Long Platoon Poems
Long Platoon Poems. Below are the most popular long Platoon by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Platoon poems by poem length and keyword.
A mate of Musk, I’m told I’m going soon
(if NASA still exists, this side of June):
the lack of oxygen might make me swoon
- my rear end is as puckered as a prune!
I feel I ought to leave a happy tune,
an album by somebody who can croon.
That swallows effort, warbled by Pat Boone,
or Herman’s Hermits leader, Peter Noone?
Perhaps a piece of marble, nicely-hewn?
Amid the regolith, randomly strewn,
A DVD by National Lampoon?
The one with David Bowie – what’s it – Dune?
The Brooke Shields epic movie, “Blue Lagoon”?
That stoned director (Stone) gave us “Platoon” –
or how about “Five Weeks in a Balloon”?
In the backwoods of Tenn-O-See eerie things is seen on Halloween night!
Stroll with me down a country lane - you'll see things that'll give ya' a fright!
I s'pose ya' could set by the far and read of sech frum an old-timer's lore,
But come 'long, boys and girls, if ya' dare and see them scary things galore!
A headless hossman races by yellin', "I've lost my head, confound it!"
Its disembodied voice keeps repeatin', "I'll have no peace 'til I've found it!"
From a leafless oak a body swings in the wind danglin' frum a double noose!
'Tis said an impromptu posse hung 'im fer filchin' hosses on the loose!
That old house is said to be haunted and mysterious lights is seen inside!
The story goes that hosts of fiendish ghosts and witches therein reside!
Passin' the old cemetery, I'm sure y'all will want to increase yer stride!
Leerin' ghosts and skeletons lurk there and they'll skeer ya' outta yer hide!
A spectral platoon of sojers is seen marchin' 'long that haunted stretch of lane.
A sergeant counts cadence and moans is heard from them that's sufferin' pain!
Spooky lights is seen waftin' to and fro and seem to be headin' our way!
Are they restless spirits with evil intent er lost souls that have gone astray?
A sobbin' wraith with glowin' eyes is seen floatin' jes' beyond the ridge.
With a piercin' scream she waves at us and leaps frum a nearby bridge!
So, my children, if its thrills y'all is lookin' fer and a real Halloween scare,
Come, take a midnight stroll with me 'long that fearsome lane, if you dare!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 1 in PD's "Any Poem You Posted This Week" Contest - Nov 2011
Every family member had served this nation
He looked forward to it with anticipation
Every member had left their mark
And on this road he would embark.
Members had served since the civil war
It was a desire, not a chore.
With pride and determination he knew
What he had to do.
He had to defend the red, white, and blue.
He decided to try for the navy seals
It was a desire which he did feel.
He had to be the best that he could be
For the honor of his family.
The training for the seals is really hell
After the first week he could tell.
Most of the members of his platoon
Decided to give up much to soon.
This was the biggest challenge that he would face
And his name he would not disgrace.
He thought of his family and what they went through
And he knew what he had to do.
He called and asked his family to come down
And seeing them , new strength he found.
His father held the civil war flag
And for that he was glad.
It had been passed down from generation to generation
And this sight was his salvation.
A new inspiration arose in his chest
And he would give his very best.
The family gave him the strength he would need
For in him they had planted the seed.
he would awake with his mind crystal clear
And achieving his goal he had no fear.
Now he was a navy seal, so much pride he did feel
He had achieved not one goal but two
And of this his family knew.
There is now another generation on its way
And to the lord he does pray
Let this continue down the line
For when it becomes my sons time.
We copulated
in front of the TV ...
Every scream of yours,
a goal of mine ... and the fans
crazed applauded ...
We copulated,
in front of a canary ...
Every trine of yours,
every moan of mine,
mesmerized, and challenged
further was cracking the canary ...
We had sex,
in front of a shooting platoon ...
in our wince,
extra shivering ...
We'll be done soon
not to be
hit by the bullets ... and look, neither
we felt guilty ...
We had sex,
in front of a cat ...
Every moan of yours,
every howl of my ... the cat
meow all bristly ...
We didn't have sex
in front of Gioconda ...
But let's do it ...
for her to lose her pose,
to cut her protruding
gestural ...
The bloodshot moon merged into the dark, hazy night.
People wandered aimlessly, avoiding a fight.
A sultry bar still open, dispensing hard stuff.
Bootleggers were abundant till the game got rough.
A man sat in a corner observing the scene,
The boozers drank too much like goblins dark of mien.
The quiet man went to a phone booth and whispered,
The platoon was ready, their commands were answered.
A large police squad arrested the offenders,
All were fined, and none offered any false contenders.
Did they learn their lesson and mend their wicked ways?
Go to nearby villages and consider their days.
You request him to travel to distant lands
on a quest to conquer the enemy.
