Best Skirmishes Poems


Premium Member Beausoleil

We loved the land
We tilled the earth, under sun we toiled
We pledged our souls, to nature’s whim
The King of France none to pleased

We took the sacraments
We held our faith, mournful to fates embrace
The British demanded a new oath we take
And scalped we were, both sides did partake

Our villages burned, our fields afire
Our woman and children, in hunger perished
We feared Monckton, a hunter of death
And from him, to ships hold, deported at best

We preyed to Canada, to lend us a hand
Evangeline an angel of our land
The darkened forests, to where we fled
Became bloody in battles, and turned to red

For Redcoats wandered in search of scalps
As Father Le Loutre preached unheavenly deeds
He was bloodthirsty and in skirmishes his evil flourished
His Mikmaq warriors helped rivers flow to blood

We lived along the rivers edge
We fought them all, to no one did we pledge
As serfs we served, to whom did rule
In the end, the forest sang our quiet eulogy

The vessels sailed from Halifax
With their human cargo of Partisans
Off to the West Indies, and a new land
Disease triumphed where Lord Laurence failed

And so the voyage, onward went
The traditions of Grand Pre, to Louisiana was lent
And there they settled, peace at last
As angels of their battles, in sacrifice did rest

Lament of An Unbiased Breeze From a War Field

Cutest prattles of children I adore
Are now the loudest cries I bear
Oh, No! The grieves of these abandoned souls
The worst sounds I have ever heard

Mesmerizing songs of endemic birds I carried
have become a threatening alarm now
Migratory birds missed the way to their hometown 
Endemic ones sense no way at all to escape

Minerals accumulated river
is now of blood spilling over
Obnoxious odour it is,
I couldn't carry further...

Daily prayers and chants I hear 
have turned into laments with fear
Thrumming thunder drums I bring 
turned out to be the horrible skirmishes

Two military factions strictly crafting their plans 
Echoing the sounds of huge bombs and gunfires 
Reigned over their people by creating boundaries 
Unfortunately, this unbiased breeze is same for all

Amidst this tormenting situation, I still try to thrive
to be a solacing breath to the struggling souls out there
If not, I would have become a windstorm
and ruined the entire place certainly 

21-Oct -2023

African Dream

Which is the real African dream?
building an independent  continent?
decolonization of neocolonialism?
I think it is a no!

Which is the virgin African dream?
is it life of mutual brotherhood?
can it be continental patriotism?
I think it is a no!

Which is the African dream?
becoming a world super power?
protecting resources for posterity?
I think it is a no

African dream is a dead dream
whenever the Africa begins to dream
noises and skirmishes wake him
out of bed he runs!

But I think I know African dream
It is individual not communitarian
ballooning belly, head, pockets with pride
then skating the planet!

The African mass does not dream
once noise ejects them from dream- beds
they trek to where citizens have dreamt
to pick bits of life!

Africans, do dream virgin African dreams
Nothing is so precious, nothing is so great


Touristy Tanzania

Dar es salaam where I live means heaven of peace
But to me she has proved as well to be a haven of peace.
A peaceful place for any peace-loving person or race.
Atleast selfishly from here seem faraway all warring feuds all bloody massacres.
For here we simply catch sea and fresh water fishes 
instead of getting caught up in goddamned skirmishes.
Oh and I live in a land of seven wonders and I stay in a mansion of seven windows 
Each of them overlooking a different view
Guys, seven wonders to be exact
but be ready here for both fiction and fact
For I present to you these seven wonders of this land
as if I could view 'em' all from where I stand.
Ah and though I've settled down trying to be content with Tanzania.
A major part of me will always belong to my beloved India.

Well, well my first window has a view of Mount Kilimanjaro
the highest mountain in all of Africa 
Rightfully named, the Roof of Africa.
The 2nd window overlooks 
Lake Tanganyika 
and fishermen with nets and hooks 
in the 2nd deepest and longest lake in the whole wide world.

And from my third window can be seen
the famed, fabled and very pretty 
Natural park known as Serengeti
Nature's celebrated celebrity.!
The 4rth window affords a view of the wide Ngorongoro Crater
Just as rich in wildlife
Throw some fish to the 'gator
even if it's such a ruthless predator.

The 5th one it overlooks
The great game reserve Mikumi by name
no less in fame
for a choicest variety of game.
As for the 6th window, from there you can see 
Lake Victoria too
 and I play peek-a-boo
with a marvelous maribou 
and cheerily say 'karibu'
from the largest lake in all Africa.

