Best Stationed Poems
Behind a veil of darkness,
twinkling lights confetti night.
And yet, these constellations
are an unfamiliar sight.
I miss you the most at dusk
when memories feel so real.
And I'm eager to write you
and share everything I feel.
It's said, God walked desert sands,
and His love lingers there still.
But, just thinking about God
feels weird; when sent here to kill.
and His love lingers there still.
But, just thinking about God
feels weird; when sent here to kill.
I got letters from strangers
writing they were proud of me.
And yet, despite all their praise,
my conscience won't let me be.
I wish I could talk to you
instead of scribbling some lines.
But, it's dangerous to dream,
amongst the bullets and mines.
Stationed in Afghanistan,
it's unwise to let thoughts roam.
And as a shooting star falls
I make a wish; to go home.
(Quatrain)
1/26/2015
Categories:
stationed, conflict, hero, imagery, loneliness,
Form:
Quatrain
You will remove the roadblocks that block my paths each day
You will not hamper what I do to succeed in my own way
You will not play your high pitched notes within my deafened ears
And take your hands from off my mind, and stop it with your fears
You will stop harassing me because I belong to Him
You will remove your minions now who paint the shadows grim
You will realize I have power that goes beyond this realm
He who shared the victory is stationed at the helm
You cannot overcome Him or steal me from His Father
You do not have the power to take my soul, don't bother
You will listen to my orders and heed the words I say
I know my place within the kingdom and don't get in my way
You will stop it with the H.A.A.R.P. toy and taking people down
And cease from tearing up the homes in neighborhoods and towns
And halt your little puppet show in Washington, DC
And get your hand now off this nation's blood bought liberty
You better realize you're in for a fight, a fight you will not win
I've been bought with sinless blood, by a King who had no sin
He's the one you came against and failed to win His throne
But that belongs to no one else except the Cornerstone
You will stop your taunting that amounts to nothing good
And leave this house and take your bones that wear that dark robed hood
Ever since the dawn of time you’ve constantly deceived
But I know Him whom I’ve believed so consider yourself relieved
June 7, 2013
Categories:
stationed, christian,
Form:
Rhyme
Star strung
like Bette Davis Sundays
marathon watching
and sitting in tears
Wrestling emotions
which calm and confuse us
Confound us and move us
beyond golden years
Broken
like black and white vision
fuzzy and stationed
with grey rabbit ears
Lost in commotion
which break and betray us
which bullet gun lays us
compounding our fears.
Categories:
stationed, history, people, social,
Form:
Free verse
Being lost seems to be my only option these days
Confusion appears to outweigh common sense in my life
My ability to reveal truth from lies has wreck havoc on my brain
I now strive to train my thoughts to linger in limbo
Never truly desiring to leave
This is now my fortress my solitude
Fear/Despair/Lies/Failure
As I clutch my razor and feel the etching of the sharp metal
I’m forced to think back to a time when
I had a dream, had a plan, had a voice
Now all I have is just a corner
Not even my corner
As my peripheral view is constantly reminded of
Your pathetic attempt to hold on to the past
To a woman that I’m sure was drowning as am I
In the room of torture, clutter and stale air
She has now become my hero
Because she mustered enough strength
To run and start anew
New this sounds foreign to me
My tongue has difficulty allowing
The syllables to dance off my lips, mouth
I have to stop and regain my composure
Hope is something of the past
Hope is no longer associated with me
I now live in a corner stationed between
Past & Despair
Robotic movements mimic life
But as you approach you stand to smell
The vile carcass of my flesh slowly dying
Despair is my friend
Past is my new position in life
I had peace, love and happiness once
I felt it flee each and every time I
Entered your suffocating presence
Mister Kill Joy you have successfully
Accomplished your task of
Killing Me!!!!
Categories:
stationed, depressiontime,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Once when I was just a kid,
My sister eight years older,
My sister's boyfriend came to call,
While we were playing soldier.
