Best General Poems
We are admonished by guardians of civilization
to battle the enemy with due civil restraints
Yet with a nagging visceral realization
we know wars are not fought by saints
Rules of war shield all children from harm
disallowing rape and torture and pillage
soothing unease, assuaging alarm
reassuring every town, farm and village
Long ago Sherman warned us war is hell
as knowing heads bowed with grim words unspoken
Now lulled into another innocent naive spell
we learn again rules are meant to be broken
Respect in uniform
A man with respect
Major Oliver O. Howard
One of the US Armies best
A courageous soldier
With an order to follow
Dis-quell the Indian Wars
So there be peace tomorrow
Born in Maine
His dad died when he was nine
But this little boy
Turned out oh so fine
At nineteen, he graduated
A young man, already well rated
1854 Military pass
This bright young man, 4th in his class
Time advances to the Indian Wars
To do his duties, soldier sworn
To quell the fighting, peace be ours
Chief Joseph and the Indian colors
His task achieved, tho Indian losses
Orders he served, from Washington's bosses
Chief Joseph, from his lands he was moved
To Oklahoma, situation defused
1894 the retirement of he
Major General what he rose to be
Universities and College named in his name
This quite amazing soldier of Military Fame
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/native-americans.php
" When i heard about this gentleman, it desired me to write. Unknown to me he has actually
been in the historical background of one of my poems, and an ancestor of one of our poets "
Rode around Essex with murder in mind
With evil followers from town to town
Matthew Hopkins was the worst of his kind
Hunting for witches that he could take down.
Towns people would say that woman's a witch
She'd then be tortured until she confessed
Then hanged until death and thrown in a ditch
Hopkins got paid saying she was possessed .
People believed his work was of the good
Earned a large fortune from superstition
By ridding' evil 'from the neighbourhood
Claimed witch finding was his holy mission.
Three hundred murdered in his killing spree
Were all tortured and charged with sorcery.
Written 1st August 2019.
Sent from my Windows 10 device
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The general’s monocle holds
no reflection~
only maps
where borders bleed
like wet ink.
His uniform stiffens
with every medal,
each one hammered from
the same mute ore.
He signs the orders first,
then breakfast~
black coffee, bitter as spent shells.
The map is clean
where his finger rests,
no mud, no blood,
just ink-stained creases.
Five thousand tons of steel will roll
where his pencil hesitates.
The military machine
calls it strategy~
a word that appeals
to the masses
better than
corpse or widow.
Down the hall, the lieutenant
memorizes his father’s frown,
practicing it in the mirror.
Promotion tastes like
brass buttons
dissolving on his tongue.
The General studies the map again~
his coffee gone cold.
He traces borders
with his finger.
one that’s never touched dirt
or trembled in surrender.
Victory fits neatly
in his briefcase.
On the battlefield weeks later,
a corporal triumphantly
wipes his blade
and thinks of the boy
who called him coward
ten years ago,
in a schoolyard.
Later, alone,
the General admires his reflection
in the polished table,
imagining history books
too kind to mention
the tremor
in his hand.
And the wartime ego?
It never dies.
It digs trenches in the mind,
planting flags
in the graveyards
of reason.
Lord, it’s been a good chunk of time...
Been such a long time.
Time enough for me to know...
To know it so well.
Been without it too long...
Too long to take it.
And baby I need it...
And honey, you’ve got it.
And I need to have it...
So you need to share it.
Just send a little bit my way.
Lord, it’s been a mighty long time...
Sentenced to hard time.
Time to have to go without...
To struggle without it.
My need is so strong...
It’s stone-busting strong.
You know I crave it so bad...
So bad it’s sinful.
And it hurts me so good...
And you’ve got the goodies.
I just need to have it...
You need to breath it.
Just blow it on along my way.
I need your second-hand smoke...
Second-hand smoke.
I need thy kingdom to come...
Not nicotine gum.
In through the nose,
Out through the mouth...
I need your second-hand smoke.
My life these days just can't be beat
To be honest it's quite the treat
Blossom's blooming upon the tree
Hummingbirds feeding peacefully
Blue jays bouncing across the yard
They're just little birds playing hard
The mountains truly seem to glow
All covered white with winters snow
I treasure life with its embrace
My soul is now a peaceful place
My mind is on quite a mission
Out to better its position
To me this life is like a dream
My love flows like a mountain stream
So crystal clear and full of life
I serve my Lord and love my wife
Write my rhymes for the world to see
Beauty of life's simplicity
I'm a man that has found his plight
By serving God and shinning bright
In general it is going well
That's in as far as I can tell
Dear General Eisenhower:
Sir, you are a man of great wisdom and foresight
Is this why you made sure photographs were taken
photographs of mass graves stuffed with rotting bodies
mass graves of naked men, women, and yes...children
herded into what they were led to believe were showers
yet not cleansing showers, but showers of deadly, lethal gas?
