Rifle Poems - Poems about Rifle

The Young

whistles blare
gun powder in the air
lead pours overhead
I can't wait to feel my bed

I line up my rifle 
breathe and squeeze
my orders are to strife
I run empty so I freeze

the quit nights are haunted
this conflict was unwanted
one more tally added; I can't mask it
make sure they spell it right on my casket

M17 Assault rifle pointed right at me

Sorry Ciro Gargano Boss of 
corruption your latest scare 
tactics representing queen pin 
gangster disciples leaders
 is it Man Die wisconsin 
woman's prison blood was
everywhere after she stabbed
five persons again man die 
female gangster disciples 
leaders Ciro Gargano and 
my abusive ex husband two 
arson murders sharing the 
same female violent offenders 
looking for early

This Broom Is My Rifle

~ A Running Joke from Israel's 
              War for Independence, 1948 ~

   I'm a brave soldier, I defend my land
     This broom is my rifle, I guard this sand

   I fight for the right

Emagi Campbell Flowering Rifle

Roy Campbell 'FLOWERING RIFLE'

                                                   

Space Veteran

Put the rifle back  

in that shattered bag,  

don't want to forget  

traumas from my hell. 

  

Geysers in my soul  

only need to explode, 

watch me hike tonight  

on my satellites.

Decapitated

The children were pulverized, decapitated,
Their flesh was ripped apart.
This is the land of the free,
And the home of the brave.
Good guys with guns waited an hour.
19 students and 2 teachers were murdered.

The children were pulverized, decapitated,
Their flesh was ripped apart.
We need AR-15 rifles to kill prairie dogs.
We need AR-15 rifles because they are semi-automatic.
11-year-old Miah

On the Irony of Their Ways

My heart in search of peace and love
Now finds the world’s ironic deeds.
They wage a war for peace, they rove
In streets the roaring rifle bleeds.

For God they clash, for cash they fake.
They race their life to reach nowhere.
Their schools unteach, no good they make.
‘Be loved’ they want, no love they care.

I hope, for sure, the

Wild Company

Witchcraft fruits shrivelled gorillas' brains 
Wrinkled spectral charm fire scarred apportionment
Wary growl sharp lip foretell malefactor debauchery
Overcome in jungle rummage, fur maimed

Leather crevice herbivore hand final resign
Claimed by human biscuit boned, rifle of dominance
Cunning stealth shadowed charcoal fervour obvious
Conquer given, victor's triumph misaligned




1st February

Inspiration from 
Eric Duthie edited ' Wild Company '
published 1962. 
Story -

Why Did You Order An Assault Rifle

My AK-47 will arrive sometime today. 
I am horrified. 
Why did you order an assault rifle?
To hunt.

To hunt what?
Deer.
I stare at her.
Wild pigs?
I glare at her.

People? She says slowly.
I wait in hiding for the package to arrive.
Snatch it off her porch and smash that Ak-47 up into tiny pieces.
It is not easy, but I have

Bloodletting Is Not a Trifle

What he did to simple Mark 
With a sword 
Left him with a complex mark 
In a ward …
Endless cries of “Oh!  My  lord “  
“I’ve broken somebody’s spinal   cord.”

Before then, parading a rifle4 
But from his Dad getting eyeful, 
Who would a begged laughter stifle
As blood-letting isn’t a trifle.

Guns Don'T Kill People

Guns don't kill people
But bullets do
So keep all your guns
But make bullets taboo

Restrict cartridge sales
Like any jet flight
With proof of ID
& registered right

Limit each purchase
To  registered guns 
Make mothers happy
With long-living sons

Bullets kill loved ones
& people we know
So give every shooter
A tough row to hoe!

The Drill Rifle

Eleven years had passed
since the marching Allies left
the small and peaceful town of Baiano;
they glanced back and heard
the song they cherished and loved:
admiring those pretty stripes and stars!

Grateful for their kindness,
women threw flowers petals
and claimed them heroes;
the smallest boys and girls
followed them dreaming of their America:
a free land where everything was granted!

I pulled a yellowed

The Woman and Her Rifle

Her long, flowing, black hair
sways in the autumn breeze 

silence speaks, she is silent 

a lonely bullet lays in the chamber 
her hands rest gingerly on the guard 
her fingers snuggle the trigger 

The leaves blow, the poppies bloom
and the grass stands still....

her eyes gaze and wonder.... 

the enemy is in her cross-hair
silent speaks....

The bullet

Me Without My Rifle, I Am Nothing

Metal never pierced flesh or bones
Ligaments weren’t shattered in dashing haste
Not decorated with purple stones
For my heart hid from that waste
Sand and fear my tongue still taste 

Born to die in hellish fire
Infernal flame, spirit crushed ready for
Assured last breath, in deathly mire
I shut down and lay in war
Thoughts race, scream and roar

I’m afraid

Escaped the

Gleaming Rifle

The Gun was gleaming
Flashing in the summer sun
Confidence of steel

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