Stationed in the jungle we,
Cut off from our troop,
Surrounded by the enemy,
We must escape, regroup.
To do this we must make a stand,
Take out that one lone guard.
A local girl distracted him,
So we could hit him, hard.
My sister led him to the porch,
To kiss her friend goodnight.
Not suspecting they were watched,
Or what we planned that night.
They stood before the porch steps,
In young love's sweet embrace.
I'm sure the neighbor's heard his scream.
You should have seen his face.
The timing perfect as we leaped,
I yelled to him, ATTACK!!
And Smokey did as he was told,
He ran straight up his back.
The young boy screamed, jumped off the porch,
And made tracks for his car.
My sister cried to Mama,
"He'll probably have a scar!"
The young boy swore that he was bit.
Felt teeth in his behind.
I grinned and said, "But not the cat.
The teeth he felt were mine."
Mama laughed so hard at that,
That we did not get punished.
My sister went into her room,
Her reputation tarnished.
She felt no boy would date her now,
She had a rabid sister,
Who hung out with a feral cat,
No one could resist her.
So cute and sweet, she had it all,
You'd think she had it made;
But with me no one would call,
She'd die as an old maid.
Categories:
stationed, cat, childhood,
Form:
Quatrain
Strawberries And Unknown Girl
Strawberries grow unaided in the field
Green, red and magic on the day
Sentinels stationed; they speak kindly of the Sun
And sometimes of an unknown girl
She’s there just out of reach
In the air, partaking of sweet pleasures
Years collect themselves in silence
Still sense her song and mystery adrift
Along strawberry rows aligned in history
Those corridors of time in endless days at play
And there she stays a fair young maiden
A constant unknown wonder to this day
Entered in - "I Love Rock N' Roll" Poetry Contest 11/14/14
Inspired by: John Lennon and The Beatles
The song: Strawberry Fields Forever
Categories:
stationed, beauty, fantasy, mystery, nature,
Form:
Free verse
July is the month of monsoon rains in our part of the land when there will be incessant downpour and flooding in coastal areas and low lying lands
In the vast expanse up so high,
In the caliginous July night sky,
A lone star trailed along from Heaven’s arch,
And through hindering clouds it did march.
Its lambent rays dancing in gleeful light,
Making everything luminously bright.
All starlets cowered in shame,
Hiding in corners, fearing blame.
It got stationed above a thatched manger,
Where baby Jesus lay swaddled in rags in rainy weather
Promising the gift of love and joy to mankind
Assuring everyone salvation and peace of mind.
The wind that blows is icy chill
Freezing cold is the water of the rill
Trees stand washed in rain
The sky, in greying clouds remain
Lights from nearby houses shine
Sending out a radiance divine
Christmas trees stand finely decorated
Cribs are colourfully illuminated
Stars and festoons can’t be hung in the open,
As in pouring rain, they may be broken.
July is not a month fit for the king to take birth,
Who has come to bless the world with cheery mirth
Yet, the whole land is vibrant with festivity.
The pouring rain hasn’t doused the gaiety.
Sunshine or rain, no matter the weather,
Friends and family are happy together.
Christmas wraps every heart in cheer,
Though it falls in July, the rainy month of the year!
July.11.2022
Christmas in July or July celebration Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Tania Kitchin
Categories:
stationed, birthday, celebration, rain,
Form:
Rhyme
Seventeen skiffs and boats tethered
In twos and threes on the river Thames
With their canvas winter shrouds
And rows of seagulls perched on each,
Almost perfectly aligned,
Heads towards honeysuckle skies
Where low winter's sun declines,
Reflected in cold silver flow.
Close by them a solitary heron stands
Stationed on a gunwale,
Some feathers ruffled by a river breeze.
This beholder sees the autumn beauty
And foreboding of a winter's shiver
With its wretched frost and freeze.
