Best Power Station Poems
Ukraine is putting up a brave fight and is not giving in
A two finger salute to that murderer, Vladimar Putin
For eight months now they've held out in their cities
Dispite missiles, murder, rape and other atrocities.
Putin thought he had the most powerful and efficient army
If you believe that garbage you'd be bordering on barmy
They're inefficient, ill equipped, and cowardly in battle
When Ukraine advances they quickly retreat from trouble.
As winter approaches he's trying to demoralise the nation
By sending orders to his vile Orcs to bomb a power station
The west must send generators to help ease their plight
Along with more weapons to help, brave Ukrainians fight.
The grain shipments to poor nations is now under threat
That man is sub human and how much lower can he get?
Like the Roman empire and the Nazis big cracks will appear
Putins Russian empire will crumble and eventually disappear.
The Russian army has a long yellow streak down its back
It fires missiles indiscriminately when it's under attack
No thought for human life be it kids, women or old men
Sanctioned in that scum ridden place, they call the Kremlin.
Putins campaign for more troops is not going too well
No decent minded Russian wants to go into that hell
He's recruiting in prisons, along with the old and the lame
Putins cannon fodder and for Ukraine they're fair game.
We must not let Putin succeed, with his 'special operation'
He must think we're stupid; it's war against a peaceful nation
I have every faith in brave Ukraine and in the end they will win
There will be no Russian victory, and hopefully the end of Putin.
Victory to Ukraine.
Written on 1st November 2022.
Categories:
power station, death, evil, soldier, war,
Form:
Rhyme
There are times
when I long to move
beyond the edges of myself
as when, this morning, alongside
the power station fence,
I passed under a red cloud
of bottlebrush flowers
dripping nectar in a frenzy
of birds feeding on the sticky
clusters overhead,
too high for me to reach
and plunge my hand
deep into the pure joy
of that crimson feast.
And when a greyhound,
let loose from its leash,
ran past me with such speed
and grace, I longed to be
its stride, the power propelling
it across the grass
and into the distance, turning
in the wide arc
of its own happiness.
I would have given anything
to dissolve into its bounding
freedom, undone from my leash
of old age and the slow shuffle
of aching feet.
There are times
when I long to move
beyond the edges of myself,
if only for a moment.
Categories:
power station, bird, dog, joy, self,
Form:
Free verse
Crazy People
The signal they need to be on the same
channel as you, is being interrupted, by voices or
wave signals connected to a different power station.
So why not listen to the message?
Instead you medicate. So now when they laugh
they cannot tell you what is funny....so
therefore, you stifle the message, and kill humor.
Instead of finding out what flight they were prepared for,
you medicate without understanding.
His drummer sent him a message,
that's the drum he dances to.
You kill the message, sedate the messenger;
And now you will never know.
Who's crazy them or you.?
Since some sit upon the right hand,
and some sit upon the left;
It’s only the Yen and Yang of God......
The crazy person wakes up laughing Hysterically;
You cannot even laugh at all...
So who's crazy, Them or you?
Both created by the same God,
or MAYBE Not!
Categories:
power station, crazy, introspection, people, poems,
Form:
Verse
We didn't go abroad this year, we had our summer holiday
Here in the UK where it had rained all summer long.
We scuba dived in the sea but it was dead, devoid of all
Life; we walked the coastal path to where the bungalow
Fell in the sea last year, near to the wreck of the oil tanker
That ran aground in a winter storm.
On the only dry day we had we went for a picnic sitting
In a meadow beneath an oak tree but there were no wild
Flowers, and no bees either; even the Holly Blue's didn't show.
Only the soft noise of fracking in a nearby field. Cows that once
Graced that field now stand farting and eating their lives away
In a shed that's part of a factory farm.
On our last day we sat in the cafe eating cod and
Chips, cod caught in the Irish Sea loaded with
Caesium 137 and strontium 90 that had been seeping
Out of Sellafield nuclear power station over the years.