A like-minded platoon battles beside him,
helping him achieve an ultimate defeat.
You keep him sheltered from tough weather
with electric lights, a warm balm on stormy nights.
You allow him to rest his work-worn feet,
and lend shade to summer's sweltering heat.
You give him currency in gold, and nourishment
to revive his life with virtual healing.
His energy pours into self-gratification,
chasing flashing lights and curvaceous shapes.
A natural born warrior, his instincts are achieved.
His guys need him, and he seems as Captain.
The adrenaline of the chase is his maiden.
The plot thickens, challenge expands, saga continues.
His self-image is tough, but his muscles atrophy.
His belly swells closer to the screen.
His shoulders point toward their goal.
His carpal tunnel narrows from "shooting."
Various wrappers stack below his chair.
Paper plates replace dirty dishes.
Neglected laundry mops the bathroom floor.
He strives to reach a high level of achievement.
Daily late-night brigades and early morning battles
rattle in his dreams, realistic combat scenes.
The game goes by another name, but by definition,
it may as well be called "Tunnel Vision."
5/25/18
somewhere in Italy our planes landed
we were greeted by poor Italians
some so young i don't like
what this war has done
back home i was such the ladies man
here i share food with four kids and a man
he lost his wife to the Germans
lot's of men are alone in solitude
the bombs fly by biting chunks of Italy
i guard my post alone
for my platoon is almost gone
i feed the rest to keep them alive at best
a lot of them has begged me to end life
they suffer so I eat with a knife
somewhere in Italy no medals I need
thee Italians are sick and poor
an yet there is still greed
I would be ok if I could save just one
somewhere in Italy i sit with my gun
today in Rome tomorrow's war
is back home
Written by Mrs. Yolanda Joy Nicholsen 5-14-2004
2610 providence street Fort Myers Florida
revised 8-10-2004 3165 riverside drive Fort Myers Florida
Based on a quote from Watership Down:
"He fought because he actually felt safer fighting than running."
His experience in fighting battles
had been friendly games of Monopoly
Rolling dice across a colorful board
after shaking, to hear them rattle.
Those were serious acts of aggression
and hotels were POWs, taken in possession
Weapons were a top hat, thimble or boot
Men built houses, not blew them up
Winner, the one accumulating the most loot
Snake eyes moved him two spaces forward,
instead of sniper eyes on roofs of Park Place
resulting in blood dripping from a man's face
He wished he was only playing a game
But shots were fired from somewhere near
Bullets seeking men to kill and maim
War is fought with emotions of courage and fear
It was time to clear his squadron out
That kind of move is what wars are about
With rifle ready he led the charge
Run through a mine field, though weary and tired
He heard a man cry out, "I've been hit, Sarge!"
Without a free space they could'nt stop to rest
No Short Line Railroad upon which to ride
No fox holes dug, in which to hide
Amid shots fired, he passed down the word, "GO!"
only stopping to collect dog tags of his dead men
This time the battle was fought and won
From a shrapnel wound his blood took flow
It was never bravery that he lacked
It was being interred with a bullet in his back.
When asked why he hadn't turned to run,
knowing his platoon was badly overpowered,
He sighed and replied, "I'm not a coward,
So I rolled the dice and landed on Chance.
The top card said Be brave and attack!
So we fought until we took our property back."
Young and eager to defend
Our country till the very end
Buzzcuts uniforms and nerves
Training that will help them swerve
From the danger they will face
In a far off scary place
Away from everyone they love
Praying nightly to above
They are safe from all the danger
Families made with other strangers
In their squad team and platoon
Sometimes it is way too soon
To see a teammate lose their life
It cuts deeply like a knife
Inside your heart it's really bad
To know it gets worse and it's sad
Realizing you could be
The next In someone's memory
Because an enemy attack
Will never let you return back
To your loving family
A situation that will be
Remembered till the end of time
War is such a deadly crime
It's fairly easy to spot a terrorist.
They wear masks to hide jagged intentions.
While goodness stands in the central light.
With hearts that are quite transparent.
A terrorist slaughters children in their beds.
Uses the innocent as a shield.
Goodness protects the young from harm.
Will fight to the end for every one of them.
A terrorist tortures and rapes women.
Then parades them through the streets.
They hide bombs in places of worship.
Then stomp to death the old and meek.
A terrorist will sucker-punch the angelic.
Then cower like rodents in a subterranean hell.
The righteous meet the devil's platoon head-on.
With fiery fists and a will made from God's iron.
A terrorist is an expert at projection.
Goodness will sit upon truth's throne.
God will always side with goodness.
While evil will perish, shamed and alone.
Ask yourself, are you a terrorist?
For there is an easy test.
Are you a blossom or a knife?
Do you cherish all God-gifted life...
Do you hold God close to your breast....
Or harbor black-hearted agendas.
Beating in rhythm with destruction and death.