The seventh, the last window gives me a view
of the dry lush gold-green sea of Savannah
Teeming with favorite flora and fauna
Here a rhino, there a hyena
and hee hee 'hear' that mynah
So now it's up to you to plan a trip, a Safari
to this land of precious Tanzanite, the land of the Maasai
.Aha, mind you only the mansion overlooking all that is fictional  
and every other detail is soo real and factual.

Premium Member War Is Hell

WAR IS HELL

America hasn't fought a war since World War Two
Though we’ve been in skirmishes, more than a few
We've been in Iraq and we've been in Iran
And we're still losing soldiers in Afghanistan

What will it take before our leaders to see
These skirmishes are an exercise in futility
To win a war, our soldiers must fight
Engaging the enemy and doing what's right

When the enemy's subdued and the threat is gone
Get the hell out, bring our soldiers home
It's senseless for us to keep losing men
Because of the fear that we might offend

To know that terrorist tainted American soil
Then thumbed their noses makes my blood boil
Iraq and Iran should be reduced to mire
And Afghanistan should be destroyed by fire

Why is this happening, you may ask
Why is America being put to task
The answer is simple -- America has trod
On a path of destruction without seeking God

The principles on which our nation was founded
Acknowledged God and was very well grounded
But the Red, White, and  Blue are beginning to fade
And we've strayed from our Creator I'm afraid

Unless we change this dire situation
America will soon become a second class nation
Our enemy will hold the upper hand
And what freedom we now have will no longer stand

I say let's fight and fight to win
Become an entity to be feared again
Otherwise, we'll find ourselves divided
Simply because our leaders decided

Rather than fight so as not to offend
They would try to make our enemy our friend
  That of course is terribly naive
It'll only cause American families to grieve

Move in stealthily, strike with force
The element of surprise is the greatest source
It's okay to take prisoners whenever you can
But not at the expense of your fellow man

War is hell as someone said
Annihilate your enemy and bring home your dead
Bring home the wounded and those who are sound
Lay the dead to rest in hallowed ground

When this is done then peace will come
Our troops fought bravely though we lost some
And once again we all can say
God has certainly Blessed the USA

Curtis Moorman 										
21 June 2014

The Conflict Within

Conflicts have raged upon the disputed soils of earth since before men began to record them.  But there have been other conflicts less recorded, less lauded, but more redoubtable, oh, so much more.  These were no less bloody than those who drained the life from promising generations, but they were more certain in their calculated rage, and arguably precipitated those lesser skirmishes.  For they did not inhabit those regions of memorialized ground, but were carried within by those who fell there, and were carried away by those who lived to tell.  For these were those conflicts within men of which none other could compare.  In ferocity they were rivaled by none, and of that blood which flowed, unnumbered  hearts proved an endless wellspring to slake the thirst of a thousand earths.  And so, from the lacerated soul pours a bitter bile, a perpetual disquiet.  This is the madness within every walking corpse, the insanity shadowing every potential good.  Such is a sadness beyond all tears ever shed.  It is the mutant upheaval within every son of man.  Bowels of a deep and groaning lament, seething within and without; the fetid breath of a million rages.  It is the conflict within... G.R.L.


The Breezes of Middletown

When the wind is just right,
I can close my eyes and 
pretend I'm in Middletown,
pretend I can see the Blue 
Ridge Mountains off in the 
distance with the haze that 
gives them their name.
Farmsteads, hundreds of
years old,  reappear in my mind,
and cattle graze happily all around.
I see the ancient road stretching 
westward, site of much marching 
and many skirmishes, the conduit
to Antietam and Gettysburg.
Near that road, I raised my children.
There is no desert there, no sage;
just woodlands and deep jade grass.
Middletown is my heart, my 
soul, my dream.
And if God calls me home and 
finds me worthy,
Middletown will be my heaven.

Who Assumes Responsibility

Armed to the teeth, but not in the head 
Soon the ground will be covered with dead 

Shooting and fighting, explosions galore 
Wounded fall to the ground, see the blood pour 

Technology making the casualties increase 
It seems that our warlike nature won’t cease 

Skirmishes and battles, the war has no end 
Doctors perform triage, some wounded they mend 

Confidence slipping away from the troops every hour 
Brute force and ammunition, the measure of power 

Each side has their losses but keep fighting on 
The reason for war is all a big con 

Economy the reason, false causes the shield 
Covered up by the blood of the dead on the field 

Stone cold, committed, their expression soon thaws 
Enlisted, now dying for another man’s cause

They Call It Fuel Scarcity

The nation in question is a world largest oil exporter
It citizens is be deprived of what she has
Involuntarily long queues from night 
In petrol stations till dawn outside the same stations
Makes the danfo drivers angry and happy with price hike
Who will be sorry for the stranded commuters
Is it the profitless street sellers
Or the red hotted conductors?

