Long Boot camp Poems
Long Boot camp Poems. Below are the most popular long Boot camp by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Boot camp poems by poem length and keyword.
shaped like a boat,
a sock peeked out,
down under the rim.
a baby bootie,
a boot camp scootie,
befuddled the face,
bright red,
of a pale blond —
a mother on the side.
could have been undies
lining the sailor cap!
waterlogged laughter.
sea of despair.
however... i showed her up,
dereliction of my polished shoes.
barely an adult,
sneakering to hide
in the head,
luckily placed as a guest
in the gatehouse
and not out on my rear guard
or thrown in the brigg
for my lack of attention to detail.
the blond carries her family in a seabag
— not allowed —
can’t find the other sock.
9/3/2020
All In A Day Poetry Contest
Sponsor - William Kekaula
scootie means child that is between the stages of crawling and walking. Here I’m using it as a baby’s sock.
sneakering is a play on words as I had absentmindedly put on my sneakers
From zero to fresh focus:
No fads or "hocas-pocas,"
Occult tricks, nor superstitions,
Just go to Boot-Camp not institutions.
It's not about me.
It's to take a stand, you see,
A life if convictions;
Real-life risks, no fictions,
In live with Father-God and Jesus,
His Only Son that can free us,
Unaffected by criticisms, just in Love
With other and their dialogues; all the above
Seeing hearts heal brokenness and change
With no pretense, our focus rearrange,
Processing seriously but not redundant
With you in joy abundant!
Unseen injuries make it hard work
The fears lurk!
What is expected or appreciated,
Not just reactions with heart emaciated?
Bring closure and see a prologue
To nearing the goal, remove the "log,"
Rebound in faith, never be a snob,
Nor sarcastic or the Mob.
So keep your focus and the Power
Of the resurrected Christ in your tower.
Self-control is gain
Like waiting, it's a pain!
But keep your focus clear.
Hear God's music in your inner-ear.
Yes, we are all a-work-in-progress.
It's safe and fine to regress.
To vulnerability and keep involved.
Healing doesn't need all problems solved.
There's no natural-born leader.
In time we can also be a feeder.
So conquest the temporal and material.
Move in rebuilding the empire
Let Jesus' Way be your pick.
Don't be a lonely cynic
Give others the benefit of the doubt
Wear a smile, not a pout.
Banish the evil of a derailed life
The enemy tries to bring in strife
Like the striking snake it'll be too slow
For you fly high; it's too low!
So prepare for success.
Diligently sort the mess
All the way to the end.
Sign the Pledge not to bend;
To act, rebound, giving credit and devotion.
Like a sweet perfume or lovely lotion.
In prayer and fasting let negatives go
Study the Bible's fine print and know
That the challenge and the focus brings
Support, Light and salt-quality that sings!
Can you say what you feel?
In sincerity will your friendships seal?
We will find the common ground.
Honor and respect will be found.
If there's no logic nor gentle calm,
Will we feel the Spirit's balm?
Even pillow-fights will irritate,
The time move on with fate.
Surprises will loose their fun
With that Special Someone!
So, brace yourself, focus and move.
Soon your success you will prove
With All glory given to the Lord,
Never more to be bored.
The early seventies was rather interesting
one minute hanging out with a pack of wolves
predators of the night... the next... nine weeks in boot camp
on the great lakes in Winter...so cold
then off to a very large aircraft carrier
where I spent the next two years roaming its flight decks
until..." Parker, are you, Parker "
you have fifteen minutes to get off the ship
and thirty days to make it to Memphis, Tenn
for aviation electronics school...problem...yes it was
we were in port in Naples, not Naples Fl, Naples Italy
so off I went to find the NATO base to catch a flight to Spain
but...being the red-blooded American boy I was
I decided to rent a room for two weeks in Naples, Italy
and enjoy the nightlife...so I did just that
after two weeks found NATO, flew to Spain
enjoyed a few days there, then flew to the states
made it to Memphis with a day to spare
2/23/18 contest Where were you in the 70's
That little boy who I used to tickle
And helped learn to tie his shoes,
Just called me up on the telephone
To give me the happy news.
That young boy who I taught to wrestle
And watched him practice football,
From half way across the world
Made me proud with just one call.
That young man whom I saw graduate
From High School then Navy boot camp,
Just phoned to let me know
I am going to become a Gramps.
How is it that this little tyke who only yesterday,
Was riding upon my shoulders is an expectant father today?
How is it that my hair has turned, from black and then to gray,
And now that I am even older has completely fallen away?
The tears from my right eye, are tears of pride and joy,
The tears from my left eye, miss my little boy.
I was just getting used to the fact, that I’m old enough to be a dad
When I get news a grandchild is on its way – oh, yikes and egad!
I guess it could be worse – this news I did receive;
Knowing it makes my father a GREAT-Grandfather, gives me some reprieve.
A new generation, like it or not, is on its way;
“Congratulations, Son”, is all there is to say.
In realms of regal radiance, I stand,
Embraced by whispered legends, a chosen hand.
A tapestry divine, my lineage does unfold,
For within my veins, noble secrets are told.
Cloaked in treasures rare, I step with grace,
A million faces, yet I’m singled out in space.
Bathed in blessings pure, bestowed upon my soul,
Destiny ordained, like jewels that brightly glow.
In life's boot camp, I've trained with utmost devotion,
Embracing challenges, fueled by an inner ocean.
Effortlessly, I conquer shadows that I find,
Emerging victorious, with strength defined.
