Best Frontlines Poems
must refuse relegation, obey
only the roar of our own angels, then reshape
breastplates to shield the motherland
from any warlord who dares
to pimp our flag.
Battlefields have always been a woman’s place,
We were born to bleed, to fight-
off advances, to heal from the inside-out.
We, nasty, nasty women
who dare castrate filibusters, know grit,
audacity, the combat for higher grounds.
History is lit by an army of fiery
heroines, burnt at stakes by low-life
aristocrats, suckling-pig-kings.
We, Nasty women rise from ashes
to become better-armed daughters,
knightmares, hallowed witches on frontlines,
glorious, undefeated legends.
After Jeanne d'Arc et Saint-Michel by Eugene Thirion, painting seen above
Categories:
frontlines, allegory, history, political,
Form:
Ekphrasis
Dedicated to Lt. Gen. George S. Patton, Jr. (November 11, 1885 – December 21, 1945)
I'd fought a hundred battles
through the ages past and new
I'd been a lowly foot soldier
But at times commanded too.
I was a witness of Arab mothers
Fleeing cities under-siege ;
A new age liberator,
The commander of the third.
I had served with Ceasar's legion;
The Carthaginians; and the Greeks.
When Arthur was in his Kingship,
I was a captain of the knights
A horseman tough and skillful
Of medieval cavalier;
But ages had transformed me
to dash with iron wheels
The only time I meet MacArthur
Was in the salient of St. Mehiel
We both stood erect, calm, and unmindful
To the guns and bursting shell.
Oh well take a look at Monty
Too slow for his advance
He didn't expect me to take Palermo
or Mesina to my plan
I was reproved of my harshness,
They knew not that I was somber too
I cared not of my language
As long as my point would get through
I'd mixed my words with profanities
That my orders surely stick
My men would always remember every word
While they're in the battle field
Oh my, I hate those yellow bastards
They have no place on this earth
I sent them to the frontlines
That no more they would breed
Those swivel chair commanders
Discounted my two days time
But brave soldier deserved to be rescued
Before his dog tag stops to chime.
So my men made it to Dunkirk
To the delight of McAuliffe
"Surrender!" yelled the Nazis
but "nutz" was all he said.
I was cut off of supplies and fuel
For Market Garden's sake
But after pissing the flowing River
I held the Fuhrer's nest
So soon another war was ended
Mine enemies had lost
The iron carver claimed the glory
And relieved me from my post.
Categories:
frontlines, memorial day, patriotic, soldier,
Form:
Sonnet
Whence diplomacy fails mankind.
Soldiers amassed with patriotic duties to fulfill.
Some willing, some underaged, some desperate.
Weaponry and vehicular production overdriven.
Military strategies drafted that await execution.
Prayers flood the heavens, farewell letters penned vigorously.
None prepared for what’s to come, sweet talk is all they have.
Come dawn, they depart for the frontlines.
Unto the battlefield where the enemy lies.
One step forward and all hell breaks loose.
Gunshots pierce, artillery’s shrapnel far-reaching.
Mangled corpses sprawled for families to mourn.
Commands roared but not followed for fear fuels the men.
Chaos ensues ruthlessly with no end in sight.
Death and blood saturates the gruesome battlefield.
Oh dear God, do you hear the cries of sorrow?
Oh dear God, do you see your land blood-brimmed?
Who will you aid when good and evil are indiscernible?
Countries conquered, engulfed by terror and atrocities.
Air raids never ending, bomb shelters becoming the second home.
Civilians contemned, slaughtered like pigs, experimented on like rats.
Prisoners of War starving to the bones as they labor restlessly.
Anguish ever present but naught can be done to rid it.
Oh dear God, do you witness the atrocious brutality?
Oh dear God, will you show them mercy and end their misery?
Homeward, anxiety ravages mercilessly like a plague.
Will my beloved return for college?
Will my darling return to love?
Will my dearest return to tuck me in?
Answers undetermined for life preaches uncertainty.
Politicians stand unscathed whilst comrades lay crippled.
In the perpetual bid for peace, the world drowns in blood.
Categories:
frontlines, conflict, dark, death, god,
Form:
Free verse
A mass of grey and rusted silver strewn
By the sky god from sifted appurtenances.
