Long Bomber Poems
Long Bomber Poems. Below are the most popular long Bomber by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bomber poems by poem length and keyword.
We were flying back
after flattening Coventry,
all of us cheerful,
confident young men,
all heroes.
On the return landing,
amazingly
we saw that the airfield was deserted -
strange,
for we had left with many aircraft,
the mission a great success.
Then from the ruins of a hanger
they appeared,
people of all ages, families,
all wore gasmasks;
their torn clothes smoldering.
Bewildered we raced back
to the bomber.
Aboard once more
we lumbered into the night sky,
where later
we were shot down
as we fire-bombed Dresden.
Tears of the living but painful souls are in my eyes.
Tears of the children whose destiny has been robbed;
Tears of the youths whose right has been denied;
Tears of the old parents seeing their wards dying in the hands of suicide bomber.
Tears of the animals are seeing their young ones dying of starvation.
My eyes are full of their tears.
If don’t cry their tears out, I may lose my sight.
Tear of the sea seeing fishes bodies floating on surface of the deep,
Tears of the birds that are falling from the sky; begging humanity to end shooting at the sky
Tears of the sand that is seeing millions of corpses in shallow little graves.
Tears of the poor seeking for freedom that look like mirage.
I can’t stop my eyes from crying their tears, if I do , who will understand that people have tears in their eyes unexpressed.
Tears of unborn generations that keeps me awake all nights.
Tears of the innocent babes in the womb that will be denied of their right.
Tears of seeing images of God begging for food in the midst of abundant of natural resources.
Tears of nations that are suffering in the hand of monsters.
My eyes are dimed , not because of my age; but because of the suffering of creatures; That has taken ages; and yet to end.
Each time I see tears in my eyes, I saw nations in bondage chain;
When will our tears be heard by God?
Looking down the streets,
I saw creature’s eyes pushing out from the windows ;
In pitiful manner, begging their God for the return of Hope.
Written by
Pastor Emmanuel Brown Omojevwe
Her material-finished-economical clothes,
from see through to micro-mini skirts,
all display bleached thighs.
Thighs, cushioning men to comfort,
smooth and spotless,
like refined cotton.
She is beauty itself.
Those who see say:
voluptuous bosom,
tattooed and displayed,
displayed naked for the naked eye.
A glance at them,
has made men instant babies.
Blood-red lips, always calling,
silently calling those not scared.
Hips form smooth curves,
perfect with the supple waist.
Boosters on all curves,
perfect the magnetic arcs,
Her secret of the game.
At sight,
she kills the second thought.
Her hypnotizing voice,
always setting the pendulum in motion,
yet enticing many to sleep underground.
Replaced hymen,
mocks the grooms chastity.
Like a suicide bomber she knows her calling.
Guiltless ever,
she comes calling and knocking.
Generous ever,
plays hard to get when smiling.
Oh beautiful scarecrow,
you scare them but keep coming.
Scare them, they’ll know,
they’ll know.
Beauty is only skin-deep.
I'm what the people call a freedom writer
the flow is on fire, but I'm far from an arsonist
a black activist and lyrically I'm unconscious
thats me a verbal abuser, I speak in riddles
sometimes but I ain't trying to lose ya
I speak for my people, so like the holy spirit
these lyrics gotta move ya
I'm something like Jesus was on earth
but just like Christ is, 22 years of age
one son, no drama
ready for death when the Lord calls
something like a suicide bomber
and karma, I'm so calm, remote activated
like C-4 explosives, and I'm no rookie wit this
so I'm telling you don't get it twisted
Outspoken, and I'm everything what
the truth should be, the chains is loose,
slavery still exist but truthfully I'm spiritually free
I'm the one GOD called on when his people were crying
and I came to the rescue ready to die
running threw the rain and walking thru fire
I MET MELVIN MAYS WITH MY UNCLE MACK THIS LED TO THE FBI GIVING ME A PHOTO OF MELVIN MAYS 1986 AMERICAS MOST WANTED CIRO GARGANO WAS NO WHERE AROUND SERVING PRISON TIME IN TERREHAUTE INDIANA MOURNING THE LOSS OF HIS FATHER THE FBI TOLD ME MELVIN WAS TRADING WEAPONS WITH LYBIA AND WAS GOING TO BLOW UP THE CHICAGO TRANSIT SYSTEM AND SEVERAL GOVERMENT BUILDINGS I FEARDED FOR MY SAFETY OPERATION M.O.M.M.Y MELVIN MAYS WE MET THROUGH MY UNCLE MACK BEING RELATED TO THE HONORABLE ELIJAH MUHAMMAD I HAD NO IDEA MEL WAS ACTUALLY THIS DOMESTIC TERRORISTS SPECIAL AGENT GAVE ME THE PHOTOS AND ASKED FOR MY HELP I WORE WIRES PREGNANT FOR YEARS SO I HELPED MAYS WAS FINALLY CAPTURED I'M NOT SURPRISED CIRO GARGANO INVADED MY HOME RIPPING PAGES SEARCHING FOR MELVIN MAYES PHOTOS TO TERRORIZE ME SENDING ME THREATS FROM ELRULKIN GANGS THREATS ON LICENSE PLATES ABOUT THE 1986 PHOTO OF MELVIN MAYS FUNNY I SET A TRAP ALL I DID WAS PUT MELVINS PHOTO ON MY CABINET WITH A CRISIS PAMPLET INSTANTLY CIRO GARGANO TOOK THE BAIT WITH HIS CAMERA IN MY HOME ATTEMPTS TO ZAP MELVINS PHOTO FROM MY AC VENT WHERE HE ACTUALLY HAS A CAMERA INSTALLED FOR ONGOING HOME INVASIONS CORRUPTION AT IT'S FINEST WORKING FOR CIRO GARGANO TO EXPLOIT FBI INFORMANTS AGAIN DISGUSTING YOUR TWISTED THREATS TO INDERMINE JUDGE OLIVER GREENS MEMORY IS A HORRID BREACH 1776 TO 1976 LIBERTY AND JUSTICE FOR ALL I WILL NEVER FEAR ORGANIZED CRIME CORRUPTION LED BY A MAN THE FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION ARLINGTON HEIGHTS WIRED MY WOMB TO GET HIS PROSON TIME CUT HENCE THE ARSON MURDERS OF 9 DANGLING ON THE TABLE TO BE SWEPT UNDER MY WOMB AS WELL GOD BLESS JUGDE OLIVER GREEN I WILL NEVER FORGET OUR LAUGHS OUR TALKS AT OUR MEETINGS THE MILITARY ORDER OF THE PURPLE HEART GOD BLESS AMERICA