A gilded aura cloaks my every stride,
Captivating gazes from those who peer inside.
From twisted corners, eyes in wonder stare,
Transfixed by beauty's spell, beyond compare.
Candy-coated hues adorn my very being,
Anointed with a brilliance, forever freeing.
For I am but a star, traversing heavens high,
A symphony of majesty, painting the sky.
One in a million, a walking sovereignty divine,
Illuminating paths, with love as my design.
With each step I take, my spirit's truth unfurls,
A poet's heart, my words a canvas of worlds.
Everything was pink for Zee when she was a child
Hot pink, light pink, medium pink, nothing blah or mild
Pink bed, pink pillow, pink closet, pink clothes, pink doll
If it was not pink, Zee simply did not want it at all
Imagine our shock when she joined the military at eighteen
Our princess was now a soldier, which was quite unforeseen.
She trained to be all black and white, there was no pink or gray.
We watched her boot camp video, laughing our guts away.
Zee got a corporate job, and rose straight to the top.
Her career was the best, it seemed her success would never stop.
What about pink? We wondered. Where is the pink now?
In her corporate washroom we found a pink toilet, it was a wow.
Not only pink, but shaped like an enormous kitty too.
You cannot leave yet we’d say; you have to use the loo.
Our daughter would roll her eyes, thinking we were crazy.
But we all wanted to see the toilet, designed by our Zee.
Perchance, happenstance, my sailor found me
as I arrived (a package deal) but I stole his heart
and wouldn’t share, though some so-and-so tried.
She’s lucky she’s still alive. Thankfully my sailor
couldn’t be bribed. He was revived, not villified,
by my return. He told me all about so-and-so.
I said so-what, we had just met, no big deal.
But I didn’t know she’d hide behind rocks, at the end
of our dates, ga-ga-ing over him. Her glasses brim
with puppy loving, but I stole his heart. It was around
my neck so she couldn’t find it. Kick to the curb,
so-and-so, you're so outta there. Really “out there!”
My Prince, thus nicknamed, brought me to a movie,
first base - ahem…I mean on base. We kissed,
we missed what was playing in the dark. He took
my hand as our lips played like a bow and harp.
I momentarily look up. Some chump, who worked
there was holding my hand - I am NOT that kind of girl.
Roll up your sleeves…knock out this jerk, this l o s e r.
MY sailor had won my heart. No other hand comes close.
Did I tell ya, I also had a sailor in the chow hall, during
boot camp, lick my boots - no my hand. What is wrong
with the seas. Glad I swept up the pearl and not the disease.
9/2/2022
At my first sight of him,
I saw such a benevolence,
the Cuban youth with mocha skin
and bright root beer-brown eyes,
he only loved me,
I, a frivolous woman.
He was nineteen, I was twenty-two,
his steadfast devotion of heart,
my UK heritage fire.
How I wish I could send him a message
through the timelessness of poetry,
breathed into his dreams by an angel,
to say, when I think of us forty-three
years ago,
I sing a song of the sea.
We were U.S. Navy recruits in the
challenges of boot camp.
He thought my plain looks were
beauteous,
he, so serene and gentlemanly,
what a man should be.
He gave me an engagement ring,
when we graduated that hot
Orlando, Florida day,
the loving man too good for me,
how I hurt his truest of cherish,
he only loved me,
the woman of a thousand fragments.
Not long after he went out to the
vasty romantic sea,
I wrote him ending our engagement,
I never saw him again.
The years a flash of decades,
that brought my sorrow in tidal waves.
When I set sail in my elder's nocturnal
sleeping sojourns,
I think of him as my memories soar
as if an oceanic bird,
and awake-
to sing a song of the sea. ~
Here we hid when we heard
A knock strongly---a sudden clattered upon the ground
Everyone indoor shrieked, trembled
Out... out..... we heard
They separated males from females
Sans bother how small we were
They guided us to the boot camp field
Gave us lives and death train. Rubbed ours and
Their faces with slurry that as dark as ackee seed
Handed each with weapons. To mamas males were living dead
1939th of september to1945th of september
The days were long gone, but still remember
Told us show mercy to whom fall by your way you are dead
Victory it our goal. Words of venom and
Drug infused made our heart to strong as harden wood
Mansions become ash by fingers tamped
Animate breathless by stabbed
Stick. Raise countries devoured by swallowing lips
May the old and youth of this and coming generations
Not experience such; the heroes and
Heroines that go to rest nurture as cradle in right hand.
An interview with a veteran who happens to a victim.
Captain Meridee was the ultimate pirate queen
She was confident, but not in any way mean.
We caught her relaxing in the fierce island sun.
She said she would give us an hour, but only one.
How did you get your reputation? Asked my photographer Lee.
She gave him a look that practically took him down on one knee.
I laughed at the exchange, it was clear he was smitten with her.
Her booty stuck out with the confidence of a tiger’s, a GRRRR.
Her hair was braided in thickness that reminded me of rope.
Her well-endowed breasts made me feel like a flat-chested dope.
She had a way about her that made us back off from her a bit.
Captain Meridee was beautiful, brainy, and quite readily fit.
So you sail the seven seas? I asked, wondering if she had walked a plank.
She gave me a condescending stare, and my meager mind went blank.
She is tattooed and tart, and I imagine she was drinking a flask of rum.
She was intimidating and beautiful, sitting on a hollowed out tree gum.
Our interview went nowhere, for she was clearly in charge.
In boot camp she would have readily stared down my serge.
Captain Meridee was the ultimate pirate queen
She was confident, but not in any way mean.