In the sky, a brightly shining sun
is sending rays to catch someone,
but 'neath the trees I swiftly run.
Now, the hunt is taken by the moon,
but she won't snatch me very soon.
I peek from bed at that cratered goon,
who, undaunted, does then recruit
reinforcements, evil stars that shoot
twinkles at me, in hot pursuit,
but I'm laughing, oh so loud,
stars in bed, sun behind a shroud.
What's this - I'm chased by a cloud!
Everything in the heavens, high,
is after me, an important guy.
Do you know the reason why?
At twelve forty-five, the clock struck one,
and when it had seen what it had done,
after sixty more minutes flew,
that timekeeper struck two.
It never learned, next to the shelf:
"Always keep your hands to yourself",
so, it continued its violent spree.
An hour later, it struck three.
Reinforcements came through the door -
but, too late, that timepiece struck four.
We could only hope to stay alive,
when Big Bad Ben struck five.
We knew we were in a terrible fix
when that chronometer struck six.
Three went to hell, four to heaven,
when that outsized watch struck seven.
The FBI came to investigate
when that mad sundial struck eight.
The national guard stood in a line,
and the ticking demon struck nine.
I prayed it would never happen again.
Just then, the awful beast struck ten.
When I cast my eyes up to heaven,
that hunk of gears struck eleven.
Into the hour's nature, my mind did delve,
as the clock, time's agent, struck twelve.
A riddle: how much blood did it spill?
Seventy-eight, it would kill.
And now, by order of fate's decree,
time is racing after me.
So, when I hear the clock strike one.
I know it's time to run.
Paratroopers stealthily slide unnoticed,
chutes deployed, small blazes of white obscured by
fog that lingers lazily, til their numbers
cover the meadow…
Faster, faster, not just content to cover,
reinforcements filling in, words unspoken,
synchronized with perfect precision, ever
picking up tempo…
Occupation utterly overwhelming,
swamped defenses, raising a flag, surrender.
Long, the arm of conquering winter, brings a
lengthening shadow…
Russia pounds Bakhmut to dust in 2022
Putin bombs and tortures civilians too
Western diplomats warn, "Naughty, naught, shouldn't do!"
No marches, no protests, no counterattacks, no coup
Putin smirks: "Civilians? Them, we do not attack!"
Words of a fox, a liar, a megalomaniac
Zelensky and Ukraine fight back with all their might
But in 2023, Ukraine's nearly out of arms
~ quite a desperate plight
Zelensky awaits reinforcements from the West, but alas
The delivery system is almost out of gas
Enmeshed in partisan jawing and enmity on Capitol Hill
Never forget: If Ukraine loses, Western lives pay the bill
The Flag
The white flag means to give up.
It means to end every chance
of effort to stop what is about to happen,
or what is happening, or going to.
There is no road back,
from the end.
Do not take this path,
unless the forest is on fire,
the sea is boiling
and the mountains have been driven
down into the deep,
cut into halves and quarters
of their original size.
Instead, look to the heavens,
reinforcements have arrived.
White horses,
with angel riders, draw near.
They are on the edge of the sun,
at the rim of the sky.
They carry swords and bows,
They will cure the woes, of the earth.
There true intention to announce
the return of the King!
"He is coming!"
Pick up your weapon and breath again.
Do not give up or give away, your soul to the troll.
Your value beyond measure a treasure for the King,
willing to conquer evil and ready to reign
over everything.
In the end they will win this war
these monsters the world set against me
with their superior strategy and weaponry
wearing me down until I can fight no more
The steel of my sword and daggers dull
after all the battles I’ve fought before
with little time to heal my wounds and rest
yet I refuse to yield though I know it’s futile
a solitary soldier taking the field
facing the enemy as I cry out desperately
over mountains, land, and sea
for reinforcements that fail to come
longing to hear the steady beat of a drum
announcing the arrival of even one
lone warrior willing to spill their blood
at my side before all hope has died
Until Now
David J Walker
This poem was waiting for
The right paper before
It is said
It is Written
of
Printed plain words
until now
unspoken
Thoughts and hearts in clouds
Crowds of dry denizens crying in the dust
Until now
Unbroken
On the edge of ether and untried ideas
Of silent sentiments forming the Brokering Reinforcements
Until now
Unavowed nor
Vetted in sentiments of censored compunctions
Flowing in moonlit waterfall forests
Until now
Unnoticed
the Winer is welcomed with inevitable approbation
And essential acclamation while privately negotiating with Spring
Until now
We thought winter might never end
With summers anticipation
Send 3/4d we're going to a dance.
Message received but not understood,
Sorry lads we're on our own, no one's going to come,
Somehow, he never thought they would,
Maybe if I sent just one man instead of passing it on,
With reinforcements we may have had this battle won.
No one should shoot the piano player he only plays what's wrote.
Instead of passing word of mouth, he should have sent a note.
Maybe this is just a wartime myth just to raise a laugh.
If it's not, then it surely was one hell of a serious gaff.
© Dave Timperley 18/10/2021
Two young nudists went to lie down and bask
Along came a cop who took them to task
Thought they broken the law
For basking in the raw
Then the cop said" you're not wearing face masks"...
