Long Berets Poems
Long Berets Poems. Below are the most popular long Berets by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Berets poems by poem length and keyword.
,
A black cloud descends…. , , ,
Each flower grows hopeful! ,,
In jubilation, katydids, laughingly, make noisy ovations! , , ,
Party-planner, Queen Rosie, STOPS to
unleash verses,with ’xcited Yiddish zeal !
……………………………………………………………. , ,
D Daisy Mae, and Lily Gay, bathe in refreshing rains ,,
A Anointed too, are tiny baby buds, with every little drop ,, ,,,
N Narcissus squeals with laughter, and sings a sweet refrain
C Crickets dance with plaid berets, and do a Celtic hop!
I In the mud we’ll find two pigs, they splash, but then rain STOPS!
N Nanny Goose, and Granny Goat, play banjos in the band
G Gardenias, stash away umbrellas, they scrub from end to end
R Rabbits hear the jubilee, and from a hole they pop
A A squirrel or two, comes down the tree, where all the fuss began
I In spite of fear, the little mouse, looks out to see what’s up
N Nearby, the cat, just waves his hat, allows the mice some fun!
N Dogs join in, STOP chasing cats, they splash, and play like kids
R Rainbows fill the evening sky, where now the sun peeks in
O Overhead, the colors smile, in greens, and blues and reds
P Pretty is the world tonight, refreshed, and clean, and good
S Softly STOPS the pitter-pat upon on the evening’s hood
…………………………………………………………………………
Thirsty trees, and tender tulip tongues, tasted today’s tantalizing tonic
Rain STOPS to retreat, to replenish, refresh, repair, and rest
Delighted dancers STOP, to discuss day’s divine delivery duties
Rainbows remind recovering revelers reasons to STOP and reflect, rejoice, recent rainy rewards
Slowly, in soft slippers, STOPping to shine, sun sets silently.
Satisfactorily satiated, the scenery seems serene, sparkling and sleepy…..
..............................................................................................................................
Inspired by Debbie's Contest "Aye, Aye, and a Mistress"
(for those in Kwangju: May 18, 1980)*
after Dante
Taking this peach within the mouth, the tongue
hovers around its sunset skin like a lover
and its Sappho sweet bite is heaven. A song
of honeysuckled rivers is like your
kiss… The night is in July. At once
Platonic love is redemption or
when the world is beyond our Kwangju…Please
let the streets be freed from anticipation
of the bayonet and gun… Let litter seize
this street or any avenue… Plan
my kiss and we will be happy and free.
The night is the peach---the dead sun…
Recall the dress you wore as a weapon, me
wearing---I forgot… Your raven hair, soft
yet sharp by its embroidery
of strands being held by one silver pin. The left
hand of God and right hands of angels
must have done it… It was my dry throat
drinking from Styx River which made the chills
even more pronounced at the sight of you.
The dress’ print was you. It was petals
of prints within splotches of orange, gold, red, too…
and white--- bandages… Horrible bandages.
I’m wearing black/white. Suddenly we choose
to hug underneath those flickering pages
of streetlights… we an arrow’s color shot through bodies---Rage…
*Excerpted from Chalmers Johnson’s Blowback : The Costs and Consequences of the
American Empire: “General Chun did not wait long after talking with Gleysteen (US
Ambassador to South Korea) to complete the coup d’etat he had begun the previous
December…On May 18, 1980, a few hundred demonstrators in Kwangju took to the streets to
protest the imposition of martial law. They were met by the paratroopers of the 7th Brigade
of the Korean special forces, known as the “black berets,” who had a well known reputation
for brutality going back to their service on the American side in the Vietnam War…Gleysteen
wrote, “Rumors reaching Seoul of Kwangju rioting say special forces used fixed bayonets and
inflicted many casualties on students… Some in Kwangju are reported to have said that
troops are being more ruthless than North Koreans ever were.” [When asked of the decision]
Gleysteen replied, “I grant it was the controversial decision, but it was the correct one. Do I
regret? I don’t think so.” (112-113)
Today, let's be asymmetrical as we have never been
before
Let's listen to a music station we haven't enjoyed prior to
today
Let's eat at that restaurant our friends recommended;
we
can order some exotic dish that we never
have
Let's go enjoy that museum we've been to almost
never
Let's attend a lecture at our neighborhood library we don't go to
much
Let's pay a friendly visit to that uncle whose politics we've never
embraced
Let's put on our bathing suits and lie in the shade for a
change -
Let's volunteer at a soup kitchen and feel good about doing some
good
Let's put our creativity berets on, and write a song in 5/4
time
After that, we can join a fund-raising walk-a-thon just
for
the love of humanity! When we get home I think it would be
a
nice gesture to call customer service and say "Just sending you a verbal
hug!"