Preserve of ancients jousting with modernity,
Behind edifice a disperse of brimming slums
With piles, heaps of filth, debris, decay and stench;
Congestion and the jostle for ends and gains.
Benin endowed with neo wiles obviating tradition
And irked for now-now pleasure and wealth
Imitating and striving for wannabes
Inculcating habit and aspiring for a world without the sun
Yet far from assimilating it by the words of the old:
Carrot does not sprout in the root of a yam stalk.
Old city, once enliven by aestheticism
And renowned by the arts and crafts of bronze now
At the backdrop with every frontlines bedecked
By remnants of exotic necessaries. Men, vehicles rush,
Scramble and stream Ringroad and Ramat
From dawn to dusk to the abyss of nowhere
And returning home at last to the euphoric solace
Of the mellow hit of Waifo highlife
And the scores of green, brown bottles that thrive.
Benin, where once the Portuguese trespassed,
The Dutch men trampled and the British overturned
Leaving behind their long evening shadows
A new self-image chained in the heart.
Categories:
frontlines, africa, art, conflict, confusion,
Form:
Verse
We’ve laid down our swords
And hanged up our shields
But the war still rages on in our hearts
We’ve tamed the warhorse
His saddle rests in the stable
But his stride still charges our frontlines
Our trenches buried
A soldier never stops his march
It will continue to consume him to his own end
And all those close to him
Will be his unintended victims
On the battle brought to his doorstep
So we’ve built a war machine
To deliver nothing less than glory
Designed perfection in total destruction
He moves with stealth
His existence camouflaged
You’ll never see him crumble as he salutes you
Honourably discharged into a violent society
Opposed to his order and discipline
To endure sounds of gunshots and chaos in the streets
Forced to relive his nightmares
Of exploding missiles and discharged mines
Screams of the dying and the agony of the wounded
Staring into the empty distance
He sees the worlds he's helped destroy
Following orders to protect and serve his own
He understands the sacrifice
As he holds his child in his arms
How he gave new life with his gun’s final breath
Surrounded by loved ones
Desolate as an abandoned battlefield
Missing the lives he's lost...dreading the lives he's taken
Explosions in his head
Shrapnel in his heart
He's a spear thrown deep into enemy territory
...I salute thee brave knight
For I sleep inspite of war tonight
A war once ended peace will endure, but yours is uncertain
Tribute to the Soldier!
A brother, a warrior...a sentinel...a hero
Thabang Jan Ngoma
07-17-2015
Sponsor: Kelly Deschler
Contest Name: Men Only #2
Categories:
frontlines, soldier,
Form:
Lyric
(or, "Your Old Stomping Ground")
There’s a secretary that I know
whose husband recently died
But life somehow continues as before
She has to keep replicating the myth
that everything’s all right –
A savant of the copy machines
A mannequin in a megastore
There’s a child that I know
who goes to school with bruises
Just a shell of a thing bearing signs
of a nightly artillery attack
When did we start sending
our kids to the frontlines,
And when in the name of Christ
are we calling them back?
You just pretend
Things aren’t crazy
The bandleader’s not deaf
And the King is not a clown
So you defend
The last vestiges of confidence
And stick your flag in the last square
Of your old stomping ground
There’s a family that I know
they only speak in whispers
Afraid to raise their voices
for fear of an alcoholic’s rage
I wonder how they’ll fare
twenty years from now:
Will they ever rise up from their manacles
or their transparent cage?
And there’s a young man that I know
Has his whole life ahead of him
Still stuck on the diving board
over a pool of unemployment
Just wait a while, just wade awhile
Cling to your inflated promises
While you’re stuck in this limbo, might as well
Drown in your enjoyments
You just pretend
It’s getting late now
And the party’s letting out
The stragglers and the drunkards head
for another port of call.
Yet suspect the hosts, the powers that be,
in their senility, misplaced our keys
So we derelicts wander directionless
Like half-ghosts bumping into walls
But we just pretend…
Categories:
frontlines, abuse, addiction, anger, beauty,
Form:
Epic
Band of the courageous crew,
taming the raging beast within.
