Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
MasterPlutonium Nov 2014
A NEW DAY ARRIVES ON THE BLUE SEA,
THE LIGHT TOUCHING THE SAPPHIRE WATER.
THEN, WITH THE RUSH OF WAVES
BREAKING UPON ON THEIR METAL HULLS,
FOUR SHIPS OF GREY-PAINTED IRON & STEEL
CUT THROUGH THE WATER OF GLASS.

THE FIRST IS A NOBLE AND MAGNIFICENT WARSHIP,
A GREAT MONSTER OF IRON, FURY, AND GLORY,
A BATTLESHIP THAT WILL SPARK YOUNG BOYS IMAGINATION WITH COMPLETE FIREPOWER, KNOWN AS THE “GUN CLUB”.

FOLLOWING BEHIND IS AN CARRIER
WITH MANY WARPLANES THROTTLING
FOR LAUNCH, ANXIOUS FOR COMBAT.

NEXT IS A DESTROYER, ITS CREW
TRYING ITS BEST TO RESTRAIN ITSELF
AND STAY WITH ITS BROTHERS IN ARMS.

LAST, BUT CERTAINLY NOT LEAST, IS A CRUISER,
A MERE SMALLER REPLICA OF THE
BATTLESHIP, BUT NOT BE UNDERESTIMATED.

BELOW THESE SURFACE BEHEMOTHS IS A
SILENT STALKER OF THE DARK ABYSS,
A FAST SUBMARINE, MASTER OF THE ART OF ATTACK.
WITH A SIGNAL PASSED BETWEEN THE
WARSHIPS, THE FLEET GOES ITS SEPARATE WAYS
AND PREPARES TO FIGHT A MORNING WAR;
A STORM OF UNPRESCIDENT CHAOS AND DEATH.

AS THE SUN BEGINS TO TOUCH CLOUDS,
A ROAR OF ENGINES ECHOES ACROSS
THE BRIGHTING SKY,
IN TURN JOINED BY THE CACOPHONY
OF MACHINE GUNS FIRING THOUSANDS
INTO SQUADRONS OF ENEMY JETS.

FRIENDLY AIRCRAFT BLAST IN THE AIR
FROM THE DECK OF THE AIRCRAFT CARRIER,
EAGER FOR EPIC DOGFIGHTS AS ONBOARD
SYSTEMS LOCK ONTO ENEMIES.

FROM THE DESTROYER ERUPT STREAKS
OF ANTI-AIRCRAFT MISSILES FROM
HIDDEN SILOS BELOW ITS DECKS.

SUDDENLY, A EXPLOSION ECHOES ACROSS THE OCEAN,
A SECOND LATER, GEYSERS OF WATER
ERUPT INTO THE AIR AMONG THE FLEET.

RADAR AND SPOTTERS CONFIRM THE
ENEMY ON THE HORIZON, JUST OUT OF MISSILE RANGE.

ON THE COMMAND OF THE ADMIRAL,
THE CRUISER JOINS THE SUBMARINE
AND LAUNCHES TORPEDOES
FROM THEIR DECKS AND TUBES.

WHITE COLUMNS OF WATER AND
STEEL ERUPT LIKE TOWERS AS
TORPEDOES HIT THEIR MARK.

BUT A SOUNDS LIKE SRIENS SCREAMING
ALL THEIR MIGHT ECHOES ACROSS
THE BATTLEFIELD AND LOOKOUTS POINT
OUT TWO ARCHING PILLARS OF FLAME
CURVE DOWN TOWARDS THEIR TARGET.

DOOMED TO ONLY WATCH, CREW
MEMBERS FIRE BULLETS TO STOP THE
MISSILES FROM THE SUB.

BUT THE EXPLOSIONS THAT FOLLOW AND
THE SHOCKWAVES THAT CAUSE GROWN
MEN TO BE SLAMMED AGAINST BULKHEADS
CONFIRM IT; ALL HANDS LOST.

THE CRUISER, NOW FAR FROM FRIENDLY
SUPPORT, WAGES A WAR OF IT OWNS AS
IT BECOMES SURROUNDED BY THE ENEMY.

