Poetry competition CLOSED 8th May 2020 5:31pm
WINNER
slipalong
slipalong
RUNNERS-UP:
souladareatease
and Ahavati
WAR POETRY RETROSPECT
Anonymous
Poetry Contest Description
Old war poetry
I feel like warmongering is happening
Here is a chance to resurect an old war poem if you have it in your bag of thoughts.
Older the better
one per person
Public Vote
Only poetry that fits please
Wooden soldiers
In that box red soldiers lie in a jumble
Hush now dry your tears my little one
Sometimes angry nations fight
See the candle hold it tight
They march on sticks in shadows fall and stumble
People that we knew and loved, walked a path
We called it fate
And played a game, cannon fodder just live bait
And some stand up and some lay down
Some went away never to return
Rode your bike in the craters risen deep
Say no words of angry prayers, was a lost yesterday
No tantrum shame and memories to disgrace
The sweets you hold share them with
A smiling face
And cherish each piece that action took away
Hush now dry your tears my little one
Sometimes angry nations fight
See the candle hold it tight
They march on sticks in shadows fall and stumble
People that we knew and loved, walked a path
We called it fate
And played a game, cannon fodder just live bait
And some stand up and some lay down
Some went away never to return
Rode your bike in the craters risen deep
Say no words of angry prayers, was a lost yesterday
No tantrum shame and memories to disgrace
The sweets you hold share them with
A smiling face
And cherish each piece that action took away
Written by slipalong
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From Beyond the Blue
(Letters WWII) Part 1
By Grace and Soul
John:
My Dearest, I hope this letter reaches You safely
I captive, heart missing you enforced to march
I drink from wallow of the buffalo seeing heads roll
as samurai swords take out weakened or slow.
Do you know Dearest O how much dirt has passed
in a trek sweat all the bloody way to Balanga?
My tears pour as we surrendered have no honour
beasts of burden, crawling in dashed hope of home again
where You my eyes may sparkle in a midnight dance
the only good war of who's on top, finger tips the only
walker
Jane:
John the night draws nigh
Here I am writing to you again
No letters, no pen, no sighs of love
Nor affirmations from you
The candles flickers in the wind
As my tears roll down my chin
Are you inhaling my breath?
As I call your name in this dark night…
My cousin Will came home today
Wan beneath his tan, he lost his legs
John:
O Jane bring me home again
can you feel my thoughts on you
tell it true, San Fernando
corralled to car sick and starved
my baby...so far so far
who thought heat could feel so cold
blue, aches in my hazed hearing
whisper kisses lost curling
stings your name, singe my skin
Sweet Darln' keep me the trains a rollin'
Jane:
I dreamt of you last night
You spoke my name
Your smile was sweet yet sad
God forbid, you be taken by them
the people of the rising sun
persevere my love and return
defy them, puny people they are
I hate them now even my friend
Sizuka…our neighbour Suzy
The war, has torn us asunder
John:
My will spills limp
drudging along this boxcar cramp
feted trail morose load
led out to a stop called Capas
Jane...they say we must walk again
muscle knots punch barely stepping left leg
drift in miss my Janie’s hair
wear down brothers cling
lean push one another
I still remember her scent like roses
Jane:
Mrs Miller and Mrs Smith
got news today
Jimmy dead in Borneo
In Malaya, Gerry a prisoner of war
Fuels for my fears and tears
Constant now within my heart
let death not be your fate
its not for you
I breath thus you shall too
Our fate lies within your smiles
John:
Dripping rice of O'Donnell
harsh hasty handful ballyhoo
keeps our linger over
ghosts in constant head roll
out back in a deep hole dug
fell Doug while burying brothers
covered still breathing alive between others
they turned off our water, infractions again
said we were loud so many cry out
Will any of us see freedoms reach embracing
Jane:
No news, my love, no letters?
Where are you, my own?
Baby kicks against this womb
Shall he know not you, John?
More news for grieving mothers
Sons dead on railway labours
Husbands flung in foreign land
Buried unmarked on strange soils
Burning on air in bursting glory
Glory to freedom...yet dusts in our eyes?
John:
Everyday more men coming in
everyday thinning crowd taken out
as I breathe shallow breath
rot reeks filling air
Billy says the islands folded up
no way to save her 'cept in prayer
but now I bow only
to the Jap holding power
where blade and his gun
reduced us, one by one.