You then see a divided country
Each citizen angry with and harmless to the government
Frustrated citizens walk miles to chase Molues
No one cares for the other the aim is to get home
Though some do, the poor ones.
Who says it only touches the proletariat
Even the rich are touchable
You will see big fat men exercising  in their cars
Suffering from the traffic jam created at the stations.
Who will condole with the cying lady
That cannot manouvre due to her twisted hand
And clucth ridden legs?

A country were  urchins 
Take to the streets as black marketers
The hoarding stations having collaborated
With them sell the gold four times its price
All moneyed men will buy from the law breakers
The owners says it is due to vandalism 
What a suitable lie
For it is likely that the political skirmishes
Has reined on the innocent citizens
Even our eight year leader
Will not address us on the issue
Who says it this is not a dividend?
I say it is.

Premium Member Surviving Ourselves

Surviving Ourselves
       by Odin Roark

Blame game trollops 
Cruise our insides
Willing to plant more guilt
Defying accountability
To take a stand

Conscience-bots
Perform recon
Patrolling vulnerabilities
Knowing no man’s land
Between heart and mind
Have always
Will always
Be pregnable passage

Yet

The front lines of the heart
Grasp one’s dug in fortification
Mind’s fortress of strength
Is forever monitoring

Why then
Knowing we create our own reality
Do we need such skirmishes 
Such oft times escalated guilt trips
That do nothing
But undermine life’s victory?

Might it be…

We refuse to accept 
The “out there” version
That much touted 
Societal mirage
Promoting illusion over truth

Perchance
We are stuck
Forever creating
Our trial and error reality
For fear
Of succumbing to elitist delusion

And if we’ve created
Conscience-bots
And blame game trollops
Aren’t we better armed?

Don’t personally created battle fields
Serve to strategize
To outmaneuver those
Who would have us self-destruct
Their way?

Perhaps our self-imposed reality
Doesn’t make the societal mirage any easier
But at least it doesn’t abandon
Growing consciousness for
Surviving ourselves
© Odin Roark  Create an image from this poem.

The Many Faces of Perception

Mask of different kinds, textures and appearances
Some may be scary, some making an impression
As we are wearing each of them in instances
While facing people on our first introduction

Containing the dignified concealed persona
Along with a feigning camaraderie
Distinguished by an emanating aroma
A delectable touché derived quality

Ceaseless skirmishes in a realm of hide and seek
Where it is compulsory to screen your presence
For the unknown is a ghastly capricious freak
Running wild in the pursuit under false pretense

Locked in a fantasy-filled penitentiary
Where our only valid verity is faux pas
Everything’s on borrowed time and temporary
Placed out stationary like a diorama

Adhered in the many faces of perception
Are based on true events, foreboding narrative
Mendacity drawn details with smug attention
A conquest for survival in order to live.

Premium Member Survivor of Self

I am a human being

And we are survivors by nature ...
Everyone we meet is fighting a battle of some kind
And life itself
For each of us

Is a series of battles ...
To be able to draw breath each day
To be able to widen our eyes to a new morn and face it head-on
To be able to move, work, learn, love, fight, and even play

Is to be a survivor.
This world places conflicts in our path
Forces us to face our fears
Makes us strive to overcome and develop on a daily basis ...

Even love itself is combat
An intense combat between the heart and the mind
And it's one that takes no prisoners.
We are all bruised by these skirmishes in life

We all carry deep scars, visible and not
We are all shell-shocked by the trials and relationships we struggle with
And some of us
Like me

Make things even MORE difficult ...
Some of us end up abusing ourselves
On top of all the OTHER hostilities the world sends our way
(As if those aren't enough) ...

Yes, I am a survivor, by default
Just by being a part of the Human Race
But the worst thing I have had to survive
Is MYSELF ...

