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Showing stories tagged with #war-poetry Clear filter
#acrostic No, if I reach out, I'll see I have no hand, the trenches empty, God has deserted me, as Has my friends, my army, my family.
"There will be NO cowards in my regiment. We will fight to the death and fight as honourable gentlemen.
A young man, no more than a boy. Delusions of glory, Golden valediction for imaginary heroes. But there are no heroes where he is going. For he is going to war.
Broken bones and bloody skin. Saying goodbye to your kin. To war we go. To fight our foe. Battered skulls. Destroyed souls. Kids without dad. He's away in Baghdad. Fighting the war.
The shrieking din when bombs explode, The sound of weeping from a fallen abode. As a woeful warning, dead men lie, Like distressed ravens, the wounded cry: The dreadful souvenirs of a damaging war.
(Got stuck on p). A is for atrocities and artificial reasoning. B is for the burials of bullet ridden bodies. C is for the casualties caused so callously.
An eye for an eye A war for a war I can't see the way out anymore All this fighting for what. A piece of rock.
Across turbulent seas and more so land. Foxholes dug into barren ground. Sleeps awake when fear allows. Woken by hellish sounds. Flash bang and tracer fire. Fly by wire reinforcements.
My grandad fought upon them fields, where poppies bloom and grew,. Where men would stand and fight, and be friends with all but a few,. Gun shots sounded, screams were heard,.
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Surrender to the sound of drums,. The march of death that slowly comes,. Give in to the cries of war,. That make their way into your core,. Watch men fight with shallow breath,.
Drip drop drip. My tears fall of my cheek. As I sit here waiting. Waiting. Waiting for the news. That the war is at an end. March on March can hear him stomping. Chanting proud but scared. Scared.
A bugle sounds so far away For another lost for your tomorrow Sand kicked from a soldiers boot as he disembarks in sorrow Another comrade fallen another broken brother A man that has returned to try...
Christmas time. Missiles and land mines. Children losing. Their limbs and going blind. Shots will be fired. Families will grieve. The war shall not pause. For festivities. Christmas time.
"Lords, ladies and gentlemen, I give to you my blue blood. If you protect and marry my daughters with pure love. Award my future bloodline with titles and foreign lands full of golden stuff.
Strained control and exerted minds Pushed onto someone from different kinds The wail of the wind unevenly blown The threads of ancestors harshly sewn Their respect dead, one turned on one's...
10 o'clock, The last man dead. The grass as a bed, One final gunshot in his head. 11 o'clock, The end of violence. An eerie silence, Mixed with a bloody essence.
I'm not afraid to go. When the end comes. A journey I have been through. It's time for me to go. A heart breaking goodbye. A lonely road traveled by one. On a lonely night when I fade away.
#remembrance I crouch inside this muddy trench. Death is a disease. I'm clouded by smoke With a feeling of unease. I hear a scream. A cry. A plea. But none of this Reaches me.
The state of all. That's been before. The bloodied lands. The stains of war. The engraved names. The epitaphs. The statues of. A warmongers craft. The battle fields. Bereft of life. The fallen ones.
Tit for tat leaves tat for tits A people conquered but a land in bits He said she said means who said what. Will our children's children thank us for the wars that we fought.
#xmasparody Sing to the tune of The Holly And The Ivy .
Barbed wire and mud, Mud and wire and rain, Shouts, screams and gunfire, Never ending pain. Waiting for our call, The time for us to fight, Writing shakily by hand, Be it day or night.
A truce a peace. Some sweet release. The blood on their hands. Will drip dry. And drain through the sands. Of this ancient land. Terror and fear. Are the rulers here. This time eight days.