Long Iraqi Poems

Long Iraqi Poems. Below are the most popular long Iraqi by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Iraqi poems by poem length and keyword.


An American Soldier

An American Soldier

A 20 year old veteran sits on the sidewalk
His legs blown off in the Iraqi sand
He obeyed Washington when they told him to fight
He killed when he was told to
He served his country the best he could
Now he has no job and no home
Most people walk by him without a glance
He collects pennies just to buy a hamburger
Money given him by people driving fancy cars
He spends his nights in a shelter
Sharing a room with drug addicts and lunatics
The government doesn't care about him
He lost that when he lost his legs
He will continue to fight
He will fight for food or a bed
He will fight to keep his dignity
What little dignity he has left
He will live and he will be remembered by someone
Maybe by the person who gave him 25 cents one morning
Then again maybe no one will remember him
After all he was just a beggar on the street
And who remembers them


Premium Member All My Presidents


I don't remember TRUMAN
And very little of ISENHOWER.
I do remember KENNEDY. "Ask not...";
And a lot about JOHNSON. "Great Society".

I remember NIXON. "I'm not a crook".
I remember FORD who pardoned Nixon;
And CARTER who cried his best to make
things right, and also said he wouldn't lie.

I remember REAGAN. "Tear down these walls".
I remember BUSH 1 and the short Iraqi War.
I remember CLINTON and his sex scandal.
I remember BUSH 2, who toppled Sadam.

I remember OBAMA and the capture of Osama
bin Laden. And I remember TRUMP'S first term
And COVID 19. I remember BIDEN and his agenda.
Trump reigns presently, making many changes.
Form: Narrative

Premium Member " the Gulf In War " Page 3 of 3

Depression, suppresion of the Iraqi people
Call for the brave, no longer feeble
Statues down of their once ruler
No longer reigns, no population puller.

Uday, Qusay the tyrants sons
No longer on power, now the weak ones
The search goes on to find their dad
In tunnels and bunkers below Bagdad
Operation Red Dawn, captured a want
His name Saddam, not worth the font
His reputation, now no longer a curse
This Iraqi nation, prayfully past their worse.

Let me take you back to 45
Berlin fallen, families died
But proud Germans, despised their leaders
To write a new, gain worthy readers.

Back to Iraq, as the forces cement
Sunni and Shia - Kurds will repent
Sadly not true, as markets ask
Suicide bombers, an impossible task
To police each person, on any given day
Won't stop their carnage as they like to play

Kalasnikov, Bullets and RPG
The currency of war, as countries will see
And to be truthfully honest, how do we repair
Stay at home watch TV, thank god i'm not there

The lines below are not errors by me
They are indeed tears, of the fallen you see
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It beggars belief, to open ones eyes
As another race, just wants to despise
As History has shown, whether neigbour or friend
I doubt Human Race will ever buck the trend
We will continue to kill, maim do or die
The End.


http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war.php
Form: Rhyme

When Did the World Change?

When did the world change?
Hippies danced by the thousands
Protesting war waged for another land
Not to protect our country
To help a country a half a world away
Music helped spread the word
Words about peace and caring
Songs of the honest feelings of the young
Influenced by drugs
Their visions widened
Seeing the truth behind all of the lies
They screamed to elders locked in their ways
Politicians paid to create wars
The President watched Americans die on TV
While he ate stuffed pheasant and fois gras
The sounds of clinking glasses
Drown out thousands of voices
They only heard money and power
Influence and corruption
Not the death screams of American soldiers
Forty years later
The story is the same
The politicians are the same
Greedy, power hungry vampires
More American soldiers are dying
Their blood flowing on Iraqi sand
The politicians feed big business
Big business feeds from the soldier’s blood
Yet, no one says a word
There are no hippies
No songs of protest
This time there is no conscience.
No independent thought
No one cares.

a day in October

A Friday in October

This morning was green and mild, with 
no sand, in my eyes, wind from Morocco blew
Once, I was in Casablanca, I bought a pair 
of traditional slippers with long toes
it is what one does at the old market
The TV man spoke about the weather
said Africa, which is a continent and many
other things  
A farmer in the next village had killed his
wife, for a woman getting married
is a perilous activity, the lottery of life
is littered with unlucky females
In Mosul, Iraqi officers arW paraded on
the TV. Why? I don't know, I think it is about
war, but like splendid in green uniform
we see a tank fire at something over the 
horizon, and everyone applauses 
My neighbor has a nagging wife who's
need, turns hysterical for the lack of it 
when she has one of her turns, the man
saddle up his mule, goes for a ride into
the woods of happy memories
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member Toughest Assignment

He looked at his orders and left out a long sigh
Raised his eyes to the clouds and asked, "Why, God, Why?"
The toughest assignment of a long career
A message to be taken to a family held dear.

