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——Allied, 2016 movie  

Prologue:

WWII setting, covert operations
in German-occupied Casablanca

"Love and Hunger rule the world."
Consequently to dominate the world,
man had to win a victory over hunger,
after paying a very high price.
~~~~~
Scenery I.  Casablanca
-----------
All are of one colour: yellow,
Parachuting into the Moroccan desert,
He swept dune seas, hypnotically,
Not a patch of shade, not a drop of water,
only an infinite sea of yellow sand. 
~~~~~
Action I. Max & Marianne meet

Max Vatan (M) took a wedding ring,
Looking, Searching and Wandering:
Order Code:
1. Your wife dressed in purple;
2. A scarf stitched with a wild yellow bird

(Party Hall,Marianne Beauséjour swirled around)
Slowly, she turned back to him,
Loudly, she shouted out in French,
C’est mon meilleur et le plus beau mari.

~~~~~
Scenery II.

Sunrise at Casablanca desert
And the entire desert is theirs.
As all the skies are the stars and the sun’s kingdom.
There are no doors; hearts are open,”
——Southern Moroccan Secrets.”

Featured Conversations:
--------------
Marianne lifted up her lips and asked Max:
“Le Québécois? What are our odds?
Of surviving? 60-40, against. Both of us, I don’t know.”

So, tell me about Medicine Hat, Marianne kept asking
Max Vatan: Pretty green. Rolling hills.
Clear water. Just a place I go when things get dark.
You? Do you have a place?
Marianne Beauséjour: When the war is over
it won’t matter where I am.

~~~~~
Action II. Assassin

Fear not the weapon but the hand that wields it,

Beware the feelings of two agents allied,
they strike in the darkness

Fear not the weapon but the hand that wields it
Beware the shadows if you value your life
they strike in the darkness


20:31, 20:32… Counting down,
Trois, Deux, Un… 20:35
Allied couple, a possible mission  

Boom! Bang! Explosions screamed
into glass, into fire and smoke.
Is it our only chance of escape?

Before the Mission, Assassin comes 

Nothing to live for, nowhere is safe,

Stick to the light if you wish to escape.


~~~~~
Scenery III.
Along the corridor in the V section  
“they never say what they mean
and they never mean what they say,
and they never say anything on the phone”


Action  III: 72hours Blue-dye” procedure
~~~~~
1st 24 Hours:

Who really is Marianne?
That was a repeated question from Max
As no iron curtains made of steel

conniving happy family with things to steal

A pair of birds perched on a live wire
 
Only to set up a mission to conspire

2nd 24 Hours

Is this a game or a test?
Max thought he has understood it clearly

That love for a spy is only a game to play.
Have you heard his soundless scream
When the war was there, a game to share
With V-Section, life or death.
A test. A game.

The last hours: Ending letters

Je t'aime, Québécois, Marian said her last words to Max.
She shot herself.
blood and red coat, soaked into the rain  
Her voice swings to Medicine Hat

Where Pretty green. Rolling hills
Clear water…When the war is over,
it won’t matter where I am ..
A young girl, Anna read this letter with her father,
at Medicine Hat.
Quite reflective movie that I watched it 3 times. The story picks up a year later with Max and Marianne married and living in London with their infant daughter in as much bliss as one could possibly hope for during wartime.
07/08/2020
Revised 12/08/2020
AsianGenderWater May 2019
I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

Please forgive me.
Or at least, pretend to.
I know you really won’t.

They’re dead.
They’re all dead.
And it’s all my fault.

Why didn’t I stop him?

Why couldn’t I save them?

You hate me, don’t you?
Surely you do.
He made me a murderer.
We slaughtered your men.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

Please pretend you forgive me.
Please pretend you still love me.

I’m sorry, dear brother.



I love you too.
Sort of a response/sequel to my China poem. This one is from Japan. Again, invasion of Manchuria.
AsianGenderWater May 2019
2500 years ago,
In a forest far from home,
I found you, aru.
A tiny child, surrounded by towering green bamboo.

I helped you,
I raised you,
Even though you lived far away.
Two brothers
In two countries.

2000 years later,
And you invade my land.
My men are dying,
But I can't do anything.

You smile
As you watch us suffering before you.
You cheer
As you watch the crimson puddles become a lake.

What happened, aru?
What happened to that child?
What happened to us?
Are you even my brother, aru?

You were kind.
You were a good man.
You cared about me.
Once.

What happened, aru?

What caused this rage?
What have my men done
To deserve this punishment?

Come back, aru.
Save yourself from this demon.
This isn’t you,
I know it isn’t.



Please, aru,
Don’t do this.

You can **** all my men,
But, please,
Spare me.



I still love you, aru.
A poem about China from Hetalia: Axis Powers. The slaughter mentioned is the invasion of Manchuria during WW2.

I wanted something really sad so have China being killed by his brother.
Jenny Gordon Mar 2019
(Intending to ink this early Sunday evening, twas useful I didn't....



