Barely old enough to walk
With rifles in their hand
The children lost in battles
They don't even understand
Hollowed eyes of horror
Toy soldiers, all must fall
Broken bodies ruined
Lined up against the wall
As the battalion races into battle
You can hear a Saber rattle
But as we charge with guns a blazing loud
He can be seen, leading the crowd
A Ghost on horseback brilliant white
In his suit of armor a scary sight
No one can believe their eyes it seems
He should only be seen in blood curdling dreams
But to us he is as real, as we are
Like us has traveled very far
Not in miles, but in time
Like a hero in a nursery rhyme
As we charge on and vanquish our foe
A thousand soldiers all in a row
He leads by example from the front
The cannon fire, he bears the brunt
Can the enemy see him we all think?
Or is it only us, and a curse of the drink
Imaginary or real boldly we wonder
We frightened soldiers in a politicians blunder
As the battle rages, he disappears as quickly as he came
And none of us even knew his name
Charging and frozed on the spot
Sword, flag yet upright.
They've but yielded up their lives
Not the will to fight.
War broke out, and all were called to fight.
Young and naïve he stood,
Fear tightening around his tender throat—
Yet patriotism spoke louder.
Thus marched the unknown soldier.
“Why must peace be born of war?”
He wondered,
His plea falling on deadened ears.
“March!” — that was the order.
And so he fought without understanding,
The unknown soldier.
He gave his blood, his sweat, his all,
Yet no one ever knew his name.
Fate turned its face away—
The enemy claimed him,
And they called him
The unknown soldier.
The old declare the war,
The young go forth and die.
And when peace finally dawns,
Those who bore its cost
Are remembered only as
The unknown soldiers.
Between the horror,
Heaven fell to earth
in the form of gardenias,
their motto (Apocalypse Now!)
golden joinery for Montagnards
in search of god-kings, amor fati
for soldiers whose soul has been
lost to the wounded jungle, truth
in a war of lies
Between borrowed bones
and stigmata scars, jaded
blood fell to the snow
in the form of hearts,
their master (The Intended)
embroidering dazzling peonies,
longing for deployed valentines
Princes whose oblations have been
found wanting by their one,
true love
plaster walls full of holes
explosives high and low
paper soldiers imagine their roles
machine-gunner to a shallow grave goes
NATO leaders pour over war maps
like children watching cartoons
Upon commencement of real firing
they raise a glass
~ rattle their silver spoons
Word of the Year 2026 Poetry Contest
Sotto Poet
ICE Agents,
poised as Trump's puppets,
take the stage,
like mad dogs,
marking their territory
without lawful cause.
They walked where thunder pierced the skies.
And dust and fire stung their eyes.
Single file orders clear.
With hearts of steel and comrade’s check.
They marched along the edge of death.
Not for glory, or for praise.
Only for those with absent names.
Their love of land and comrades’ trust.
Some rose, some bled, some turned to dust.
In foreign fields on bended knees.
Themselves the price by all agreed.
A price so high and misunderstood.
Kept locked away where darkness lurks.
Some came home shadows attached.
Some returned, beat in mistrust.
Some still lie beneath the stone.
But we know that they will never come home.
We owe them more than words can say.
Their sacrifice means we live free today.
So, raise the flag and bow your head.
Honour the living and mourn the dead.
Let freedom ring where they once stood
These warriors of silence for a greater good.
Long after its death where dipsomaniacs and dreamers
Have gormandized its spicy meat, its shell still breathes
Emitting a monotonous sound to wake-up babies, toddlers
Mothers, fathers, cousins and soldiers carrying wreathes.
The lambis exhales a sound of patience and resilience
It is a symbol (for Haiti) of hope, pride and perseverance
Haitians are born fighters. Haitians fall and get-up
To fight daily. Haitians, with a smile, will never give up.
