Best Rallying Poems
When Night Brings Its Stillness, Silence And Tick, Tick, Tick
Collaboration with Robert Lindley
8th March 2019
Town was quiet, its heart barely beating
midnight hour came and went so fast
moon and stars blinked through open window
silence echoed in the town's invisible pulse
Strange how life gives night its powers
its more peaceful and murmuring tones
we that too oft wake to its untimely sounds
feel crushing aches in our despairing souls
Clock watching becomes our pride-less new sport
with tick, tick, tick, its rallying calls
and when that strain promises to explode
we pray dawn's falling rays wakes world's all.
We thought not to wake too soon
yet feared we may not wake at all
and tick, tick, tick, rhythm hypnotised us,
we watched no clock, but listened a while,
until it lulled our weary eyes to sleep;
we woke uninvited, but unknowingly compelled,
tones unheard would not have been peaceful
and nights powers made us beg for our lives;
the town purred with morbid contentment,
moon and stars stroked its back,
between midnight and dawn we writhed,
the quiet town passively cursed us.
On the twenty fourth of February in twenty twenty two
Russia invaded Ukraine and fierce fighting did ensue
Vladimir Putin it seems, wants to restore the iron curtain
And sadly he will succeed, of that it looks certain.
Tanks and missiles, the Russians used in their attack
But against Putins thugs, brave Ukrainians are fighting back
Vladimir Putin is unhinged and he Is losing his sanity
Claiming the Ukraine is a threat, to Russian security.
He's made threats to the west, if they come to Ukraines aid
Does he honestly think that western powers are afraid
Unfortunately the Ukraine is not part of the Nato alliance
So the west introduced, heavy sanctions in defiance.
Hitting Russia with severe sanctions seems like a good idea
But it failed to stop Russian aggression, when they invaded Crimea
A lot more needs to be done though before it's too late
Or the Ukrainian people will suffer, an unspeakable fate.
The Ukrainian president has sent out a rallying cry
Ukrainians are bearing arms, and are prepared to die
The death toll will rise with casualties on either side
People are running to find safety but there's no where to hide.
Putin claimed only military targets, would be in the line of fire
But civilian apartments have been hit, Putin is a liar
There has been many deaths, some badly injured too
But they will fight to the last man, it's what they will do.
Acts of bravery the Ukrainians will always remember
Like the guards on Snake Island who refused to surrender
The Russian warship fired missiles, all thirteen men died
To me that is a war crime; those responsible should be tried.
The old days are over, the Soviet Union is long dead
Why can't Vladimir Putin get that fact in his head
Invading peaceful countries is an abominable crime
He should be charged with murder and put away for a long time.
Written 25th February 2022
When Night Brings Its Stillness, Silence And Tick, Tick, Tick
Town was quiet, its heart barely beating
midnight hour came and went so fast
moon and stars blinked through open window
silence echoed in the town's invisible pulse
Strange how life gives night its powers
its more peaceful and murmuring tones
we that too oft wake to its untimely sounds
feel crushing aches in our despairing souls
Clock watching becomes our pride-less new sport
with tick, tick, tick, its rallying calls
and when that strain promises to explode
we pray dawn's falling rays wakes world's all.
We thought not to wake too soon
yet feared we may not wake at all
and tick, tick, tick, rhythm hypnotised us,
we watched no clock, but listened a while,
until it lulled our weary eyes to sleep;
we woke uninvited, but unknowingly compelled,
tones unheard would not have been peaceful
and nights powers made us beg for our lives;
the town purred with morbid contentment,
moon and stars stroked its back,
between midnight and dawn we writhed,
the quiet town passively cursed us.
A Robert J. Lindley and Lawrence Sharp collaboration
3-08-2019
Note: Yet again you honor me by agreeing to compose poetry with this old and far too oft very tired poet. I knew your verses would be golden and continue this piece wonderfully to its conclusion. Thanks for gifting such magnificent verse to this our newest creation..