BUT AFTER MISSILE, SHELL, AND TORPEDO,
THE OCEAN CLAIMS HER QUARRY WITH
WAVES OF RAGING BLUE FLOODING THE DECKS.

THE DESTROYER, FURIOUS OF THE
LOSS OF HER BROTHERS IN ARMS,
EXPELLS ALL OF HER WEAPONS IN HOPES
OF HITTING AT LEAST ONE OF THE ENEMY.

IN LUCK, THE FOE'S SUBAMRINE AND DESTROYER
BURN OIL AS THEY SINK, BUT FOR A PRICE:
THE DESTROYER BEGINS ITS SLUMBER
TOWARDS THE DARK ABYSS.

ALL SHIPS REMAINING ARE THE
CARRIERS AND THE MIGHTY DREADNOUGHTS
KNOWN AS BATTLESHIPS.

THE CARRIERS CONTINUE THEIR AREIAL DUALS,
LAUNCHING AIRCRAFT BARELY CAPABLE
OF FLIGHT OR FIGHT.

THEN, WITH THE SOUND OF DRAGONS,
THE BATTLESHIPS BEGIN THE FINAL PHASE
OF THE OCEAN BATTLE.

CLOUDS OF FIRE, SMOKE, AND STEEL ARE
BELCHED WITH ANGER INTO THE AIR
AS BOTH SHIPS FIGHT AROUND THE
STILL-BURNING HULLS.

SURVIVORS, DESPERATELY HOLDING ONTO
SCRAP TO STAY AFLOAT, CHEER THEIR FELLOW
BATTLESHIPS ON AS THE GREAT IRON GIANTS
DUKE IT OUT FOR THE HONOR OF THEIR NATION.

FINALLY, THE “GUN CLUB” BATTLESHIP,
EXACTLY AS SOON AS THE GREAT ORB
OF THE SUN BEGINS TO SINK, DESTROYED
THE ENEMY WITH ALL SIXTEEN INCH GUNS
LAND SHELL AFTER SHELL INTO THE ARMOR.


INTERNAL FIRES FINALLY CAUSE THE
STEEL BEHEMOTH TO SINK FOR ITS
CHANCE AT GLORY, VANQUISHED.

“HIT!! YOU SANK MY BATTLESHIP!”
I RAISE MY ARMS IN VICTORY AS MY
FRIEND AND MYSELF PLACE THE
FINAL PIN INTO THE FINAL RESTING
PLACE OF THE MISSING BATTLESHIP.
THUS MARKS THE END OF A BATTLESHIP GAME,
BUT IMAGINATION DRIVES THE BATTLE ON.
This poem was one of my best poems ever. Despite the name, this was originally named "A Game of Battleship." Pardon me for the confusion.
Hurble B Burble Apr 2017
B
Bow legged ******* boaters bombard a busking Baltic with berzerk bands of bonafide belligerence. Bravely he bolsters a border of boulders. "Begone brigands, before I bust your bulkheads!" Feeling browbeaten and bullied the ******* beat for a buffet. The Baltic beaming with brashness boasts of his burdensome backbone.
Lawrence Hall Nov 2022
as published in LogoSophia

Gave up trying to remedy the formatting...

“The Result was Silence”

“Today I initiated a telephone conversation with the President of the Russian Federation. The result was silence.” -President Volodymyr Zelenskiy

There is no silence in Kiev this dawn
Morning commutes, intermittent news feeds
Explosions. Power failures. How many will die
Without finishing their WORDLE today

Old men rattle their dentures in outrage
Sky News reports a couple of police officers
In the street below, smoking cigarettes
Which makes more sense than most things just now

Kharkov’s air-raid sirens are deeper than Kiev’s
There is no silence in Kiev this dawn

A Few Kind Thoughts for Roman Soldiers

If you have stood your watch throughout the night
To guard a clothesline of national importance
Dug foxholes only to fill them up again
And then patrolled through long days in the heat

If you have enjoyed Cinderella Liberty
And talking about poetry and girls
With a few mates down at the coffee shop
Because that’s all your poor pay can afford

