Bombs Away
In the skies above us
the birds tirelessly fly,
their aerial displays
are better than our own.
The sail across the currents effortlessly
and on their bombing raids
their targeting is precise.
Their bombs do not kill or maim,
but do mess things up a bit.
Never park under a tree
as they have a particular delight
of targets parked there.
They seem to like
the colour red when bombing
and their evidence is always seen.
Our feathered friends
swoop down from the sky
and enjoy their bombing practice
when one comes into sight.
The leader yells TALLY HO
and away they go
with a SPLAT here and a SPLAT there.
At just one glance,
you can tell you have been targeted.
Now just imagine how much
worse it could be
if cows learned to fly.
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Stop the Bombing
stop the bombing...
just stop the bombing!
murder is murder!
violence never brings peace.
there is no 'God'
who ever justified
one group of people
killing everyone
that is different.
no one people are superior...
hell, no one is superior
to anyone else...
nobody ever has the right
to own anybody!
quit stacking bodies
in the ditches...
stop digging the ditches!
stop the bombing!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It all went back to problems we had talked about before, you know, such as the British not believing in formation bombing and not believing in daytime bombing.
quote by Stuart Symington
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rain
Splat. Splat.
It drops on my window pane
Like blood from my pain
Betrayal feels like Cain
A steel knife cuts through a vein
A sharp knife impacts trauma deep
Wet eyes can' t see
Lead feet don't leap
Shattered hearts can't beat
Splat. Splat
Make me who I once was
Breathe through me and give me a voice
Bring back the pieces of me I have lost
I love thy smell, for thee I lust
As the wind kisses the earth's dust
And clouds gather to burst
As father time welcomes his sun home
And I lie here in darkness alone
As loneliness eats through my bones
And I curl into a cone
The skies birth thee forth
Splat.Splat.
Lead feet do move
Broken hearts can love
Out I run into droplets of God's own tears
Drop by dropp scare my fears
Buckets of thee drown my pain
Thy nature slide my tears
Thy scent gives me hope
I glance at my life
Same need. Same greed.
Same breed. Same creed.
When life brings me to my knees
And tears blind my vision
And folly clouds my judgment
And I need just one last breath
You are all I need
You are my.....rain.
poem by Jenim Dibie
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Killing By Computer
There is now computer simulated duck murder training..
similar to the computerized bombing of Iraq and Afghanistan
from Florida by computer.
We have a presidential candidate in the US who killed with
such abstraction... bombing Vietnamese women he did not
see from the air. The abstraction of violence generates a greater
level of violence.
poem by O. Anna Niemus
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The British were keen for 30 caliber guns, did not believe in daylight bombing. American experts said 30 caliber was not enough; we had to have 50 caliber, also said daylight bombing was right provided the planes attacked in formation, with 50 caliber guns.
quote by Stuart Symington
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Glorify War Heroes
Though talk of war and death and such I do not wish to hear
To glorify war heroes we have the balladeer
The old men displaying their medals march on war memorial day
Though they look tired and weary now and they are old and gray.
They weep for comrades who died young in battles far away
Young men who were buried in mass graves their bones far from home lay
'Tis said they died in freedom's cause though many with that do not agree
Since any lessons have not been learned from man's war history.
Each time I listen to the news the headlines mostly bad
A suicide bombing in Palestine a car bombing in Baghdad
More atrocities with a direct link to terrorism to many it would seem
But to those who give their own lives to kill the fulfilment of a heroic dream.
Of suffering and deaths linked to war so much has been written and said
And wives and mothers in the World today still mourn their war dead
And still the soldiers come back home to a victory parade
For people who shoot at other people too much respect is paid.
poem by Francis Duggan
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What you ask?
A punctuation mark… Molten in wax
A shimmering flirtation within the night!
A 'dog's cock 'a flower like Devils Flax
With its yellow and orange tongue—alight!
In the Qin dynasty— the first made of whale fat.
(221-206 BC) . What you ask? O the simple earliest candle.
'And, peddled to princes not any wharf rat'
Used to compose; by George Frederick Handel.
It was an interjection a big 'bang'
Can you imagine their exclamation? !
When White ivory keys scented of ylang-ylang
Went; splat, splat, splat in golden summation.
A dazzling feat was their interjections
Now we have light let's answer many more questions.
............................... ...............
A 'dog's cock' and 'bang' are also names for a punctuation mark!
poem by Mark Heathcote
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A Dog, A Cat
A dog, a cat, a bird, a bat,
They all lived in a sailors hat;
One day he said 'I'll throw you out, '
He did, they fell
Split splat, split splat.
(Written Feb 1994)
poem by John Carter Brown
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A Bitter Pill
Terrorism can be so frightening
A Black September of our times
And 'Bali' was one of the names
added to the list of crimes.