*The atrocities of war and its effect on individuals has been a topic spoken about and discussed for a long time. We can only imagine how it was for those who suffered. Reading, creative writing and imagination helped us through this collab. Thank you for reading.*
By Grace and Soul
John:
My Dearest, I hope this letter reaches You safely
I captive, heart missing you enforced to march
I drink from wallow of the buffalo seeing heads roll
as samurai swords take out weakened or slow.
Do you know Dearest O how much dirt has passed
in a trek sweat all the bloody way to Balanga?
My tears pour as we surrendered have no honour
beasts of burden, crawling in dashed hope of home again
where You my eyes may sparkle in a midnight dance
the only good war of who's on top, finger tips the only
walker
Jane:
John the night draws nigh
Here I am writing to you again
No letters, no pen, no sighs of love
Nor affirmations from you
The candles flickers in the wind
As my tears roll down my chin
Are you inhaling my breath?
As I call your name in this dark night…
My cousin Will came home today
Wan beneath his tan, he lost his legs
John:
O Jane bring me home again
can you feel my thoughts on you
tell it true, San Fernando
corralled to car sick and starved
my baby...so far so far
who thought heat could feel so cold
blue, aches in my hazed hearing
whisper kisses lost curling
stings your name, singe my skin
Sweet Darln' keep me the trains a rollin'
Jane:
I dreamt of you last night
You spoke my name
Your smile was sweet yet sad
God forbid, you be taken by them
the people of the rising sun
persevere my love and return
defy them, puny people they are
I hate them now even my friend
Sizuka…our neighbour Suzy
The war, has torn us asunder
John:
My will spills limp
drudging along this boxcar cramp
feted trail morose load
led out to a stop called Capas
Jane...they say we must walk again
muscle knots punch barely stepping left leg
drift in miss my Janie’s hair
wear down brothers cling
lean push one another
I still remember her scent like roses
Jane:
Mrs Miller and Mrs Smith
got news today
Jimmy dead in Borneo
In Malaya, Gerry a prisoner of war
Fuels for my fears and tears
Constant now within my heart
let death not be your fate
its not for you
I breath thus you shall too
Our fate lies within your smiles
John:
Dripping rice of O'Donnell
harsh hasty handful ballyhoo
keeps our linger over
ghosts in constant head roll
out back in a deep hole dug
fell Doug while burying brothers
covered still breathing alive between others
they turned off our water, infractions again
said we were loud so many cry out
Will any of us see freedoms reach embracing
Jane:
No news, my love, no letters?
Where are you, my own?
Baby kicks against this womb
Shall he know not you, John?
More news for grieving mothers
Sons dead on railway labours
Husbands flung in foreign land
Buried unmarked on strange soils
Burning on air in bursting glory
Glory to freedom...yet dusts in our eyes?
John:
Everyday more men coming in
everyday thinning crowd taken out
as I breathe shallow breath
rot reeks filling air
Billy says the islands folded up
no way to save her 'cept in prayer
but now I bow only
to the Jap holding power
where blade and his gun
reduced us, one by one.
*The atrocities of war and its effect on individuals has been a topic spoken about and discussed for a long time. We can only imagine how it was for those who suffered. Reading, creative writing and imagination helped us through this collab. Thank you for reading.*
Written by souladareatease
Go To Page
Hush now don't you cry
Hush now don't you cry
Causalties are a thing of war
Side by side we'll fight
Our enemies stand strong across the line
Both parties believe they're right
Wiseman send young man do fight their fights
This is war
Hush now don't you cry
You and I we'll die
Causalties are a thing of war
Spare your tears they bare no help
Think only of your gun, yourself and nothing else
Save your prayers they won't save you from your death
Black roses and hail maries are on their way
Sweet Sounds of machine guns will swiftly sweep you away
You and I will only rest when we're six feet deep
Death is a payment of all sin
Hush now don't you cry
You and I will die
Casualties are a thing of war
In a split moment heaven feels so far away
It seems like warrior Angels aren't on their way
It's you and I who have to die to keep the enemy away
Leave everything on the battlefield and take as many on your way
And if death doesn't find you now it'll visit you someday
A simple debt we all have to pay
This is war
Hush now don't you cry
You and I we'll die
Casualties are a thing of war
Causalties are a thing of war
Side by side we'll fight
Our enemies stand strong across the line
Both parties believe they're right
Wiseman send young man do fight their fights
This is war
Hush now don't you cry
You and I we'll die
Causalties are a thing of war
Spare your tears they bare no help
Think only of your gun, yourself and nothing else