Categories:
stationed, autumn, beauty, river,
Form:
Free verse
Shh…..!
Don’t scare them away!
Let us watch this macabre dance
and enjoy the art in rivalry!
A battle between
two champions.
both in the arena,
armed with nothing
but
teeth and fangs,
stationed immobile
face to face,
eyes emitting sparks of ire.
A cobra
with spectacled hood wide
hissing and shrieking,
spitting fire and fume
and a mongoose
with bushy tail up.
Who would win
this murderous combat?
Yet to see!
Golly… gosh!
Categories:
stationed, anger, animal, nature,
Form:
Free verse
I am Sphinx Stone, Sun stationed statue
silent sculptured synoptic, not marble or
granite nor black tourmaline or crystal
timelines cutting cross my magnetic
magenta miracle to dissipate in dry
desert winds, my gaze unmoved
as quizzing quantum queens swirl
around a Blue Planet ascending
Sphinx Stone gathering goddess’ goodness
whilst slippery Sophi-el sprinkle sparkle
Nile evaporations down Sumerian
phantom phœnix photons
here I stare broken-nosed across vast
expansions exiting or entering dual
portal claws hot rooted into Violet Flames
of Mother Earth belying my etheric origins
Did Leo descend from helium heavens
painstakingly perfect from His tumultuous
gut with goblets of gold, goblins gyrating ?
ask you may North African secrets slither
no soiled sounds to simmer in sandy
storms or scarlet sunsets spreading
spells, silence my singular speech to
skulls of pharaohs or peasant alike
I am Sphinx Stone, my silhouette
signposted in simple or significant sigils
Saturn’s starlit sighs bypass not my
knowing aloof yet vacant stare which
agelessly gather stories of aeons
imprinting dreams of God into manifest
luminosity becoming your words on lion
bones or this ephemeral page
Sphinx Stone I see sabian riddled profiles
making prolific progress patterns filled
with steely grit, come now release
agitated ages of bygone bitters to
prick or paddle dimensions where
appled anemones sing my stare into song to
swallow swiftly sweetly slivers of sanctities
I remain Sphinx Stone stable
unsullied forevermore
Categories:
stationed, africa, age, color, extended
Form:
Ballad
Well hello there, wondered where you’ve been.
It sure is good to hear from you again.
It’s been a long time since we last met.
Tell me what’s your name again, I forget.
There was a girl who lived across the yard,
and she was always making your life hard.
She danced naked across the bedroom floor,
but you were too shy to knock on her door.
You got fixed up with a date by your mom,
and when you took her to the high school prom.
She got drunk and wanted to get frisky,
but you were afraid it was too risky.
Life just ain’t something you’re going to find,
sitting in the dark peeking through the blind.
Just watching the world outside pass you by,
with no one there to hold you when you cry.
Got yourself a job at the Burger King,
spent your evenings watching the Dairy Queen.
She could really stack ice cream on a cone,
you never asked her for one of your own.
Joined the army when you were twenty-three,
they stationed you over in Germany.
Frauleins kept trying to give you a dance,
you never found the time to take the chance.
Love ain’t something you’re ever going to get,
sitting there staring at the TV set.
No matter how hard it is that you try,
that TV will not hold you while you cry.
The years passed by and you grew tired and old,
had a tiny dog and ten cats I’m told.
You never had any kids or a spouse,
matter of fact you hardly left the house.
Your neighbor always knocking on your door,
asking for some sugar or something more.
She said hers was the sweetest pie in town,
but you never would ask her to sit down.
Living sure ain’t something that can be done,
without trying to share it with someone.
You just have to step out the door and try,
when you find someone, you won’t need to cry.
It has been a while since you’ve dropped by.
I can’t help myself but to wonder why.
Hope I didn’t offend you when we last met.
Tell me what’s your name again, I forget.
