Best Freedom Fighter Poems
Memories of War
Flashing in front of His eyes
My Hero -- The VET
I stand here, alone, my heart aflutter
In a world of chaos, I still stutter
But I will not be silenced, I will not cower
I will stand my ground and fight for my power
I will speak up for what I believe in
And fight for freedom, wherever I've been
My voice will be heard, loud and clear
For freedom is something I hold so dear
In the face of oppression, I will not bow
I will rise up and fight, and never cower
I will stand for justice, against all odds
And fight for freedom, as a warrior god
I will stand for justice, above all else
For freedom is something I'll never forget
And though it may seem like a lost cause
I will fight for freedom, no matter the cost
Such an ironic plight in blinding light of day,
his appreciation, the cruel blindfold o’er eyes,
after his dark time served in dank cell of dismay,
taken out at dawn, a bright morn for his demise.
Rough restrict of ropes constrict, last embrace he’ll feel,
as he’s tied tight, upright, the execution post.
For his people, freedom from oppression he’d steal,
heartbeats, time ticks down, he thinks of those he loves most.
TICK - TOCK - TICK… he wonders if thundering heart's heard
and curses his body for betraying his fear.
A grim line set taut in the stubble of his beard,
hailed a hero, fetor of human fright fills the air.
Tick - tock - tick - trussing death pole lends his back support,
tremulous dread at life’s end - defiance steady,
as the commander begins with the last resort
and raises the rifles, brisk command of; “READY”...
Tick - tock - tears and angst co-mingle behind grimed gauze.
“You can kill this roused rebel, but there’s more the same!”
“Freedom fighters! We're willing to die for the cause!”
With rifles at the ready, a clear retort; “AIM”...
He yells “You can all go to HELL! You cannot quell”...
rebellious heart afire flaring down to the wire,
“this revolution tolls your bell for it will swell!”
TICK - quick as a whip’s lash, the booming command: “FIRE!!”
Susan Ashley
11/20/17
**execution by firing squad, in the past sometimes called fusillading (from the French fusil, rifle)**
A hero is a genuinely born fighter
A hero does not fear death
A hero fears no danger
A hero is concerned about self
But also about the others
Who are fighting as brave soldiers
Deep below the sea levels
Deep in the hadopelagic gutters.
A hero is absolutely fair
A hero has no fear
A hero is a serious leader
A hero is never a backstabber
Occasionally, this word is misused
One should denounce the perpetrator
This beautiful noun should not be abused
By nobody or a narcissistic detractor
A hero is humble, essential
And super special.
Copyright © March 2020, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
easy access and proliferation of firearms,
now begs a serious hard question
presenting daunting task,
quite aware that passionate
stalwart supporters of the NRA,
embrace weaponry likened
to garnering an Aboriginal trophy mask
(particularly in light of violent mass killings)
immediately forces people
of all stripes comprising this nation ask
quite aware of diametrically,
jarringly, and politically
doggedly entrenched fierce position
each polarized stance challenges,
especially when pitted
against die hard proponents
of the Second Amendment,
who would sooner burn to ash,
and/or adopt a siege mentality
glowering akin to red hot metal
regaling opportunity asper Liberal heads to bash,
than relinquish (lock, stock and barrel)
prized, coveted, and cherished cache
amassed collection of firearms
permissible in accordance
with (literal interpretation
of Second Amendment
of the United States Constitution)
to mean no deterrent preclude
(birth right to equip bare arms),
deprivation against amassing a stockpile,
would trigger an immediate saber flash
and instantaneously, another Civil War, would
(with gnash of clenched jaws violently
opposing manumission
to release obedient snap, crackle
pop in je nais sais quois booty), the provocation
rendering revision, sans sacred covenant
would sting whip lash
snuffing out any first and last hope to reconcile
divisive national issue
with cool collected talking heads,
cuz shoot at the hip diplomacy
be loved American style,
that indomitable fighting
esprit de corps tis fire in belly trial
though this skeptical and devout atheist,
would welcome being proved wrong
generating the better angels to render obsolete strong
arm of the law as plucked harps evoke swan song
witnessing unbelievable savoir faire
(forcing me to retract pessimism
and willingly swallow my pride), minus long
time overdue, and negotiation
celebrated with tolling from a gong.
I've stared at the eyes of evil
And that's when it knew fear
It never saw confrontation
Until it saw me here
I carry a soldiers banner
I wield a sword of light
I have no trepidation
I'm in it for the fight
No evil force commands me
I bow to nothing dark
Even in the shroud of night
I'll always have a spark
I won't accept oppression
My will is just too strong
I'll stand my ground for freedom
No matter for how long
I will emerge triumphant
To stand beneath the sun
Basking in the glory
Of the victory that I've won
Rockman :-)
United they stand!
A single voice silences
the crowd
They all stare in awe
To 9-11 and Our Nation...
They came into our country unannounced.
They ate our foods and slept in our Inns.
Some even took up residence and pretended to be working men.
They boarded some planes on a morning flight.
With false credentials they had obtained in the night.
With no plans for these planes to reach their final destination.
Their hearts were filled with hatred of our great nation.
They claimed their deeds in the name of a religion.
No pity for the innocent or for those who would try to save them.
No mercy you see? Martyr’s they claim to be?
They crashed those planes into our two Twin Towers.
They even hit the Pentagon in an attempt to weaken our power.
On another plane people fought to the very end.
Brave men and women determined not to let them win.
They tore a hole in our hearts. But, they forgot one thing?
This is America and the land from which freedom rang!
We shall never be silence by evil people and their deeds!
Democracy shall forever be the battle cry for our freedom to me!
Freedom fighter or martyr they did claim to be?
No, more like cowards to me!
Senator Thomas Massie, a true con-vid era man.' Now a
Widower.) And international hero grand..' He stands for the great state
Of Daniel Boone, an advocacte of freedom who just liked
His (Elbow room)
A seventeen year old boy wanting to go into the Marines
Jailed for the will to be jailed
Kids shouldn’t play with fire
But they do, and of course they fail
In full conscious of mad desire
What now, will you write a sequel
To Servantes’s Don Quixote
Lots of tyres around every mill
A borsch with pampushka you’ve got
There’ll be Ursula of Brussels
The lady you wish to know better
There’ll be most malign old fossils
You must kill them, then go to get her
Or maybe you’ll call it a day
And give it all up, my brave kid
You’ve said what you needed to say
No one wanted, but you did
Like a moth to the flame you flew
To explain the obvious – why?
Suicidal truth suits a rare few
For the rest the price is too high.