Slaughtered only because of their suspected racial heritage
because they were part of a monster’s master plan
a plan to breed a 'superior race' of blond, blue eyed robots
marching in lock-step to his insane rants of propaganda?
General, could your reason have been that you knew
could you have possibly understood:
that there is an eternal battle between good and evil
that Satan and his servants are unwavering, relentless
that someday some would deny.....
that it ever happened?
**General Eisenhower realized that someday there would be those who would
deny the Holocaust ever occurred, therefore he took action. Local citizens were
made aware of the atrocities, and pictures were taken.
He could fight and win battles, could this General Ulysses Grant!
Other of Lincoln's generals were continually sayin', "I can't!"
Though 'twas well-known that General Grant relished his schnapps,
Even soused he could concoct solid battle plans by studyin' his maps.
Becomin' frustrated with his other generals and their lack of action,
Abe suggested to an aide that if it would help them get some traction,
He'd like to know what Ulysses drank and where he got the stuff,
So he could send a barrel to every general to get him off his duff!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
SLAM - a form of poetry wherein poets slam, insult, roast and/or highly criticize each other in poetic form.
*
My General Poet Slam
*
You dare refer to what you write as poetry?
I read inconsistencies and total lack of originality.
Your haiku's truly lose any and all credibility,
and your limericks are as lame as can possibly be.
Your couplets are what I find most pleasing to read
because even though they are meaningless and boring,
at least they are brief,
but it is most likely that I'll forever give your poetry a read.
I'm an insomniac, and your poetry naturally puts me directly to sleep.
Don't quit your day job,...seriously,
but you might make a fortune helping insomniacs to get some sleep.
An unusually lethargic and whining dude was General George McClellan.
He was reluctant to saddle up and move the army despite Lincoln's yellin'!
In desperation Abe wired his sluggish commander and in his usual witty style,
Said, "If you are not using the army, I should like to borrow it for awhile!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
CSA General Bedford Forest
Mighty killing warrior
Would've won the war no jest
If his horses were survivors
Gen. Forest lost 30 horses during the civil war and killed more soldiers than any
other general. It could be said he was lucky or his horses were unfortunate.
The general election fast approach, reelin lies,
The political jellyfish elite, pretend to have spines,
For a short period, no vague indifference, the illusion of ties,
Not that bind, we’re all blind, alluded by schoolboy arguments and whines,
Their spin dominates the headlines, whilst
Natural disaster victims rot amongst the flies,
Why is false economic promise more important than human lives?
These luciferian suits are nothing they try to contrive,
but a vacant lot, a vehicle for evil, running with knives,
so when they declare we all slaves or another war, who’ll be surprised?
The election, intelligence suspended in animation,
succumbed to their eventual procrastination,
their balls out nature beggars belief and captures our imagination,
thinking these toads can change our lives for the better?
They're just a criminal organisation!
Vote UKIP.
Read a Book about a General named Custer
Pompous and Ambitious
He was filled with Bluster
Thought of Fighting Indians from Night until Muster
Little Did he know in a Dream his Men were seen by Sitting Bull
The Great Indian Cheif of The Teton Sioux
Attacked by Crazy Horse and Slaughtered at the Little BigHorn
General Custer's Massacre
Doomed the Indians
as They were met with American's Eternal Scorn
His guard couldn’t help snitchin’
When he washed grenades in his kitchen.
This general had a hazardous heart,
His name: Linoleum Blownapart.
Villanelle : Whosoever’s inveigled by the general theory of Good in Evil
Whosoever’s inveigled by the general theory of Good in Evil
Knows not Yang in Yin’s tai chi arms gets kicked out of bed
The fight’s then over better still forfeit all moral wherewithal
The Good by nature will not stir to quell the scheming Devil
Post-coitus female praying mantis munches the male’s head
Whosoever’s inveigled by the general theory of Good in Evil
If you do nothing at all everything will turn to rot or swill
The sink will reek with stink and leeching bed-bugs are bred
The fight’s then over better still forfeit all moral wherewithal
Then even the police and security forces will outright kill
Seize by force the rightful hard-earned virtue of the Good
Whosoever’s inveigled by the general theory of Good in Evil
The relativity principle wants that both abide in goodwill
Be that so who lets the Evil get the upper-hand and go ahead
The fight’s then over better still forfeit all moral wherewithal
Hound rape denounce torture deprive confound steal kill
All thoughtless actions which in the heartless are self-bred
Whosoever’s inveigled by the general theory of Good in Evil
The fight’s then over better still forfeit all moral wherewithal
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014