Best Wardeath Poems


Premium Member My Fallen Brother

White marble stones
Stand proud in the sun
To remember my colleagues
The heroic fallen ones
 
Many a battle
Many a campaign
Some did return
For some never the same
 
On the green grass i stand
Blue sky above
The souls of my comrade's
Like peaceful sitting doves
 
The name on this stone
Reminds me of the day
My best friend and brother
Was taken away
 
An offensive was launched
Brothers at war
Bunker to take
At the top of a tor
 
Smoke screen exhausts the view to the hill
As we wind our way through
Zipping bullets, blood spill
Noises of lead, as they rip through the flesh
As we hit the barbed wire
Now a scarlet stained mesh
 
Objective in sight as we approach our aim
As i hear the groan of the injured
Many dead and maimed
 
Grenade pin pulled 
Bunker window we lob
Hands sweating
How many lives will we rob
Explosion flash with shouts of pain
As the smoke lifts on this bloody terrain
 
We enter the Bunker
To witness our task
The enemy lie distorted
Faces grimace, death mask
 
I turn to my brother, to signal its safe
As a shot rings out, in this theatre place
He stands still for a moment
Eyes glazing and cold
The death of my sibling
At 19 years old
 
As i open my eyes, and turn to my son
I see what i had, as he holds my grandson
Family values, love and a bond
As i remember my brother
Of whom, i was so fond
 
I proudly walk past, salute as i go
The white stones standing proud
Peaceful doves in a row
I find my self fortunate to stand here and tell
To talk of my brother, and the fallen as well


http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war-2.php
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Peaceful Dreams

* For Carol's contest

Peaceful Dreams

Battlefields
     Contradictions to God’s intentions
     Death toll headlines spark contemplation

World without war
     Could such dreams come true?
     Hope lingers in hearts seeking clues

Make it happen
     Extend a loving hand to all nations
     End the tragic conflagration 

Fiery death scenes
     Who emerges victorious
     In battles so notorious?

I dream of peace
     Humanity and compassion
     Enjoyed by every nation

Harmony reigns
     And every life is recognized
     As one with merit, a unique prize

Our Lord’s vision
     Is surely within reach of man
     Black, white, red and tan

Learning to love
     Accepting our differences
     Guided by spiritual influences

Dead Dogs and Draftees

Sad song singing as the sickle keeps swinging,about Dead dogs and draftees
Marching mad miles of misery
through trenches of terror and maniacle mazes...on the whims of warlords in psychopathic phases
Genocidal generals make slaves of the free...they salute the sadistic
Dead dogs and draftees

Hunted and haunted tormented and taunted
Every twist and every turn leaves them ugly and unwanted
Rich rulers counting money...never minding the means
While killer kings send them off to their doom,deep in jungles of jeapordy
Hidden in darkness you can feel their disease
Life is defeat and death victory...decay in death deserts
Dead dogs and draftees

Deformed and disfigured...some never delivered
society quivers as reality screams
In the valley of vultures...no sound in this scene
Your worst nightmare is their daily dream...rest in peace 4ever
Dead dogs and draftees
Form: Rhyme


Heroes Soon Forgotten

Disease beneath the skin, iron will can never win.
Death in the air, sorrow and misery the killing pair.
What's no longer in the mind, has left for no one to find.
The eery chill, just waiting for the kill.
Demons never cease, death will never release.
The cold dead fingers, kills sorrows singers.
The dead in the earth, doomed from birth.
Lightning streaks the sky, as angels begin to cry.
The mighty hell fire, will never tire.
The infected precense, causes all to wince.
Throughout seasons, death has no reasons.
Hours are days, as the darkness forever stays.
Knife carves through bone, as the end is shown.
Before the damned awake, this world will break.
No repents for the sinner, in this game there is no winner.
When will we see the light, for all sicken of this endless fight.
The heroes will soon be forgotten, for now the loving hearts are rotten.
In those crying eyes, the darkness continues to rise.
Death plays the tune, beckoning the wicked soon.
Will this never end, for all have not sinned.
Remembering the dead, as all watched as demons fed.
Can any make it through, as hearts break in two?
All that remains, is the haunting scars and pains.
Trembling before shadows lord, deafening as the reaper has roared.
The blade falls, without the slightest pause.
Who can rise above, and make true what we've dreamt of?
Who can we trust, to fight through greed and lust?
Shattered dreams, tore through the seams.
We fight this master, as our lives drain faster.
Death comes to all, as they hear the voiceless call.
Getting closer to the gates, who now controls our fates?
Laughter burning through our ears, consuming all fears.
Finally there is freedom, finally the light has come.
Form: Rhyme

Vietnam Wall

The black wall reflected my white-washed skin 
and disheveled jacket, above the chattering din...
Loosly lopsided glasses hang limply on my face,
Cold, dark, black, they somehow seemed to fit this place. 
The smooth memorial seemed to stretch on,
Longer than death itself;a banner, a chord, an unsung hero's song.

