Best Patrol Poems
Full moon
Brightly illuminates the forest
As a soldier leaps
Dictionary in hand Bobbies
manned state of the spy craft created
strategic peripheral outposts
a comma dated,
(sans syntax garnered monies) equated
justifiable to build galley ma free
Highland Manor wing - feted
via "FAKE" glitterati
creating surreptitious hated
surveillance monitor ring, which insulated
decked out starry eyed Starship
Enterprise surprise rated,
as an unbelievable well Spock kin
Duplicated Star Trek venerated
popular culture science fiction set piece,
where elderly residents waited
this other worldly architectural phenomenon
didst immediately outshine by alight
year among the original seven wonders
of the world prominant
as a buck toothed over bite
yet, didst camouflage top secret AngloSaxon
incognito missionaries delight
upholding correct language usage,
Thence trumpeting amidst
nonchalant onlookers as excite
mint hinted grammarians with listening devices
some flying unseen
as period size drones taking flight
other more sophisticated
electronic accouterments
dolled, gussied, issued with apostrophe
shaped flower buds scaling height
of cerulean sky, where blinding light
of a solar ellipsis, thus
arousing no discovered night
gallery suspicion during
feted occasion rife with polite
"FAKE" markedly questionable legatees quite
suitable asper The Art Of The Deal during
ribbon cutting ceremony,
and after words right
ting up citations slyly
slipped under windshield wipers
as the madding massed crowdsource,
would take dispersed out of sight
nonetheless echoes plenti chutzpah left
English figures of speech
uttering unstinting (quote unquote)
premature ejaculations,
eh so blandly trite
non-sequitur visited
by thee epic of Gilgamesh
for a dangling participle
during the split infinitive Sumer season
(exclamation point) no more to write!
It was an unexpected night time pleasure
As I drove out of the mountains
Suddenly there in the valley below
Were the lights of Salt Lake City
I was tearing down the mountain
Returning to Seattle in my new Corvette
That’s when I heard the siren
A glance at the speedometer showed 85
That officer tore me a new one
He was mad and he really put me down
The way that he was talking
I thought I was headed to the jailhouse
He said, “It’s people like you that are at fault
For giving sports car a bad name”
Then, I couldn’t believe it
After making me feel so ashamed
He let me off with only a warning
I spent that night in Salt Lake City
Then got up early and on my way
There just wasn’t hardly any traffic
It was too early for the commuters
Such light traffic, I guess I had a heavy foot
As I was cruising my way out of the city
For suddenly, there in my rear view mirror
I could see the Flashing lights going around
I thought to myself, Oh my God, not again
As I got prepared for a chewing out
But the office was smiling and quite polite
Not like the one that stopped me yesterday
He said son, you were speeding; going to fast
I clocked you on the radar at 80 in a 55 zone
Nice looking car by the way,
What size engine is under that hood?
I tried to tell him all about my Corvette
Thinking that he would go light on me
I even apologized for speeding and told him
It certainly did regret having done it
Still being so polite as he was from the start
The office looked me in the eye and said
Here’s your ticket son; 25 over the limit
It’ll be expensive, expect a hell of a fine
In my country, gangs of fiends own the night.
In my country, we lived broken lives of torment.
My family fled with little but our naked terror.
Bleeding and blistered, our feet carried us hundreds of miles.
But I always had my familia.
We migrated in trucks, never sure
we could trust coyotes.
We roamed scorching desert, never
sure we would find food or water.
Sometimes we waited until nightfall, hidden from view.
We were nocturnal prey on winding dirt roads,
never sure if we would be killed.
But I always had my familia.
Our bellies choking from hunger,
our desolate depletion, the final forces
delivering us to the border.
So distant my country, so remote in this
unearthly place where we were captured by
armed strangers, where we were divided by
strangers.
Today, I no longer have my familia.
This day is glass shattering and the shards
cut me open like a skinned rat.
Today I am that bawling baby paralyzed
by panic.
Today I am that shrieking child trembling
in terror.
Today I am that adolescent crowded
in a cage.
Today I am that tortured toddler
crying himself to sleep.
Published: Dissident Voice 11/8/20
Carrie Nation was renown for her scorn
For the havoc caused by john barleycorn
She wielded her axe causing dire consternation
Wrecking bars with what she termed a "hatchitation"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
The spirits come for a late night ethereal visit
the little girl announces her presence
Breath in Breath out
there is nothing to forgive
Your pain is validation you still live
With that... all sense of hearing dissapears
next comes paralysis with its icy grip, breath chocked by irrational fear
Now starts the grainy images of an old terrible black and white news reel
fuzzy subtitles of smiling troops whose words we cannot read or hear
with loud military music assaulting the ears.
Breath in Breath out
there is nothing to forgive
Your pain is validation you still live
Silence returns as the gates of hell swing open right on cue,
the cast of ghostly characters come into view
all take their place until the scene is complete,
the silence is broken by a lone heart beat.
She takes her place in the news reel's flickering images of light
The camera follows her every move, a crescendo of music as her spirit takes flight,
for this maybe the first time she ever experienced a confectionery delight.
Breath in Breath out
there is nothing to forgive
Your pain is validation you still live
Her and many faceless children come laughing, disembodied hands reaching out
to the young soldiers in return receiving tootsie rolls and gummi bears
Pleasant encounters must now end... with a village elder and authoritarian shouts.
We watch her run home laughing with a pocket full of candy to share.
Evil breaths in, Evil breaths out... exhaling caustic hate
The Acrid fumes blinds our eyes
as shadowy figures materialize...
for this little pretty little girl was nothing more than bait
The small moment of humanity will be exchanged for eternal despair
She must return with her pink backpack to complete this morbid affair.
Running calling to us, laughing holding it out for us to see
Boom then she is gone, nothing but a red mist where she used to be.
Breath in, Breath out
there is no need
for you to grieve
Your pain is validation both you and I live
there is nothing to forgive
no need to pay anymore dues
fore I am your guardian now watching over you
Evil knows no bounds as it locks people into such cruel fates.
We both are sorry for meeting that March day
and with that the flickering news reel ends.
we part ways again.
The U-boat left the mouth of the French harbour
Under cover of darkness for these German Navy martyrs
To the North Atlantic they went to sink Allied shipping their bent
Their plan was to cut Britain's supply line of shipping without lament
But just lately the tide had changed and others had not returned
Posted on the notice boards their fate was on eternal patrol not yearned
It took two days to sail to their patrol station in the shipping lanes
From the United States to Britain in the life line for the British to sustain
Them in their struggle against the Nazi aggressor in the Second World War battle
On this day it was different when the Canadian Corvette chasing them in their mettle
They dived down to escape the hunting as the depth charges exploded around
Until one exploded near the hull of the submarine sending it to the bottom ground
So the U-boat was lost with all of its hands who were in the crew
And they had not been able to radio their base regarding their fate too
The submarine was marked as now on eternal patrol in the North Atlantic
With the families of the crew waiting for word of them made them frantic
The captain was at the periscope still looking around for targets for them
And the crew continued on with no thought of death or the cruise having an end.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Soaring with stingers,
Unsuspecting tiny strikes,
Bee’s protect their hives.
Nathan Bane Leccese
© All Rights Reserved 05/19/2009
met a line of ghosts
each smoking marijuana
cried for quick rescue
RECONNAISSANCE PATROL
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
Scheduled for patrol tonight, damn I got the point
We must secure at least one exiting point
I hate night patrols, transiting from cover to debouch
I might be leading my buddies straight into an ambush
I’m not sure but daylight patrols seem safer
Locating trip wires and mines, I surely prefer
Cloudy moonlit night need to avoid silhouetting
I’ve a hole in my stomach, I’m hyperventilating
Calm down: get totally focused on the mission
Got to think clearly and quickly on every decision
Men following are depending on my judgements
Assess the enemys location, avoiding assailments
Clean my weapon, oil it, grease the slides
Boy, my mom can bake deep dish apple pies
Can’t get distracted with personal thoughts
Thanksgiving she made a dessert using apricots
Remove objects anything that might make noise
Nervous as hell, can’t show it, maintain my poise
We’re all assembled, this recon calls for eight
Should have taken cute little Gloria out on a date
Man has a cold: coughing, too risky, he’s excused
Dismissing the tail gunner, man I sure hate to lose
Recheck your equipment, blacken your face
Don’t bunch up, stay in line, keep up with the pace
Move out, no talking, til we accomplish the mission
Go together, return together, a silent supplication
I was inspired to write this poem by conversations I had back in the 1960s with a World War 2 veteran who served from D-day to VE-day and had gone on numerous night patrols. His wife, Gloria, told me they were married for more than ten years before he started sleeping without a light on.
Can you hear the whispers
brought on by the wind storming?
Carried true by the harpers,
the tale the howls are forming?
Came a knock at the farmer's door,
a mailed fist with a fate to turn.
A sob, a wail, a call to war,
a boy, a son, home soon to yearn.
Soon a soldier strode from youth,
to the beat of the king's drum.
A shield his hide, a sword his tooth,
his pack stood the night to come.
Oh for the heroes of men,
the ones who hold the line -
oh for the kin behind,
the ones who hold to hope.
Silence broke to a thunderous horn,
the battle joined with the savage horde.
On a bloody tide he thus was borne,
death he granted and fury he roared.
Silence returned with a blade's sigh,
sanguine as it was ripped away.
A keen, a dirge, a mother's cry,
a man, a son, home soon to lay.
Oh for the heroes of men,
the ones who hold the line -
oh for the kin behind,
the ones who hold to hope.
A place to rest he was given,
a peace he has not taken.
To guard, to serve he is driven,
his will, his resolve unshaken.
So when you see a warrior's mound,
shed not a tear to hear the bugle -
hark rather the marching sound,
for he yet walks the vigil.
Tazed in Patrol Car Backseat
He was found dead in Patrol car backseat
Shot with Taser and did repeat and repeat
In total agony he surely must have been
After having been tased again and again.
All police rules this was completely against
And all about this you sort of sensed
It was not right and had gone wrong
All of their excuses were same old song.
Poor soul's life's lot had been caste
By shooters this was to be their last
Resort that they could have been taken
For his family all of this was heartbreaking.
Was example of total, utter incompetence
Of mercy should to be angels or agents
What we need to do is create an initiative
Souls be safe, sane, secure and allowed to live.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Might you be
That very special girl
I hold so tight
As our love reaches new heights
Our souls dance with delight
Looking for the perfect direction
When our paths crossed
With such loving affection
Do we dare try to compare
How much we love and care
When we turn up the degrees
On this amazing sensuality
When I found myself shifting to patrol
Face to face with your glory-hole
Rather than hold,
When I found myself losing control
Like a red hot injection,
You strive for perfection
Blowing my mind
Hanging on to this rodeo
Cause you stole the show
When you put this cowboy
Into tallyho
Sealing it with a big wet kiss
You're such a loving dish
Going out of your way
Fulfilling my every wish
You are the real deal
Who prides themselves
When you kiss the sky
Riding this rodeo guy
As I foresee
Some of the best whoopee
All for a man like me
Now our spirits set free
With this wonderful love
Wrapped around me