Long Shelling Poems
Long Shelling Poems. Below are the most popular long Shelling by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shelling poems by poem length and keyword.
Sand in sheets
scuffing skin and reminding
last nights attire reaks like bonfire
a hundred days like this
a sea of endless laughs rolling
like filmreels infinitely looped fantastic
Their cars rolled in, shiney and pretentious
personalized plates waxed clever wit
crowding this small town to gloat in sand-side castles
Yacht club yucks shelling bucks like bayou crayfish
condescending, fun loving, brash Chicago touristas
Bless their daughters who filed in sassy
chin up, chest out trustafarians
scents of coconut lotion and clinique perfume
wafting through our warm lake breeze reality
Giddy and loving our rough edged style
intending to slum with townies, like we minded...
smiles glowing in those bonfire nights
mischievious and promising...
Every action thereafter defied catholic school education
...benificiaries of repression rebellion...like we minded!
Lake Michigan was paces from my bedroom window
These sparrow serenaded mornings..
...morphing into something amphibious
when the alewives were raked, we lay lazy
Bodies melted into sand~~ sated with sun
splashing back to cool off in sandbars
coolers anchored in those cool waters
taking long pulls off a perspiring Heineken
Beach days concluded with seagulls off to hunt
Squaking as they ascended into pink and orangecicle skies
The water shimmered like a million illuminated snakes
...side winding-mirrored the suns final say
Couples pulled up to Harbor landing to see the show
heads melted into one mass in windshields all around
lovers seeing nature's beauty more vibrant as lovers do...
The sunset brings a new purple backdrop
squaks are replaced with crickets chirps
Bright-then-fading green...BRIGHT-then fading green
Children gathered fireflies in jars laughing
Ice cream stained faces aglow with captive glee
Then to black and star filled, became the sky
we returned to cooler sand pushing between our toes
scurrying through dunegrass seeking driftwood and brush
creating a structure to take to flame...a science for proud boyscouts
There we gathered with newfound gals from cross lake 'burbs
sunrise would end our night tonight...awaking to lifeguards scolding.
Inspired by John Heck's Summer Contest!!
My Dad Was Just a Lad
Part 2
He was on a brand new ship,
The USS Horace Bass,
The KEEL was laid in ‘44
APD would be her class.
With a crew of over 200 strong,
But for most, their first time out.
In the weeks and months ahead,
They’d learn what “WAR” is all about.
Headed out for the great Pacific,
Okinawa, at Hagushi anchorage.
371 Enemy planes shot down,
As our Fleet would vent her rage.
Then came those grueling days,
They called this duty, “picket line”.
The enemy must cross this space,
But heavy shelling is what they’d find.
There were occasional escort trips,
To Guam and then Saipan.
It broke the tension of daily fire,
Which was fine with every man.
Returning from such an escort trip,
A submarine blip came on sonar.
8 depth charges would be dropped,
Watch for oil slicks, on open water.
History was made April 25,
Bass had sunk a mid-size sub.
The only APD to, “git’er done”.
36 enemy, “sank” inside that tub.
It was the night of July 3 0,
Things were seeming very still.
When they heard the cough & sputter,
Of a crippled plane, out for the kill.
It caught them really by surprise,
Flying in darkness, fast and low.
Headed straight now toward the Bass,
Wanting to take its fatal blow.
The very last moment before impact,
That killer plane went o’er the side.
An aerial wire had caught his wheel,
Missing our ship, that “kamikaze” died.
One American killed, 3 badly injured,
More injured slight, but still could fight.
The Bass puts into Buckner Bay,
Ship & injured were soon made right.
They would be among the first,
Task Force 31 would find their way.
To take position way up front,
To occupy 'their' Tokyo Bay.
August 27, at 0810, Captain Flynn,
It’s official: Nagato admits defeat.
The last lone fighting battleship,
Of their Great Nipponese fleet.
Well now I pause to catch my breath,
Our young man will soon be home.
As thousands more hit U.S. soil,
So many of them, will feel “alone.”
Families were there, that’s true,
And friends, now by the score.
But they had not seen the suffering,
The deaths, and so much more.
* * * * *
Written by oldbuck to record for his
growing family, The story of his father,
and the brave fighting crew of the
* * * USS Horace A. Bass * * *
...“For two years we tried, but ambushes came,
they hit and run, would not stand up and fight,
the meadows were deadly, the forests were hell,
wherever we went, we were in their sights.
