Best Sniper Poems
Years ago this story I am told
Of a bullet that came from a tree
No combat yet a peaceful day
One walking to gather water to shave
Helmet in hand to pick up the water
A bullet hit him in the head
Unable to yell with blood in his throat
David came to his rescue
Pulling him to safety yelling for a medic
The medic refuses to help
He is dead already lave him be
Dave not happy he pointed his M-16
You help or die
A dust off on its way to carry Tony away
David had thought he had lost his best friend
Lifting him into the chopper
Bullets sprayed across it
With his juggler vain sliced
No one knew until he got to Dang
A 30-minute ride away
Till this day David is still my friend
Even though my brother life had an end
It is as if he stepped into my brother’s shoes
Both are my heroes even today
Before you read this poem, I would like to invite you in reading about the great American sniper hero. I am also dedicating this to the fallen sniper because he is a true Patriotic Hero. Thank you.
Chris Kyle was and still is loved by many, this to be true I say
I always believe him to be, a great sniper to this undying day.
Why must things happen to people, that are always so kind
Life would be better keeping some, alive alongside mankind.
Why don’t I tell you a story, about this very kind honest fellow
He was and is an U.S. Navy Seal, but along that chill and mellow.
The most lethal sniper known of, in American military history
With a very high percentage confirmed kills, quite the victory.
At the young age of eight, his father taught him how to shoot
A great father teaching a son, instead of giving him the boot.
A bronco rider for the rodeo, sadly gave it up for a serious injury
It was to his arm although he still lived, with very great dignity.
Being a great sniper had an effect, putting souls to their bed
Eventually somewhat famous, an increasing bounty upon his head.
Undoubtedly dubbed the “Devil of Ramadi”, by non-other than Iraqi
An increasing bounty shot twice, but his body and will still intact.
After a while serving his country, he retired heading home graciously
Taking back some long spent time, spending it with his family.
Chris Kyle a loved husband, a friend to many and a beloved son
His homeland now saddened, for America has lost a patriotic one.
A great warrior indeed, in my opinion our greatest honorable hero
He put his life on the line, instead of becoming the common zero.
The greatest treasure of all, came from within himself to prove
That all humans aren’t wrongful, but that we all can improve.
a world of bruised toes
tap-dancing in a mine field
will we ever learn?
Specter of a Hero's Tortured
Soul
Forfeiting faith to successors to
sacrifice self for others...he
believes not in himself but his
progeny...
Eternal life and inflexible
determination prevent waning
love...his ceaseless adoration
powerful to the point of self
harm...
Unwillingness to ever relinquish
the shards of his heart...or the
memory of possible fates...
Soul scarred with unfathomable
secrets and wounds...alone and
concealed he is known to not
even himself...
Heart struggling to conquer
inner demons and loss...mind
overworked to find salvation
from hell's burning wrath...
Indescribable like smoke blown
through trees on a moonless
night...
Intricately woven to be as
substantial as the steam which
fuels his passion...
Never surrendering...never
retreating...never giving in to
any opposition...
Steadfast and valiant he will
never be
conquered...unreadable and
undecipherable...he will never
be understood...
SARAJEVO - the sniper
He hides behind the dirty window pane
with eyes all cold and void of any care
in blinding heat or through a drizzle rain
his thoughts are only what has brought him there
his mind's not thinking that's a special friend
nor is that girl in love; he doesn't care;
the choice comes on with no thought of the end
and made, perhaps, because she's standing there.
His sight is set, and all she'll ever be
gives way to things her life will never know
and when she falls and lays there helplessly
his only thought is she was quick to go.
All in a breath, he's layed her to the street;
and ended life to make his day complete.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet1
SARAJEVO - the sniper
He hides behind the dirty window pane
with eyes all cold and void of any care
in blinding heat or through a drizzle rain
his thoughts are only what has brought him there
his mind's not thinking that's a special friend
nor is that girl in love; he doesn't care;
the choice comes on with no thought of the end
and made, perhaps, because she's standing there.
His sight is set, and all she'll ever be
gives way to things her life will never know
and when she falls and lays there helplessly
his only thought is she was quick to go.
All in a breath, he's layed her to the street;
and ended life to make his day complete.
© Ron Arbuthnot aka Ron Wilson
The Sniper
The man who in his delusion shot and killed Kyle
all American sniper who boasted of killing
167 Arabs. A film was made and USA applauded
and no doubt it will receive an Oscar.
A movie that totally lack empathy, what does one
expect of a Clint Eastwood, only this sniper Kyle
was for real and not a western invention.
Is this a war movie? Deeply disturbing morality,
killing for the sake of it. Our hero Kyle found his
death on the shooting range and the man who
killed him was an American soldier too who put
an end to our false gods and war values, for him
a lethal injection awaits the killer of the American dream .