                               ...

Memories race through my unsettled mind, 
The dense rainforest reverberates right behind...
Exploding artillery, I see several comrades fall down.
They lay moaning or silently still on the densely foliaged ground.
Like tin soldiers, “Playing dead,” I force myself to believe 
Trying to dam the tide of fear, for death is all I see.
“Will, help!" a young and bloodied soldier calls to me.

Hands gruffly grabbed my shoulder; I meet my commander’s steely eyes,
Torn, bruised, and bloody... I could see he wasn't surprised.
“We won’t survive with extra baggage. Retreat to the copter, now!” 
He hollered hollowly, his featured in a ragged, downcast bow.

Pondering quickly: Die a hero? Or forever regret today? 
Without a hesitation, I hoisted that young man up right away.
He seemed light, until I picked up another, fallen on the beaten path.
The odds were all against me; flying bullets unfurled their wrath.
Lifting yet another, I wrapped him silently around my tired arm.
The day I died, two comarades were saved and taken away from harm.

                               ...

And for a single breathless moment, I thought that I had seen myself,
In the teary-eyed man reading these lost names all by himself.
Now and forever, my name will be a simple written sprawl. 
An etching in a stone, a memoir to this black unyielding wall.


Beth Watkins
3/7/11
~Dedicated to those heroes who have died to defend our freedom.~
Form: Rhyme

War Horse

War Horse by Steven Cooke

Taken from Cloven fields, 
Where skylark and Grouse Linger.
Into the bowels of a troopship,
No scent of Morning Dew, No Bird song
Only sweat and urine,
And the distant sounds of war. 
No light, no grass of home, only the whip.
For he is bound for Flanders field.

His rider glorious in his regalia, sword in hand.
He was his master now, and the horse’s salvation.
Kindness, a quiet word, an apple, their bond complete.

His last feed, bathed in a red sun, 
Which hovered above the morning mist hiding yesterday’s sin.
For this is the place where death is king and reason is lost

This day, where man throws sacrifice to the gods,
Like so much sour grain, crushed, and discarded.
To blow away into the winds of time,
Recorded by nations into the ledgers of loss, 

For now it is time
The lines gather, then the slow trot, their proud heads, restrained,
Their mouths foaming on the bit, 
These beasts of burden knowing no fear,
A site worthy of Valhalla

Their Trust, in man, galloping where heroes dare not go
Onward, onward, they gallop,
Row on row into the fog, No grass here, 
Only mud, and wire,
Waiting for the days cull.

This place, Mans ultimate betrayal,
Onward, Onward, Nostril’s flared, Eyes wide, 
steam rising from his Flanks,
Every muscle, straining for the next stride.

Then the Stumble, a moment’s recovery,
Blood pours from his proud neck, then the ground. 
His head rose, a hand strokes his brow, the last kindness,
 A wavered shot ushers his life away, like so many before,

No one will weep for you my War horse,
No letter home,
They’ll be No mention in dispatches, No Memorial
 For you are just an animal,
Sacrificed on the altar of man, left to rot in Flanders field.

But for those precious minutes, he was more than man,
This day, of all days, he kept his bond, did not flinch,
Though death was all around, 
Galloped blindly through the death rattle of the guns, face on, 
No retreat, Onward, Onward,
The magnificence of the horse, No equal, never forget,

For it is the shame of a nation, a sin of mankind, 
To undo the hand of god.
No glory here, only an empty cup left on the altar of insanity
Taken From Cloven Fields,
Where the Skylark and Grouse Linger
For I will weep for you,
My noble friend,
My War Horse, You Magnificent Beast.
Form:


War and Allegiance

It was there, in lands afar, where 
War knew nothing of disdain and mar

Where winds wafted zest amongst cavalry,
And dignity was a line drawn upon rivalry

It was a time when death beheld justice,
And when the sinful held torment for injustice
 
It was when nobility was a statue of gold,
And when religion, in word and action, was told

There was infidelity yes! Disloyalty, and deceit,
But goodness then, would always be there to compete
 
It is death today… it is venom in blood,
It is only plight, and fear of all but God…
Form: Couplet

Japanese 10 Shilling Note At Kokoda In 1942

Kokoda Ten Shilling note.........................