Save your prayers they won't save you from your death
Black roses and hail maries are on their way
Sweet Sounds of machine guns will swiftly sweep you away
You and I will only rest when we're six feet deep
Death is a payment of all sin
Hush now don't you cry
You and I will die
Casualties are a thing of war
In a split moment heaven feels so far away
It seems like warrior Angels aren't on their way
It's you and I who have to die to keep the enemy away
Leave everything on the battlefield and take as many on your way
And if death doesn't find you now it'll visit you someday
A simple debt we all have to pay
This is war
Hush now don't you cry
You and I we'll die
Casualties are a thing of war
Written by poetOftragedy
Go To Page
Reflections of a Civil War
I didn’t know about politics or the status quo,
I didn’t understand the right versus the left,
All I knew were images shown on the news
Until the war hit close to home
I had never seen so many burning buses
I had never seen so many men somber
I had never seen so many women crying
I had never seen so much blood like that
I had never heard bullets whiz by like that
I had never felt tanks roll by the boulevard
Shaking the streets and passageways
And deafening blasts that stun the soul
I had never seen men on the streets like that
Brains splattered on the pavement
Entrails displayed for all to see
I had never seen eyes like that
But when you’re only eight years old
The world is difficult to understand
For there is no simple explanation
When innocence slips away just like that
I didn’t understand the right versus the left,
All I knew were images shown on the news
Until the war hit close to home
I had never seen so many burning buses
I had never seen so many men somber
I had never seen so many women crying
I had never seen so much blood like that
I had never heard bullets whiz by like that
I had never felt tanks roll by the boulevard
Shaking the streets and passageways
And deafening blasts that stun the soul
I had never seen men on the streets like that
Brains splattered on the pavement
Entrails displayed for all to see
I had never seen eyes like that
But when you’re only eight years old
The world is difficult to understand
For there is no simple explanation
When innocence slips away just like that
Written by wallyroo92
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August Moon
He hailed from Dartmoor, near the prison town,
while she was born to poor folk on the moor.
They chanced upon love’s passion, so profound,
and met just months before the start of war!
She knew he was the one, when he first spoke,
although she can’t recall the words he said…
the smoothness of his baritone just broke
whatever inhibitions that she had!
The short time that they had, they spent together,
although they did not know that at the time;
long evenings on the moor and in the heather,
their love affair cut short, before its prime!
By August Moon, the Kaiser conquered Belgium,
and calls went out for men, to fight the war!
This tragic turn of fate, although unwelcome,
his honor made her love him all the more!
Her eyes revealed a trust he could not vex,
he had to rise, and be the man she saw.
He would not disenchant the weaker sex,
he vowed his heart must have the wherewithal!
She watched for his return through all those years,
and no one ever claimed to see her cry.
She promised that she shed her final tears
the last time that they kissed and said goodbye.
Written by ReggiePoet
(Reggie)
Go To Page
Lost Men
( a double Quatern )
For some to whom the years have not been kind,
And beaten into treads of alley cracks.
Where poison oleander of the mind,
Grows pink and scarlet all along the tracks.
Is omnipresent, making all else dim,
For some to whom the years have not been kind.
The remnants of a battle none to slim,
To oust the honored few we leave behind.
The marches in the blinding rain confined,
The ossify of driftwood’s living dead.
For some to whom the years have not been kind,
In olive camaflage of jungle red.
To row a swollen stream without an oar,
Or bleach upon a dune in dreams to find.
Did all the lost men fight a godless war,
For some to whom the years have not been kind.
As if their shadows stay to walk the streets,
The host omnipotent is torpor’s self.
To wander aimlessly, each day repeats,
With nothing left to show for of itself.
Existing in oblivion as truth,
As if their shadows stay to walk the streets.
The price to pay to sacrifice one’s youth,
Will mean the cost of flags like covered sheets.
The timpani of echoed solemn beats,
“When will they ever learn?”, so goes a song.
As if their shadows stay to walk the streets,
In darker bows in search of what went wrong.
Like orca, to bring death before the mast,
Another generation fills more seats.
The overture, their fate has long been cast,
As if their shadows stay to walk the streets.
For some to whom the years have not been kind,
And beaten into treads of alley cracks.
Where poison oleander of the mind,
Grows pink and scarlet all along the tracks.
