Short Afghans Poems
Short Afghans Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Afghans by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Afghans by length and keyword.
War Tanka
A master sergeant
Walked out of camp at night
Murdering Afghans
Nine of them were children
Their demise caused no uproar
The Al-Qaeda is a blatant lie,
Are all Muslims terrorists and spies?
Eyes shift from the black man,
Now fixed on them Afghans,
But in war harmless people die.
Empty; little love
Little Interest
Scream Loud
Rebirth of 1999
Genuine Pakistani Outcry
Asia is East
Europe is West
Shadow Afghans; Dream for Love
I cannot breath
Time flies; While the beat is rocking
toasty variegated yarn from Oskaloosa
the hues of colors
red blue yellow green
knitting needles are clicking along
warm mittens and slippers
afghans and shawls
a dress for a toddler
clickety clack clickety clack
homemade cotton quilts
adoring husband
two loyal puppies
all my favorite foods
hundreds of paintings
knitted afghans
warm fuzzy socks
my own haven
comfortable
nirvana
refreshing
relaxing
easy
comfy
home
Where would the South Koreans be
If the USA had left 'em high and dry by '73
And can you imagine West Germans' lives
If America had cleared out by '75
But 20 years for the Afghans was just too long
Who else think the Boomers got it wrong
His mother would stroke his hair,
with gentle fingers.
It made him purr.
Fingers withdrew.
Time combed thinning years.
A one-night woman
took his head in her lap.
It was good to feel again
that love that fingers have
for hair.
In time, he settled down
with a lady,
who bred Afghans.
I am a professional knitter, she said at her front door.
As if we could not guess it, we could barely see her floor.
Yarm was everywhere, in magnificent colors galore.
Variegated, twisted, baby soft, a knitted band aide on her sore.
Afghans piled high on couches were sleeping with a snore.
We knew she could make herself happy from here to forevermore.
I am always in competition against myself, it is free.
Playing word games, while I listening to the droning TV
You do not even watch! My husband says amused.
He is right. I use it like a radio, like we did in 1942.
I can get much accomplished while I listen in.
I have knitted and crocheted afghans during the din.
The white noise of the TV is therapeutic to me.
I have my ears ready, but rarely watch the TV.
"I am my own strategist,"
Our President proudly said
Pushing the Panic Button
Poignantly painted RED
"The mother of all bombs
Will fill Putin with dread
Assad will be so grateful
I chose Afghans instead
Let North Korea tremble
Their many left unfed
Will shortly have no worries
Because they'll all be dead
I am my own strategist
I see the way ahead
Our nation will be great again
Just like I always said!"
Uncontrollable frenzy the moment I set out for the wool market
Ecstatic madness losing the teeny heart to bagfuls of double knit
Every year newer hues and textures in my over loaded box beds do warmly fit
My soul flies to the heavens on their strings as I knit in love, purl out pain, crafting
Intricate cable patterns on cuddly baby frocks, scarves, stoles, capes, and afghans
January 1, 2016
Contest : Wool
Sponsor: C. T.
What have we done?
What have we said?
What’s left to do?
When dead means DEAD.
Where do they go?
Where can they be?
Living a life in peace where free means free.
Humanity has failed the Afghans and yet
The power of the west sits on the hands of intent.
Demons hover over their shoulders
Demons with the sharpest of knives.
If we don’t let our soldiers do what they can do, we may never, ever lose this regret no matter how we sell each other the lies.