Boko haram terrorists
Times without number
A neighbourhood unsettling with a bomber,
Their grabbed territories
Zones of a thousand worries!
A people in panic
Piteously plan their escapes route,
Their pursuers, a manic,
Who must them funnily shoot!
It’s a horizon of unthinkable sleep
And the digging of graves not decently deep:
It’s a constant brandishing of a superior weapon
That precious lives make a lottery coupon.
North-East Nigeria to forever a story tell
That Borno was once a plain cell,
Each is increasingly a militant
Not convinced that innocent lives are important.
Excellent kidnappers they’ve got
And Suicide Bombers a lot:
It’s a pant welcoming an explosive,
Whose impact is a monster:
It’s wearer, an unbelievable youngster,
Obsessed with destructions, extensive.
Crazily, every Boko Haram
Takes non-adherent for a ram,
To readily his daughter
Slaughter and quarter
For a voiced and heard “Blood of Jesus”
What an Islamization of Nigeria
That should True Muslims anger in Algeria …
Categories:
bombers, anxiety, conflict, religion,
Form: Rhyme
A month ago I sat in class
in a New England School for boys
Now, I'm in a bomber group
Adjusting to the noise
I made plans for Harvard
A doctor, I would be
Then my life would turn
In a way I didn't see
The war was on in Europe
We saw in the press
But, 18 days before Christmas
we were pulled into the mess
Future plans were put aside
Our country we'd support
We'd forget all of our future thoughts
We'd join, though not for sport
We signed up down in Boston
Young men flyers, soldiers all
Preparing for a battle
Many would not live till fall
We thought not of our future
Our present, all we had
Many dead by Christmas next
The thought is truly sad
You do not what you want to
But, what needs to be done
You go from boy to man so fast
You've barely walked...now run
Think back on those who made it
Remember who did not
Young men they are forever
They deserve a longer thought
The air is pure and holy
It is scattered with young souls
Boys, now men who went to war
And put aside their goals
Categories:
bombers, america, war,
Form: Carpe Diem
Blonde bombers light my rusty old candle
Eyebrows and toes curl, causing quite a scandal
Tend to run amok
As I babble and cluck
Eyes roll independently, use my hooha as a handle
Categories:
bombers, fun,
Form: Limerick
BOMBERS AND BUTCHERS
Don't worry little girl, you need not cry,
we know your tears, and feel them every one
and all too well, though many more will die,
you will go home again, it is not gone,
but merely re-arranged, or burned at most,
your place called home still thrives for you one day
to dream and build again, a fence, a post,
four walls to keep you safe where you can stay,
and never see again man's evil eye
nor feel again the hate that brought this on,
and though for now you sit alone and cry,
the bombers and the butchers will be gone.
Your home is safe, and waits for your return,
Though nothing's left except what will not burn.
© Ron Wilson aka Vee Bdosa the doylestown poet
Categories:
bombers, change, conflict, death, racism,
Form: Sonnet
Suicide bombers, these cowards blow me away
To forfeit one's life for a belief that someday
Their soul will be saved
Their thinking's depraved
Seems the world is sinking into total decay
Categories:
bombers, death,
Form: Limerick
Those who kill innocents are cruel,
Their bodies will always be hell’s fuel,
Islam teaches about honor and dignity,
Care and love for the whole humanity,
But black sheeps are found everywhere,
Like KKK or Taliban, “Be aware”,
They do things on their own,
Their very own people, they disown.
All rights are reserved. Syed Imon Rizvi
From a book "Outspoken" - 2012
Available at www.amazon.com
Categories:
bombers, abuse, conflict, confusion, corruption,
Form: Rhyme
Who are these people?
Where they came from?
Are they not my brothers?
Are they not my sisters?
Don't we all bleed red?
Suicide bombing...O my gosh!
Our sons, our daughters dead
©Copyright August 2006 by Brian Pierre-Alexander
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
bombers, fear, war,
Form: Free verse