before today we
have never much embraced change -
good time for a hug!
[haibun]
written 19 Aug 2020
Malice police injustice
This is a career choice
Not a choice to be a criminal
A profession just normal
Like any other
Tell me if the police have power?
Over the residents of own motherland?
How will strangers be treated?
Tell me if the police trained to have a criminal eye?
Cook up cases for innocent passersbys
offence
Drunk and disorderly
Assaulted an officer
With no identity
A handcuff and a gun
pay or inside you stay
Such a shameful decay
In mY motherland today
Suffer youth of today
to court nothing you say
that is Kenya today
That is my motherland
My birthplace
My right
My home
Where is it?
Who robbed me of my freedom
In the Nation I so much tire to build
‘I find you guilty’ yet nothing you did
Why the greed
Yet I’m human and you too
Why are some with the head of a vulture and the body parts of a hyena
Why must you be most hungry
Then mwananchi must never be angry
pray Above that our soil receive a proper laundry
For blood has been shed
And the soil is rotting
Time is clocking
Change is knocking.
No more arrests for berets
No more brutality with impunity
No more guns.Just humans
Just us.just reason of purpose
Reforms and transformations
I have swallowed the bitter concoction
See no more in this condition
I will speak, speak whether weak
Maybe it has just been a bad week
Maybe there are better ones with hearts without hurt.
I stand to be I have got tales
Only if you have suffered this fate
If you are the master then this is case closed.
This Note is saved.
I have got tales to tell
Of heaven and hell
Of a city so sick
The blues so thick
And the law so weak
I’ve got tales to tell*3
Of heaven and hell
Heaven will win
Repent my sin
My whole is clean
I have got tales to tell*3
Of heaven and hell
I wake up this morning and look up to my Lord
Say Lord help me out get what can afford
I pray to my Lord
Father come on board
Sail with your son
Yes we can
Ive got tales to tell
Of heaven and hell
Just a garden variety generic wordsmith
teasing out reasonable rhyme courtesy ploy;
self plagiarizing boot juiced barely abiding
by ruff dogma, with enigmatic joie
de vivre charisma,
which oft times witnessed
gentle green giant gentile goy
essentially me being a decoy
occasionally rocketing, outsourcing,
kickstarting, feigning
tubby an Anchorite, ahoy!
Life in the K9 corps
ain't so doggone ease zee
absolutely daunting, hence
lemme share with ye
haunting, and unnerving, the whee
kid nasty, short, and brutish
ways, and truth be told,
I would rather be outwardly
hidebound, gagged, and flagellated
(threatened tubby slowly
strangled to death by bonafide vee
numb muss snakes, yours truly
screaming bloody murder,
viper esse scent chilly resembling
caduceus), and/or re:
peat head lee bitten
(till death do us part)
by vampire (weekend) bats pre
dominant lee inhabiting
spooky attic, nee
above cattle crying
abattoir, bovines bull heave -
meeting grisly demise, where prowling
hoodlums - vicious murderous electric
kool aid acid tested gang
infesting mean streets -
viz hit head hay be us corpse lee
ving shot up desolation
(think skidrow) role much
more blood curdling, key
ping adrenaline heart pounding,
and sweat pouring directive hee
ping helplessness 'specially,
when this gree
gear re: us macho foo fighter,
accompanied by my grateful
dead cutting crew - on free
key Friday the 13th
assigned directive to man
the most crime ridden, and be
dev filled violent bailiwick,
donning head to toe
bulletproof suit vests.
