He was the last of forty-four.
Educated killers in clean boots.
The best, they said, then broke.
Forty-three went into stone.
Into fluorescent burrows, teeth bared.
They fought until numbers meant nothing.
Then only one kept breathing.
It should have been two survivors.
We flipped a coin, like drunks.
One takes tags, letters, names.
The other stays with the sun.
A fusion bomb, hand-detonated.
I don't know if I won. I'm alive, still, technically speaking. But the room eats silence whole.
Shadow screams behind my ribs.
I turn around, you're there.
Cigarette trembling in cheap ash.
Then I blink; you're gone.
Dreams lie like bar mirrors.
They show you, then sell you.
I searched alleys of sleep.
Your name slipped through my fingers.
When it was time, you vanished.
To prove some brutal splendor.
I never bet on miracles.
I miss you before knowing.
Like hunger, beginning with b.
If a hero or heoine, is not dead already
They will be in its early stages..
For this world, will not accept,
Divergence? Nor any up-setting of dark
Powers.' So we prepare un'thinking the
Course's of doubt, the battlefield on which
They'll not yeild, then bewail their passing
And kill some flowers, to lay down, upon their
Battered sheilds, we'll grow as the grass's
Then be thrown in the flames, as torn from
Our grasp; removed will be all our gains, its the cycle
We know? Its the reality? That we trust.' Yet
It will not be the eternity, for that is most just.'
Paring away, ill-conception and all allure, for
We all must give account of that be most sure. I
Have no righteous deeds i'll own..Only the
Blood of Jesus 'may it be shown?' all else is
Vanity..All else has passed, The true Hero He is coming..' Be aware that His trumpets
Will event-ually; blast.!
Farmer Wade is going around, and raising morale, is what i've found, with the
Billboard battalion; strong on the ground.'
All Aussie warriors, may-be you know? How they Astound '
Some of 'our heros' who want to go.'
And they will do it right, will not be baited.)
I let all know.! And stand in solidarity, I guess its fated.?
A land of hero's each one i treasure.'
Thats not debated, Standing to count, the traitors and foe's
Agressors.' All blessings, i bless you' in unity; to victory go! into brigades form may your numbers
Rise..' I salute you all you men and women
Keep tight keep active, and plan for a winning. And no surprise.!
I asked him, my friend
Who are the heroes of the world?
He said, "Heroes, the War-Giants."
Alexander to Maj. Gen. Herald Ikiants,
Revolutionaries – Ideologues, Demagogues.” He named.
I quizzed his seminal brain
"What about saviors and saints?"
He was composite and took no strain
To answer my query pains,
“Of course, Saints!”
And he had no feel of hailing
The heroes of war veins
As he believes history’s kneeling
And he trusts in evidence
So scientific and evidence.
"History is past blundrance." I tried.
He only said very firm
"It is evidence."
"Learn from the evidence"-I,
He confirms, he uses occurrence
As he still has a belief
History repeats itself.
He proves again quoting History mischief,
History does not repeat, but rewritten with the dictum
"History is not of warriors but of the makers of life"
The Earth would only say
"How mean you are
Learn from the past errors."
This company action, has thwarted the slaughter of almost four hundred B C
Ostriches in Canada, that are essential
Key workers? In helping with avian flu
Antibody rescearch.' My hat off to you
Jeremy..You are a true leader; and your
Co-workers are hero's also.' I wish your
Firm all the sucesss possible.'
Senator Thomas Massie, a true con-vid era man.' Now a
Widower.) And international hero grand..' He stands for the great state
Of Daniel Boone, an advocacte of freedom who just liked
His (Elbow room)
A boy as gentle as a doe,
Who's friends opened his eyes,
To how strong he can be,
He leaves behind his broken ties,
A girl afraid of dying,
A brilliant girl who's mind was bejeweled,
So encouraged by friends,
Who treated her like she ruled,
A boy of lightning talent,
As calm as the rain,
All his friends around him,
Helped him talk about any pain,
A girl with a way of words,
With charms so bright,
A neglected, but loved child of an actor,
Her friends brought her light,
A boy who flowed like the water,
Whose laughter was a key,
A steadfast rock for others,
But his friends held his head above his sea,
A girl who liked sticking to plans,
And her brilliant ideas,
But sometimes she let go,
And her friends caught all her fears,
A boy who tinkered and built,
Full of jokes and fire,
Too late his friends realized how they valued him,
But he came back, never seemed to tire,
A girl of extreme bravery,
A great leader to all,
Who stands ready for battle,
Her friends behind her to catch her if she ever falls,
A shadow-filled boy,
Of hidden feeling,
Though he'd never show love,
His shadow his friends where slowly stealing.