“Imagine one hundred million peasants
as well armed as a soldier of the line…
add to that an army not defeated,
shelling their own cities, time after time.
“Just so that they could deny them to us,
leave us with no conquests but the rubble,
our losses were heavy, reinforcements far,
even True Man knew we were in trouble.
“Some say that he was planning to retreat,
but his intentions were never realized,
because one day a damn peasant postal clerk
put a fifty cal round right through his eye.
“I was quite young, but I remember well
scrambling back to our remaining ships,
retreating across the cold Atlantic,
most of our own men not believing it.
“They were to try America twice more,
and each time it just became a bloodbath.
Their southern neighbors copied them quickly,
you won’t find a house there where guns are lacked.
“The horror of savage, armed peasantry…
I hope that you never know such despair,
there is a reason we keep ours helpless,
a reason why we don’t go over there.”
Kaahbli stopped there, he could not go one,
since Sabati was not even a teen,
couldn’t tell the boy that without peasants
the Americans relied on machines.
That with those machines, they’d took to the stars,
spread to every planet around the sun,
that they could carpet the Earth in fire,
that it was so much worse than just their guns.
For all his strength, his breeding, his brain,
for everything that he’d been evolved to,
Betters were trapped on just three continents,
and with a flip-switch they all could be nuked.
But those words were for when he was older,
a young Better had to be raised just right,
he’d seen young minds learn too much truth too quick,
anger like that was not a pretty sight.
So he just turned back to his young grandson,
said, “Enough of that boy, come, listen here,
you want them to work, whip them once a month,
and kill at least one peasant every year.
“It helps a lot to make them live in fear…”
Sunlight at an angle dancing through colored leaves
Cool nights to snuggle beneath the sheets; warm days of ease
Last of gardens harvest; goodbye to summer's bees
Joyful time to harvest soon days a breeze
Pumpkins, winter squash, turnips, and peas
Food in bounty stored away for many days
Christmas will be upon us in just a very few days
The yard will be raked again and again to rid of leaves
Garden vegetables will be stored also cooking of peas
For right after Christmas comes New Years Day with ease
The howling winds will blow and it won't be just a breeze
But now all the bugs have disappeared_gone are the bees
We will not have to worry with yellow jackets or bees
As the night grow longer and shorter the winter days
March soon will come in bringing its strong breeze
Those indominable buds show forth on the trees soon leaves
We will float into warm days and beauty of spring with ease
Now we will have eaten most of those delicious peas
Soon in the newly planted garden_those early June Peas
Newly hatched from their hiding places comes those bees
Just lying around in the hammock with all this ease
These wonderful times_joy of longer days
Joy, oh! joy and joy again with spring's green leaves
Soft and gentle comes a blowing spring's warm breeze
But there is one less chore now for there is no raking leaves
Afternoon in the lazy hammock oh what ease
Glad that in the garden and Pampas Grass stay those bees
These times in life are just fun and a zephyr breeze
Summer comes with the picking, shelling, and freezing peas
These times are wonderful long sunny days
But soon slowly fade, then the change in those leaves
Summer still has a lazy few days with comfy ease
Even if the pollen draws those hungry stinging bees
From the west and north come a much drier breeze
How thankful that we have those great peas
Soon fade those longer sunlit sunny days
No raking leaves in winter, only by firelight with ease and read
All those pesky bees gone now, on the currents winter's breeze brings flurries
Now dine on peas put away to eat on cold fruitless days of old man winter
Sunlight at an angle dancing through colored leaves
Cool nights to snuggle beneath the sheets; warm days of ease
Last of gardens harvest; goodbye to summer's bees
Joyful time fo harvest soon days a breeze
Pumpkins, winter squash, turnips, and peas
Food in bounty stored away for many days
Christmas will be upon us in just a very few days
The yard will have to be raked again and again to rid of leaves
Those garden vegetables will stored and put aside a cooking of peas
For right after Christmas comes New Years Day's fare with ease
The howling winds will blow and it won't be just a breeze
But now all the bugs have disappeared_ gone are the bees
On New Year"s Day we will have those delicious peas
We will float into spring with all ease
