Short Prisoner Of War Poems
Short Prisoner Of War Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Prisoner Of War by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Prisoner Of War by length and keyword.
He was a prisoner of war
Four years as an abductee
When they turned him loose one day
He yelled, "I'm free, I'm free, I'm Free!"
A boy standing next to a tree
Had never seen, such a thing before
He said, "So what, I'm already four!"
prisoner of war
captive combat soldier -
longing for rescue
Tribute To
P.O.W / M.I.A.
You Are Not Forgotten
Bring Em Home
Never Give Up Searching
Happy Memorial Day
Love Kathy And Jenny
(This is a fictional poem)
I.m in Vietnam and I'm a prisoner of war.
Regaining my freedom is the only thing I have to live for.
I don't know what day it is or even what year.
How old am I? How long have I been here?
They keep me in a filthy cage and it's very crude.
I'm starving, they give me very little food.
Sometimes I want to die and get it over with.
If I can't be free, I don't want to live.
Form:
You have died a thousand deaths since the day you invaded the gentle, passive
meadows in which I walk upon.
You thrust your evil hand on my pristine petals, eroding the beauty that once lay in
your view.
You ravaged the garden of peace, and left it a field of complacency.
You congratulated yourself for the prisoner of war you conquered, but I have won
because my Oleander petals will ensure your demise.
The stench of gasoline and gore
permeated the encampment.
I am a prisoner of war
And I’m held in a stinking tent
that I share with a gun toting
taliban soldier. His black eyes
staring intently and gloating
as though I were a trophy prize
whose head would soon hang on a stick
for all his turbaned insurgents
to pelt with stones and broken bricks.
I expect his malevolent
Nature to vent with certainty
which translates: it’s curtains for me!
hostage
Trapped, falsely imprisoned, identity stolen, wages deprived, abuse of power, denied freedom
Unable to move and measured, no structure to enter, prisoner of war.
A movement of legal monetary policy allows for these crimes against me, today, 3/23/2025
Self employed as a writer. Inhumane conditions for working in the country, the city workers fail federal codes, failing to report crimes, participation in crimes. Failing to turn themselves in to the authorities
I felt the southern heat in my younger childhood YEARS.
And I also felt Chicago wind-chills that brought me to TEARS.
And I felt being held captive like a prisoner of WAR whose
blood-stained body lies tortured beneath the evening STAR.
Icy winds and driven snow besieged every fiber of my BEING.
And I often shivered in pain, being prevented from SEEING.
As the chilly wind-chill factor dropped far below ZERO, I
would pray and plea for God to hasten and send me a HERO.
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