We could have had the Pacific tuna irradiated from the
Fukushima fall-out but preferred the cod.
Categories:
power station, change, corruption, environment, farm,
Form:
Free verse
the chimney stacks
of the old power station
claws at the belly of the clouds
and with its sulfurous billowing
it bellows its stench
tinting the clouds, yellowing nicotine stains
as its cadaverous fingers clench
and releases, as it pleases
the painted nails
sport red flashing lights
as the bellowing smoke
for airspace fights
the dawn is cracked open
under the grey steam-pot lid
like a rotten egg
and the horizon is broken
into blocks
between the pedestal legs
of the spindly chimney stacks
progress clangs and clacks
on blood-rusted
unused train-tracks
the scars of progress on an old landscape
- weals healed over in ageless veldts
whilst weeds pimple between the stays
a last gasp of green displays
the gangrene death
of nature
oozing from the suture
as we break the past
to build the future
Categories:
power station, nature, technology,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Where ever I go
Where ever I stray
in the cold of the night
or the heat of the day
I carry her around everywhere
in my joyful heart.
It feels like I'm walking around
wearing the softest cosy blanket
made of gold silken thread
that gives me a warm glow
from my toes up to my head.
I feel invincible so happy
to be alive
with a power station of love
that builds in inside
With my mind in another place
and a huge smile upon my face
My life has meaning and direction
and all because of my sweet Lady
my strength my wonder
and perfection.
Peter Dome.copyright.2013. Dec.
Categories:
power station, dedication, i love you,
Form:
Romanticism
Tuesday 17th 1998.
Escape…
I felt an atomic bomb erupt from within me, as I the being I am raged an unending battle against the person that is I. My internal thoughts betraying my external actions, I was left in a state of absolute irrepressible rage. I tumbled and tossed, tried heavily to regain control, but I had already been left one soul with no body.
A chilling silence flew through the air, living me numb as I accessed my present vicissitude. I had collapsed in myself living me as a dead but yet leaving being.
I heard voices talking to me, distant voices, and almost silent ones sending a trigger through my spinal cord.
I looked at my pale and blood-deprived self in the mirror… I saw the devil within me, struggling, yes! Struggling to gain control of the power station that is I. A quick hit by reality sent me into a shock-absorbed state of mind, I loved the fact that I hated the person I had become.
I, a mere shadow of what I used to be, sat floating away in the illusion I had created within me.
My thoughts melting in my actions, my behavioral qualities being lost in my emotional obscenities.
All I could feel was a schizophrenic voice that said, “escape”.
Categories:
power station, abuse, anger, depression, desire,
Form:
Concrete
Throughout the Oxford countryside,
Ubiquitous. You cannot miss
That chimney or those cooling towers,
Dubbed “cloud machines” by local kids.
Fuelled by coal, this power station,
Condemned to death by Brussels Greens.
“Marmite” to a generation –
A love or hate industrial scene.
Iconic as the “dreaming spires”,
That is, if you ignore the wires
That droop from those gigantic towers,
Delivering to the nation, Power –
Two thousand megawatts, in fact.
The power to light two million homes
For two score years. The final act :
Disconnection. Demolition.
They’ll soon be gone – blown up, knocked down,
We’ll never see its like again;
Just memories now in Didcot town,
But do not mourn : less acid rain.
Categories:
power station, power,
Form:
Verse
Up but Down…part-5
“Poor place”, the spectral humming of the winds
Seems to tell, “the hills too would have to lose
Their birthright just like everyone of us.
On the way upward, somebody points
To a pitiful mile or so and tells
‘These are virgin forests left as they are’
But whereas on one side, rubber trees ooze
Sap through cuts where thick forests once were which
Bore not wounds but fruits and blooms in the past.
It’s only a question of time before
The virgins would bare themselves in sheer
Helplessness at man’s inhumanity.
The power station is off. More often than not.
With no power for itself to run
The power of water. Not a drop of it.
How imperceptibly we turn powerless
In our greed. To extract, to snatch, to steal.
