Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Didn't allow
Burn in full flames
Smoulder smoke
Rising high
In the sky
Observed far and wide
There something
Burning so long
Never seen
That end before
Let's go
Let's see
What's up there
Oh, a life there
On an island
Turned miniscule
River stage
Rising fast
Clouds hitting
The mountain
Bursting to vanish
Zoom mobile cam
Snap snap
Half naked
Dishevelled hair
Sunken cheeks
Sunken eyes
Protruding ***** teeth
Dark brown man
Help help helpline
Location sent
Photos sent
Army chopper
Brave army men
Lifted him
A bunch
Of damp twigs
Billowed much smoke
Dry wouldn't have been
Of much  use
Sluggish things
Not always bad
Bad habits
Sometimes do help
Smoking made
Light the twigs
And the Front Men
Saved a Last Man
Last man = Antyodaya man
This poem is about a poor man entrapped on a small island almost submerged in water due to flash flood in a river due to cloud burst on an upstream mountain. He could collect damp twigs and light smouldering smoke billowing fire signalling for help. Nearby people noticed unusual smoke and came to his help. He was rescued by the army with the help of a chopper.
Owen Jun 20
I dont care who you are,
please speak ill
of the men and women
that walked through hell
that carried on as their family fell
that gave everything
to include their lives
so you might sleep in peace at night.
Go ahead,
speak ill,
so we may serve you,
so we may silence you.
If you served or are serving you know the frustration of knowing people who will never understand, who will hate you for what you do.
The wind bellows:
Unrelenting, pounding, cold.
A dog barks, sending sharp shivers down my spine.
Lying on my front my nose presses against the mud, It's earthy smell filling my nostrils.
Footsteps quicken; voices rise, the taste of salty sweat on my brow.
They've found me.
Reaching for my revolver I grasp it firmly, assured at last.
A single shot fires, it's echoes piercing the night as the thirsty ground soaks up my blood.
©️ 2021 Joshua Reece Wylie. All rights reserved.
A poem about a soldier in world war I who was never going to allow himself to be captured and become a prisoner of war.
Randy Johnson Mar 19
What happened is certainly enough to appall.
I'm in the Army and I was forced to go AWOL.
I am disgusted by what happened and it's hard to believe.
Even though my brother was dying, they wouldn't give me leave.
I wanted to see my brother one last time before he died.
I plead with my superiors to give me leave but I was denied.
When it came to my late brother, I thought the world of him.
I went AWOL to be by his side and to tell him that I love him.
Now I'm facing a Court Martial, I'm in trouble indeed.
They turned their backs on me in my hour of need.
Now they're treating me like I committed a horrible crime.
But at least I was able to tell my brother that I love him in time.
A Court Martial and time in prison are what I'll probably receive.
But my superiors were cruel and despicable for not giving me leave.
Man Mar 11
olive green
tight fitting garbs
drab and mean
old men who jaw
we're a caravan
of death
we march to a beat
of bullets let
i'm running far first chance i get

christ, i'm in the army now
I go for morning walk
As I reach the other end
Of a farm road
Army is on recruitment drive
Shoulder across
The National Highway
Barricaded for lads
Of the land
To stand in line
For physical fitness test
In University ground
Lads try their luck
They are ready
To shed their blood
In the name of the nation
Without fear and hesitation
In return for paltry
Regular sums
They have been sent
By their brave mums
Daughters-in-law one day
They would bring
There's a marked difference
Between present day lads
And lads of the yore
They are smarter, intelligent and more qualified
Maybe more than their recruiters
i used to have this
we would go outside
during the days
after the bell

one game we played
was kind of like
except it didn't
feel natural

lizard brains
were easy enough
to catch and ****
without a second

we would stuff their
with explosives
then find and burn
the remains

until that time he
accidentally blew off
his own hand
we don't play anymore.

#EndTheWars #SanctionsKill
(for Mike & Jason)
Man Feb 6
far off
the jets are being gassed up
preping for launch

far off
the infantry train
in anticipation, for the battle sure to come

far off
the navy men scan the seas
waiting for a blip on the radar

far off
a marine is receiving shock training
and practicing what it is to be dead

far off
icbms with nuclear payloads are capped
their ignition sources itching for flight

far off
but not so much
Daivik Jan 27
They had nothing to give
To their motherland
Except their mortal lives
So they gave it cheerfully
Without a second thought
To see her wrinkled smile

These road on which we stand today
Were built upon layers of stone
And skulls of warriors great
This freedom wasn’t free
Of cost. Their debt we must pay.
Each and every day.

Two brothers fought
None won
Both lost
Freedom exacted a dear cost

As the clock struck twelve
On that August day
From heaven the martyrs cried
Their dream
Their struggle
For which they died
Was finally realized

The dawn was breaking
It was history in making
The charkha of time had turned
After so many years
A nation was waking
Next page