Deadly greed allows mafia
leaders to fake their deaths
and impersonate my deceased
father born 1942 why old
disagreement’s unfinished
bribes payoffs bleeding the
life out of fallen officers sigh
for the giving pray for the
souls of the silent beings
when knights of Columbus
closes empty coffins creating
hell on earth for the public
puppeteers awaiting the
puppet masters cue from
above dirt my prayers are
with all the Gargano family
members forces to mourn
empty graves in public while
mafia members pass envelopes
around city officials break rooms
Honor doesn’t come from poking
your finger and burning a photo
of a saint it comes from respecting
honoring all who served and still
serving Stop organized crime bullies
left over garbage from Frank
the bomber Balistieri I will never
fear your bullying intimidation
I am unashamed I wore wires
pregnant for the Fbi buying
weapons and drugs from junk
sick cops selling drugs for
the Gargano crime family over
looking black town fort Myers
Florida Andersen avenue
This has been a weapon of war so tried and true.
It is the “Stratofortress” Boeing B-52.
The bomber has been flying longer than most of us have been alive.
It has been employed by the US Air Force since 1955.
With a payload of up to 70,000 pounds,
the plane carries a powerful punch that abounds.
Cruise missiles can be launched from its wings.
This Boeing aircraft can do amazing things.
The BUFF performs its duties rather economically.
This accounts for the plane’s amazing longevity.
This subsonic strategic bomber can fly a long way.
That’s one of many reasons why it is still used today.
(BUFF stands for “Big Ugly Fat CENSORED”)
I thank wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for valuable
information I obtained to write this poem.
The love bomber, hits you like a bomb, sending you love like a song.
They can sing the song of love, and make you weak in the knees.
Making it easy for them to mold you any kind of way.
They keep up the pressure with the love singing, to get you addicted to all their kisses.
Kisses of words, that make you feel like you are walking on a cloud.
Lifting you higher and higher with every kiss, when you reach the highest point, your brain gets addicted for life.
You want that love high, in your pulse, to make you feel the love forever.
Love is a high, like no other drug you can buy.
It makes you feel so good, having the ability to even heal all your wounds.
Some can send you love just by a picture, or a picture, or by mind, or sometimes your heart jumps because it knows that this is your other half.
Love is amazing, it shows up in surprising ways, making us have much better days.
My loves, hoping you have found your true love, and you feel amazing everyday.
That your love, gives you hugs, and makes you feel like number one.
If you have not found your love, then do not frown, because you always have yourself to love.
Love is powerful, so use it like a drug that can make you get all your needs met.
Lifting prays to God, for all the love bombing he has given, today and always in my thoughts.
Woot Woot Personal Memories
Monorhyme Form
Jeremy, a teen, is baby sitting
his siblings. They swallow him up playing.
Berry sits on big brothers lap giggling
in the big comfy chair sinking feeling,
while tightly squeezing, Ella’s enjoying.
Admiration of big brother’s loving.
Frankie and Joey, watching, role-playing,
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles winning.
Michelangelo’s, stealth bomber punching,
Donatello’s, Chi Gong skill in slamming,
Leonardo’s master swordsman slashing.
Ninjutsu skills, arms swinging, feet kicking
Following every skilled move they’re making.
Heartbeat of siblings bonding, like breathing.
Big brother is always encouraging,
Never giving up on our life squabbling,
protective, understanding, still willing
to play, do fun things, smiling, ensuring.
5/25/2016
5/25/2016
Poetry Contest ; Personal Memories Monorhyme II -
Sponsored by: Laura Loo
I watched him
shake although
he was fearless
watching old
war movies
falling to sleep
on western films
in his slumped
over recliner
I studied him
as he opened
sardine cans as if
they were c rations
he fascinated me
as we struggled
with his support socks
due to his legs
swelling up so badly
he never complained
paralyzed in one arm
if you asked him
how he was feeling
he'd quickly respond
fantastic I'm fantastic
even when he didn't
seem fantastic rattling
on his walking stick
he closed himself
off from the world
there was only
one photo hanging
sideways on his wall
it read purple heart
recipient Vietnam
this fragile man
with eyes of a stealth
bomber wasn't just my
dad, husband, neighbor
or friend he was
My American Hero