From my place can I see a reservoir
Built by a far-sighted king of the past.
Yes, a grand pool of water it once was
Here can you now see miles and miles of sand
Dotted with puddles amidst bald hillocks.
A nuclear powe r station is being built
A little farther away. They have laid
Pipes to clear off even these puddles
To the project site. The signs of death and decay
Amidst the languishing signs of life
Is getting the stamp of authority.
And this region can now hope, sordidly
Hopelessly. To go through experiences
Which happen but once in a life time
Which will turn it to a land of thirst
Radioactive waste and wasted limbs.
We returned. Yes, a month ago. Not from
A hill of hope but one foreboding doom
Fast and noticeably. Must be changing
Fast. So when next time when we come looking out
If I too could gain something in my quest
For wealth, power and pelf, what will be left will
Be some fire-licked hills plus all their ills.
Categories:
power station, nature, power, time,
Form:
Narrative
Dust descending
fills my ears and nose:
small stones loosened from the soft rock
bleed our faces and our arms......
the smell of this cellar
the drought of this cellar
the echoing sound of this cellar
the rumble of this cellar
the body that lies in our arms
Why are we smothered like rats in this pothole
lying in the dark, shaken with fear
teeth trembling on the volcano?
We have no light in our darkness
no light in our cities
only the fire from the bombs of our neighbours.
They have flattened our power, our water, our sewage
the roads that bring food to the market
the exit of refugees
these bombs of out neighbours.
the smell of this cellar
the drought of this cellar
the echoing sounds of this cellar
the rumbling of thunder in this cellar
the body that lies in our arms
They bomb us on the beaches
for democratic decisions.
They have a hundred of rockets, American planes,helicopters and radar
to our small retaliation
the smell of this cellar
the drought of this cellar
the echoing sounds of this cellar
the rumbling of thunder in this cellar
the body that lies in our arms
For one prisoner
we have lost the power station, our light, our lives, our peace;
death comes to mothers and children on the beaches, the schools, the market place
traumatised, maimed they kill us.
They will not overturn our decision- it stands.
Dear Mother, I would come to you
we have no aerodrome- here or in Lebanon.
Your grandchildren I would bring to you
I would come from my democratic country only for them
but I am stuck in the shower of dirt in this cellar.
Categories:
power station, political,
Form:
Free verse
Moulded electric plugs, go to landfill the earlier ones were sectional and re-useable,
Copper tanks kept water
Hot all day; maybe two days, if they were bigger.' They were removed in the interests of
Sustainability..? Pre 1990 tv's had valves inside, they cost less to run, therefore saved
Energy..Why were they replaced with energy burning flat screen tv's.? Deisol engines
Were brought in to 'help the environment' Really.? Or was it to cause respiratory disease
And cull humans, in extra percentage points.? Why was the hydrogen engine sidlined..?
Was it to maximise capital on oil catchments already in use.? Why are bees dying out if
There are such good results, being obtained by 'So called eco initiative's' why is the U K
So called sustainable Drax power station burning Canadian trees quite old ones in fact so
People people can charge electric cars, in a most damaging way.' Why mine lithium why
Not start re÷-using glass bottles help spread immunity to a small extent.'
And thats whats needed strong immune systems; wasn't it ?
Use oil based paints and stains they can last 10 years instead of water based that will use trillions of gallons more as they only last 18 months
Why outsource jobs from local towns, causing further travel, or more electric burning as so
Many people having multiple pc's and ancillary electric devices at home that burn more than say six
People sharing office equipment. As a matter of fact why not use typewriters again
To work in tandem with the pc's instead of a printer which
Teaches dexterity, and creates jobs for others, that support local economies give purpose
To people, which supports mental healthiness, and allows families to be more in touch
If your mother or father is house bound, it's easier to be close by, again shops will be
Used and other goods and services also.' This to my consideration is sustainability.'