Johnno had been out a tracking Japanese , in Kokoda's , misty green...
It was 1942, smell of death, slaughter so obscene.......
Suddenly two Japanese appeared, Don fired and death was there.......
Just pointed the old Tommy gun, two bursts two bodies, yair.....(aussie yeah)
Don checked the Officer first and found a ten bob note....
Invasion money for Australia , in case you didn't know it?.......
 Bertie had wounded another Japanese, a big Mongolian type....
He was kneeling saying the Lords prayer, Bertie smashed his skull to tripe....
Brains splattered up Dons back as he found the ten bob note....
And Bertie muttered 'we're here to kill Jap's ' checking the pockets of his coat....
.45 was old Tommy gun, one or two in a Japanese brisket....
And Death appeared as cruel and hard as the Aussie Army biscuit....
After that Don went alone to find the enemy line....
Treading carefully sniffing the breeze, for the hay smell, Jap divine.....
Drover Dick wanted a prisoner, to talk of old Tojo...(Colonel Dick Marson)
But they mostly died in a bayonet fight or a bullet made em slow.....
You heard the little rattle as the Japanese loaded a bullet....
And after 5 shots from his Arisaka , fixed bayonet you just knew it....
Bayonet parry or a butt slap, spike him quick as you will....
To spill your blood hes coming, stop the bugger with a 45 cal. pill.....

Don Johnson .written Anzac day 2010...Anzac Day when we remember our war dead...
as Don Johnson of the 2/25th Battalion said of Kokoda the butcher shop.

http://www.scullywag.com/kokoda1942stoush/
Form: Ballad

Proud Soldier

You were a soldier with pride
Defending a nation
From forces of evil
You fought on the sands
Of a South Pacific land
You fought for an island
Owned by Japan
Our forces were strong
And you fought with great might
The island of Iwo Jima
You would take that night
Though death was around you
You faltered not
You fought with bravery
You knew not how to stop
Victory was yours, your brothers
Your friends
A victory that death will make 
You forever live
You helped our nation
Win the war
That one tiny island
Was one Great reward
You gave your life 
Or maybe not
Regardless your destiny
You fought a great fight
Sixty years has now
Come and gone
But we are still proud
Of the bravery you have shown

Dedication
To my grandfather, Jack Madison Fluitt, a United States Marine Corp. Raider who fought the
battle of Iwo Jima. You are gone now but we remember your life with much pride and honor.
To all the other soldiers who fought at Iwo Jima or any other battle of World War II,
thank you for our freedom. We owe our lives to you.
©March, 25,2005 Kimberly Fluitt
Form:

Premium Member In the Heat of Battle

Amisdt the lull of flying rockets and shells I stare at this photo and feel terribly sad
My Grandfather, cut down in youth; my Dad, bound in a chair, with legs, iron clad
Mom with foresight, had it sealed in plastic, to keep it safe away from the damp
She may have dreamt on some dark night that I'd spend time in this cold swamp

Although sheets of rain fall endlessly fast, intermittent sunlight cast out warm rays
So often this brings some comfort and the hope, that all this will end soon, some day
Knee deep in rice fields we tread, with deadly snakes; critters running for dear life
Frightened by sounds of hell's orchestra accompanied by fires and strange light

So many buddies lay in final sleep; I am numb; I no longer feel lucky to be alive
Unaware of where or who the enemy is; bearing no special distinction from allies
And I believe, this is a horrible joke being played designed to steal souls of men
What else is hidden as we grimly watch our friends' bodies packed in bags to send

In the heat of battle we stand brave; but cry for Mothers as we lie in this trench
Any atempts to conceive how is this serving my country, in fury my fists would clench
In this shadow of death I make peace with my maker as death may take me away
How arrogant and delusional  to believe that destiny can be circumvented this way..

~*~

For Miranda Lambert's "World War of Vietnam" Contest
Form: Rhyme

Forget Not-Lest History Repeats (For Abe's Contest)

Forget Not…Lest History Repeats

Victims of the Nazis Regime:
Jehovah's Witnesses and Jews.
Marched like chickens to their slaughter.
Once walked in twelve million, plus, shoes.

Social democrats and partisans, 
Gypsies and orphans did death reap.
Disabled by body or mind –
Add more feet to the deadly heap.

Communists, and trade unionists,
Soviet prisoners-of-war,
Polish Intelligentsia,
Vacant shoe-stack grows from the floor.

