Poems About War Published by Members Recently Online
#war
faithmairee
Poem Published
1st Oct 2020 6:20am
1st Oct 2020 6:20am
The Meaning Of Love
She asked, Mama
What does it mean to love?
Her mama replied that
to love is to sacrifice.
Then she asked is that
why Daddy died?
It was a bullet in
his head her mamma said
He's dead and he never
should have died
That night she
cried and cried
for all the pain
and loneliness
she felt inside
She loved her daddy
he was an Army man
Now he was gone
leaving her all alone
he died for the love
of his counntry
in a war no one
would ever understand
he was a hero
that's what...
What does it mean to love?
Her mama replied that
to love is to sacrifice.
Then she asked is that
why Daddy died?
It was a bullet in
his head her mamma said
He's dead and he never
should have died
That night she
cried and cried
for all the pain
and loneliness
she felt inside
She loved her daddy
he was an Army man
Now he was gone
leaving her all alone
he died for the love
of his counntry
in a war no one
would ever understand
he was a hero
that's what...
#loneliness
#war
#death
53 reads
11 Comments
faithmairee
Poem Published
1st Oct 2020 6:20am
1st Oct 2020 6:20am
The Meaning Of Love
She asked, Mama
What does it mean to love?
Her mama replied that
to love is to sacrifice.
Then she asked is that
why Daddy died?
It was a bullet in
his head her mamma said
He's dead and he never
should have died
That night she
cried and cried
for all the pain
and loneliness
she felt inside
She loved her daddy
he was an Army man
Now he was gone
leaving her all alone
he died for the love
of his counntry
in a war no one
would ever understand
he was a hero
that's what...
What does it mean to love?
Her mama replied that
to love is to sacrifice.
Then she asked is that
why Daddy died?
It was a bullet in
his head her mamma said
He's dead and he never
should have died
That night she
cried and cried
for all the pain
and loneliness
she felt inside
She loved her daddy
he was an Army man
Now he was gone
leaving her all alone
he died for the love
of his counntry
in a war no one
would ever understand
he was a hero
that's what...
#loneliness
#war
#death
53 reads
11 Comments
faithmairee
Poem Published
1st Oct 2020 6:20am
1st Oct 2020 6:20am
The Meaning Of Love
She asked, Mama
What does it mean to love?
Her mama replied that
to love is to sacrifice.
Then she asked is that
why Daddy died?
It was a bullet in
his head her mamma said
He's dead and he never
should have died
That night she
cried and cried
for all the pain
and loneliness
she felt inside
She loved her daddy
he was an Army man
Now he was gone
leaving her all alone
he died for the love
of his counntry
in a war no one
would ever understand
he was a hero
that's what...
What does it mean to love?
Her mama replied that
to love is to sacrifice.
Then she asked is that
why Daddy died?
It was a bullet in
his head her mamma said
He's dead and he never
should have died
That night she
cried and cried
for all the pain
and loneliness
she felt inside
She loved her daddy
he was an Army man
Now he was gone
leaving her all alone
he died for the love
of his counntry
in a war no one
would ever understand
he was a hero
that's what...
#loneliness
#war
#death
53 reads
11 Comments
Ingredients
Poem Published
3rd Sep 2020 7:44am
3rd Sep 2020 7:44am
Smoke and Thunder
Where smoke and fire scar a scene we've lost to history.
Comrades leave the corpses, those naive to victory.
"But armor does not tire, even hanging onto bone."
Those ragged men recite this creed when they die alone.
Leaders speak of fate and fear to hopeful crowds of eyes.
"No one makes the tacit choice of death without reprise."
Solace leaves the hearts of those wise enough to know
awful sights, which wait out there, and its audio.
"Can you hear the thunder of a thousand steel boots?
Will you heed the call of gods from armored metal suits?" ...
Comrades leave the corpses, those naive to victory.
"But armor does not tire, even hanging onto bone."
Those ragged men recite this creed when they die alone.
Leaders speak of fate and fear to hopeful crowds of eyes.
"No one makes the tacit choice of death without reprise."
Solace leaves the hearts of those wise enough to know
awful sights, which wait out there, and its audio.
"Can you hear the thunder of a thousand steel boots?
Will you heed the call of gods from armored metal suits?" ...
#sadness
#soldiers
#war #LifeCycle
#war #LifeCycle
46 reads
5 Comments
Ingredients
Poem Published
3rd Sep 2020 7:44am
3rd Sep 2020 7:44am
Smoke and Thunder
Where smoke and fire scar a scene we've lost to history.