Nevertheless, yours truly fraught with
horrendously extreme
difficulty, and more
challenging, enduring, and grueling
than surviving training
undertaking associated
with elite military clique,
and attendant rightfully
earned linkedin prestige
joining: Raiders of United
States Marine Corp,
Green Berets United States Army
Special Forces, or Navy Seals.
the humid thick air of a July 10 evening
streets of new york city in july
heat that invites two wretched souls
into the beatnik hall
coffee pouring- smell of tobacco burning
a squares mistake of showing up and thinking he is in paris because the men with their
old ladies berets are donned and wearing the personality of that such cat
sunglasses omitting the last of the natural light through that lone large pane of glass that outlooks the street ad the lamps illuminate
the death of the smoke will not kill them tonight
there bodies are still young and lean
they think their destiny is darkened as misplaced tweeners
movement of the fan of iron and tin blowing across the floor of tables and mugs
its cooling methods of no use and remorse it just keeps turning those fans no grateful
no on caring.
black girl sitting alone at a table in the corner trying to blend into the corner that gives dark not to be seen by her last lover as he runs his hand through the golden hair of latest old lady
white guy standing at the rear not more of two feet from the girl in the corner his eyes seething with his lost love sitting with the mature black fellow with the eyeglasses and sharp goatee running his hand through that golden hair.
the tow of them strangers since her time here, depart different doors broken hearts.
evening of walking for them both one walking one way the other another.
but that cool wind of the river is a non-conforming consoler of the two he leads them down to dark waters illuminated before the blue clear water. Suddenly one pair of eyes meets with the other.
attraction of the two as no other that have both felt.
one walks over to introduce to the other
which one it never mattered
their eyes meeting souls touching
wounds of the heart healing
doors to the homes of separate houses reopened with new vista of a greater American journey
my beatnik attempt
Form:
Boot juiced abiding
by ruff dogma, with joie
de vivre, which oft times witnesses
me being a decoy
occasionally feigning
tubby an Anchorite, ahoy!
Life in the K9 corps
aint so ease zee
absolutely daunting, hence
lemme share with ye
haunting, and unnerving, the whee
kid nasty, short, and brutish
ways, and truth be told,
I would rather be outwardly
hidebound, gagged, and flagellated
(threatened tubby slowly
strangled to death by vee
numb muss snakes, me scree
ming bloody murder,
sans resembling
caduceus), or re
peat head lee bitten
(till death do me part)
by vampire bats pre
dominant lee inhabiting
spooky attic, nee
above cattle crying
abattoir, bovines me
ting grisly demise, cuz prowling
the murderous gang
infested mean streets -
of corpse lee
ving shot up desolation
(think skidrow) role much
more blood curdling, key
ping adrenaline heart pounding,
and sweat pouring directive he
ping helplessness 'specially,
when this gree
gear re: us macho foo fighter,
accompanied by my greatful
dead cutting crew - on free
key Friday the 13th
assigned directive to man
the most crime ridden, and be
dev filled violent bailiwick,
(donning head to toe
bullet proof suited vests),
nonetheless fraught with
horrendously extreme
difficulty, and more
challenging, end
during, and grueling
than surviving training
undertaking associated
with elite military clique,
and attendant rightfully
earned linkedin prestige
joining: Raiders of United
States Marine Corp,
Green Berets United States Army
Special Forces, or Navy Seals.
Twas the day before Christmas and out on the range
Some strange guys were shooting some things that were strange
There were Springfields and Mausers and parkerized pistols
And a guy in a trench who was blowing a whistle:
“Get up and get out! Get over the top!”
He yelled and he fell, the machineguns won’t stop
The soldiers pushed their friends up in despair
“Whatever you do, don’t you leave me here!”
Thirty years later, it was the same shout:
“Hang on, old buddy, you’re going to get out!