I took umbrage over a comment in a current blog, in part stating that poetry, "... is a battlefield..." No. There should be no gauntlets thrown, no darts hurled, and no negative words hurled as if Poetry Soup is a battlefield. I was motivated to write...
Over and over again, blogs become a wallowing hole
where ugliness brews contempt and always takes a toll
on those who are trying to make a simple observation.
Someone takes offense and that provokes confrontation
by a tadpole who'll be a frog and not Prince Charming.
Ya know... the narcissistic type who think it's alarming
that they're ideas are not accepted by others on the site.
Then, it's "Katie, bar the door" and get ready for a fight!
Pollywogs keep swimming in rippling waters of the Soup,
where they take a dump, but don't think of it as 'Poop.'
Blogs are sandboxes where nasty words become litter.
Catty remarks are made by the arrogant and the bitter.
Not surprising, the same ones cut up with their mocking.
It's the same MO they use when they come a knocking...
knocking on new blog doors and causing a ruckus inside.
That's crossing a line that no one should ever take in stride.
Some abuse blogs, as if they're churches or synagogues.
If any part of Poetry Soup should go, it should be the Blogs.
Not as some redundantly claim, should be poetry contests...
Objected to by rallying sponsors and poets in fervid protests.
Blogs serve as playgrounds but break all schoolyard rules
when some can't stop themselves from acting like fools.
There's fighting and tugs of war... never for a good cause.
Gettin' tough over trivial stuff puts a pinch in their drawers.
For gosh sake, act like adults instead of flakes and nuts.
There's never and excuse for acting like a rattlepated putz.
Errors on Putins bungled invasion are beginning to show
As this obscene war progresses, his loss list will grow
He thought rolling in his tanks, it would take but a day
But the west is supporting Ukraine and will make him pay.
The Ukrainians are proud people and will fight to the end
And have sworn allegiance to their country and have vowed to defend
From all walks of life they answered, the rallying call
And unlike the murdering Russian army they stand proud and tall.
Finland and Sweden are now joining NATO after seeing Ukraine
They like all of us have seen reports, of the devastation and pain
If he invades a NATO country he'll invoke article five
And with NATOs firepower he'll be lucky to survive
He's now backed into a corner and should admit defeat
And start withdrawing his army and get them off the street
Thousands are dead because of him , their blood is on his hands
And all because the Ukrainian people didn't bow to his demands.
There are no Nazis in Ukraine only the Russian army
And that is plain as day, as all the civilised world can see
Putin is soulless and dishonorable and suffers no guilt
But one day will pay for his crimes and for Ukraine to be rebuilt.
Written on 11th May 2022
I have become like him; nocturnal.
Prematurely anaesthetised by exhaustion
then jerked awake into the darkness.
How long since I have slept 'til dawn?
A stifled yawn veiling scurrying thoughts.
Tennis match of emotions; back and forth;
volleying, lobbing this way and that.
The game, set and match of insomnia.
Then rallying forth as dawn brings clarity.
Despairing disparity sleeping finally.
The silence of the night amplifies my heartbeat.
Each breath echoes in the unsettled gloom.
As the dawn casts its ghostly light around the room
sleepless wakefulness wanes with the retiring moon,
and the owl rests, fatigued by his 'whooing'.
Unlike me he can sleep by day, the night is his time,
not mine; I am the intruder in the darkness;
a restless insomniac with an overactive brain.
Sleep well majestic wise one. No doubt,
when night falls, I will share your company again.
Freedom isn't Free
It comes with the price of Responsibility.
American citizens are born with the inalienable right
To peaceably assemble, to petition
Their grievances, their aversions, their plights.
Freedom isn't Free
It comes with the price of Responsibility.
Marching and rioting; with causes so deep;
Hubris and anger taking the charge, engaging
In destruction, threatening the welfare of the public at large.
Freedom isn't Free
It comes with the price of Responsibility.
Women's rights, undocumented immigrants,
The racial divide and global affairs their major concerns;
Heightened by the outcome of this unprecedented election,
Propelling feckless tactics and undue aggression.