Comrades leave the corpses, those naive to victory.
"But armor does not tire, even hanging onto bone."
Those ragged men recite this creed when they die alone.
Leaders speak of fate and fear to hopeful crowds of eyes.
"No one makes the tacit choice of death without reprise."
Solace leaves the hearts of those wise enough to know
awful sights, which wait out there, and its audio.
"Can you hear the thunder of a thousand steel boots?
Will you heed the call of gods from armored metal suits?" ...
Comrades leave the corpses, those naive to victory.
"But armor does not tire, even hanging onto bone."
Those ragged men recite this creed when they die alone.
Leaders speak of fate and fear to hopeful crowds of eyes.
"No one makes the tacit choice of death without reprise."
Solace leaves the hearts of those wise enough to know
awful sights, which wait out there, and its audio.
"Can you hear the thunder of a thousand steel boots?
Will you heed the call of gods from armored metal suits?" ...
#sadness
#soldiers
#war #LifeCycle
#war #LifeCycle
46 reads
5 Comments
Ingredients
Poem Published
3rd Sep 2020 7:44am
3rd Sep 2020 7:44am
Smoke and Thunder
Where smoke and fire scar a scene we've lost to history.
Comrades leave the corpses, those naive to victory.
"But armor does not tire, even hanging onto bone."
Those ragged men recite this creed when they die alone.
Leaders speak of fate and fear to hopeful crowds of eyes.
"No one makes the tacit choice of death without reprise."
Solace leaves the hearts of those wise enough to know
awful sights, which wait out there, and its audio.
"Can you hear the thunder of a thousand steel boots?
Will you heed the call of gods from armored metal suits?" ...
Comrades leave the corpses, those naive to victory.
"But armor does not tire, even hanging onto bone."
Those ragged men recite this creed when they die alone.
Leaders speak of fate and fear to hopeful crowds of eyes.
"No one makes the tacit choice of death without reprise."
Solace leaves the hearts of those wise enough to know
awful sights, which wait out there, and its audio.
"Can you hear the thunder of a thousand steel boots?
Will you heed the call of gods from armored metal suits?" ...
#sadness
#soldiers
#war #LifeCycle
#war #LifeCycle
46 reads
5 Comments
Ingredients
Poem Published
3rd Sep 2020 7:44am
3rd Sep 2020 7:44am
Smoke and Thunder
Where smoke and fire scar a scene we've lost to history.
Comrades leave the corpses, those naive to victory.
"But armor does not tire, even hanging onto bone."
Those ragged men recite this creed when they die alone.
Leaders speak of fate and fear to hopeful crowds of eyes.
"No one makes the tacit choice of death without reprise."
Solace leaves the hearts of those wise enough to know
awful sights, which wait out there, and its audio.
"Can you hear the thunder of a thousand steel boots?
Will you heed the call of gods from armored metal suits?" ...
Comrades leave the corpses, those naive to victory.
"But armor does not tire, even hanging onto bone."
Those ragged men recite this creed when they die alone.
Leaders speak of fate and fear to hopeful crowds of eyes.
"No one makes the tacit choice of death without reprise."
Solace leaves the hearts of those wise enough to know
awful sights, which wait out there, and its audio.
"Can you hear the thunder of a thousand steel boots?
Will you heed the call of gods from armored metal suits?" ...
#sadness
#soldiers
#war #LifeCycle
#war #LifeCycle
46 reads
5 Comments
Eerie
Poem Published
23rd Sep 2020 00:01am
23rd Sep 2020 00:01am
A Dark War
I know a man with camouflaged
mind, gun-stock resting somewhere
between lies of patriarchal privilege
and the body of a dead
child, marred by indiscretions of
lesser men. Miniature legs
and arms spilled over assumed
lines drawn in thick heat of desert
swarm, heaved with heavy heart to the
doorstep of a farmer, a father, a man
with no recourse; nothing but unfathomable
grief and a rake to shake in the
face of God. Democracy, a
misapplied ideation...
mind, gun-stock resting somewhere
between lies of patriarchal privilege
and the body of a dead
child, marred by indiscretions of
lesser men. Miniature legs
and arms spilled over assumed
lines drawn in thick heat of desert
swarm, heaved with heavy heart to the
doorstep of a farmer, a father, a man
with no recourse; nothing but unfathomable
grief and a rake to shake in the
face of God. Democracy, a
misapplied ideation...
