Best Warday Poems


Mental Health

years of abuse add up
someone snaps
the judge gives them a prison sentence
which they serve and then get released
next thing that person knows as they try to rebuild their life
starting from the bottom

They approached you
two months after your sentence
tell you you are court ordered
for a 30 day psychiatric assessment
you dont get out for years

made to believe you are sick
witnessing nurses affairs with patience
man with a broken leg forced to walk
young girls screaming rape

the whole time knowing you are not supposed to be there
everyday another fight you can never win

finally you get away
addicted to their pills
everyday a struggle 
for years keeping appointments
not understanding what is going on

You serve your sentence
then you serve another one
never knowing what judge sentenced you there
every doctor from a different country
telling you life isn't fair

Doctor's lieing to your family
about biting and kicking him
maximum security forensics
in and out of group homes for years

Then one day you quit taking your meds
tired of the side affects
and suddenly you begin waking up early
doing your laundry
eating healthy
cleaning your house

the hindsight remains
I wasn't supposed to be there
no judge sentenced me there
allah almighty answers the phone when you call amnesty international

Unable to become erect
covered in scales
twitching
foggy thinking
when you can't afford not to think clear

Go tell eminem i get it
I walked the ward for you
made to think i was sick my whole life
and then sickened by the things i went through

Lest I Become

If I were what I long to be

I’d ascend the sky and soar
About the sun
I’d pray my prayers, I’d jump,
I’d run

I’d race all the winds
Until the sun can no longer be
And then rest upon a cloud 
Looking down at the sea

I’d twinkle with the stars
And crave upon their lust
I’d dance with the moon
And sway with a gust

I’d be in joy of liberty
If only for once
Away from all the turmoil
Protests and allegiance

Yes, it is I, a wanderer, a 
Palestinian under fire
Roaming within my thoughts
In dreams I desire

For a day maybe... when
Weapons are no more, 
When blood runs warm in veins
And not cold on tiled floors 

I’ll only dream today…lest one day I become
Form: Rhyme

A Military Wifes Nightmares

Trapped in total darkness. The chilling cold rips through my flesh, 
sending painful chills down my spin. My fear Isolates me in this Tomb of loneliness.
Ripping through my heart like a jagged duel bladed sword. My mind tormented
by your absence. I just can't seem to awaken from this nightmare.
When I open my eyes will you be home? Will this War ever end? 
This is my living hell! Life without you. An unsympathizing torchure that haunts
me day in and day out. Until you are back safely in my arms. How cruel
the mind can be. What if? Is he Okay. Lord save me from the demons that taunt 
my dreams. Bring my love back home to me.


The Colour of Hope

A soldier fighting for what he hopes is right, trying to make peace with himself... holds on to 
a most understated event- the sunrise and pins all his hopes on to it.


 
Its not yet dawn...


The night has ended.
A soft glow arises in the eastern lands beyond,
Soft, like a mother's touch
Pink, orange,gold,and red all born out of the same deep night
Black desperate sadness reaches out to taste silent delight. 
The colour of hope...

The taste of survival returns
Parched throats,blood stained hands...
Another day to hope, to follow the valiant heart...
I pray, someday, to make a new start.

We fight for peace, we kill for you...
Every time we kill, its only something inside us that dies!
Its a sad story, its our silent resigned sacrifice.

The day dawns, amidst the dead and the dying...
Today I am on the battlefield, crying
For the men I have lost, and myself too
But the night has passed and its a day closer to the end,
I hold on to my prayers, silent and few.

Red Tears, Black Skies

"No",
He exclaimed to the tyrant's vicious throne,
Only to have his body later trampled and thrown.

He was the tzadik of the period,
And the weight of the world rested on his shoulders,
His spirit was vested with authority,
As he was a man of great superiority.

A true Renaissance Man,
His qualities unbound by time,
And his murder will remain an unforgettable crime.

And he worked towards
The land of mourning and tragedies,
A land he looked to seek support,
Where the people had other interests to exhort.

Our majesty was led into a trap.
One by one, his family slaughtered,
Rivers of blood spilled and dozens of men killed,
And a baby murdered, as his arms flapped.
Like a bird, 
back, forth, up, and down.

With his sword drawn, the falling Hero valiantly Stood,
Against an army that no other man could,
Would they kill the heir of the prophets?
Harm the neck kissed by the Prophet with such tender love?
A man who sat on the Prophet's shoulders as a boy,
Thrown down and trampled like a children toy
Whose body was filled with arrows, resembling a porcupine,
Killed by men with absolutely no spine.

And physically, they could not recognize you,
But deep in our hearts our spirits are with you!
Our tears are shed like the blood from your neck,
As you taste the salt and pus we cry for your day of wreck.
Your physical body so shamed in the aftermath of the storm,
Only to be resurrected into a deserving new form.