Freedom isn't Free
It comes with the price of Responsibility.
Celebrities jumping on board; rallying with acrid voices,repudiating calm
resolution for revolt and revolution.
What have they accomplished, what have they done; tarnished the
credibility of voices that should peacefully be sung.
Freedom isn't Free
It comes with the price of Responsibility.
February 20, 2017
Only a hero volunteers for war,
willing to battle and die for others.
And do things they'd typically abhor,
rallying into a band of brothers
defending their homes, sisters, and mothers.
While war levies its toll in flesh and bone
insidious night-terrors haunt the mind.
And yet, in past wars, their cause was unknown,
but atrocities and guilt once combined,
PTSD symptoms aren’t far behind.
I was born while dad fought in Korea,
he had survived two wars before we met.
But who he was, I had no idea.
I knew naught of war; I was three, and yet
mom said my father was this army vet.
I could feel his anger, but not his pain,
though I bore its fury with every beer.
And cringed inside when he acted insane,
building up my resentment tear by tear
for he never offered love, only fear.
Frustrated, he was prone to violence,
but in his last years, I noticed a change.
He had stopped yelling, preferring silence,
and uncharacteristically strange
bouts of kindness, and tears, would interchange.
(English Quintain)
Nov. 11, 2018
The restless wolves begin to howl
A rallying call for the hunt
Watching closely, ravens caw
As hungry wolves growl
Then the pack starts off in a trot
As the alpha male leads the lot
The hunt is on, the ravens follow
Hoping for some scraps to swallow
The elks in the distance start to run
But wolves can run all day
A nearby river glistens in the sun
A chance for the elk to swim away
But gray wolves are excellent swimmers too
And they pursue their prey to the other side
The elk, now tired begin to slow
And powerful jaws deliver the death blow
The wolves now feast on their new kill
Supreme hunters of the plains
The ravens too get their fill
As Canis Lupus howls again
3/12/2015
You're wearing the cap with the crooked cross emblem,
hoisting your neo-Nazi flag high
You dream of a revived Fourth Reich kingdom,
hoping that you see it before you die
"Hate your neighbor" is your rallying call,
it's the opposite of what Jesus Christ said to us all
Blacks
Jews
Muslims
Hindus
You hate them all equally the same
Refugees
Homosexuals
Homeless
Foreign nationals
You hate them all, no matter what their name
"Love thy enemy" is what Jesus Christ said,
you're the polar opposite, you want them all dead
Mark yourself an antichrist
Always wished you were at the crucifixion,
you would've nailed in the spikes
Consider yourself a true Confederate to the cause,
proud of teaching your children how to hate when they're small
Kill them dead,
kill them all,
That's the drunken song you sing
in your "Members only" beer hall
It's the Anti-Christ anthem,
it's pure ancient antebellum
You love to sing your favorite rebel rousing song,
you love to hear it being played all day long
Kill them all,
kill them dead
It's the bloodlust song always playing in your head
It's the Anti-Christ anthem,
it's pure ancient antebellum
Bring back the bygone days of butchery and bedlam
Whenever you hear the Anti-Christ anthem,
you pledge your soul to be a disciple of Satan
We war with impunity
And weaponise such things as the
beauty of flowers
And all for what ?
When come today we have to guard the statues and Cenotaph that commemorate our fallen heroes
Only for them to suffer in death the indignity of being treated with such contempt for the very same right's and freedom they gave their lives for
You student's
You self effacing intellects
You political prophet's
You protest
You gather
You march
Underneath your slogan or banner
in righteous indignation of your cause
Such bravery
Such charity
Such courage
Such sacrifice
Once more into the breech
the rallying cry to those
with spray can in hand to vandalize
under the cover of dark with face hidden behind a bandana
I doubt their is anything you would be willing to lay
your life down for apart from maybe your computer and internet access
So next time you log on do yourself a favour and research
your family history and see if any of your family members
lost there lives and think there but for the grace of god go i
These statues and monuments are not supposed to justify or glorify war the complete opposite in fact they are
to remind us of the futility and human cost
but most importantly of all the cause Millions of people
deemed worthy dying for
I wonder if year's to come
how you will be viewed by history
Will people gather to commemorate you
build a statue in your honour
be you remembered by a bank holiday
Or will you hopefully end up instead being a
footnote in a museum
Entitled
When you don't understand your history
And talk before you listen
You run before you can walk
Written: September 15, 2023
______________________________________________________________
In the halter of destiny, we are all bound.