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCLXI)


Think:  "they said twas a war-time measure..." pale
Skies washed of clouds as golden light from hence
Bathes these lost wastes with April's freighted sense
Of violets just in tow; as blue heavns hail
The dinner table set with plates t'avail
Our refried beans, cheese, yoghurt, chips fr'intents,
Where all have better things to do, pretense
Trimmed to half curtsy whiles I search for bail.
So I dined when the clock said "now." in tour,
And yearn to linger, watching those deep blue
Heavns which cull shadows to cavort as twere
In Sunday evning's calm.  Yet that won't do.
I wash the dishes; study all, then fer
Whatever, scamper off til gloaming'd woo.

11Mar19a
...since President Trump tweeted Monday morning.)
Brandon Conway Oct 2018
My heart paces in an abandoned cage
that still holds the smell of lions ****
and human decay

They took my house from me
and He
abandoned me and the early seed

Oh how
love loses to profession

and I lost both
for something that may be
traced back to my blood
even though
I have never even been in a Synagogue
or prayed

It doesn't matter to the ones in
crisp black, green, and grey

The word I hear
from the birds tweet
animals are being imported
from Germany

This cage is not an idea home
but it has kept me safe
but now
I am truly alone
due to what they think is my faith

I must survive
for the little one inside
otherwise
this would be the end.
Sharon Talbot Aug 2018
I never knew until now,
Dear Dad, though
I listened to the stories you told,
Of War that re-ignited after the one supposed,
To end all wars, or so it was proclaimed.

You went abroad, your Varsity
Stalled, dreams put aside,
Long before I was born,
Before you met my mother or I was named.

Instead, you wanted to fly,
High above the Bay of Bengal
And the Andaman Sea,
Above the carnage, or so you said.
And that must have seemed a way to save
That sanity
You needed to take you through,
To come back and marry a beloved girl.

I watch the newsreels now,
They are old, with time and victory ingrained.

I can see you flying that high,
Himalayan peaks shining in your eyes,
Cold death above and horror below.
You told me stories, I recall,
Too young for me to imagine.
Now too old for me to hear them all.

You never piloted again
Except in your nightmares.
On a road between moon and sun
In your own history you flew
The infamous, undying path
Of The Burma Run.
My father, an Army Air Force Captain, put off college and piloted cargo planes over "The ****", on the Burma Run from India to China. He wasn't prone to tell stories, yet sometimes he would talk about his flights, the wonder and danger of them, being fired at, watching his friends' planes crash into mountains and land in a war zone. He was proud of his service, yet damaged by it, as is so often the case.
CGW Mar 2018
Black soot coats the earth as falling bombs in an airstrike wipe us out.
Fallen bodies cluttering broken streets, 1944, the soldiers march through a ****** fog. A city once full of life lay dead and covered in blood. Like graceful synchronized swimmers the soldiers compress the soot with the heels of their boots. The weight of the rifles grows heavier as the march goes on.

HALT!

Solidifying into solid lead. The blue sky whistles bombs like children whistling to lullaby's. One by one they melt into puddles. One by one the black  bombs shred us apart.
I was inspired by Pink Floyd,s The Wall
Bird's flight
Tight light
Be op do op and all the light
Over the tired and torn world

The shingle-tingles
Peg leg harms
Needles  beadles
Pawnshops mattresses

Brownstone runs
Past and reeds
Diminished incliner
Augmenting disarranger

Kali and calipers
Ricoh fives fire knives
Air recess
Dying confess

Less swing than gallows
Racing  tracing
We passing
Futile asking
Steve Page Nov 2017
Simple isn't the same as easy.

Waiting isn't the same as staying
 awake
Hearing isn't the same as heeding
 commands
Walking isn't the same as staying
 dry
Shooting isn't the same as hitting
 your target
Advancing and isn't the same as dodging
 the bullets
Fighting isn't the same as killing
 men.

Simple isn't the same as easy.
Living isn't the same as living
 with your memories.
Dog, Easy, Fox;
an uneasy company of brothers.
Thoughts on battle and brothers.  
This was prompted by a combination of things: the movie Dunkirk; an interview with a WWII veteran on the fiction of the band of brothers mythology (i.e. they were too **** scared to think if anything but getting home in one piece); and a novel 'Old Man's War's' a science fiction novel by John Scalzi which tells the story of new recruits in an interstellar war in which the recruits are 75+ with minds downloaded into a 20-something version of themselves.  War is seldom glorious and takes a heavy toll on the conscripts.  Stories of  Easy Company exploits in WWII are well documented. Dog and Fox Companies were there too.
Dog, Easy, Fox are part of the US phonetic spelling alphabet used during WWII.
Andy Randell May 2017
The smoke that rose
It's grey to orange bloom
Throwing ash to the air
Bugs dance like ghosts with
Burning bodies darting while
Posing the threat of eating what
Happens to be the flesh on which they land
Pulsing as it was in London
All that now matters is housed
We peak through the windows
Thunderous fog rolls along the harbour
Gutters running over stocked by
Spilt beer and glitter
A girl who lost her shoe unaware
She's leaving her friends to drag
Half-crawling to the stadium
Combing lawns for misplaced cigarettes
Snapping food into her belly
Three more times the bell shouts
And even the sky of fire
Has found it's way off the streets
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