’ll never hold in fingers made of clay.
But crest and crown will crumble down, when withered roots decay.”
Continued
The flame in contest combats the chill of the night
I see an old man in remembrance of his youth
his words gaped in jest if only to shroud life’s plight
scars of countless carnal lies a hub of untruth.
In the brazier raindrops snarl, routine so trite.
© Harry J Horsman 1991
A kingdom with flower citizens
competing with the west with discoveries and inventions,
boasting of a time-stretching written language
and a non-stop dynamic civilization globally significant.
White is for sadness and red symbolizes happiness.
Even with its obese geography,
all of it is timed under one scale.
Its culturally molded body-defense arts
originates from ancient hunting and farming skills
Unique in its glamour and special in its glory;
from the awe of greatness of the forbidden city
to the great modernization and powerful skyline of Hong Kong.
Also the beautiful intimidation of the stone forest
and the amazing human grit exhibited in the terracotta army building
all stand tall in the flaunting of the globes bragging rights.
Popular is the amusement established in the combats of crickets.
Inhabits one of every two swine in the planet.
Creation of ghost metropolis as its exhibition of economic power.
American census can’t even beat the number of its English speakers
and yet, the pipe sucking out its mental potential
is known to be the largest in the whole world
Built with the sweat and blood of slaves,
the Colosseum is a monument of greatness
to testify the glorious might of Rome...
in the arena, chariots fights were awesome!
Romans cherished the stately structure to escape boredom,
but death lurked above as gladiators heard loud cheer
and sharpened their swords hoping to get priceless freedom;
Emperor Vespasian only envisioned glory, not deadly fear!
Who didn't like the gladiators combats?
Everybody was happy as bread was eaten...
a free gift from emperors to all citizens;
oh, they cheered when one of them went down!
Nero was one of the fairest and maddest emperors,
he also enjoyed the games held in the Colosseum
and ordered the slaughtering of innocent Christians;
didn't he falsely blame them for burning Rome?
Today, the Colosseum stands as a testimony of a great western civilization
that endured for over four hundred years allowing change and assimilation;
wasn't it exciting living in the capital of the ancient world and shout, " Hail, Caesar! "
while rubbing shoulders with the common people who adored his crown and scepter?
an embrace that tastes of vanilla, with scents of dewy rainfall and lavender, with sounds of chaos and ultraviolence, you orchestrate my mind, with touches of silk and warmth, and such a sunshine, in views of dark mahongany, and rough tree bark, I seen others, other humans, of melanin and magic, humans filled with laughter and bouncy conversation.. an experience.. in your Safe Room.. where your vulnerabilities protect me, where such desire combats my inner pain, longing for my inner peace, save room for my Safe Room, for your Safe Room, for an embrace, for a fire that will set ablaze, and a passion that will obliterate, a moment i should confiscate for later, but I choose to pour deep into you, be it for forever, be it for just a single day, be it as it may,
I can no longer play it "safe".. not even with my own five senses
frozen winter sleeve
blankets the moist dormant earth…
spring gently removes
hints of spring’s sun rise
combats the chill of the night…
winter in meltdown.
hedgerow sprouting buds
the calling of the wheatears…
a butterfly breathes
27/9/2022
Haiku collection of three contest
Sponsor Tania Kitchin
syllable count hms.
A letter home never to arrive.
Dear Mom
I can"t as usual say much,
But I am good and feeling well.
We are on this crazy mission,
It involves the most strange of military personnel.
They are without doubt a strange and mad outfit,
But they wear the same combats,
We are supposed to keep them safe,
They go by the name The Tunnel Rats.
They go beneath the ground
Searching Charlie out.
Tunnels have been found
Where the enemy can almost walk about.
These guys really are quite mental,
Sometimes the tunnels collapse
Other times they don"t come back
We think because of traps.
Anyhow, I aint had to kill nobody yet
Though I have fired off my gun.
I kinda hope it was my volley
That made them critters run!
R and R is good
They fill us up with steaks
And I thank you for the lotion
It really helps my aches.
Hope big Sis is well
An the beauty parlour"'"s busy ,
I bet the fact there is no young men left
Is sending her in a tizzy!
Tell Paw my nerve is holding fine
An I hope I make him proud,
This War it will be won
I shout that out so loud!
The other day I spoke some words,
To a Tunnel Rat, man he made me think,
He said that when he was beneath the ground
He swore he could hear Charlie blink.
Well, what more can I say
Apart from I love you Mom,
I hope to hear from you soon
Your loving son
Tom.
Thomas Elliott was killed
In action November fifth
1969.
the love suffocates us
from floor to ceiling
i feel tension everywhere
i welcome
the distraction
it combats
the pain
he touches
my face
then the love suffocates us
i inhale his exhale
the red room is destroyed
from floor to ceiling
and for several hours
in a daze
his weakness
we're desperate
i'm anxious
i feel tension
everywhere
i scream that i trust him
to combat his pain
he touches my face
again, destruction
such passion
from floor
to ceiling
what a mess we made
i inhale
his exhale
still, in a daze
the love suffocates us
The battlefield is eerily quiet
waiting for the impeding war
for the roar of battle
for the blood that will be poured
for the tears to be shed
will power on will power
determination against determination
opposing sides begin their descent
one side clinging to hope of getting back
what was lost
what once was
what could’ve been
the strength and inspiration
the desire and passion
the faith and trust
the unconditional love
a light that shone in darkness
now extinguished
this hope wages war
fighting with a smaller army
desperately wanting to win
to claim victory in His name
and rescue what little is left
what has been held captive
and to shine once again
staged and ready on the battlefield
across the way is an army of one
but with many defenses backing it
this driving force is resilient
damned and unwavering
to stand tall and stand firm
this journey has been staggering
when support was needed the most
there were no soldiers in sight
with so many trials and tribulations
there was no season of rest
no calming of the storms
yes you must test your armor
see what it can endure
see what battles it can undergo
but after surviving many combats
even the strongest wears down
even the strongest gets weary
and your armor starts to give away
how much more can it tolerate
until it is pierced and blood shed
why can’t the Blacksmith repair it?
will He not help make it stronger?
does He not see the danger ahead?
where was He when aid was needed the most?
just stand there and watch
wait for the fall of this army
the battlefield waiting
one breath in the cold air
one dull sword and brittle shield
an army of one
fueled by bitterness and anger
betrayal and abandonment
hardened and thick skinned
full of determination to win
to survive another battle
this army of one
ready for whatever comes
prepared to go down fighting
this army of one
left out alone
on a battlefield of life
a soldier made by the uncaring
molded by the unloving
this army of one
shall march ahead and fight
as both sides begin their descent
a battle cry sings out
and the war has begun
Spring ! The clip shot out:
Empty now of rounds and clout
Waiting for the next, for
Me to load the killing rounds,
The equalizers, bullets shot
Through steel
Spring! I sit in mud and
Dream of spring, that
Soother, that fragrant mist
That speeds through gardens
Flowers and young boys
Chests and brains Spring!
But rest your pretty head
Those who seek to rule by
Jest and paltry death: not
steal our heavenly flowers
Pulled from scented gardens
Breath.
Return your combats and
Fatigues to roses spread
About your knees and
Love that’s true, upon the
Stones that writ the soldier’s
Caveat.
“Think not of gold or frosty
Frown but how the spring rose
Wears its crown”
claim your seat,
to your hearts defeat.
of crying cats,
no more combats.
the cleans of fear,
life is but a sneer.
to one in all,
don't take the free fall.