I spent over 30 years
Putting poisons into my body that I KNEW were killing me
Creating a battleground that stopped my heart and nearly claimed my life
Inflicting wounds upon myself, (and those I loved), that were invisible

But that were deeper than any other I had known or imagined
With a blade as sharp and insidious as any sword
And oh, so deftly wielded ...
I became an expert with that blade

And I cleaved every precious thing from my existence, just so ...
One-by-one, I thrust the dagger deep, and twisted
My job, my house and comforts, my marriage, my family, and even my health
Every and each, run clean through and hewn from the tree of success

All for the sake of a substance and a feeling
All for a two-faced demon called "Euphoria"
And an escape from reality and pain.
Yes, I am a survivor

But I am NOT proud of it
Because it was a war I created on my own
And a battle I never needed to fight
A battle of avoidance

And insanity.





~ 1st Place ~  in the "I'm A Survivor Poetry Contest", Julie Rodeheaver, Judge & Sponsor.

A Different Memorial Day Celebration By Ron Porter

I paid solemn visitation to the site
of The Unknown Girlfriend's Tomb
to give honor and pay respects
to romance slain
on the battlefield of love.

No wreath of tears did I lay there
I wore no black armband of regret
there was no mournful bugle call
silently did I salute
lovers lost,? ?who sacrificed all.

And in memory did I recount vividly
the ambushes,? ?skirmishes and attacks
in the bedrooms and the bars
and looked at my oft wounded heart
no longer bloodied but,? ?bearing scars? 

My hand I laid upon the? ?cold hard stone
of memorial,? ?to every anonymous amour,
who by Cupid's lead arrows had been slain
and uttered the survivors thanks
for experience,? ?strength and wisdom gained.

Then walked home alone,? ?in the rain.
© Ron Porter  Create an image from this poem.

At the Vlw

Sarah, her two kids in tow
walks in a second-hand shop
for only a second, since she turned
her pocket inside-out yesterday
for a large box of rice crispies
and a half-gallon of 2% milk.
Her old man stopped beating 
her three months ago, 'cause 
Social Services was on him but
she ain't seen him or any of 
his paycheck in about nine weeks
She heard he'd gone to Idaho.
Their daughter, Rachel's been
skippin' school with other kids - 
Sarah knows, but doesn't say anything

Jason's hanging near the dumpster out back,
his kinda short-lease home since he got 
let outta prison for a possession charge 
that he definitely was guilty of, but 
he's been clean for three weeks now - almost

Raul's been running the dishwasher and 
cleaning up in the bathroom at the fast-fried 
chicken place, for three years now 
without taking a sick day, although that 
cough has been hard to hack for two weeks now. 
He hopes the steam from the washer will 
kill whatever's in his lungs

Soon Kie shows her green card to anyone to admire. 
She has for the last thirty-four years, 
but since she arrived back in '80, 
when she already had seen more 
war and death then most actual soldiers,
she still can't read above a third grade level
She's too busy cleanin' rich houses and
doin' late-night business park office spaces.

Once in awhile, they meet up in twosie's, 
maybe more, down at the park, 
near the whitewashed howitzer
from WW II government surplus
These are the Veterans of Local Wars
Sloggin' the towns trenches, listenin'
to the deafening blows of indifference,
marching every time they're told to
"Get up 'n' move on, no sleepin' here"

Life is daily skirmishes, the occasional battle,
sometimes being soldiers, sometimes the 
innocent citizen victims, cut down, strung up,
strung out, frozen out, sometimes cryin' out
'most every day, wonderin' what life's all about
to have treated 'em this way

Still, sometimes, when they see each other,
they can smile, talk about that time awhile back,
sayin' "did you see what that crazy bastard did!"
laughing at the incongruities and the ironies.
Don't have no medals, don't need no parades.
- just keep movin'

© Goode Guy 2013-05-03
© Goode Guy  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Flash Gordon

A famous earth hero by the name of Flash Gordon,
would venture with his friends Hans Zarkov and Dale Arden,
in an interplanetary rocket invention,
to a faraway planet that is known as Mongo.
Never able to return to the earth they would know,
the three meet Prince Barin and a Princess named Aura.
They rule in exile in a tree land, Arboria.
This land is between a cold polar place, Frigia,
and a very hot region that is called Tropica.

Hawk men live in a sky city ruled by Prince Vultan.
Kala rules an underwater kingdom of shark men.
Prince Thun is the ruler of a land of lion men.

Planet Mongo has been besieged by aggressiveness
from a ruthless conqueror named Ming the Merciless.
He stole the throne from Barin and Ming’s daughter Aura.
Struggles and skirmishes with Ming are a plethora,
as Ming has intentions of ruling the galaxy.
Flash and his friends join Barin against Ming’s great army.
What will happen next with Flash Gordon?  Tune in and see!

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace