Long Bosnia Poems
Long Bosnia Poems. Below are the most popular long Bosnia by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bosnia poems by poem length and keyword.
Sitting in the darkness
Trying to find
Anything missed
Running it through the mind
Twenty five rounds
In a loaded magazine
All lying snugly waiting
Wiped and shining clean
Rifling oiled and checked
Pulled through with two by four
Working parts assembled
All in order once more
Gas plug checked
Firing pin in line
Pull action checked
All working just fine
Safety catch engaged
A round up the spout
Tension in the air
Squad moves out
Sitting in the darkness
Keeping self control
Always the waiting
The start of each patrol
Thanks to Lash for explaining what the real thing was like on active service, Bosnia.
I only experienced this on training exercises.
REMEMBERANCE POEM
(penned by Gordon AKA Alex Alexander R Sigs 1987 –2013)
Alas it is that time of year
When we all shed a tear
For absent soldiers who went before
In far away lands fighting a war
From Ypres to the Somme
And further a field
Too many men
Far too young to be killed
Then more recent events did occur
In places some think mighty obscure
Places such as Iraq
Some families wishing daddy was back
Other places such as Afghanistan
Fighting for freedom of the condemned man
Not knowing who the enemy was
And being taken for this cause
Reminiscent of troubles near by
In places such as NI
I know this may upset a few
But all these conflicts are very true
I know I have missed quite a few
Such as the Falklands War and Bosnia too
Many countries where we have served
For human rights to be observed
They defended our country
With all there might
Never giving up the fight
Even in the dark of night
Remembering the fallen
Is not a one day event
They left too early
This was not meant
They are remembered daily by
Us that are left
There legacy will always live on
If we all remember what job they done
R.I.P my brothers in Arms
Until together we serve in heavens farm
Looking after one and all
Dancing with angels at the ball
Old Scottie’s got a cob on
Can’t find his favourite chair
Just back from a mini reunion
And he can’t find it anywhere.
Not yet got the nerve to tell him
It went the middle of last week,
Mike gave it to a charity shop
When he had a fit of pique.
Martin’s sat quietly crying,
Had his recurring nightmare
Of serving back in Bosnia
And he’s in a fit of despair.
Almost time to open the Drop-In.
There’s no cow juice in the fridge.
The centre without milk is like
A scene from Pork Chop Ridge.
Thirty seven coffees yesterday
And not a single one was black.
I’ve sent somebody to the shop
But they’ve not yet arrived back.
The centre for broken soldiers
And I’m the Duty Office nerd,
Just whinging and ing
This morning is all I’ve heard.
They’re all physically fit but
Their wounds are concealed
It’s very unlikely some of them
Will ever be fully mentally healed.
Always the chance of a flashback,
An attack of doubt and fear,
And it can bring some relief
When a fellow veteran is near.
They’ve come back with the milk,
The mugs are lined up and clean,
Thanks be to the man who invented
The essential dish washing machine
It’s almost Drop-In time,
The Duty Counsellor is on his way,
Noel and Gordon are at the door,
Time to start another manic day.
Old Scottie calmed down
Said he didn’t really care
The Counsellor brought Martin
Out of his Bosnia nightmare.
The mugs all washed and clean
All ready for opening next day
The Drop-in’s locked and closed
Time for home and I’m on my way.
Pull out the easel
set the canvas
positioned long and slender clean slate.
Sketch the figures huddled and dark-bound hostage
to charcoal-cooled coals
etching in shadow images;
Faceless entities
slipping in and out the background
earth-toned sojourners accepting, alone, quiet, dying;
Still the images in silence
hard and disfigured
grotesque horrors in place;
Somber soul-drained eyes
skeletal socket holes
buried in the heart and mind;
Let tears fall down their cheeks
in wonder, awe, and
fear of what happens next.