Categories:
power station, assonance, conflict, confusion, wisdom,
Form:
Verse
FOUR LOVE AFFAIRS
The French health food shop
Near Vasilyastrovskaya metro,
With a tiny patio garden bench -
Fell in love there with the language of the French.
Closed now for property development.
Ironbridge Folk Club,
In the shadow of enormous cooling towers
Of the power station majestic -
Fell in love there with folk music.
Demolished now for road widening.
Under-a-Fiver second-hand bookshop
In Henry Street, Dublin,
Found many bargains, many gems of writing -
Fell in love there with literature so exciting.
Redeveloped now as a mall.
The Chippy take-out, Bensham Road, Gateshead,
Fragrant in smells of vinegar, and delightful
On cold nights with its steamy swirl -
Fell in love there with my first girl.
Slum clearance has now razed it.
Categories:
power station, urban, , literature,
Form:
Free verse
Crystal Ball
Crystal ball's, a concentration point,
for the one who see's afar,
like old Nostradamus,
looking darkly quaintrains are...
(for those that see images in the mirror)
crystal ball stores a charge within,
like radio crystals when they buzz,
let out few volts, you feel the fuzz,
sometimes a jolt lies, chargin.
....science hey...:)
Radio crystals when they vibrate
At a certain frequency, make a voltage too,
They are cut to size to generate this frequency,
Keeps old radios on a station, do,
I used to assemble Ultrasonic blind cleaners,
A current is applied to the banks of crystal,
and they vibrate fiercely, do
To shift the dirt off blinds or jewelry,
Crystals can be of help to you,
If we have a natural vibration place,
Cut a big crystal the work to do,
It would be a voltage generator,
Power station so true blue!
A Tuaoi stone for you!
With all the earthquake energy on colliding plates you may have a vibration source,
as was the case in Atlantis.
Don Johnson
Categories:
power station, adventure, old, old,
Form:
Ballade
Graffiti on an old rusty train
I see this through my kitchen window
And globs of dripping dropping rain
A field house light shines at night like a little flame
There is a golf course beyond that mobile and decorated chain
Where established men play an old Scottish game
Electric wires above the tracks
Held up by wooden pillars
Bringing power from a building with soot covered smoke stacks
This vantage is strange to me
Who builds power station next to caddie shacks
But this is the sight that I see
T.C Minisce
9/12/2015
Categories:
power station, home,
Form:
Imagine a world if they made it first
Their want to dominate would continue to thirst
Heavy Water to be their goal
More innocent lives, more lost souls
The German want for Nuclear Arms
Brought them to, Telemark's charms
A county in scenic south Norway
If they achieve the world will pray
1942, at Vemork Power Station
Scientist boffins on the road to creation
Allied forces, intelligence heard
Sabotage on the tongue is the word
November 1942 Operation Freshman starts
The 1st British Airborne
From Wick, Scotland they part
Destination Møsvatn - frozen lake
Where hero's will land
For the worlds sake
But tragedy hits, the gliders crash land
Soldiers captured, now with German command
Gestapo interrogate these fathers and sons
On Hitlers Order
Machine gunned
Operation Swallow and Gunnerside
Norwegian and British commando pride
Take on this mission to destroy this plant
If they fail, they face German rant
Production impeded as they make their escape
To Ski to safety and dodge their drape
A decision is made to bomb the plant
143 B-17's, as many bombs grant
Many fail, to hit their mark
This Heavy Water terror in Telemark
Damage is little as the Germans act
Shipped back to Germany by boat and rail track
On February 20th 1944
The ferry ship SF Hydro is at the fore
Her laid-en cargo in railed tanks
By the grace of god, about to be sunk
Plastic explosive, alarm clocks
Ignite together as the Hydro rocks
As her Stern sinks, the tanks roll
Into the fjord, jeopardise German goal
All hero's they are to risk their lives
As this conflict of history
Is told from their eyes
To sabotage this plant and its Holy Water
And saved the world from Ultimate Slaughter
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war-2.php
Categories:
power station, history, warworld, water, water,
Form:
Rhyme