You will then understand the conscript guards
Posted to keep order on Calvary

Afghanistan, Graveyard of 19-Year-Olds

Ghosts shriek in the wind from the Hindu Kush
Falling upon the lowlands in despair
Of any reality beyond death
In the blood-sodden sands where sinks all good

Walls, monuments, souls, hopes – all blow away
In the wreckage of long-fallen empires
Their detritus trod upon by tired men
Whose graves will be the howling dust of time

And yet the empire masters will return
And leave fresh offerings, remnants of the young:
A British Enfield, a Moghul’s lost shoe,
A cell phone silent beside the Great Khan’s skull

(First published in The Road to Magdalena, 2012)

We Have No Enemies Among the Dead
For the Young Crew of the Moskva
14 April 2022

Eternal Father, strong to save,
Whose arm hath bound the restless wave…
O hear us when we cry to thee
For those in peril on the sea -The Navy Hymn

Proud admirals and presidents rattle their medals

The young – in screams among burst steam lines die
Explosions and darkness and seawater and hatches sealed
The bulkheads blown, there is no up, no down
Only pain and horror and throat-torn shrieks

Proud admirals and presidents jing-aling their medals

Training manuals, pocketknives, and comic books
Naughty pinups, letters from Mom, wrenches, and boots
Toolboxes, ball-point pens, and coffee cups
Fall with the young deep down into the sea

Proud admirals and presidents dazzle the room with their medals

Mothers and fathers grieve in emptiness
Our Leaders caution them to mind their attitude

Proud admirals and presidents – to Hell with their medals

Crazy Old Men with Rockets ‘n’ Bombs

When you read to your brother or sister
A go-to-sleep book about bunnies and stars
You are healing a wound in Creation
Made by some malevolent old man

When you sing along with the washing machine
And help your MeeMaw up those tricky stairs
You are healing a wound in Creation
Made by some malevolent old man

When you sit on the steps late at night
And watch a pirate ship sail close by the moon
You are healing a wound in Creation
Made by some malevolent old man

When you pray for the bombed-out refugees
And put a little extra in the collection plate
You are healing a wound in Creation
Made by some malevolent old man

When you sing a song to the universe
It remains in the heavens forever

Because

You helped heal a wound in Creation

No Bombers Over Our Lady Help of Christians Catholic School in 1958:
A Brief Discussion of a Successful Cold War Tactic

from an idea suggested by Kirk Briggs

Some have scoffed about hiding under our tables
As protection from the Soviets’ nuclear strikes
But scorn not this truth of those factual fables:
It worked! No bombers! Post that as one of our “likes!”
Lawrence Hall Apr 2022
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                          We Have No Enemies Among the Dead

                              For the Young Crew of the Moskva
                                                  14 April 2022

                                Eternal Father, strong to save,
                                Whose arm hath bound the restless wave...
                                O hear us when we cry to thee
                                For those in peril on the sea

                                             -The Navy Hymn

Proud admirals and presidents rattle their medals

The young - in screams among burst steam lines die
Explosions and darkness and seawater and hatches sealed
The bulkheads blown, there is no up, no down
Only pain and horror and throat-torn shrieks

Proud admirals and presidents jing-aling their medals

Training manuals, pocketknives, and comic books
Naughty pinups, letters from Mom, wrenches, and boots
Toolboxes, ball-point pens, and coffee cups
Fall with the young deep down into the sea

Proud admirals and presidents dazzle the room with their medals

Mothers and fathers grieve in emptiness
Our Leaders caution them to mind their attitude

Proud admirals and presidents – to Hell with their medals
The Fire Burns Feb 2018
Shadows of the storm,
rage above icy waters,
last breaths of men,
long lost above.

Water and steel collide,
the harder doesn't always win,
and the fears are smothered
to blackness in pressured depths.

No last meal,
goodbyes are lost,
perhaps one day to be found,
scratched into bulkheads.

So sink into sadness,
weighed down with ore,
along with 29 men,
lost but not forgotten.
inspired by The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald

— The End —