Acrylic primers dilute the wash in the storyline
flaking and cracking
tearing each soul and truth away;
Polyptych blended burnish bleeds
quiet, soft exuding
whimpered cries, asking why;
Chiaroscuro collages of death from life
fading to diluent breaths
the heartbeat of an unholy silence;
Graded gouache monochrome scraper boards
releasing sfumatos of singularities
communal lives sacrificed
Varnish the final rendition
camouflage the realities,
the actuality of what it represents,
Time immemorial in genocidal atrocities
of Native Americans, Cambodians, Hawaiians,
Jews, Rwandans, Bosnia, Darfur,.
When does it stop?
The never-ending list
life is more precious than this
until change comes
Paint the Picture Black and Gray
pray
then act.
On quiet Sundays between the revolutions,
After the bombing and before the morning,
The soul returns in tired, injured steps
to help my grandpa pick mushrooms in the forest.
When dirty victims go back into their drawers,
for reasons only politicians know,
I see the kitchen where my mom was panicked
The stew's too bland - no salt or bread at all.
When spy detectors clean the human race,
Black suits and ties push buttons of decision,
I stick a branch in quaking wicked pace
to stop the rhythm for the ants in trouble.
There's so much air - sometimes you suffocate
"Atlantis" - can you see me cry?
Important sightings trying to locate?
There's just the black box and my final flight...
www.scripca.com
PREUDICUARY---
Preudicuary
Evil deeds, evils done
Just for cause of the false righteous ones
Hey Mr. white supremist, something bout to happen, I love you
And Mr. Klan-man won’t you understand that, I love you
Oh, Mr. Muslim one guess what I’m talkin only to the bad ones;
Those of you who hate me for my Christianity;
Those of you who hate me for my religious views;
…………………guess what I love you
Preudicuary
Evil deeds, evils done
Just for cause of the false righteous ones
Hey Mr. Soviet USSR what?
What about Poland, Bosnia the Ugrian?
Nazi’s whom supreme beings what about me
The evil Caucasians whom believe in the hatred
Believe in white separating the races;
Those evil races whom don’t always show their faces;
If you peel our skins away…
If you cut down to the marrow…
If you just look at are soul and spirits…
Mandisa says in her song that is…
“We all bleed the same”;
Let’s stop the hatred;
We all need each other;
Preudicuary
Evil deeds, evils done
Just for cause of the false righteous ones
Lets live like God promised;
Something bout to happen
Those of you with prejudice views;
Please unwind and be in kind;
The same God that sanctions you;
Is the same God whom condemns your views;
Who are those that are against Israel;
Those of you be careful, better watch out;
Preudicuary
Evil deeds, evils done
Just for cause of the false righteous ones
For those that are first Gods peoples;
Are those that we should protect;
For the first is last and the last is first;
Those whom are malfunctioned with there sins;
Those of smiling facings upside down grins;
Those evil races whom don’t always show their faces;
If you peel our skins away…
If you cut down to the marrow…
If you just look at are soul and spirits…
If not careful they won’t go where God goes;
Preudicuary
Evil deeds, evils done
Just for cause of the false righteous ones
Needless to say I love you anyway
3/4/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
-----From forthcoming anthology “Reality Realm”
Ukraine Tune
(Inspired by Bosnia Tune)
As you get up out of bed
Fill the kettle, scratch your head
As you stretch your arms and sigh
People die
As you go to work by bus
-Traffic jams cause such a fuss! –
Cross the road successfully
People die
As you turn on Ukraine news
With its photos and its views
Then you know that life’s a lie –
People die
As you hold a talk in class
You divert to Nordstream Gas
-Yes the price has got so high!-
People die
As you drink your can of beer
Work is over, not a fear,
As you look up at the sky
People die
People die as you go home
Up the lift you always come
Lucky for you but not for some
People die
People die so easily
As you sit and watch TV
On the screen you hit a fly
People die
As you curl up on your bed
Letting fall your sleepy head
Nightmares won’t be asking why
People die
TULSI ACROSTIC
T-Tulsi is tenacious and not one
to take any guff!
U-Unshakeable and uncrushable
under "missing email" HRC's
horrendous harumph!