Adolf Hitler ordered them killed.
Annihilation camp, grim rouse,
Death at Auschwitz-Birkenau –
The stench of death reeks in mourned shoes.

WRITTEN FOR ABE LOPEZ "Leather Voices" Contest

© Dane Smith-Johnsen
May 14, 2010
Poetic Form: Quatrains
Form: Quatrain

All Because I Am Jewish

I saw you brother with your eyes deadened to life 
As the bullet passed through your chest 
I shall never forget that piece of lead that laid your soul to rest 
Lodged into the door beside me 
Our plan had failed 
Every detail played to perfection 
Your hand was on the rail of the train when the shouts came 
Stop! Stop! 
To stop meant death anyway, so why would we 
Yet their bullet pierced you 
And I stood there, frozen in a world that hated us 
If things were reversed I wonder, would I have pulled that trigger? 
I think back when they sent momma and poppa to that gas tank 
The cloths had hidden the fear in their eyes 
As they walked silently to death 
I know this, I could never have been that cruel 
How could they follow this leader of deranged thought 
But now I am alone in this freedom land called America 
I shall never forget what those Nazi's did to my family 
The tortures unbearable for thought 
All the friends I have known have perished by gas 
Some shot for refusing to die 
All because I am Jewish 
Nothing could be so atrocious as to kill a man for being himself. 

BY: DARREN J McMURRAY 
June 14, 2008

The Superior Soldier

I am a superior soldier and death is my mission,
my mission is death. 
I have pledged allegiance
to serve my country and protect it against any foe, 
foreign or domestic. 
Death can come for me at any time
but my killer instincts and my instincts to kill, 
will ensure my survival. 
I have been taught obedience
and discipline and without them I cannot function
according to the chain of command. 
Disobedience will bring me pain, but nevertheless
pain is something I have learned to befriend 
‘coz in death I will feel no pain.
I take him everywhere I go and especially in combat.
my opponent could be a deadly adversary, 
but I pray each night for strength to fight another day.
I’ve growned accustomed to the bloodshed
and my determination for victory 
makes me the ultimate killing machine.
Because of my trainings, I have relinquished all fears 
and must display courage in the presence of my enemies.
I am a soldier by nature and my mission is death,
Death is my mission.
Form:

Your Vanity

Misery weighs down your eyes, as you begin to read.
In this dance of lies, you'll forever lead.
If you can't stand, I'll see you on the other side.
Take my hand, for now the son has died.
I'll reach under the skin, and steal away your disease.
I'll fight and win, as Death becomes a tease.
I fell into fantasy, as I feel your touch.
Swallow your vanity, for you cry too much.
The string of white lights, a full moon casting.
The shadowed nights, are never lasting.
Forever wandering, these cold dark seas.
The world squandering, crying the harshest pleas.
The voiceless won't rest, as they continue squalling.
On this endless quest, I continue falling.
Fall children, dance with every death boy and girl.
The monster will fight again, yet we're all so coy.
Lets fall to our knees, and begin to pray.
Do they hear my pleas, down together we'll lay.
Unrelenting omnipotence, nuturing malevolence.
Angels and Demons, bow before the other.
The unknowing sons, begin to kill their brother.
Leave for me, the crumbling headstones.
Ignore and leave me be, for death has shown.
Leave me to sleep, in this desecrated sanctuary.
In these dreams I weep, yet I tarry.
Will you be my love, will we watch the world burn?
What are the thoughts of, for the dead forever yearn.
No I don't want to die, no not tonight.
I can no longer try, I don't want to fall into the light.
As I climb the stairs, I reach toward the stars.
The heart tears, as it feels the scars.
I begin my ivy climbing, for the voiceless call.
It's the matter of timing, for who will begin their fall?
Form: Rhyme

Enhancements of a Constructed Contract Killing

a Constructed Contract killing
enhancements under my feet 
Silent gases that can't be breathed 
souls ready to be fed to the beast 
money mix with blood 
tears coughed up with Murder on (in) hand 

death is but an unfortunate termination of life
a shaking building of life's little pieces of time 
which can fall one brick at a time. or be
demolished by a violence, storm of mishaps 
or to be perfidiously shattered by the thing call man   

and so i (I) die helpless with no way to save my, self
and wonder how liquid drops of poisonous tears 
can float in the air like mist to skin   
and like wax to the inter ear... bring confusion and death  

I now take my leave of you 
and pray with open eyes 
for a better death than what may surly awaits me  
and may your final sleep, be as you always dreamed!

aka:lyricvixen (vlf)
Form:

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