Is omnipresent, making all else dim,
For some to whom the years have not been kind.
The remnants of a battle none to slim,
To oust the honored few we leave behind.
The marches in the blinding rain confined,
The ossify of driftwood’s living dead.
For some to whom the years have not been kind,
In olive camaflage of jungle red.
To row a swollen stream without an oar,
Or bleach upon a dune in dreams to find.
Did all the lost men fight a godless war,
For some to whom the years have not been kind.
As if their shadows stay to walk the streets,
The host omnipotent is torpor’s self.
To wander aimlessly, each day repeats,
With nothing left to show for of itself.
Existing in oblivion as truth,
As if their shadows stay to walk the streets.
The price to pay to sacrifice one’s youth,
Will mean the cost of flags like covered sheets.
The timpani of echoed solemn beats,
“When will they ever learn?”, so goes a song.
As if their shadows stay to walk the streets,
In darker bows in search of what went wrong.
Like orca, to bring death before the mast,
Another generation fills more seats.
The overture, their fate has long been cast,
As if their shadows stay to walk the streets.
Written by Jade-Pandora
(jade tiger)
Go To Page
Disarm ... My Warrior Poet
I watch you
close
from afar
this burden you carry
Weighted down by
bow
shield
blooded armor
Disciple of Aries
can you ever break
free
from bellicose hauntings
Allow warm tender hands
to reach ... touch
brush away long fought tears
from nightly rebattles
Help you unfeather each arrow
to make you a quill
lead you soft to shady brook
in search of blank parchment
close
from afar
this burden you carry
Weighted down by
bow
shield
blooded armor
Disciple of Aries
can you ever break
free
from bellicose hauntings
Allow warm tender hands
to reach ... touch
brush away long fought tears
from nightly rebattles
Help you unfeather each arrow
to make you a quill
lead you soft to shady brook
in search of blank parchment
Written by LilDragonFly
Go To Page
Anonymous
Moving words brought by all. My favorite so far is poetOftragedy's poem "Hush now don't you cry".
LilDragonFly, If you want to enter your poem I really have no time for strict rules. You are welcome to enter it if you think it is about war. It seemed to be about war to me. Democracy will decide the winner anyhow. Thanks to everyone who entered thus far.
LilDragonFly, If you want to enter your poem I really have no time for strict rules. You are welcome to enter it if you think it is about war. It seemed to be about war to me. Democracy will decide the winner anyhow. Thanks to everyone who entered thus far.
Terrorism
Bad dreams
Nightmares
A teenage boy
Refrigerators
Full of blood
Fear
(Don’t let them see)
Responsibility
Car bomb
Six or more patients coming
Type and cross
Twenty units
Ambulance arrives
No lights
No siren
Hands, feet, torsos, heads
Delivered in makeshift stretchers
Made from olive drab blankets
No survivors
The job has shifted
From saving lives
To body identification
Knowing one could be Dad
Putting the puzzle together
So that family and friends
Can say goodbye.
Nightmares
A teenage boy
Refrigerators
Full of blood
Fear
(Don’t let them see)
Responsibility
Car bomb
Six or more patients coming
Type and cross
Twenty units
Ambulance arrives
No lights
No siren
Hands, feet, torsos, heads
Delivered in makeshift stretchers
Made from olive drab blankets
No survivors
The job has shifted
From saving lives
To body identification
Knowing one could be Dad
Putting the puzzle together
So that family and friends
Can say goodbye.
Written by Kinkpoet
Go To Page
Bouncing Betty
It’s been forty-years
plus twenty
that Bouncing Betty
kicked her shoes off
walked barefoot;
her jungle-rotted toes
buried in the hot soil
of Vietnam and Cambodia.
The landscape
of her awakening
escorted many
into the afterlife.
Even now
her explosive temper
splits survival's aftermath
when her hibernation
is innocently disrupted;
demanding sacrificial blood
as restitution;
or at least a limb.
Most days lack dire circumstance
for the Vietnamese,
who go about daily tasks
set forth by ancestors;
they follow a narrowly lit road
between present shadows
and memory,
shouldering offerings
of vegetables and fruit
upward into the bright
future of tomorrow:
Refugees emerging
from an earthen tunnel;
the carved catacombs
of bloody history
still camped out
in their jungle reality.
~
Photo Credit Man-Kui Wisely
Written by Ahavati
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Anonymous