No day like your day,
And every day is your day.
For we have dedicated our lives,
To not let your sacrifice go in vain.
A Timeless Revolution,
An endless revolt.
We will Stand where you can no longer stand.
And pick up your sword and fight throughout the land,
The tale of your tragic fate will continue to expand,
For it is the anthem of our lives,
And the song in our graves.
© Bilal Hb  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member A Day At the Beach

His day began with "Reveille" blaring from within the bowels of the ship.
Sergeants yelled, "Up and at 'em lads!   We're takin' a little trip!"
He wearily arose from his bunk to don the accoutrements of war.
He'd survived Guadalcanal, now he faced Iwo Jima's fearsome shore.

They fed him steak and eggs - rookies joked that it may be their final meal.
But the battle-weary Marine was very grim - to him it seemed so surreal.
The chaplain gathered them around and offered a fervent prayer,
Pleading for God's protection and committing them to His care.

The grizzled old "Gunny" yelled, "First platoon over the side!"
"Down those lovely cargo nets, boys!  Semper Fi!" he cried!
Bobbing Higgins boats waited below to take him to that perilous strand.
The engines roared as the boat wallowed and rolled t'ward that ebon sand!

He hunkered down with the others, his helmet beating upon his nose.
Others used their helmets to receive bits of breakfast as the boat sank and rose!
Adding to the din of battle so familiar to his ears were shells flying overhead.
As his boat with its precious cargo neared the beach it was hit by zinging lead!

The boat struck a coral reef so they had to wade in water up to their hips.
He struggled with his heavy pack and rifle with a prayer upon his lips.
Brave men fell under withering fire that day as they tried to force a breach.
Brave men forever lost their innocence that day on that hallowed beach!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Form: Rhyme


Heroes

They fly in the sky, they sail the sea.
They walk on land to keep us free.
The world is proud, the world will smile
Oh, dear lord help us now!
They live each day with danger in the way.
Please,  lord, keep them safe.
Those we lost we mourn each day;
Those who fight are still in harm's way.
I pray each day to hear everyone say'
These are heroes in a very special way.
The hero is you, and you it will be 
That makes this whole world free.
The world is not blind,
The world can see
Who are those heroes that keep us free.
Free to love and  free to smile
Free to live and be proud
You are my hero strong and brave
Even on those rainy days.
We thank you each day for making us safe.
We thank you each day with god's grace.
Be safe and be proud
For we will see you in a little while.
Form: Ballad

Boys, Men, Soldiers, Heroes

A day of rememberence
a day of joy but sadness
a day of thank you's 
a day of memories

Boys who learned to grow up quickly 
boys who were whisked away from all they knew
boys who put on their uniform 
boys who sharred one thing in common, pride

Men who fought for our country 
men who left families behind 
men who took their final journey 
men who fought for what is now 

Soldiers who suffered in the trenches 
Soldiers who dodged the bullets 
Soldiers who had no salvation 
Soldiers who stood proud for us 

Heroes who died out on the front line
Heroes who never lived to see this day 
Heroes who just made it to D-day 
Heroes who were our boys,men and soldiers

A day of celebration along with grief
a day of sorrow along with pride
a day of realistaion
of just how many never returned 
from a cold war 
boy's,men and soldiers
© Amy Crofts  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Just Another Day At the Office

The weary soldier returned from another perilous patrol,
To continue the battle in his cold, damp and muddy hole.
Hopes for a hot meal and a cup of coffee were mighty slim.
'Twas just another day at the office for him!

The bomber crew had flown for hours protecting our skies,
Feeling the stress but ever alert with their eagles' eyes.
In a day or so they would do it all over again.
'Twas just another day at the office for those gallant men!

The Captain of the Coast Guard boat cruised along the coast,
Responsible for her valiant crew - seldom leaving her post.
Ever on the alert for any emergencies that might occur.
'Twas just another day at the office for her!

Twenty-four hours on duty are normal for the brave marines,
And for the fearless sailors aboard confining submarines.
They won't be home tonight but will continue their roles.
'Tis just another day at the office for those courageous souls!