He arrived at the station and began his walk down the street
There was a feeling of anguish he could not defeat
He found the home he was looking for
Took a deep breath and walked to the door

The man's face became filled with fear
He knew in his heart why the soldier was here.
As he delivered the message that their only son had died
"Oh no, not my baby, not my baby," the young mother cried.

There was a look of despair in the father's sad eyes
And undeniable grief in the young mother's cries
Their son had been butchered, not killed in the field
There would be no viewing, the casket was sealed.

We will not retaliate as the lone church bell tolls
Our leaders don't want to look bad in the polls
There is a feeling of anger that through my body runs
As politicians sharpen their image with the blood of our sons.

At night, alone, he feels the tears fill his eyes
The soldier is haunted by the young mother's cries
The war rages on and he answers the call
The battle continues and more soldiers fall.

       We are in another Vietnam but this time it is not the war splitting the country. It 
is the apathy of the American people. We need to care. We need to recapture our 
patriotism and pride. We are watching our children die while the administration 
bows down and worships the oil companies. We watch as people continually 
violate our rights by abusing the first amendment. We are fighting a war for five 
years that should have lasted five weeks. I'll fight to defend my country, but I'll be 
damned if I'll fight so Shell and Exxon can get their hands on Iraqi oil.
Form: Couplet

Premium Member Still Waiting

(For Contest: Foreign War)

There you are...face to face with me...on Skype...
thousands of miles away.  A soldier, but still my son;
Lieutenant Colonel, US Army, Iraq War, February 2004.
   
You tell me you are safe.  After all, you are an officer;
Brigade Commander, an engineer...you have guards.
You are ready...trained so well for survival.  But still...
things can happen, and they have, even to officers.*
   
Each day haunts us: are you a target on that helicopter?
Are you directing military feats near the war zones?
Will there be hidden roadside bombs on your paths?
Will suicide bombers breach the green zone at night?
Too many scenarios; too many bad stories in the news.
   
As an officer, you have to send out those sad letters 
about your lost soldiers...your men, your comrades...
to families...now in deep shock with broken hearts.
Too many sons...some daughters...not coming home.
Our hearts ache for them; their waiting is now over.
   
Dad and I, your sisters, your wife, and children wait.
The days, weeks, months...years, drag by slowly;
many missed Thanksgivings, Christmases, birthdays.

Finally...your deployment ends; prayers are answered.
Safely, you come home from the war, September 2006;
two years and seven months of worry...missing...waiting.

Now...fourteen years later...many others...still waiting.**


Sandra M. Haight

~2nd Place~
Premiere Contest: Foreign War
Sponsor: Lewis Raynes
Judged: 05/29/2017
 
(Revision of a poem posted September 6, 2015)

  *Operation Iraqi Freedom:  Officers Killed In Action: 427, Wounded: 1,880

**March 19, 2003: President Bush launches the invasion of Iraq 
    December 15, 2011: President Obama declares an 'end' to the Iraq War.

    However, now in 2017, many more soldiers are still being deployed to Iraq...
    no real end...and 'war' continues with casualties. The Iraq War is listed as 
    America's 3rd longest foreign war.

