"torpedoed" poems
Large and wide
Deep and Cool
Filled with the purest water inside
It was our village's hallmark pool..
Stone lined walls on all sides
WIth steps going down to the water
And stones for washing clothes
Which also doubled for scrubbing our feet..
Live with fish and water snakes
Who were friends with us kids,
Frogs who would sing chorus during the rains
and ferns green and bright on the walls.
With overhanging trees on the banks
We came running and dived into the water
somersaulted and torpedoed
and swam in all fashions and styles...
Swimming and diving from the banks
We played "catch me if you can"
from the time we are back from schools
Till it is dark and when calls come from our homes.
With swollen finger tips
and red eyes, but
After the long swim and bath
Having dinner right away and
slipping into a good night's sleep...
Days where there were no TVs to watch
Days where there no homeworks to be done
Days where what mattered most were friends
Days which take us to the sweet childhood..
Gone is the pride of our village
there are no kids who play in the water
For there is no water in the pond
except for a few months during the rains
Kids are no longer kids
They have TV to watch
Phone and computers to play
Virtual friends to play with
Lucky we were
to have such beautiful childhoods
Such memorable friendships
Such adventurous rainy seasons
....
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 4:52 AM UTC
Water lapped up the side of the lifeboat
as it bobbed up and down on the sea
only seven ****** had survived
the rest had gone under and drowned
The first officer and the stoker
lent over a fellow ******
he was coughing up oil
and in unbearable pain, was screaming
The stoker mumbled, He's not got long
then he started to sob in his hands bitterly
they had been torpedoed by a U Boat
a day and three quarters out of Italy
The coughing then stopped
the ****** was dead
so they said a little prayer
then tipped him over the edge
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 10:11 PM UTC
I've a sinking friendship,
Torpedoed by the ********
And listing.
The first mate mutinied.
Once a blood brother,
Like no other;
An intimate
At an imminent end,
An alter-ego
More than a friend.
I've been too patient,
Veered off course
With understanding.
I'm quite sure
This Pythias
Would run and leave me
Hanging.
I'm on a cliff
And won't hang on
To a blade of trust,
A fawning pawn.
He had my back,
I turn,
He's gone.
This partisan
Must part
A homeless homeboy,
A dissembling fraud.
No longer a mainstay,
He's insecure,
His equivocations
Make lines blur,
I don't believe
Him anymore.
He really needs a soul-mate,
Classmate, playmate,
But he's become a reprobate,
Lying prostrate,
Lying up straight.
I'll drown my Boswell
In my inkwell;
No longer
An advocate.
The laughs have left,
Yes,
I'm bereft,
But I'll catch the wind.
My course is true.
This friendship
Can't be salvaged.
It's scuttled,
And I won't
Sink with you.
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 11:42 AM UTC
The planet is flooded
Submarine to New Zealand from Greenland
Torpedoed decisions, a well needed rest is at hand
Plastered, what a bash looking back at it
I needed that, now… where are my shoes?
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 1:12 PM UTC
You took a shovel and dug out the feelings i had left inside,
You took away my bubble and left an empty pit in it's place.
Am reeling from everything supposed to be there which isn't.
My heart beats yet it's mimicking motions of living.
My chest heaves taking in breaths,
Letting out frustration.
I know I said I let go but guess am a liar.
Or just a fool.
Cause I walked away and expected you to stay.
I turned my back and when you did too the tie between my destiny and yours snapped.
Didn't expect it to hurt as much though.
Like being torpedoed and crushed.
I passed by where we used to hang out,
Got hit in the face by a pair of ***** so big my heart stopped.
Dunno if it's cause I feel i can't compete with that, or maybe am just selfish.
Either way you won.
Couldn't do right by me.
And you got someone you are doing it all for.
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 3:19 AM UTC
The journey was harder than expected,
a struggle;
the sky spoke in dragon tongue,
and sand gnawed away at the skin,
grating to pulp those sensitive regions of the body.