Categories:
stationed, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme
The Great Wall of China, was built brick by brick
Forced by the Emperor, to stop his country getting hit
After many states, warring for this land
The Emperor decided to take things in hand
Those dragon designers, the best in all the north
Scholars, mathematicians, and the farmers they bought
Observed the constellations and put these in the wall
Protecting China’s border, for one and all
Built by many different Emperors, over a long period of time
Repairing eroded walls and bringing new design
Rebuilt again and again, throughout history
By different tyrant Emperors, during their dynasties
The work began in China in two hundred and twenty one
Mimicking its border and the battles Emperors won
Fourteen thousand miles, weaving in and out
Armoured guards stationed at different points throughout
Winding, up ‘n’ down the mountains and the valleys low
Passing through the cities, what a wonderful wall on show
Preserving Chinese culture from invaders of its states
With twelve thousand watch towers, which it incorporates
© Copyright 2nd January 2014
K.C.Leake
All Rights Reserved
Categories:
stationed,
Form:
Light Verse
I opened up the daily yesterday
and turned to the obituary page.
A friend of mine looked back at me from there.
He'd died at ninety years and one of age.
I cried out with surprise and wondering.
How can this world survive if he is gone?
Capsuled was his life in a few columns.
"How can this be?" I ask, as I read on.
He'd lived his whole life in this small valley,
except when he was stationed in Japan,
during oft forgot war of Korea,
in battles never mentioned by the man.
We met when we worked at the county fair.
He was the manager and I a clerk.
He always treated me as his equal
and complimented me on my fine work.
Until retirement he was a banker
and in that role met everyone in town.
Without good reason none were sent away
and there were very few that he turned down.
For seventy-five years a Grange member
and served that time in all capacities.
An usher in his church for forty years,
he lived his life the loving Lord to please.
He even owned a small menagerie
and welcomed throngs of children to his place.
I know that God will have big jobs for him
as he arrives with smile upon his face.
Iambic Pentameter
Categories:
stationed, death of a friend,
Form:
Iambic Pentameter
CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL
Of all creatures great and small
Insects are most assiduous folk of all
They perform assigned duties each day
And let nothing dissuade them on their way
The till the soil and collect the forage
Their labor brings them food, some for storage
Their diligent spirits have no equaled pace
Mostly repulsed by a higher stationed race
Human beings became Self appointed superiors
But without these small beasts humans would be their inferiors
Categories:
stationed, allegory, animal,
Form:
Couplet
Sleeping Porch
Light bulbs strung like stars made their way from the camp house down to the dock. We had two old boats tied up down there at the ready. One was made of metal an old Johnboat and the other was a bateau we had pulled from the depths and brought back to life. They were both painted monkey **** brown and could be used for fishing or covered with a tarp and double as duck blinds. My brother and I found many other uses for them over the years that weren’t quite so conventional but nevertheless practical. We lived at that camp house every weekend and my parents took their yearly vacations there every other year. On the off years we would go to New Mexico and visit their friends who had lived next door when my father was stationed at Sandia Base in Albuquerque. And they in turn would come out to the camp the years we spent there in Louisiana.
Don and Elsie loved fishing and hunting as my father did. I think my mother being British just learned to put up with it and enjoyed the company. My brother and I were just along for the ride. He enjoyed the outdoors much more than I and wallowed in the times. I couldn’t say that I didn’t have fun but I would have been happier reading a book or playing my drums. Somehow these things just came to pass and we all lived in these times as one happy clan.
There was nothing fancy about the fishing camp. It was an L-shaped house with a fireplace, kitchen, one bathroom, and three double beds. No privacy. The best thing about it was the sleeping porch.
The sleeping porch was the best and was where I spent all my time especially at night. There was and old attic fan that add been converted and turned side ways to blow down the porch. I would crank that up and listen to the frogs and fall asleep in swamp land every night. No worries in the world. A perfect crib for a fifteen year old with no choices.
Categories:
stationed, emotions,
Form:
Narrative