The nudists thought it was some kind of jest
Both cursed the cop and started to protest
Reinforcements were called
The nudists were appalled
When they were charged and placed under arrest...
They were both before the judge the next day
To the young nudists he had this to say
"Maskless face is a crime
So you will both do time"
They got four years and were taken away...
And two more from Belle Bellevue
Wonder if the cop's prudish or a creep
Who just couldn't resist taking a sly peep
Was the mask excuse
To get a good view
Does he count naturists when he can't sleep.
Four years is too long for not wearing masks
Who the devil pays their keep one might ask
We all well know who
It's us, me and you
Free bed and board, it's not bad for a bask.
Written 15th August 2021
An unseen battle, rages on;
both good and bad;
of light and dark.
Defense of souls is a cumbersome duty.
Souls are timeless nomads;
incarnation is their vehicle.
At any point, on the battlefield;
souls stung by celestial arrows heal slowly and
lessons are better absorbed.
Voices on the ether's lure a soul, astray;
question what you hear.
Evils voice is sumptuous;
its bite swiftly paralyzes.
Step softly upon the battleground;
march within the light.
The battle rages all around the universe;
reinforcements are always available at no cost.
Invoke no arrows of doubt and
cross the ether's, safely.
INFANTRY
At alert all day,
Waiting for the Marshal's orders,
To move into position against the foes,
Disintegrating into companies,
To launch their campaign.
Day and night on the battlefield,
Bullets raining the sky,
Reinforcements and air supports engaged,
Soldiers left hoping to come back alive,
But many died on the battleground,
And others injured,
Sacrificing their lives at the altar of victory.
As a sniper,
I said to a fellow soldier
''God gave me a special gift,
Made of fine instrument of warfare,
If He was to put me and my sniper riffle,
Anywhere up to and including a mile,
A mile to the arch enemy,
With a clear view of sight,
Pack your bags young men,
War is over''.
ANYABOLU IFEANYI GENTLE
A.D 2019,JAN 29 {whatsapp 07061816037}
In the movies, “Reinforcements!”
Meant to quickly send more troops,
When war’s casualties meant spirits
Got a bad case of the droops.
In real life, though, reinforcements had,
To me and all my peers,
Quite a different definition, one
That now one never hears.
They were little paper circles
Which would stick around the holes
Of a piece of loose-leaf paper,
Being one of its controls.
For without them, if the hole would tear,
That page could then get lost
And who knows how much that missing schoolwork,
Grade-wise, might have cost.
So a box of reinforcements
(Or self-stick ones, on a sheet)
Would come swiftly to the rescue,
Keeping loose-leaf notebooks neat.
Do they still sell reinforcements?
I’m not sure, but years ago
I bought extra; if you need some,
Please feel free to let me know.
We stepped down from our comfortable bus,
Strong winds whipping the flags to attention.
We walked across a narrow parking lot
Along a narrow path towards the sea,
Just a quiet group of tourists,
Only the crunch of shoes on gravel,
On a cool spring day.
Grassy mounds lie as far as the eye can see
Remains of shell craters not yet erased
By years of wind and rain,
The marching of visitors’ feet,
And the passing of the years.
Concrete bunkers still stand watch out to sea
Skeletal tangles of rusted steel reinforcements
With here and there a bullet hole,
Awaiting their eventual demise,
When the constant sea erodes their foundations,
And they fall away before the waves’ invasion.
This was the last sight for so many,
Germans looking out across the rocky beach,
And Allied soldiers staring in fear
Towards where we now stand
With our cameras and cellphones.
So many graves, marked and not
Hallow this ground.
So let us never forget
The heavy price that was paid
For our pleasant walk
On the beach.
A sentinel
A sentinel stands motionless, staring out into the distance;
Surveying the horizon in case of a new threat.
He has been there all night and now dawn is breaking.
The light shines in his eyes and lights up the glen.
The flowers are in bloom and all the trees are a radiant green
And still he stands, watching; looking for any kind of enemy.
He can hear his fellow soldiers stirring behind him;
Their hangovers are seeking a remedy.
He wonders if this will be the day they are attacked;
Or will the peace last?
And will reinforcements arrive before the enemy?
Still he stands still, staring into the forest;
Waiting for someone to cross his path.
This war has lasted too long already and no end of war is in sight.
He is just thankful for the peace that lasted…last night.
(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Fear,
I've known you to speak my name,
calling me quietly to join you in your game.
Tapping my shoulder,
whispering to my mind,
"remember me?? from the last time?"
As I try to ignore you,
go about my way,
you call upon reinforcements,
from the other day.
They seem to utter a tone,
with a twist of despair,
as I hum a tune of triumph,
pretending not to care.
Shame,
says I know that you know me,
How dare you hum a tune?
Hate-Filled,
overshadowing my spirit,
with a hint of gloom.
All of a sudden Fear and Shame unite,
purposely battling my soul,
throwing a jab and a right.
Trying with all they have,
with all of their might,
to win this prize,
in this prizefight called LIFE.
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