Disaster struck on the third night in the desert;
a child
who’d been walking with the scouts,
and of whom every-one had been fond of,
slipped through a crevice in the mountain side.
They spent the better half of the early morning
picking
at the gangrenous green flesh
protruding from within fissure fangs,
swollen fingers of rot and despair that reeked of death.
Before they knew it, the dunes had shifted;
disgruntled
by their own negligence,
they packed up and loaded the camels.
The child’s parents remained and prayed for a miracle.
The caravan held two minutes’ silence.
The vultures
didn’t give a flying ****
skipped miraculous death rehearsal,
and hot-shadow-torpedoed mother, father, and trapped daughter.
The Sun oozed mustard-pus and black blood,
so perceived
by those who didn’t have time
to ****** their protective goggles and
Go!
The government troops had been onto them in a flash.
Mar 3, 2011
Mar 3, 2011 at 6:25 PM UTC
HESIONE*
Shut in her room with the scent of roses
pounded with wet stones
picked one by one from the riverbank and shining still,
Hesione struggled to remove the clasps
which she placed on a piece of cloth weaved by her grandma.
Days later she lay in bed wrapped in a sacred vestment.
Secret hopes torpedoed her body
and for a moment removed the clasps from the groin.
All worthless.
People were buried nearby.
The freshly-dug graves smelled of tamarisks.
She and the Thoans scanned the sea.
Nothing reminded one of who she was and why she mourned.
She forgot all about Hercules, thurifications and joys never to be.
Now all worthless.
POEM FORM THE COLLECTION SALUADER
BY MARIA PANOUTSOU TRANSLATED IN ENGLISH BY GIANNIS GOUMAS
Oct 30, 2016
Oct 30, 2016 at 4:07 PM UTC
Ventilation shaft
aft.
Fresh air pumped out in a flash.
Upon crash dive a bell will sound, hold
tight
we're going underground.
Like moles who wish to buck the trend
I wish the constant night would end,
these tunnels that we make..
..me laugh.
Ventilation?
Call it gas.
****** in, trucked out, this is what life's all about, shifting shadows shape us into that which is the late
us.
Fluid chains of ether either here or in Ibiza,
ventilation from the shaft?
or just the same old laughing gas?
Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 7:55 PM UTC
In Mrs. Schmutz’s first grade class
In nineteen sixty-two
I took a babe for show and tell
DelRae, that babe was you!
I held you up for all to see
Then passed you down the aisle
The little girls all ooh-ed and ah-ed
To see your toothless smile
The little boys were less impressed
Until you passed some gas
Then thought you were the coolest kid
In Mrs. Schmutz’s class!
You seemed to like the accolades
And shot a little spray
Mi amigos that ain’t nada
Is what you seemed to say!
The teacher ran to wipe it up
All frantic and befuddled
Then slipped and fell right in that spot
Where you, DelRae, had puddled!
The girls giggled girlishly
The boys let out a roar
The principal came striding in
Take that and raise you four!
You burped a *** of curdled milk
Torpedoed in his eye
I don’t recall another time
I’ve seen a grown man cry!
He banned you from that first grade class
I guess his pride was smarted
‘Cuz you were kicked out of that school
And hadn’t even started!
Some fifty years have come and gone
Since all that stuff you did
So Happy Birthday, DelRae Scott!
You’re still the coolest kid!