These dedicated patriots place national destiny above their own,
To ensure that our precious liberties will ne'er be overthrown.
They bear loneliness, fear, stress and frightful strife.
'Tis just another day at the office in their precarious life!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Form: Rhyme

Granddads War

In South Africa during the Boer War
Granddad got the key of the door
In France during World War 1
He lay wounded when the day was done

He could have met a very bloody end
But for the bravery of his friend
So he lived to fight another day instead
And died an old man in his own bed
Form:

Someone Help Us

The Day it happened I will never forget
The thought stills fills me with regret
The fact that man could be so full of hatred
That they are willing to kill 
And be killed 
It makes no sense
It makes me wonder what this world is coming to
Every year marks the anniversary
Of one of the saddest events 
No one cheers
No one dances
This isn’t a fun time
This date is nothing to be proud of
There is nothing to sing about
You might know what I am talking about
Or maybe not
What I am talking about is a bad day
The day we made many enemies
The day that hundreds, thousands of people lost their lives
Now do you know what I am talking about?
Still no?
Here maybe this will help
9-11
No, not the emergency number
The actual date
On this date four planes were hijacked and crashed
One in a Pennsylvania field,
Another in the Pentagon
But worst of all
Two in the Twin Towers
Friends, neighbors, and family
They lost their lives
Now every minute of everyday 
The families of these people
Have to suffer through the pain 
The pain of loss
And the pain of knowing that their loved ones won’t come back
They must feel like there is no hope
Wonder what this world has come to
Sometimes so do I
So do I

I Love the Neon Lights

I love the neon lights
Stepping from under bright marquees
Like girls who haunt the nights
Dusky brown girls that by day seems lovely
But like snowflakes in my warm heart
At nights just melt away
From any recognition that makes them part of me
I love the neon lights
The festive dress of streets from sunset
Until the next day light.
Somehow the mood reminds me
Of my tropic island far away
When day takes off its working clothes
And people like children play
Never blaming life for anything
But through their hardship dance and sing
Until the next baby cries
Until the crows come crowding through the clouds
Until the rice in the pot refuses to rise
Until the next girl is found, unhappy and alone
Beaten, strangled, by an heathen hand
The neon lights run like winnowing sands
I love the neon lights
This masquerade of city nights

Two Hundred and Twenty Stories

Two hundred and twenty stories never written but etched in time

were removed on a day which started fine.  

The silver worms traveled down beneath the floors 

carrying those whose day (lest they know) would be a chore,
 
through the escalators and out the doors passing the facades lined with stores.

Aristocrats and bourgeois run through the halls

for no one would ever believe that these stories could fall.

I myself went to the nineteenth floor of Cortlandt and Church

starting my day seeing on which call I would make first. 

“My future is looking great”, flashed briefly through my mind, 

little did I know that fate was not mine. 

A large boom made the buildings shake and the windows had rippled 

as I ran to the pane and suddenly was crippled. 

I gazed up eighty some ought floors

to see an explosion rocking the world off its doors. 

I exclaimed, “My God, their bombing us” at the top of my lungs

and ran down 19 floors...like I was 19 years young. 

Standing in the corridor on Dey that day, my eyes witnessed things I’d rather not say. 

The second explosion than flashed before my eyes, 

and I ran near a bridge to try and survive. 

I stood there and wondered and waited what to do next 

until one of the stories decided where I should run to avoid the effects.  

Half the stories came down like an angry freight train 

releasing a smoke monster engulfing all with a white powdered grain.

Covering my mouth, coughing like crazy, crossing the bridge, all sites were hazy. 

Standing on the other side of the east I looked to the west

to see the other half of the stories end my friends, to this I attest. 

Hundreds and thousands and millions of lives 

were all torn apart over this year plus nine.  

So I sit here now telling you all first hand 

a day in the life of a fairly young man

whose story had began and ended that day

may your hearts stay free and strong 

and God Bless the USA.
Form: Rhyme

Afghanistan Fourth Time Lucky?

Afghanistan - fourth time lucky !?
Every day on the news.
(Just before the funny bit)
Soldiers names are scrawled on the grim roll call

Yet  in centuries past
Every day in the paper.
Strangely familiar names were recalled.

When will we learn history' s lesson 
and stop seeing young lives.
Rubbed out by remote control.

How can we  carry on up the Khyber pass.
Fight again, Warriors who live for war.
To killing, then hiding, then killing anew.

Why can’t we learn
The Russian’s lesson
And stop banging our heads on the wall !
Form:

Independence Day

~ Independence Day ~

Born into freedom
I can’t imagine any other life
Free to make up my own mind
Free to choose my own path
For this I am forever grateful
As I stand up and salute 
The Red, White and Blue
On 

~ Independence Day ~

It comes with pride
Compassion
Respect
A Call to Duty
All traits to be honored
And admired
So here is to our men and women of the armed forces
Helping keep our country free and safe

Standing up for what we believe in 
Standing Proud, Strong, and United
I salute you 
Every day and especially on

~ Independence Day ~

To those have served before 
To those who have gone and passed away
Be it in the line of duty
Or any other way
I salute you
Every day not just on 

~ Independence Day ~

So here is to this country
Standing proud
Strong
And United under our banner
Our flag 


Letting freedom reign over
The Red, White and Blue
One nation
With billions of hearts 
Joined as one
On 

~ Independence Day ~

By: Jean Shular

For all the soldiers, past, present and future
Living and passed on
I salute you 
I thank you!
Form:

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