Under a bush hat
Under a bush hat
high up in a big tree
with my pack on my back
and strapped to a branch,
with a rifle in my hands
sleep crept up on me
really casually.
a Branch breaking at the bottom
brought me quickly back to reality
and I was astounded
to see a company of black men
armed with enemy weapons
passing without looking up.
Later it turned out to be
friendly forces,
being were they should not have been
but we could have drawn
friendly fire
and suffered casualties
and somehow a higher power
kept elite soldiers from detecting us.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Soldier (not really a poem)
the american revolution was fought witha new breed of soldier.
this country was founded on that soldier.
that soldier is the one that those on the front lines calls the coward
that soldier is the one that those on the front lines call when they need help
because these soldiers dont miss.
these soldiers are trained harder than the most elite frontline man
these soldiers are tought to kill their enemy before there enemy sees them.
these soldiers are the ghosts in the night,
these soldiers are the wind in the day
these soldiers are everywhere.
these soldiers are the bush next to u.
these soldiers are the the tree across the field.
these soldiers are the lump of snow in the flat plain.
these soldiers are snipers.
snipers are the reason we are free.
snipers stop the enemy before the enemy gets close to u,
poem by Joshua Decker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Back In Black (live 1981)
Back in black
I hit the sack
I've been too long I'm glad to be back [I bet you know I'm...]
Yes, I'm let loose
From the noose
That's kept me hanging about
I've been looking at the sky
'Cause it's gettin' me high
Forget the hearse 'cause I never die
I got nine lives
Cat's eyes
Abusin' every one of them and running wild
CHORUS:
'Cause I'm back
Yes, I'm back
Well, I'm back
Yes, I'm back
Well, I'm back, back
(Well) I'm back in black
Yes, I'm back in black
Back in the back
Of a Cadillac
Number one with a bullet, I'm a power pack
Yes, I'm in a bang
With a gang
They've got to catch me if they want me to hang
Cause I'm back on the track
And I'm beatin' the flack
Nobody's gonna get me on another rap
So look at me now
I'm just makin' my play
Don't try to push your luck, just get out of my way
CHORUS
Well, I'm back, Yes I'm back
Well, I'm back, Yes I'm back
Well, I'm back, back
Well I'm back in black
Yes I'm back in black
hooo yeah
Ohh yeah
Yes I am
Oooh yeah, yeah Oh yeah
Back in now
Well I'm back, I'm back
Back, I'm back
Back, I'm back
Back, I'm back
Back, I'm back
Back
Back in black
Yes I'm back in black
Out of the sight
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Come With Your Weapon
Come, friendly bombs, and descend on London
The fits cascade on human sufferings or casualties
They fit in the yesterdays, as a future too bereft
Today concerns us when we ascertain the degree
Come, O weapons, and fire at soldiers of fighting and treason
Let the judge of crimes be heard at last
Shall the military judge accept your story so consumed?
Will events last on the shelves of minorities?
Combat embellishes me and my crew of defeaters
To blow me to smithereens!
To brightly walk in the company of the army
In the face of a battlefield, the one planet
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Back In Black
Back in black
I hit the sack
Ive been too long Im glad to be back [i bet you know im...]
Yes, Im let loose
From the noose
Thats kept me hanging about
Ive been looking at the sky
cause its gettin me high
Forget the hearse cause I never die
I got nine lives
Cats eyes
Abusin every one of them and running wild
Chorus:
cause Im back
Yes, Im back
Well, Im back
Yes, Im back
Well, Im back, back
(well) Im back in black
Yes, Im back in black
Back in the back
Of a cadillac
Number one with a bullet, Im a power pack
Yes, Im in a bang
With a gang
Theyve got to catch me if they want me to hang
Cause Im back on the track
And Im beatin the flack
Nobodys gonna get me on another rap
So look at me now
Im just makin my play
Dont try to push your luck, just get out of my way
Chorus
Well, Im back, yes Im back
Well, Im back, yes Im back
Well, Im back, back
Well Im back in black
Yes Im back in black
Hooo yeah
Ohh yeah
Yes I am
Oooh yeah, yeah oh yeah
Back in now
Well Im back, Im back
Back, Im back
Back, Im back
Back, Im back
Back, Im back
Back
Back in black
Yes Im back in black
Out of the sight
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Tree And The Branch
the tree looks
upon a branch
where a ripe
fruit is hanging
the tree says
it is mine
the branch say
i am holding it
the tree says
the branch too
belongs to it
angry about the
tree's greed
the branch lets go off
the ripe fruit
a hungry child
picks it up
and goes home
with a happy heart
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Y.. Tree of Life
The tree of life
It has a branch
A money making branch
The bigger the money making branch
The more comfortable our life
But if the money making branch
Is the only branch
On our tree of life
It is such an ugly and unstable tree.