In the deep jungle
from under wet limbs and shrubs
sniper winks and aims
© Joseph, 1/15/08
© All Rights Reserved
That God
is inside of every living being
and
by each murder
you're killing a piece of
him
Picked off, one by one,
mothers, sons, uncles,
Aunts, some when fell, ****
their pants/the muscles
See, they start to dance.
Proud?
It was a war/kill them or
they’d kill
First; hand grenade or AK
Aimed at me
And now I wonder if some
mother’s son
Saw me today, what he’d
Say?
In an AK-47 way
How can we forget this war, when no one knows anything about it?
KOSOVO - the sniper
He hides behind the dirty window pane
with eyes all cold and void of any care
in blinding heat or through a drizzle rain
his thoughts are only what has brought him there
his mind's not thinking that's a special friend
nor is that girl in love; he doesn't care;
the choice comes on with no thought of the end
and made, perhaps, because she's standing there.
His sight is set, and all she'll ever be
gives way to things her life will never know
and when she falls and lays there helplessly
his only thought, is she was quick to go.
All in a breath, he's layed her to the street;
and ended life to make his day complete.
With accurate placement
aim and precision
take your pick
an advanced weapon system
a marksman
staring down
keeps his eye
on the target
judging distance
will take his shot
The ultimate assassin
for two lovers touch
with a bipod arrangement
is accurate as such
holding aim
sweetly releasing
from the chambers
firing emotions
The L115
will do the trick
the poms little boy
the lovers heart it will hit
burning inside
blazing feelings
one hot target
exploding fireworks
An M107
the Americans toy
it'll take you down
into lovers joy
in rapid fire
burning lead hot
pulsating desires
An Aussie Tikka M55
a one piece machine receiver
it's grooved drilled and tapped
a love it can deliver
finger upon her trigger
warmly spitting flames
radiating flashes
gunpowder explodes
with golden bite
falling down
in the face
of her beauty
But the true weapon of choice
out of cupids locked safe
Is the Middleton DTM SS 415 Crossbow
It gets true lovers in the right place
crosses over an arrow
piercing into
the softest spot
a passion hunter
preys in delight
blood within lust
You see Cupid's an Angel
he doesn't use guns
he has arrows and bows for choice
he is the ultimate sniper number One
silently holds the wind
shooting swiftly
ends quickly
quivering taking one's breath
a piercing tip enters
falls down dead
enters the heart
one lonely
head hunter
dips in
loves blood
Saw “The Sniper.” Marveled at
The way it did reveal
The brutal truth the soldiers faced
And how it seemed so real.
The bombed-out buildings, guns and tanks,
The blood, the gore, the sweat –
Each detail rendered perfectly,
A work of genius – yet…
The only scene that got it wrong
Surprised me to no end,
When actors with a new-born baby
Struggled to pretend
The doll that they were holding
Was a living, breathing soul.
I wonder how they managed
To exert such self-control.
The audience was not convinced;
That “baby” looked so fake.
Clint Eastwood, the director,
Clearly made a huge mistake.
Though all the war scenes were the most
Realistic you can find,
That phony stand-in baby doll
Completely blew my mind.
I'm am up on the cliff lying down prone
tossing some sticks throwing some stones
until i heard him say get ready
then i aim my rifle steady
He said wait!
as i lined up the dot
he said now!!
as i fired the shot
as the bullet hit we seen an expressionless face
we got up and ran at a very fast pace
as we were going home i thought back to that moment
he had a family but i had to own up to it
Because we are grunts and are done what we are told
even when we don't want to But that's a burden we must hold
because we were trained that way
and that way we will stay.
The cold wet earth clings to my boots
The scent of wet soil draws memories
Visions of the past , scenes from my boyhood
Flicker in my thoughts.
Buds of sweat drips their cold journey down my spine
As I lay entranced and entrenched upon a hillside
Waiting the timeless wait for the next target
Here upon this accursed pass, we floundered
Here upon this barren land men fell dead
Friends and comrades, brothers in arms
Others still clutching their weapons
Others in muted prayer laying where they fell
Kissing the cold earth now seared in black and red
The hues of death , the shadows of fate.
Here as I await the enemy’s passage
Here as this hill may be my burial mound
But I will not shudder nor fear the dread
that fear itself rains upon me
for I was trained to be steadfast
my valor , my strength , my courage
is needed now, more than ever by my Country.
Unaware of the danger, caught in the cross-hairs
Of my scope ,the target , a general stands tall
The glow of an emblem upon his hat
Temporarily blinding, yet a clear target he still is
Slowly gripping the trigger, affixing my stance
Feeling the direction of the breeze , the scent of wet soil
Cold sweat down my spine as I gently squeeze the trigger.