Firie gladiators, bestow,
Volunteering battalions,
to the frontlines of waring monsters.
The fire tamer’s rides,
upon their white chariots.
Dressed in golden amour,
to ward off dangerous claws.
Crowned with helmets of valour,
upon their heads.
Selfless acts of bravery,
putting their own lives,
on the line, for others.
Protecting what is not theirs,
before thinking of themselves.
Wielding their liquid swords,
the monster's forced to yield.
Strong brigades take a stand,
holding the monster at bay.
Their worth is more,
than they are paid!
Categories:
frontlines, fear, hope, life, natural
Form:
You swept the world out of its feet
Made it tumblin, chillin, crumblin
All of its parts seem to echo with crying
For you to stop, they all kept pleading
But with your sudden grand entrance
For an invisible enemy that you are
Noone's sure when this is gonna stop
Only to God Almighty's plan we trust.
You have been the toughest foe
With the countless lives you stole
The calamity-striken globe
Is down on its knees for hope.
Hope, kindled by the ones on the frontlines
Forgetting themselves for the sake of others
The unspoken heroism of our fellows
Flooding the world with care amidst the chaos.
So to you, COVID19 pandemic
You are yet the greatest test
But the world will never surrender
We are strong enough to win this battle.
Categories:
frontlines, dedication,
Form:
Rhyme
Soldiers!
Move!
Running to the other side
Bullet fly towards us all
I see my brothers fall dead
How the wind drips the blood dust on my face
But i gotta make it
A gun on hand
A missile ahead
All i gotta do is plant the bomb
Kill all who steps ahead
Take no prisoners
This is no game
Is life over the front line
Is what we were told to do
Is what we choose to do
Now go out there and show them real fury
The hatred in your heart use it as a riffle
The rage build up as a bomb
And the strength of all lands as a victory
Destroy the bunkers
Destroy the sand
This waters will only flow the blood of history
Lead the weapons out the other side
No love here
This is not a dream
Is all reality
Become the god you wanted
Judge with your guns the life you never created
Believe it all
Im glad you listen well
Now that you destroyed the land
I take the victory
The money you won goes for me
The land you destroyed you pay for
No pick up for you
Now perish alongside your sins!
Categories:
frontlines, warlife,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Smothered skies of soot sink into raging flames
Torches lift to boundless heavens, blanketing faces with
Autumn air too weary and weighted to breathe
Infuriated fire storm consumes ferociously
Rampant fury creates a stairway to the vanishing stars
While the wild inferno blots out the moonlight
Ashes float for miles through a thick fog of smoke
Yesterday the sun sparkled in an endless sapphire sky
Today an amber blaze threatens to engulf the darkness
Over crackling timber, choking constellations scatter
Terror overtakes the once serene woodland dale
Homes are abandoned, cherished keepsakes fuel the fury
Ethereal howls from hell's hounds spark nightmares
Sirens wailing from the frontlines ascend with prayers
Trembling hands and hearts lift to Heaven
Astral visions of celestial illumination in the mind's eye
Raise hopes for tomorrow's sacred star-filled sky to return
Sanctification of smoldering ground will bring rebirth
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders, February 15, 2012
for Stairway to the Stars Contest (Linda-Marie, the Sweetheart of PS)
Seventh place
Categories:
frontlines, fear, hope, life, loss,
Form:
Acrostic
I left home in dreams of battlefield glory,
When Pea flower dot the golden brown cole
In the delicate bloom of late spring.
I cycled to the frontlines,
Wheels whispering of broken prophecies.
The great willow seemed to know me in roundabout,
So sent forth a shower of riverside catkin.
I return home as snowflakes whirl in a winter night,
Ice blurring my line of sight.
The children, unknowing
Run past and bow respectfully
As to any travelling elder, a companion in wooden stick.
They think me a stranger and speak of good wine,
Gone was the willow and cole flower,
In dreams now I only see fields of lusty green.
Who can understand my sorrow now?
I wash with frozen river water,
For there’s none the wiser,
None quite so forgiving.
Categories:
frontlines, culture, farewell, grief, growth,
Form:
Free verse
12/27/21
Did poorly or was doing just fine
The outcome was negative or had a plus sign
Always not just sometimes
Being one of a kind
Under the moonlight and sunshine
When it took a turn for the worse or was sublime
No longer getting brushed aside
Seeking what it is that I must find
On the frontlines
Can't force it
Or forfeit
Held true or was horse
Bought it or couldn't afford it
Crystal clear or distorted
Unavoidable or able to be thwarted
Saw it coming from the crows nest
Meanwhile, most think they know best
As they struggle to clean up their own mess
Very quick to protest
In their ways they are so set
For the greater good or due to greed it was commercialized
All of this, I could not internalize
Something still stirs inside
It's tragic that humans and animals got burned alive
Better be something you're sure about
Or it'll have an unsuccessful turnout
Close and far from any birdhouse
So many rotten games
It has gotten strange
All about the profit gains
Not any pocket change
Categories:
frontlines, dark, deep, life, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme
A story I read about war and good luck charms…..
The Good luck charm
Standing on the dock in front of the troop ship
His mother hugged him and fussed about Straightening his hat and brushing his tunic and bits
Finally stuffing a hankie in his top tunic pocket
He protested as a son was prone to
do
As it was all done in front of his mates
Finally it was last call as he followed up the gangway too
And the ship moved away to the Great War frontlines
He was a message runner for his battalion
And he carried the hankie through his Great War battles
Often dodging the machine guns all along
As he made his way through the mud and shell holes
His mother’s hankie always made him think of her
Never leaving it in his pack not wanting to lose it
And as a good luck charm when bad scrapes did occur
Until one day he was caught by a machine gun blast
One of the bullets wounded his neck as the wound showed
With his life pouring out with his blood
The only thing was the hankie to stem the flow
As he held it tightly to his neck to stop the blood
The stretcher bearers found, bandaged and brought him in
With the hankie stemming the blood flow
He was taken to the Casualty Clearing Station through the din
The doctor and nurses worked on him
There was no more war because of his injuries all
So he went back to Australia taking the hankie with him
And he kept it with blood stains from the wound call
Until the Second World War was declared again
His son took it again to war in North Africa, Greece, Crete and to New Guinea to the end
The son returned home and gave the hankie back to the Anzac
Lauding its power to keep him safe in battles again
He returned home to his family and life in Australia
There was a third generation of warriors in war going back
When a grandson took the hankie along too
Vietnam was the battlefield and the hankie’s powers were fact
He returned to Australia unscathed too
The hankie had good luck in store
When carried into battle as a good luck charm
For a family of warriors who needed it and more
And the family was convinced it protected them.
© Paul Warren Poetry
© Paul Warren Poetry
Categories:
frontlines, remembrance day, war,
Form:
Epic
He was a warrior
Brave and true
An American soldier
Of World War II
Many battles he did see
On the frontlines of Germany
He fought with pride
He fought with strength
His friends of war
He did defend
He saved the lives
Of soldiers and Jews
Every life saved
His intent was true
His honor and glory on the
Battlefield did shine
His faithfulness to his country
Will live for all time
He was a proud soldier
Strong and true
A soldier who loved
Both me and you
For our freedom
He did fight
To make sure all of our
Days would be bright
To this soldier both
Brave and strong
To our Grandfather
Who is now gone
Your love and honor
Will always live on
Dedication
To our grandfather Earl W. Smith. You are no longer with us but we will cherish your
memories forever. We love you for the freedom you provided us and for the happiness you
gave us while you were alive.
©May 26, 2004 Kimberly Fluitt
Categories:
frontlines, warlove, soldier, world war
Form:
Of those hurt, during the world's commotion,
whom were there, at the wrong time and place.
All realizing, at the very initial moment,
their life will soon end, from what, they then face.
On their honor, I fight, along with my battles,
no more, will those, whom then cause, will get away.
Us across the frontlines, fully prepared, ready to engage,
upon the enemy; with their lives, being the price to pay.
As long, as there is; and all in uniform, we are,
never again, will those, like previous, have to go through.
Becoming changed people, compared from whom, we were,
promising to defend all, doing what, we have, to now do.
Categories:
frontlines, war
Form:
Rhyme