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 4:29 PM UTC
My love never faded away , but
Your hesitation torpedoed my dignity
You sat vis_a'_vis me and said nothing
Your silence was truly deafening
Feb 26, 2016
Feb 26, 2016 at 11:23 AM UTC
four bodies lay
here in this small, square piece of ground
made especially for you gents
they dragged your bodies from the shore
the morning after your ship was torpedoed
while protecting the North Carolina coastline
many remain forever in the Graveyard of the Atlantic
brave souls you were
giving your very lives
in defense of an ally
and seventy-five years later I take a few moments
to acknowledge your bravery and your sacrifice
upon returning home I replay moments from my trip
to Ocracoke and Hatteras Island
and during my short stay at the British Cemetary
when I felt honored
to be standing in the presence of the lost souls
of the Bedfordshire
a voice whispers...'We are at Peace'
Dec 6, 2017
Dec 6, 2017 at 4:03 PM UTC
(when living nightmare pierced real time
thus engendering the following rhyme)
adrenaline powered stealth bomb blast
with the noggin of this, ah... ur... bane chap,
which debilitating anxiety doth outlast
means to cope (thunder and dumb struck)
with stranger mental things
at expressed vertigo, nausea, racing heartbeat
ogres recreated tormented, torpedoed, tortured
most decades from my yesteryear,
which aye presumed long passed.
now, within my head "guerilla"
warring faction
lobs a grenade followed by "bombs away"
broadside finding this body electric doing
a kamikaze nosedive into sick bay
where major organs suffer direct hit
analogous to a giant fist
smashing pumpkins,
sans thine flesh as if clay,
which psychic sortie plagues my ability
to function reduced
tub bing bedridden one day
approximately one week ago
from this thirtieth of April
tooth house sand ate teen gray
ting, grinding, and grounding with figurative
threshing blades employed
to winnow chaff from hay
literally crushing willpower,
where invisible jaws
of sharpened steel interlay
atop pulling stalwart garrison strafed,
(akin to a crash test dummy) named Jay
Walking to become blindsided
obliterating every last trace to stay alive
hence, this emergency transmission,
viz this bloke communicating
desperate plaintive wail,
that I haint okay
with plea PLEASE HELP
this tortured soul on verge pray
begging tubby rescued before drowning
like a panicky gull clay pigeon,
and buoy albatross
strangling me far distant from any quay
quickly sinking spirits,
abducted via fiendish runaway!
Apr 30, 2018
Apr 30, 2018 at 5:42 PM UTC
You can look over your shoulder as those seconds run up and the minutes overtake,then you wake and you're older,
I told her,
this is the way of it.
Time
who would lay with it of their own will,
it's never free
someone, sometime is always there with the bill.
You
will pay
and every time you disobey it,the rewind will replay it and remind you that the seconds are mounting the minutes, to be set into the hours that run rings around your eyes.
Despise it
surprise it
but you better realise it,
time
always
wins
in the end.
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 11:04 AM UTC
I wanted to tell you
I couldn't live without you
but no words came
When I told you go away
I expected you to say no way
and wipe my tears away
.
.
.
Your absence really torpedoed my life
Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 5:53 AM UTC
You were March in the month of December.
a vague promise of Spring,
but your spirit was frostier, than the month February.
You were the quiet storm I never saw coming.
A level five hurricane that torpedoed through
my hopes and dreams.
You were the spoken word of a plagiarizing poet.
You were the horror before the panic attack,
that panicked the little girl that lived happily in me.
You were that fiery rain in July,
which incinerated my satin skin alive.
You had the fire extinguisher in your hands,
yet broke the nozzle to watch me scorch and gradually die.
You were a once a year-twenty four hour sunset
in an Alaskan sky.
You had a crimson light in you
that made the devil squirm as he looked into your soulless eyes.
In my innocent eyes,
I thought that light was special,
I didn’t think, it would be the malevolent light of the East.
In a million years, did I think, that light,
would blind,
would hurt,,
would break,
would burn,
would abased,
would debased,
would bring me to my knees.
I saw all the angels,
I saw Jesus,
I saw God,
Mother Mary,
even the devil-interceding for me.
Yet their shrieks were not endearing to thee,
For nine hours you forced your demonic self and beat me.
But here I am.
I am stronger, than you would ever be!
LeydisProse
5/24/2017
https://m.facebook.com/LeydisProse/
Jun 1, 2017
Jun 1, 2017 at 11:28 AM UTC