A prayer and devotion branch
Will stabilize the tree of life
Let it be a real big branch
On your tree of life
But if only two branches on a tree
Imagine how ugly it would still be!
So let there be branches
Of Affability and Charity
Of Cheerfulness and Friendliness
Of Gentleness and Honesty
Of Humility and Compassion
Of Spirituality and Wisdom
Of Courage and Hard work
With these branches present,
It will carry soon the lush greenery
Of love and job satisfaction
And soon enough, the tree of life
Will bear the fruits
Of peace of mind and happiness.
A wonderful tree of life I wish you
with many fine branches
and lots of greenery and fruits.
poem by Aufie Zophy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Branches In Time
A young tender
branch
is easily bent
into submission.
As time goes
by
maturity begins
to set in
the branch
grows stronger.
With each passing
day
she becomes able to
carry the leaves
attached
Until one day
raising her arms
high into the sky
a mature branch
emerges
refusing to bend
anymore.
poem by Heather Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
On a spoor
We were hot on a fresh spoor
and the bushman tracker said
that the enemy were not far ahead
when we crossed through some dense bush
under some trees
and looking up I saw something on a branch
camouflaged, dappled into the shade
and yellow eyes peered down at me
filled with rage, with energy
and astounded more than anything
I brought the gun to bear,
but the pent up energy,
melted with languid grace
right into the tree
as if it wasn’t aware of me, aware of us
and we walked on past a clearing
into the open veldt where hip high grass
was interrupted by some green thorn bushes.
A huge male lion came bursting
out of one of the bushes
with swishing tale running at full speed
and we all froze in our strides with weapons ready
and it was almost
as if the light machinegun’s trigger was tempting me
to shoot the raging storming animal down
and at that moment I was relieved
that it was not the leopard that would jump,
from one of us after another at sheer speed
and at quick succession try to kill us all
being a expert at baboon hunting
and thus at killing primates
but the tracker had signalled for all of us
to wait when he saw it
and that party of special force soldiers
was ready to kill when that lion
came to a halt with swishing tail right in front of me
and I can still smell its foul breath
when it roared with wide-open jaws
and terror hit my stomach like a mighty fist
and I could have cut it down
blasting it right from the ground
but the ferocity, the beauty of that beast
halted me as if I was watching it in a dream
and I watched its yellow fangs and pink tongue
totally motionless trying to stare it down
and suddenly it turned around
walking back into the veldt
timid and kitten-eyed
disappearing into the grass, melting into it
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Broken Branch, A Fervent Tree
Such compassion and beauty be,
With the comfort strongly felt,
A friendship intensely made,
By the obstacles both sides have dealt.
I have no life without my other half,
No laughter unfeigned, no smile undelayed,
Immensely crafted into a bond,
So resilient and true, yet not dismayed.
I am a branch without a tree,
If I'm not with you, I fall, I am unbalanced,
You are my inner strength, my inner warmth,
A clandestine unglanced.
Such a friend you are,
A friend that one could never imagine,
A feeling of mirth and undeniable care,
As warm as a joyful grin.
I am a branch without a tree,
Incomplete without a tree,
I am the branch, you are the tree,
A broken branch, a fervent tree.
- a poem for Lorena -
- a poem for CHULCZ -
poem by Nashy Lamen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Through the thick African bush
Through the thick African bush
a troop of soldiers patrol
with black painted faces
and webbing with ammunition bags
strapped around their chests
and h-frames, water bottles
and weapons in their hands
and death
as a comrade leaves
its tracts with them.
They do not ask any questions
in a v-formation they move along
they move along
and death takes its toll
of the enemy
and eats like a cancer
on the soul of everyone
that carries its instruments.
Small like ants
they tread tracts
in to Africa
and their buddy gets wings
and grows as far as they go
and bloody and dark and grim
it spreads over the whole continent
and brakes out
everywhere across the earth.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I saw an enemy soldier smoking
I saw an enemy soldier smoking
a long cigar and the flaming match
lit up the sight
and the glowing red
draw my aim
and the shell soundless fell
under the tree
and stars were in a black night
glowing as if knowing
where the angel of death
would visit next
and I used a branch as a gun rest
took another magazine
from the webbing on my chest
and clipped it on to the rifle.