On the day we will not have to worry with yellow jackets or bees
As the nights grow longer and shorter the winter days
Those indominable buds show forth on the trees and soon leaves
March will come in bringing its strong breeze
Joy, oh!. joy and joy again with spring's green leaves
Just lying around in the hammock with all this ease
Newly hatched from hiding places comes those bees
Soft and gentle comes a blowing spring's warm breeze
In the newly planted garden_those early June peas
These wonderful times _joy of longer days
These times in life are just fun and a wonderful breeze
Then summer comes with the picking, shelling, and freezing peas
But there is one less chore now for there is no raking leaves
Out in the garden and in Pampas Grass thick with those bees
These times are wonderful long sunny days
Afternoons in the lazy hammock oh! what ease
How thankful that we have those great peas
Even if the pollen draws those hungry stinging bees
Summer still has lazy days with ease
Soon those longer sunlight hours sunny sunny days
Begins to slowly fade then the change in those leaves
From the west and north come a much drier breeze
Old man winter slips in with ease, now we'll eat those dry peas
Blow wind with swift breeze, time to kill all lingering bees
By th warm fire spend our days, soon snow covers all those leaves
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People just don’t understand
Why sometimes I jump in fear
Or why I cry and cower
When a loud noise I hear
People find it amusing
When I start to shiver and cry
They simply have no idea
Or know the reason why…
Fireworks are a horror...
To try to enjoy the display,
I have to cover my ears
And pretend that I’m OK
Loud noises send me screaming
Away to find a safe place
They make my go for cover
As I try to hide my face
I just feel like suffocating
As I relive bomb shelter days
The smell and the sickening sounds...
How I was always in such a daze
Dad would yell at us to hurry
As he’d lift Mama on his back
MS meant she couldn’t walk
Would they survive this attack?
We scrambled down the stairs
The bombs' whistles in our ears
I could hardly take a breath
I was choked by incessant fears
In the dank and smelly shelter
We could do nothing but pray
As we counted all the neighbors
We wondered how long we’d stay
Then came that awful day
The blasts set the campus a flame
Our pine trees were burning up
The men tried that fire to tame
I ran to the bomb shelter
But no family was there in sight
I started to scream and cry
Would my family be alright?
They finally put out the fire
But oh, the devastation
People were dead and dying
In all parts of this nation
Shrapnel came through our closet
And chewed up all our clothes
We were thankful we weren’t there
Or we too would be full of holes
Then on campus they brought a tank
But they’d warn us when they’d start,
That gruesome work of shelling
I saw our lives just fall apart
My friend’s father lost his life
Some saw loved ones blown away
My brother and wife were lucky
But they carry scars to this day
Lebanon is steeped in beauty
But the war has marred me for life
Sometimes memories flood back
And I’m reminded of all the strife
It’s when I hear those loud noises
And I feel the ground start to shake
I feel my life will be over
“Protect me, for heaven’s sake!”
So when July 4th comes along
And you celebrate liberty
Think of the firework display
And what that does to souls like me.
Eileen Manassian Ghali
War came. How could it not? Bringing many things especially death. They wanted to knock Turkey out of the war. One ally less for Germany.
Many events happened. Some were firsts. All included death. It was the stuff of legends. Making small nations great and great nations small and killing their empires.
It was quite a LIST:
The big ships duelled it out with the forts, boom!
And the action off the Dardanelles. Historic?
A Shorts rag wing biplane made history and put a tin fish into a Turkish ship.
Much needed Ottoman army supplies lost aboard sunken ships.
Allied subs attacked Ottoman ships in the Bosporus more than thirteen times, bled the Turks white.
Those same subs being the first enemy warships to penetrate Istanbul since 1453, the Royal Navy sub B11 sank Turkey's Mesudiye battleship.
Being killed themselves, subs still on the seabed: Royal Navy E7, E14; French Navy Saphir, Joule, Marionette.
Two were British, sunk by a German U-boat, U-21, in three days.
Australia lost the AE2 but not before she dodged mines and sank a Turkish ship. Running aground near a fort was dangerous. AE2 was the first Allied ship to transit the Dardenelles.
Massive Allied battleships and dreadnoughts fought it out with the forts ashore, the French lost Bouvet and over six hundred sailors. Bouvet brushed gunfire off but a mine killed her.
