Short Under The Gun Poems
Short Under The Gun Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Under The Gun by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Under The Gun by length and keyword.
Once there was a man called Peter “the Gun”
Fellow, not too old, a great expert with gun
Even though under the gun
At all times stick to his guns
Bloody this gun operates with a paint gun!
Consider myself one of the fortunate ones
At my advanced age, never been under the gun
Healthy as all get out
Yee haw wanna shout
If I knew the secret, I'd tell all you bums
R.D.
Miracle Man
8/28/2024
He was “Jack of all trades, Master of none”
but a real handy asset when under the gun.
He always made haste,
and time didn’t waste,
never slowing down until his job was done.
THE MESSAGE
The message is clear, there’s no more time
All that is to be done, now has to be done
Whatever or whoever might be the source
One has to obey, without delay, of course
Orders is orders, when one’s under the gun
No mere suggestion, as the directive is prime
What have I done?
To be treated like dirt in your eyes.
Always under the gun.
Constantly being vandalized.
Forever on the run.
Run Race Horse Run
The shows only just begun.
What goods a race horse that's not any fun?
Show me your teeth like a good one.
You want to tame me,
But I was born to be wild and free.
Not in a dudgeon.
who will hear our song,
If we are gone?
Will you feel our pain,
As our blood falls like rain?
Who will know our strife,
If you take our life?
Why can't we be free,
We leave you be.
What would you have done,
If it were you under the gun?
You say we are killers,
That we thirst for blood.
But you became a murderer,
When the first shot rung.
Is it anywhere that you I can write,
is this really true ?
How often do the words come to light,
for me and for you ?
I sit in a noise filled waiting room,
routine tests are done.
They will call me in the back room soon,
but now is the fun.
Can I fast make the most of my time ?
I am under the gun.
Can I squeeze out yet another line
before an end to fun ?
this road has had some bumps it true
from the first that I met you
sometimes cloudy, sometimes sun
but getting there is half the fun
you work it out and do your best
relationships can be a test
remember when you want to run
that getting there is half the fun
you forge a bond, your give and take
and over the coals you may be raked
but when you put it under the gun
getting there is half the fun
Blitzkrieg Bop shaked one fertile ground
In Germany where people sat on the ground
Under the heat of the sun
Open bodies laid under the gun.
Blitzkrieg Bop became a craze
Up front and behind a famed naze
Moving, shaking above and under the trees
Trembling, quivering with high knees.
Blitzkrieg Bop ruled over the world
Seventy six atop the torn world
People with sad faces learned to prance
Everywhere they hopped, wiggle and dance.
Despite my talent, I have failed,
In so many different ways,
So many more different days,
Allowing my heart to get nailed.
Priorities had to be spelled
Properly, prompting me to stay
On my toes, in order to pay
Installments that will get me bailed.
Never in my life have I tried
To avoid my life on the run.
More than once in a while, I cried,
Each time I fell under the gun.
Now, I feel as if I just died,
Telling the world that I am done.
React to what needs to be done
Each and every passing day,
Showing up strong, in a big way,
Prepared to stand firm and not run.
Once you are put under the gun,
Never allow your fear to stay
Situated where you may lay.
Instead, make strength second to none.
Be responsible for your life,
If you want your life to be free.
Life can wound you deep like a knife,
If you choose not to pay your fee.
Take authority over strife!
You can be what you want to be.
in hired spring and naked thighs
the eternal sorrow did not go, it was living in our
memory under the gun of an unknown soldier. The
mania
had brought the overwhelming jeopardy of artificial
smiles, the swords, and ropes and different
tools of torture brew abomination, my clay
absorbs the shock, the abandonement of pain;
I reach for the icicles of veiled fire to burn
the generosity, the sacrificial amputation
of one’s own neck in service of opposition
SATISH VERMA
in hired spring and naked thighs
the eternal sorrow did not go, it was living in our
memory under the gun of an unknown soldier. The
mania
had brought the overwhelming jeopardy of artificial
smiles, the swords, and ropes and different
tools of torture brew abomination, my clay
absorbs the shock, the abandonement of pain;
I reach for the icicles of veiled fire to burn
the generosity, the sacrificial amputation
of one’s own neck in service of opposition
SATISH VERMA
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