A soft breeze started blowing
and I adjusted the sight
searching through the dark night
for movement or anything
that gave away the location
of the next enemy soldier.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ruins
Its so quiet in the ruins walking though the old town
Stones crumbling under my feet I see smoke for miles around
Oh its enough to make you weep, all that remains of the main street
Up in the park on sunday, dogs chasing and the children played
Old man with his head down, cant see nothing more around...no
But he remembers how it used to be, back in the old days,
So nice to see you coming back in this town again
Its nice to see a friendly face come peeping through having tea
In the afternoon, so nice to see you coming back in this town again...
Ah but its all changed winter turned on a man
Came down on day when no-one was looking and it
Stole away the land, people running scared, losing hands
Dodging shadows of falling sand, buildings standing like empty shells
And nobody...helping no-one else
Young child with his hands high, aint able to see no reason why...no
But he remembers how it used to be, back in the old days,
So nice to see you coming back in this town again
Its nice to see a friendly face come peeping through
Youd better know what youre going through now
You came back here to find your home is a black horizon
That you dont recognize, evil destruction has taken everything
Youd better walk on the side while youre still walking
Just keep on walking on down the street keep your distance
From the people you meet. oh lord and youd better watch your eyes
cause if smoke gets in them, baby you wont rise again.
Wheres it leading to freedom at what cost
People needing more and more and its all getting lost
I want back, I want back
Back to the time when the earth was green
And there was no high walls and the sea was clean
Dont stop that sun to shine, its not yours or mine...no.
song performed by by Cat Stevens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
All About Two Friends
Two true friends they were.
A kite and a sparrow living in a tree.
They chit-chatted all day long
And forgot the rest of the world.
None an nothing could separate them
There came a dark and short man once
Who smiled and smiled at the sparrow and
Said aloud, 'It can`t be, how is it that you are here now?
The sparrow turned pale and looked at his friend, the kite.
The little man was looking into a foliage now.
Two true friends they were.
The kite murmered into the ears of his friend,
'Fear not my friend, I shall take you to another tree high and tall
And save you from this dark and short brute..come with me'.
As they flew off unto a far away tree, the'brute'down still smiled.
Two true friends they were.
The kite made the pal sit on a tall branch and said,
'It`s safe here, let me go back and ask that brute who he is? '
The bigger winged beauty flew back to old tree and the'dark brute'
And he hovered around both for some time.
The dark and the short man heard the kite speak,
'Who are you to speak to my friend and why did you speak such words? '
The smiling 'brute'said, 'Oh bird, I am the god of death and as per my book
Thy friend, the sparrow should be on the top of a far off tree
And should have been eaten by a huge snake by now, and therefore alone
I spoke to your friend words'.
Shocked, the flew back to the tree high and tall,
His friend the sparrow was not there on any branch!
Down across the shrubs was moving a big python after feasting on the prey.
The kite flew off unto the skies infinite next.
He and his late friends were two true friends.
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
On patrol in the African bush
The LMG was getting heavy and hot
in my hands
and somehow the H-frame
became a part of my shoulders and back
and the stinging and unremitting African sun
was taking the last moisture out of us.
From nowhere some gnats appeared
and hang circling,
above our heads
Thirst was burning my throat
like scraping sandpaper,
but we could smell the river
and its cold water
looked inviting to us.
We were spread in an attack formation
and the squad was armed with
two LMG’s, a mortar
and R1-assault rifles.
The enemy tracks disappeared
near to the river
and we swerved to comb the banks,
to find the crossing point.
and we were at our nerves edge
and ready for fighting action.
Some tiny ripples appeared in the river
before the water at the riverside erupted
and three menacing happy snapper’s,
came fighting mad from the tranquil river.
Out of the nearest bush
an angry young lion rushed,
dragging a young gemsbok
away from the river.
With snapping jaws three crocodiles,
went for the astonished lion.
The lion roared in anger
and stood its ground,
but there were three jaws
opening and closing
with snapping teeth.
We froze and stared astounded
and saw the lion
tearing away into the bush
and the crocodiles dragging the buck
into the water.