#grief
#conflict
#war
#morality
#AliceFulton
125 reads
23 Comments
Eerie
Poem Published
23rd Sep 2020 00:01am
23rd Sep 2020 00:01am
A Dark War
I know a man with camouflaged
mind, gun-stock resting somewhere
between lies of patriarchal privilege
and the body of a dead
child, marred by indiscretions of
lesser men. Miniature legs
and arms spilled over assumed
lines drawn in thick heat of desert
swarm, heaved with heavy heart to the
doorstep of a farmer, a father, a man
with no recourse; nothing but unfathomable
grief and a rake to shake in the
face of God. Democracy, a
misapplied ideation...
mind, gun-stock resting somewhere
between lies of patriarchal privilege
and the body of a dead
child, marred by indiscretions of
lesser men. Miniature legs
and arms spilled over assumed
lines drawn in thick heat of desert
swarm, heaved with heavy heart to the
doorstep of a farmer, a father, a man
with no recourse; nothing but unfathomable
grief and a rake to shake in the
face of God. Democracy, a
misapplied ideation...
#grief
#conflict
#war
#morality
#AliceFulton
125 reads
23 Comments
Eerie
Poem Published
23rd Sep 2020 00:01am
23rd Sep 2020 00:01am
A Dark War
I know a man with camouflaged
mind, gun-stock resting somewhere
between lies of patriarchal privilege
and the body of a dead
child, marred by indiscretions of
lesser men. Miniature legs
and arms spilled over assumed
lines drawn in thick heat of desert
swarm, heaved with heavy heart to the
doorstep of a farmer, a father, a man
with no recourse; nothing but unfathomable
grief and a rake to shake in the
face of God. Democracy, a
misapplied ideation...
mind, gun-stock resting somewhere
between lies of patriarchal privilege
and the body of a dead
child, marred by indiscretions of
lesser men. Miniature legs
and arms spilled over assumed
lines drawn in thick heat of desert
swarm, heaved with heavy heart to the
doorstep of a farmer, a father, a man
with no recourse; nothing but unfathomable
grief and a rake to shake in the
face of God. Democracy, a
misapplied ideation...
#grief
#conflict
#war
#morality
#AliceFulton
125 reads
23 Comments
Eerie
Poem Published
23rd Sep 2020 00:01am
23rd Sep 2020 00:01am
A Dark War
I know a man with camouflaged
mind, gun-stock resting somewhere
between lies of patriarchal privilege
and the body of a dead
child, marred by indiscretions of
lesser men. Miniature legs
and arms spilled over assumed
lines drawn in thick heat of desert
swarm, heaved with heavy heart to the
doorstep of a farmer, a father, a man
with no recourse; nothing but unfathomable
grief and a rake to shake in the
face of God. Democracy, a
misapplied ideation...
mind, gun-stock resting somewhere
between lies of patriarchal privilege
and the body of a dead
child, marred by indiscretions of
lesser men. Miniature legs
and arms spilled over assumed
lines drawn in thick heat of desert
swarm, heaved with heavy heart to the
doorstep of a farmer, a father, a man
with no recourse; nothing but unfathomable
grief and a rake to shake in the
face of God. Democracy, a
misapplied ideation...
#grief
#conflict
#war
#morality
#AliceFulton
125 reads
23 Comments
Eerie
Poem Published
23rd Sep 2020 00:01am
23rd Sep 2020 00:01am
A Dark War
I know a man with camouflaged
mind, gun-stock resting somewhere
between lies of patriarchal privilege
and the body of a dead
child, marred by indiscretions of
lesser men. Miniature legs
and arms spilled over assumed
lines drawn in thick heat of desert
swarm, heaved with heavy heart to the
doorstep of a farmer, a father, a man
with no recourse; nothing but unfathomable
grief and a rake to shake in the
face of God. Democracy, a
misapplied ideation...
mind, gun-stock resting somewhere
between lies of patriarchal privilege
and the body of a dead
child, marred by indiscretions of
lesser men. Miniature legs
and arms spilled over assumed
lines drawn in thick heat of desert
swarm, heaved with heavy heart to the
doorstep of a farmer, a father, a man
with no recourse; nothing but unfathomable
grief and a rake to shake in the
face of God. Democracy, a
misapplied ideation...
#grief
#conflict
#war
#morality
#AliceFulton
125 reads
23 Comments
DU Poetry : Poems About War Published by Members Recently Online