L-Lion Hearted Tulsi was to
meet with HRC,face to face.
S-Staunch,so solid is her stand!
and won't take HRC's lies lined
with unproven disgrace!
I-Irate, she is! And rightly so!
She remembers so well HRC's
lies about being in enemy gunfire
in Bosnia, oh?
.....................
~Poem re:Tulsi's Nemesis~
HRC, had better things on her
to-do list, so just she didn't show!
Making a new,untruthful list~
of those she thinks are plotting
to overthrow her HRC presidency.
A shrew, who dreams of all her
political foes as
Dancing with evil Russians...
a go-go!
And so, like sweet petunias in
a funky,briar patch,
For HRC's calumny, there is
no match!
October 23, 2019
The first world war started because of poverty
The first world war started because of greed
The first world war started because of an assassination
The first world war started because of Ideas
The first world war started because people wanted revenge
Each Statement appears to claim, all of the truth
Each statement, appears to conflict with the others
Yet each statement is a different side of the truth
To see all of the truth you need to look at the life of people
To see all of the truth you need to look at all sides of a problem
The first world war started because of poverty
Gavrilo Princip start his life in poverty his family suffered
with six of his sibling dying in infancy poverty became
the breeding ground for his feelings of discontent
education brought him into a world of ideas
The first world war started because of greed
people in power, used the assassination as an excuse,
going to war they thought, would bring them profit,
they didn't picture themselves losing but instead,
pictured the profit of taking wealth from other countries
The first world war started because of an assassination
Gavrilo Princip joined a group called the Young Bosnia
Believing in ideals of unification inspired by ideas from
Romanticism, anarchism, and revolutionary socialism
Serbian military puppets encouraged to commit the assassination
The first word war started because of ideas,
Ideas are all around us, flooding our lives every day,
people say, get rid of the immigrants, they take our jobs,
Immigrant's say, we are better than you, we have less criminals
communism was an idea that inspired Gavrilo Princip
The first world war, started because people wanted revenge,
Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife where assassinated
People wanted revenge people wanted retaliation
supporting government decisions people became ready for war
with the support of the country people go to war.
Nobody started the first world war because of religion,
it started because of many, conflicting reasons
these are but a few, I sure their are many more,
but if we want to learn from the past, to make a better future,
Think hard, of how to make a better world, without war.
I was to be in a film during the pandemic
To deliver a public service message
From a chair
Crew re-arranges the screws of the room
Seals the blinds and sets up equipment
Makeup lady approaches me
Surgical mask binding her face
I
Being the alleged subject
Unmasked
She bends down to me
Moves her face close to mine
As if she wants to kiss me
Her lustrous black hair piled to her shoulders
Eyes of Zana dark and enchanted
Re-arranging why I thought I was here
Head tilts to all my flaws
Hands hover and hesitate
Like I’m a crystal ball coming to focus
Mesmerizing eyes
Narrow
To find my lines
Thick eyebrows rise
Before conjuring in her mind
An acceptable face
From this
“Where are you from?” I ask
“Bosnia, my sweet.”
She says in a forest accent
I try to impress
“Your family brought you here from the war?”
She gives little hint
“Mmmm
Something yes like that.”
My face gets heavier with her colors and creams
“May I ask your name?”
“Merjem.”
“Beautiful.” I accidentally say out loud
My face cringes
I’ve caused her more work and trouble
Lifted from her pallet to this payday canvas
“Remain still.” She hushes
From behind her covered self-portrait
I think of candlelight dinners with her at midnight
At a downtown café in a cobblestone alley
Knee to knee under a white-clothed table
Old fairy books leather in our fingers
Devouring my poems
Hanging her paintings
She is wet to the cup of my lips
Toast of my hands
Those eyes
My only purpose for living
If only the mask could drop from her face
If only I was detached
If only we were 20 years ago
If only I was 30 pounds thinner
If only we weren’t all sick and scared
If only these microphones and cameras weren’t here
If only we could recall past lives
If only the end could begin anew
But I knew
I had always always loved her
Someday.