[References=> LMG=> Light machinegun, R1 rifle=> Similar to Belgian FN-rifle]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
16 Shells From A 30-06
Words and music by tom waits
Plugged 16 shells from a thirty-aught-six
And the black crow flew through
A hole in the sky
And I spent all my buttons on an old pack mule
And I made me a ladder ftom a pawn shop marimba
And I leaned it up against a dandelion tree
Leaned it up against a dandelion tree
Leaned it up against a dandelion tree
Well I cooked them feathers on the iron spit
And I filled me a sachel full of old pig corn
And I beat me a billy from an old french horn
And kicked that mule to the top of the tree
Kicked that mule to the top of the tree
Blew me a hole bout the size of a kickdrum
And I cut me a switch from a long branch elbow
Im gonna whittle you into kindlin
Black crow 16 shells from a thirty-aught-six
Whittle you into kindlin
Black crow 16 shells from a thirty-aught-six
Well I slept in the hotter of a dry creek bed
And I tore out the buckets from a red corvette
Tore out the buckets from a red corvette
Lionel, dave and the butcher made three
You got to meet me by the knuckles of the skinny bone tree
With the strings of a washburn
Stretched like a clothesline
You know me and that mule scrambled right through the hole
Me and that mule scrambled right through the hole
Im gonna whittle you into kindlin
Black crow 16 shells ftom a thirty-aught-six
Whittle you into kindlin
Black crow 16 shells from a thirty-aught-six
Now I hold him prisoner in a washburn jail
And I strapped it on the back of my old kick mule
Strapped it on the back of my old kick mule
Bang on the strings just to drive him crazy
And I strum it toud just to rattle his cage
Strum it loud just to rattle his cage
Strum it loud just to rattle his cage
Strum it loud just to rattle his cage
Im gonna whittle you into kindlin
Black crow 16 shells from a thirty-aught-six
Whittle you into kindlin
Black crow 16 shells from a thirty-aught-six
song performed by by Bob Seger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Candle
By my bed, on a little round table
The Grandmother placed a candle.
She gave me three kisses telling me they were three
dreams
And tucked me in just where I loved being tucked.
Then she went out of the room and the door was shut.
I lay still, waiting for my three dreams to talk;
But they were silent.
Suddenly I remember giving her three kisses back.
Perhaps, by mistake, I had given my three little
dreams
I sat up in bed.
The room grew big, oh, bigger far than a church.
The wardrobe, quite by itself, as big as a house.
And the jug on the washstand smiled at me:
It was not a friendly smile.
I looked at the basket-chair where my clothes lay
folded:
The chair gave a creak as though it were listening
for something.
Perhaps it was coming alive and going to dress in
my clothes.
But the awful thing was the window:
I could not think what was outside.
No tree to be seen, I was sure,
No nice little plant or friendly pebbly path.
Why did she pull the blind down every night?
It was better to know.
I crunched my teeth and crept out of bed,
I peeped through a slit of the blind.
There was nothing at all to be seen.
But hundreds of friendly candles all over the sky
In remembrance of frightened children.
I went back to bed...
The three dreams started singing a little song.
poem by Katherine Mansfield
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Will He No Come Back Again?
Royal Charlie's now awa,
Safely owre the friendly main;
Mony a heart will break in twa,
Should he ne'er come back again.
Will you no come back again?
Will you no come back again?
Better lo'ed you'll never be,
And will you no come back again?
Mony a traitor 'mang the isles
Brak the band o' nature's law;
Mony a traitor, wi' his wiles,
Sought to wear his life awa.
Will he no come back again?
Will he no come back again?
Better lo'ed he'll never be,
And will he no come back again?
The hills he trode were a' his ain,
And bed beneath the birken tree;
The bush that hid him on the plain,
There's none on earth can claim but he.
Will he no come back again?
Will he no come back again?
Better lo'ed he'll never be,
And will he no come back again?
Whene'er I hear the blackbird sing,
Unto the e'ening sinking down,
Or merl that makes the woods to ring,
To me they hae nae ither soun',
Than, Will he no come back again?
Will he no come back again?
Better lo'ed he'll never be,
And will he no come back again?
Mony a gallant sodger fought,
Mony a gallant chief did fa';
Death itself were dearly bought,
A' for Scotland's king and law.
Will he no come back again?
Will he no come back again?
Better lo'ed he'll never be,
And will he no come back again?
Sweet the lav'rock's note and lang,
Lilting wildly up the glen;
And aye the o'erword o' the sang
Is "Will he no come back again?"