The long monotonous squall of the almighty lambis
Can traverse the craters of the mountains and appease
The giant waves of the raging rivers. Listen to the sound
Listen to the bells of freedom, wit and liberty abound.
Copyright © December 2025 Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry collections.
Marching for the Zionists
Goyim following the orders
of the superior race
death to the enemy they instill in you
as they laugh through their noses
watching you die among their enemies
two birds with one stone
Satan's chosen ones
Everything above
Jesus condemned
be Jesus
WAR
Woven into the night, I saw
A sky adorned with gray stars.
Like meteors, they touched the earth
But it was too late; it wasn’t a wish.
With momentum, the voices arose,
Screams of terror flashed through firelit rubble,
An endless wailing echoing farther.
Greed was what brought us down,
And longing wrote our fate in red.
Kings who sat on sky-high thrones
Shall not notice the cries below.
Only our own lives left to burn out
In an endless void of peace.
Our hands can tie themselves
From soul to soul so that we may remain.
Like honeybees we were,
Following the queen blindly for life.
Yet we must remember:
Unity brought us peace,
Whilst war ruined it all
Our dreams crushed
And hearts left solitary.
By Jahnavi raj
For soldiers moment, let's get permission
Look at propeller and let's take a lesson
Come and let's burn with the fire of love
Let's reach to throne saying fellow fellow
Let's get into circulation and watch
Before saying Alas let's say Allah
There is no god but Allah
There is no god but Allah
There is no god but Allah he
Mornings and nights don't stop pass by
The capital which is your life is running out
Look at the nightingales they are crying out
Dear rosebud open up, season is passing by
Fellow fellow fellow fellow
Dear passenger stop a while and listen to me
Caravan is going you don't stay back
World beauty whom is called Joseph
Conquered today travel of heart
Fellow fellow fellow fellow
Written by Haci Tahsine Hanim
Translation Onur Ünlü
Two peas in a pod
she’s so hot
both showing off
branded shades and shoes
his arms circle her
a prison so secure
how could she not
want some more
from her flat belly
dramas emerge with Rasta son
this mother with belladonna daughter hum
a priestess or princess
he does not know
it is all part of their show
Two peas in a pod
she’s so hot with potato
koeksusters on Sunday morning
legs like pegs in African colour sprawling
Woohoo ! both peas were soldiers with MKs
one from Zimbabwe
other from Mzantzi
sharp-shooting was their skill
in past for a kill
now their drama is
for paying fat bills !
~~~~~~~~~~~
"Disobey the orders of Trump. Obey the orders of humanity.”
— Gustavo Petro
..........................................
That order to kill
is just to assuage an ego,
Palestine deserve to live too,
Just like the Israelis,
So, oh soldiers of fortune,
Disobey that his orders.
Blood suppose to flow in veins,
not into the soil,
Peace needs to reign in Palestine
not only in Israel,
Children in Palestine need
their parents alive as in Israel.
Donald donates war to the poor,
yet accuse Hamas of amassing weapons,
to destroy a once beautiful country.
Now that Sinwar has seen the war,
Has Trump been able to trump
his remnants out of Gaza,
Instead rains of bullets form their bazaar.
If their brains are blocked
Are yours too blocked?
Oh soldiers of fortune.
Some still say repentant combatants can’t change,
Though thought to be tamed, they tread a thin track.
When many men mock them, madden, and malign,
They charge with chained choler, yet sworn they stay still.
Fighting foes find few among people preaching peace,
Before battles, they brood, bound by belief.
For futures frame fates none should tether with tears,
While miscreant multitudes menace, unmoved.
Yet years yield younger youths yearning for clear change,
While some soldiers still battle before bold chiefs,
Who wait with well-wrought wisdom, woven in their hearts,
And teach these truths to teenagers in tents.
They need no news anew to nourish their truths;
They tell them to teachers teaching timeless tales.
Some still see storms of sorrow shaking them,
While we wait, they torture their truths with tears—
Torments that mar mortal minds with mournful wails.
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