Two Royal Navy ships died by mines while shelling the forts and gun emplacements: HMS Ocean and Irresistible. Inflexible was damaged. So were French's Suffren and Gaulois.
The forts did their job, thwarting the big ships and making a land campaign necessary.
The Turkish battleships fought back, firing over their peninsula.
It wasn't all one sided, for a Turkish torpedo boat, Muavenet-i Milliye snuck through the narrows, to sink HMS Goliath, and drowning over five hundred men, with three torpedoes.
The Turkish high command was sick of RN battleships raining destruction down on their forces.
They stuck it out and weren't knocked out. The ANZACS went ashore...
Picnic by Jimmy Boom Semtex
The Barretts of Wimpole Street
Imagine you’re a woman, with a mind
as trained, acute and fertile as exists.
Imagine that your erudite, refined
creations top each year’s best-seller lists.
You write in English, French and Portuguese.
Translating ancient classics from the Greek,
(for you, no bigger deal than shelling peas)
you thrill the world, to hear Orestes speak!
But this is eighteen forty. There’s a catch.
You’re middle-aged and single. “On the shelf”.
Your father keeps you housebound, unattached:
he wants you as a frill, not for yourself.
The man’s a monster. You’re not free to act.
He holds you here, unnoticed, bored, unwed.
Your only means of protest at the fact
of kidnap is, you’ve taken to your bed.
Like many women, both before and since,
you’re “delicate”. It’s how you take a stand.
But what of that long-dreamed of, handsome prince,
your rescuer? Don’t worry. He’s at hand!
Elizabeth M. Barrett is your name.
A gentleman comes calling, loves your work.
He’s Robert Browning, of “Sordello” fame,
and suddenly there’s light amid the murk!
He shows up every day at Wimpole Street,
and soon you loosen the paternal tether:
with Mister Browning, you’ve re-found your feet!
You’ll marry him, then run away together!
The banns were read discreetly, days ago:
the journey’s booked. No vacillating now!
The father’s out on business: down below,
in Wimpole Street, a hansom waits: but how
to saunter past the servants? What a fright!
My trusty Morgan – glad I could suborn her:
Well, here we go – I’ll sleep in France tonight!
Brave Robert’s waiting, just around the corner!
The thing was carried off without a hitch.
They wed, they fled. So farewell, Wimpole Street!
And far from wish undone her Dunmow Flitch,
Elizabeth’s contentment was complete.
One’s fate can turn upon a single act.
Two poets lived as one – idyllic bliss!
They now had what they previously had lacked –
each other. Fiction can’t improve on this!
Sitting and waiting for the whistle to blow again twice in just one day,
I sat and watched the various signs, the returning spring across fields,
In a copse there was a wood lark singing also in the copse a sniper waiting,
Tom **** hung off a house that stood in ruins as shells fly so will they.
A wet face of fear and rain droplets fell into my thick very wet great coat,
Dreading running across ruined fields, charred oak trees, rifles spit at me,
For now I will listen to the peace the loud harsh voice of the missal-thrush,
A man lies near me, so still I kicked him, the heap of bloody rags was silent.
Men walked along the trenches they needed to do something stamping cold feet,
Sitting in the iron depths of winter trying to have faith, hope in my iced heart,
Ears burn in the ceaseless icy east winds it blows so cold, I am so very scared,
There is only a few things we can be sure of that is rain, cold and snow storms.
There is a load bang and sound of speed in the wind a shell falls but it is short,
Bullets fired the tracers are like fireworks they glow as they flash past or over,
Snow falls heavily and the ripped fields of no mans land begins to turn mud white,
If the whistle blows for us to attack we will stand out like silhouettes on paper.
My mouth was so dry I kept on drinking water but each time I dank the thirst returned,
The clothes I wore have not been changed for nearly six months coldness killed ticks,
Noise of the shelling and rifle fire made me feel sick my stomach full of butterfly's
My hands begin to shake uncontrollably as I try to light a cigarette the match is wet.
The whistle blows in frightened confusion we are told to push on and leave the trench,
Officers with guns wait to shoot anybody that does not charge and join the slaughter,
I stand in a snow white field as a black figure on a white background this is my day,
Men wounded, many crying this is so wrong, a bullet hits my head I fall into blackness.