You got your bloody ticket and I’ll get mine
We’ll be home for Christmas, there’s not any doubt.”
In 1950 they were back for more
This time at the Chosin Reservoir
Just one month to Christmas, we’ll soon be home soon.
General Douglas MacArthur says so.
Vietnam split us apart. Some men wanted to be soldiers,
Others wanted to sit in San Francisco and smoke dope
And spit on our returning soldiers.
Barry Sadler wrote the “Ballad of the Green Berets”
and John Wayne played it out. And our soldiers came home
and took up their lives again, some prosperous, some living on the street.
And a memorial wall brought us together again.
Back in childhood days we played in the sandbox
Pushing around tractors, and tanks and toy soldiers
Toys that we had gotten as gifts and we had no idea
That those toy soldiers were our fathers and uncles and grandfathers.
Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house
My father’s nightmares came to me as quiet as a mouse
Of battlefields and a snow-packed prison camp and a far-off family at home
And stockings waiting by the chimney with care.
Dedicated to my father, Donald J. Craig, 1921-1998, a soldier.
Two grizzled master sergeants repaired to the NCO Club to cry in their beer.
Their jawing invariably turned to discussing the 'old army' of yesteryear.
They grew up in the 'brown shoe' army and of it they liked to reminisce.
'Twas 'happy hour', beer was cheap and their gripes went a lot like this:
"By gawd! Used to be I could take a kid behind the barracks and kick his ass!
Now, ever' time ya turn around they're buggin' ya fer a three-day pass!"
"Yep, they think they can git away with anything jesh 'cause they're a volunteer!
Ya won't believe what I shaw today! An earring danglin' from a soldier's ear!"
"We ate C-rations in our day without all them fanchy frills they have today.
Today, if a kid don't git schteak and lobster on hish plate there's 'ell to pay!"
"It wassh called a 'mesh hall' in the old army and we ate off'n schteel trays.
Now, it's a 'dinin'' facility' and, yesh, we schlept on cots in open bays!"
"Yesh. Things was so schimple when all we dealt with was mornin' reports.
I'm scared of them computin' things that is invadin' all the army forts!"
"In the old days I'd tell a kid what to do and he wouldn't give me no shass!
In the new army if I chew out mommy's boy he goes schlobberin' to the brass!"
"Now, they make us wear them silly lookin' berets jesh like them blimey Brits!"
"Yesh. I don't know about you but I schtink it's time I called it quits!"
"Yesh. I agree. I schtink it's time to retire and end this miserable career!"
"But jush a minute, old pal. Before happy hour ends lesh have 'nother beer!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
In the morning I heard howling in the air,
The most rooted oak bows in awe and swear,
In the prior gleam of sunset, were greeted with pride,
In perilous fights, our flags and stars never hide.
What induces a nation's pillars strong?
How is it gifted to fend off such a throng?
Never neglect those who fought and died,
Or those we never recalled whom some cried.
Grieving older men salute the flag,
Ladies around tombs shout in anguish and pride,
Kids hoist bitty banners and are dressed in drag,
When the honor-bound penance is tied.
Let's commemorate our unknown troops,
Whose loyalty to our nation doesn't loop,
Let's respect their zeal; they crave to do right,
Defend America, so we may rest easier at night.
Veritably, I assumed a secure homecoming,
From the fighting zones of our soldiers,
I pray for the return of each hero by drumming,
Our young men's war is on our shoulders.
Let's respect our heroes, who suffer hardship,
Their rigor we can't fathom, that's a sharp tip,
Defending what it proves to be an American,
Depict the colors aiming to induce a comparison.
Who oversees our freedom and chance?
Armed boots showed our assertiveness,
Not our blood kin, but a lady's tendance
Family pain, heart, soul, and brain toughness.
O, courageous fighters, hunt out the blight,
Of furious rebels, we'll sing the eulogy of plight,
Your green Berets are prized with high esteem,
Impede your goals as you shout and scream.
Written: July 23, 2022
To Honor My Hero Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon