Tag Archives: death
There was a knock at my door
A soldier stood there all forlorn,
I recognized him as my boy
A boy who went to war,
Now he wasn’t a boy any more
Now he has grown into a man,
This is my son
Who I had not seen for so long,
Who I’d yearned to see for such a long time
He stood at my door in all his prime,
It must have been a year or two today
When I had last heard him say,
There will be no other,
My one and only stood in front of me
I said “come on in son, I’ll make some tea”
My soldier boy
Have we forgotten their ultimate sacrifice?
Of these men and women who died in their millions?
Brave and true, without question,
proud to be British, not ashamed to be Christian.
So many years have passed,
it seems our memory doesn’t last.
Forgetting these courageous people, to our shame.
Why can’t we remember their names?
How short is our memory?
That we have forgotten them already?
Died in their millions fighting for our freedom,
believing in our free democratic ideology.
What does it take to wake up this country,
to rise once again from its complacency?
How much more do we take, before we decide to fight,
for our beliefs, our traditions and our liberty?
by Simon Icke UK
His body frail
His face so pale
His eyes so dim
His legs so thin,
Once flying high
Once in the sky
Once drugs kept him
Once one so thin,
Now he’s greeted by the soil
Now kept in a coffin like a chicken in foil,
Now only tears can be shed
Now only words can be said
Now that he is dead
By Gillian Sims
Cold ocean waves
Across the wake
Jaws of death
Scream in pain
For no ones sake
Rip and tear
Shred and shake
Flesh is torn
Bones they break
Glimpse the moon
One last time
Pray the LORD
My soul to take.
Thank you poetree creations for providing this outlet. Anyone who enjoyed this feel free to check out all my other poems, flash fiction, and written mayhem at JMC813.wordpress.com
Banging on the walls, she screamed, she prayed
Begging for freedom to come each and every day.
Her prayers, though, fell on deaf ears
As her days grew to months, which spanned years
She was a captive, locked in the confines
Of his demented, tortured mind.
As the time wore on, she grew numb to the abuse
To this pathetic excuse
Of a man – a man she once loved
Back when she thought that was enough
Now, though, she simply longs to be free
Far away from his anger, his torture, his depravity.
As time wore on, her prayers for salvation
Took a morbid turn
As she, instead, begged for death to come
She could take no more, she was done.
Trysh L Thompson
The battle flag snapped and swung up to fly in the wind
Above the post on the hill that even God had forgotten about back then
Rifles swung up and pointed out and down across the clearing
Searing rounds were sent out for the human shearing
A burst returned ripped holes in the flag that flew in the wind
Blood and mud spattered, its fabric so worn and so thin
That flew above boys that day sudden turned into men
It snapped and swung up to fly in the wind
Above the post on the hill that no one, not even God knew about back then.