Helmets Poems - Poems about Helmets

When all hope was gone, There they were, Where no mortal should ever need to go, And no general would ever ask it of them, Their helmets, the whitest of whites, Their hearts filled with the purist Love, Their minds and limbs, as hard as steel, As they stuck to their task, Rekindling hope where none was thought to exist, Giving us the...

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Earth trembling it's cold out there even with that sun strung up high sun is hanged Allahu Akbar declined turning green sun is suspended lorn at stand-by mode Allahu Akbar sun is gasping turned to swollen surface metal bumblebees repeatedly poking circle around shaping curvaceous silhouettes buzzing Allahu Akbar shrilling Allahu Akbar sniveling Allahu Akbar swooped down to the pawns faces turned tumid remains blurry whether due to crying or sharp pain occurred when all went raven scene left sun astonished they didn't...

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One man Stands Beneath his white helmet And demands, Silence. Throughout Aleppo. His stethoscope, He attaches To the dust And listens From his knees. The man has Ten fingers, A dry brush And a pair of pliers To dig like an archeologist. He does not have years, But minutes To search the ruins For toes That wiggle Or mouths That suckle Or bleeding hearts That still beat Like tremors In puddles of plaster. When an apartment building Of ten stories Is bombed By planes Flown by...

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Helmet,head's mate, Hard like shell on skull, A hat over the head,helmet, Top on Earth ozone a helmet. In hot or wet for any climate, Police and forces to protect, Police and forces heads,protect helmet, Helmet,a head wear, Helmet to take care, In sports to guard from ball, In ride to guard from fall, In masks come thieves to stole, On roads,in colors shining heads all, At office...

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When biking in the city, On the brand-new bikes for rent, Bikers should procure a helmet So their skulls won’t get a dent. Thus, the city gave out freebies In some lower-income ‘hoods, But the people who reside there Didn’t show up for the goods. A reporter checked the scene out And she interviewed some folks With their feet up on the pedals, Resting up against...

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...........+++++............ again, she waits till granite morning becomes juniper borealis and marble evening returns to morning… many of days the stars hide from arrogance to radiance, shut eyelids burning heaven’s fireplaces stillborn soft. and she waits wondering waning wandering till heaven holds her spleen from whispers stenciled with half-known embraces far, far away unto decaying killing fields where bullets pierce the hope of many a man who starve...

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