Terrorism is often so 'sudden'
No warning sirens are heard.
1939 had sirens and shelters
But terrorism is shockingly absurd.
This bombing outrage has a history
Of factions who kidnap and kill
And raids easily gain momentum
And the resulting horror is a Bitter Pill.
poem by Joyce Hemsley
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Freedom
Out in the South Atlantic
Our brave men go
To fight for peace and freedom
Against a hidden foe With ships and planes they sail the sea
In freedom for the world to see
Our hearts and prayers with them go out
Till peace at last we'll hear them shout Long days and nights on icy lands
The British men now withstands
The bombing raids and missiles too
Fighting for the likes of me and you God Bless you one and all I say
Your fight for freedom be not delayed
And when again once more you come
Back home again your job well done *written at the beginning of the Falklands War
poem by Lilian Nash
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The War It Is Over
Despite death and injury it has all been in vain
The war it is over but the hatred remain
The war it is over but the hatred won't die
And that war leads to peace and justice is always a lie.
The war it is over but not dead and gone
The simmering hatred and mistrust for decades live on
And too few realize two wrongs don't make a right
In a darkened soul you won't find any light.
This modern warfare is a horrible thing
Such suffering to non combatants it does bring
The pilots who on bombing missions do fly
Drop their parcels of death from the clouds of the sky.
The war supposed to end all wars ended decades ago
Yet in the twenty first century the numbers of the war dead grow
We need more people who believe in live and let live
You kill someone's children you they won't forgive.
The war it is over but the mother in tears
The death of her innocents she will grieve for years
They lived in the wrong building and were there at the wrong time
Yet a war bombing mission gone wrong is not seen as a war crime.
poem by Francis Duggan
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What Goes Around . . .
In position and out of sight,
hiding until the time was right,
the cat crawled forward with such skill,
the bird could not escape the "kill." It happened almost every day.
The cat would never miss its prey.
So many kills against its name,
it loved to play that "pouncing" game. But then one day, the cat outside,
not chasing birds, no need to hide,
just lying in the grass to rest,
and dreaming of that new found nest. But suddenly, an angry cry,
the sound of many birds nearby.
Like bombers on a bombing run,
they started "swooping" one by one. The battle on, surprise attack,
the cat "pinned down," could not fight back.
The "message" on that battleground,
what goes around does come around.
poem by Art Milkes
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Raining
All good things must come to the eventuality of an end.
Again its raining,
its always seems to be raining.
The disappearance of the sun.
Where has it gone?
In the darkness hides the light.
Taking a peek behind the curtain of grey clouds.
Putting an end to another shroud.
A temporary loss is temporarily found.
With it I hear the sounds of rain drops hit the ground going splat, splat.
A constant impact.
All good things must come to the eventuality of an end.
Again its raining.
Its always seems to be raining
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Succession of A Transgression
The succession of a transgression.
Isn't always for the best.
Some times you just make more of a mess.
Will somebody fix the fixers please.
As if you really have a cure to their disease.
Maybe it is you that is the one with the problems.
Like a bird you keep dive bombing.
The cat is waiting this time.
He will get you.
So keep at it.
I don't desire our country to fall into this category.
But I think it already it is.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Modern Government In Boom Flight Of Fancy
It is easy to be lost in a mist of maze words
it is easy to hide all true masked intentions
politics plays word games with grandiose deceit
general public with sleight of tv hand to deceive
a simple no fly zone innocent citizens to protect
swiftly becomes strategic western bombing supporting rebels
civilian protests in Libya for weeks becomes armed rebellions
a no fly zone allied air bombing support in brewing civil war
weeks will prove rewards well oiled rebel oil contracts in store
who will new Rebel Americano Nato oil company sell oil spoils?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Lickety Split
Licekty split, lickety splat
trying so fast to get where you're at
rushing around, trying to make ground
circling just like a merry-go-round.
Life is too short. Is that why we run?
The race that we're in we've already won.
Try to slow down.Enjoy the moment
or you'll never know how it was spent.
Stop in a pet store and watch a gerbil.
He's just like us, running his treadmill.
And where has it gotten him, still in a cage.
That is what's happening to us as we age.
Life's what you make it.
Don't make it a jet.
If that's what you do, that's what you'll get.
A life gone too fast, where is it at?
It's at lickety split, lickety splat!
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Stopping Vieques bombing range good; sooner is better.
There is a ""sanctity"" involved with bringing a child into this world: it is better than bombing one out of it.
quote by James A. Baldwin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Once you are a victim of a bombing, you enter a risk group to which they will not sell insurance.
quote by Ernst Zundel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why does the Air Force need expensive new bombers? Have the people we've been bombing over the years been complaining?
quote by George C. Wallace
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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