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Poetry Is Life Jan 2012
I love this boy
He loves this girl
We both get along-
In this horrible world

We will love each other-
To the very end
So on this new love
We must strongly depend

We'll live our lives-
And fight the duals
But if it all-
We're lovestruck fools
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.
Sierra R May 2010
indivIduals make up teams

                  lazy hands sLow boats
or they rush slides—Or both
                 very tired… Very tired…
               every day, thE same thing

                can’t we switCh it up?
                       raise youR hands!
               everyone togEther at the finish
                                   we Won!!
In equal quantities
I am he as much as
he is me,
we always fight
sometimes
I win
sometimes
not,
but then I grin
and bear it,

we share it
and by it
I mean me
or as he says,
he.
This feeling is mutual.
Liking the sandpaper scrape on my knee.
I never wanted two duals.
So I guess I got three.

I can't help but say,
Thank you for this day.
This feeling made it possible,
It’s not even audible.

The pain in the back of my head,
Reminds me of this feeling.
It tells me to go to bed,
And stop breathing.

One day I’m sure,
They’ll find a cure,
They will never start cancelling,
For this chemical off balancing.

Ode to a feeling,
This is precious.
Sounds like it has no meaning,
But it’s breathless.
Denis Barter Mar 2018
When a duelling dual, duel,
and Duello rules hold sway,
should the dual of duellers duelling,
wear doublets to duel that day?

With Duello rules in place,
when duelling triplets duel
are they thought a terzetto trio,
if they follow the Duello rule?

When a quarrelling quartet duel,
do quadrille  rules hold sway?
or should they duel as dual duals,
with dual Duello rules in play?

Duels are only for experts,
there’s a talented skill required..
As only the winner survives,
all losers are deemed expired!

As duelling, passions run fiercely    ,
and a duel oft ends in death,
no matter that Duello rules apply,
a loser always draws his  last breath!

Rhymer. March 1st, 2018.
(On a roll! - Have fun!)
Michael Marchese Feb 2019
Just want to be myself
Not always by myself
But to be someone else
Spending their life
In pursuit of a furtive,
Unburdened disguise
Or an alias namesake
To hide it behind
Is so tempting a path
To set down
The ground rules
For the others all mask
Their identity-duals
Individuals few, far between
Go unseen
And among them
I labor in waiting
And dream
Of a day
I can finally say it
And mean
I am me
You are you
We are both
As we seem
Fluffy, fuzzy, full grown adult,
she groans as she stretches.
Marks flowing out.
Every ditch, all the trenches,
you may start to doubt.

Early morning chills
and after noon siestas,
midnight thrills
and raving fiestas.
She whips them out still.

Cute, cuddly, captivating sight,
she drags me back to bed.
Crushing windpipes, she holds me tight.
The bags of her eyes lit and embedded,
her imperfections, my delight.

Tag-a-longs
and weekends away,
movie marathons
and the down the driveway.
Absent only when at play.

Bashful, budding bravely,
herself allowing comfort.
Brisk winds, I dive for safety.
I plot revenge, her days are numbered.
Our duals are aloft, crazy.

Night sky gazing
And role playing games,
Fandom crazing
And thinking of names.
For me their all amazing.

Dreamy, daring, lacking dramas,
We waste the day away at lay.
What honeymoon, perhaps the Bahamas?
I drape an arm, her skin like clay.
God, she looks good in pajamas.
Ryan O'Leary May 2022
Sanctions are actions

taken by the strong

against the weak in

duals where weapon

choices were similar

   but wills differed.

— The End —