A new day began, I sprained my right hand!
Then my furnace decided to "give up the ghost"
Neighbor brought friend who would understand;
soon, room became as warm as toast.
then it stopped dead--all was lost
my muse and I were doomed to frost.
Two electric, space heaters running twenty-four/seven!
It was twenty at night--temp's winter hat doff.
My electric bill was reaching toward the heavens
My muse preferred to scoff
while my toes were freezing off!
Probably Monday, a new one he could install.
It would cost one THOUSAND--I needed some air!
Opened my door, found my son standing tall!
A guy with tech background, drove here to share.
I needed a hero, and he was there!
My muse and I needn't despair.
Aren't sons and daughters a wonderful plan!
They will help with gusto and style.
And hero neighbors lending their helping hand!
Faulty solder fixed; the heat will soon beguile.
My hand needs a brace for a while;
and my muse? I saw a tiny smile.
A world once served by gods and heroes
Now gets by with ones and zeros.
- From book by Andrew John and Stephen Blake of UK: Are You a Miserable Old Git? (Are You a Miserable Old Bastard? in US)
(posted here Sep 2022)
That bright young President shot down in Dallas
who turned out to be an addict and philanderer.
And don’t get me started on our most
recent former President and his insurrection.
That hundred-meter sprinter who held an Olympic
Record overnight until his urine tested positive.
That cohort of steroid taking home run hitters who
demolished Maris’ record and now in the Hall of Infamy.
That Bills back who still holds rushing records but
might well have got off Scot-free with murder.
That person you though you would become
who became the person you are.
Laura Ingles Wilder
Her prose were milder
Than poetry or verse
Intended to coearce
Louisa May Alcott
Wrote tales I bought
About women and boys
With hearts sure to poise
Miss Nancy Drew
Wasn't such a shrew
She solved every crime
In her own spare time
Little Trixie Belden
Mysteries were well done
Dancing with shadows
Which she would expose
The brothers Grimm
Wrote tales that did brim
With joy, hope and love
Sent down from heaven above
When in need
You proceed
Our beautiful little ducks
We shall bring you luck
You have done your part
By using your hearts
Tranquility well masked
Vibrant colors of past
Full of heart and trust
When you sing to us
We are glorious
For you are victorious
You make us laugh
With your smiles that last
You shall do well
You shall excel
As promised to shawl
We shall heal you all
Always direct
You remember respect
Ready to help
We always felt
With no regret
God secret is kept
Quand il nous faut
Beaux petits canards
Vous faisés votre part
Tranquilité
Bien masqués
Couleurs vibrantes
Quand tu nous chantes
Pleins de coeurs
Vous êtes vainqueurs
Beaux sourires
Tu nous fais rires
Nous allons bien parvenir
À tous vous guérirs
Toujours direct
Avec respect
Prêt à aider
Bien traités
Aucun regret
Notre secret
for a while now there is evidence
of warriors great and small
on the nightly news
Marching off to storm the gates
Not the common warrior mantra
but the braver one
who faces your enemy as their own
in the era of courageous sacrifice given
plastic armor worn in hope
no warrior before required so little
in battles as yet untold or to be regaled
no scorn upon their homecoming
shields in place over masked mouths
as strong as any others
the bloody battlefields lie full
behind doors of intensity
Care shut against loving eyes weeping
for protection is paramount
Warrior swords held invisible, high
lips murmur silent battle cries
They hold your pleas in their palms
bravely cradle your pain
gently hear your last words
cheer as you walk away barely alive
the Covid warriors are gathered
from city streets to rural crossroads
they are the chosen not elected
as the world struggles to find its way
They lay worn down finally to sleep
on prayers and candles lit
may we never forget these warriors
their hallowed tributes will be carved
7-9-2020
'Warrior' Poetry Contest
Beyond the persona
Of heroic stature
Achievements for him
Are worldly pleasures.
To fight for the kind
With hardships infinite
Fierce but furious
Still able to define.
Control on self
In such a situation
To make the change
Is to win but suffer.
Strong to commute
In the start of a dispute
Never to refuse
To die is a tribute.
Death is not to complain
For this heroic gain
Of the tremendous heroic deed
By the hero with no name.
Rohan Dhabade
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.