A monody of souls dissemble and found
With every lynch of trice vicious hand,
We quest to the ossuary of the apex land.
Yet in this hoedown of life and death,
We descry trices to canonize our breath.
In the equidistant cuddle, we share,
We ascertain solace in the clad of despair.
Through brittle nights and rallying days,
We quest to unfetter from the maze.
Omega awaits to clarify our fate.
Ablaze of stinging anguish, we can't abate.
Inanimate entities, ephemeral, and plain,
As a ripple of anguish sways, weep in pain
Aside from that, the cosmic harbinger sky
Espies our destruction with a silent sigh.
An epidemic of metempsychosis,
We inherit the legacy of pestilence psychosis.
On hiemal days and hibernal nights,
We bear the stature of sorrow's bite.
In every epoch of fugacity,
We quest for repeal—a wink of clarity.
Bequeath and madness, we strive to overcome
Nocuous menace to switch what we've become.
We often embellish it as life is so anxious.
Our roots still hold the pinnacle to progress.
Decisiveness, anguish, and an urge to revoke.
Lead exposure us to a nonlethal stroke.
The dance of life and death is an exquisite art.
Delight and anguish entwine—never apart.
At the pinnacle of this poetic tale,
We ascertain that life's heirloom prevails.
Though pestilence and grief endeavor to bind,
We have the incite to bequeath them all behind.
So let us dance, with hearts bridled high.
Embracing the madness as we reach for the sky
The Rough Slouching Beast
has been born
in Washington.
Upon its birthing
what bastard sunrise
were we promised
to relinquish our souls?
What white dawn
in darkness
was actually
immune cells
rallying
to fight
a growing cancer?
Now that it has begun
metastasizing
upon our national flesh,
tell me,
O toothless sages
of our faith,
what is your plan
to restore
our birthright
of azure, blush mornings
while we can still live
to see them?
So shall be a reality;
A kiss from my spirit;
Soul sets a memory;
Spontaneously gathering;
Heart melt together rallying;
Am I searching no;
What am I looking for;
No one to search for
Consciously yearning for;
I MUST OPEN THE DOOR TO A RELATIONSHIP IF I DON'T WANNA BE LONELY ANYMORE-
No one's for me;
Yet I am instilled happy;
I'm alone, yet not alone;
Looking for no one;
Soul sets a memory;
Spontaneously gathering;
Heart melt together rallying;
Where's that new Godly love for me;
I mean, really?
I MUST OPEN THE DOOR TO A RELATIONSHIP IF I DON'T WANNA BE LONELY ANYMORE-
I look not for;
I ask not therefore I sheath receive not;
To open a relationship so;
I must first open the door;
10/18/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2012©
Feminism,
Neo-Marxism,
Catastrophic cultural schism,
Rallying against the "patriarchy",
Waging social war by tweeting,
Against superficial enemies of the ideology,
Submission through guilt and gender supremacy power,
Cracking down the whip to make challenger's cower,
Upheaving the meritocratic system to rule in ivory towers,
A pathogenic social construct toppling modern liberty in Western society,
Collecting mugs of discontent using male tears to shower,
Ruining husband's lives then demanding child support dower,
Ostracizing traditional gender roles and wedding vowers,
Endless rhetoric regurgitated fueling the dichotomy,
Opposers pay sanctioned blood apology,
New recruits sacrifice liberty,
Hell-bound progressivism,
Neo-socialism,
Feminism.