Premium Member JUST ANOTHER SHOW GIRL THE MANY MEN IN MY LIFE

WHERE TO BEGIN I LOVE MAN  BECAUSE GOD MADE ME FILLED WITH DESIRE FOR MAN A GIFT TO MAN THERE WAS JOHN TERRY ALFRED HENRY CIRO LARRY ANTHONY CHARLES RETIRED SHERIFF THERE WAS DON HAROLD DON II JOHNNY ROBERT PHILLIP LEVI OH MY GOD I DARE NOT SAY THEE ELEVEN WHITE RUSSIANS EACH TAKING TURNS RIDING THE MECHANICAL BULL THERE WAS RICHARD JUNE BUG LOU WAS INTERESTING HE JUST LOVED TO LOOK HE WAS ALWAYS TOO EXCITE ATTORNEY CHARLIE WILSO.N OVER STRAWBERRY CHEESE CAKE BEN HOPKINS WHOLESALER USED CARS TONY BOLOGNY CAB DRIVER KINGS FROM SAIDI IRAQI KINGS YOUR HIGHNESS WAS THE BEST EVER NOT TO MENTION THE MEETING OF THE MINDS SGT MAJORS WORLD LEADERS CLERGY GOD BLESS THEM FOR BEING TEMPTED BY MY DESIRE ME WOMAN NO MAN COULD RESIST WHY MEN SIMPLY 
LOST THEMSELVES IN MY DESIRE BEING AN ENTERTAINING A SHOW GIRL MARIETTA ROXY FOXY I DESIRE PLEASURE OF MAN HELL AM I WRONG I TRULY BELIEVE MAN WAS THE GREATEST GIFT TO WOMAN WHY I WAS ABLE TO BREED 8 TIMES THE JOY OF MAKING A BIG FAMILY HAS ITS PERK AND I ENJOYED EVERY MINUTE OF IT TOO THIS TRULY MAKES ME BLUSH FASCINATING TO SAY THE LEAST SGT SAVOY SGT MICHEAL PFC LITTLE THERE WAS FIRST SGT TOP SGT FIRST CLASS WILLIAMS MASTER SGT CHARLIE COMPANY SGT PERRY SGT HENDERSON MY MY MY SGT MAC GODS GIFT TO WOMAN IS MAN THIS IS MY PERSONAL GIFT FROM GOD BUT THERE ARE TIMES MY DESIRES REACH THE HOLY SPIRIT ON A SPIRITUAL LEVEL BOTH MY EX WERE CHEATERS SO I LEARNED TO LOVE ME MORE THAN MAN I COULDN'T IMAGINE MY LIFE WITHOUT GODS PRECIOUS GIFT OF MAN I CRAVE MAN GOD CREATED ME FOR MAN HIS REASON MAN COULDN'T BE TRUSTED TO BE ALONE SINCE ADAM WAS TRYING TO BREED WITH ANIMALS GOD KNEW ABOMINATION WOULD RUIN HIS EARTH WHO WOULD BE FRUITFUL ME WOMAN 8 KIDS 26 GRAND TWO GREAT GRAND PLEASURE MY REALITY BEING ME WOMAN THANK YOU GOD FOR MAKING ME FOR MAN WOW OH HOW I DESIRE MAN GODS MOST PRECIOUS GIFT TO WOMAN OUTSIDE OF NUNNS BUT I'M QUITE SURE EVEN NUNNS HAVE DESIRE FOR MAN THAT'S WHY THEY PRAY THE ROSARY AT 7 AM EVERY MORNING FLUSHING THE SINFUL NATURE OF BEING TOUCHED BY A MAN WELL I'M NO NUNN MAN UNDER ME ABOVE ME WITHIN ME DESIRE DESIRE THE COMPLETE DESIRE OF MAN AND WOMAN THAT'S GODS GIFT TO ME MORE MORE MORE MAN FOR EVERY WOMAN AND I WANT SECONDS YES PLEASE MARCO POLO I ADORE MAN EVEVY INCH OF MANHOOD REACHES MY DESIRE CREATING IN ME FRUITFULNESS I CAN'T DENY I THINK I'LL HAVE SOME MAN RIGHT NOW WHY NOT
Form: Naat

Premium Member Army Dependant

Mr and Mrs private first class stationed 
in Augsburg 15th battalion 
second Calvary division canteens and sea rashins 
were being distributed while we had four more 
court martials. lined outside of the jag office 
after a deferred payment plan failed again 
der banke of Munich we settled in the
 chaplains office to speak with der Bishop 
to discuss baq. barracks and housing quarters 
allowance why living on a no payment status 
allowance covered wodka Cognac and three 
kartens of cigarettes food and clothing 
not allowances while preparing the family
 to relocate again to Berlin havoc broke out 
chaos arose thee Iraqi embassy under attack 
der wand was stille covered in graffitii I retrieved 
three stones   as my chanook arrived it read 
apo. new York Kennedy our convoy flew over
Kremlin and the eastern shores
Form: Narrative

Please Lord: a Soldier's Prayer

Please Lord: A Soldier's Prayer

Dear Lord,
Please tell my son that I was sorry 
that I was not there when he was born
Tell him that missed his first step and
the first time he said "dada"
Tell him that his first day of school was a
story his mommy told me in a letter from home
Let him know that I wish I could be there to play
catch with him on a hot summer day and I will not be the
one to cheer him when he pitches his first no-hitter.
I will not see the light in his eye when he brings home
his first of many true loves
and I will not be there when he finally chooses the one
I will not be there to hear his son scream
at the first moment of life.
and "papa" will not be there to hold him.
Dear Lord, please do not tell him that you last saw me
I was laying face down in Iraqi sand stained with my blood
but make sure to tell him that with my last breath I said for
you to tell him that I love him.

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