Will he no come back again?
Will he no come back again?
Better lo'ed he'll never be,
And will he no come back again?
Of Caterpillars and Childhood
We were childhood playmates
Way back in the late fifties
She was sort of a retardate,
We children were not aware of this.
One day we climbed a guava tree
And Celia (that's her name)
Tried to climb the tree with me
How we enjoyed that racing game!
On a stronger branch I sat
My brother climbed the other
As Celia climbed I noticed that
Green caterpillars were all over!
I jumped off that tree so fast
And my brother followed suit
Celia tried to get off, alas!
A caterpillar stuck to her foot.
She held to a branch in fear
Her hand crushed the green thing there
With a scream she let go, oh dear!
She fell on her back with a holler!
Her grandma came rushing over
As we laughed at the silly crying
But out came our angry Mother
And we were in for a big scolding.
Looking back I have my regret
I have not been able to say 'Sorry'
My friend was one I will never forget
So for her, I write this little story.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Will He No Come Back Again?
Royal Charlie's now awa,
Safely owre the friendly main;
Mony a heart will break in twa,
Should he ne'er come back again.
Will you no come back again?
Will you no come back again?
Better lo'ed you'll never be,
And will you no come back again?
Mony a traitor 'mang the isles
Brak the band o' nature's law;
Mony a traitor, wi' his wiles,
Sought to wear his life awa.
Will he no come back again?
Will he no come back again?
Better lo'ed he'll never be,
And will he no come back again?
The hills he trode were a' his ain,
And bed beneath the birken tree;
The bush that hid him on the plain,
There's none on earth can claim but he.
Will he no come back again?
Will he no come back again?
Better lo'ed he'll never be,
And will he no come back again?
Whene'er I hear the blackbird sing,
Unto the e'ening sinking down,
Or merl that makes the woods to ring,
To me they hae nae ither soun',
Than, Will he no come back again?
Will he no come back again?
Better lo'ed he'll never be,
And will he no come back again?
Mony a gallant sodger fought,
Mony a gallant chief did fa';
Death itself were dearly bought,
A' for Scotland's king and law.
Will he no come back again?
Will he no come back again?
Better lo'ed he'll never be,
And will he no come back again?
Sweet the lav'rock's note and lang,
Lilting wildly up the glen;
And aye the o'erword o' the sang
Is "Will he no come back again?"
Will he no come back again?
Will he no come back again?
Better lo'ed he'll never be,
And will he no come back again?
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The spoor
We were flown in
by a Puma helicopter
hot on the tracts
of a group of terrorists
who had attacked some farms.
A Bushman tracker was in the front
on the spoor, armed with a old R1,
two of the section
was armed with LMG’s
and I carried the a short barrel R5
and it was very hot
under a merciless sun.
The tracker told us
that one of the enemy
was wounded and at places
we saw drops of blood
and it looked
as if he was dragging his leg
in the way that he walked.
The going was fast
as we didn’t want to let them pass
the chop line back into Angola
and we were at a jog.
Suddenly in the distance
there was a firefight
and some shots rang out
sounding like AK-47’s
and locking our weapons
we hastened,
not knowing if another patrol
or who or what
had run into the enemy.
When got on the scene
the wounded terrorist was dead
trampled by a African Buffalo
who gored him
before setting on its enemy’s tracts.
He was left behind
by the group
who had come across an African Buffalo
and had fired at it,
only wounding that black beast
and had run away in the front of it.
The Bushman smiled and shook his head
laughing because of the actions
of the stupid terrorists
and we were hot on the tracks
of the Buffalo
following through a rocky dried out wadi
past some bushes
and into longer grass
when suddenly the eyes of the tracker
went huge as saucers
and he turned around
stumbled past me
and dropped his gun
on the ground right
next to me
running as if for his life.
This was quite awkward
seeing a man run
who had fought numerous
firefights with me
without a whimper of fear
now running as if
the devil himself
was on his heels
but the Buffalo
had turned around
on its tracks.
I saw that African beast
with eyes glaring almost red
and nostrils wide open
and horns lowered
and knew that my rifle
wouldn’t stop it
and if I didn’t I would be dead,
but the R1 would probably
since its larger full metal jacket bullets
could rip right through trees.
It must have been the quickest
that I have ever
picked up a gun
exchanging it for mine
bringing it to my shoulder
and started firing
and I could scarcely
believe my luck
when that buffalo bull
dropped there at my feet.
[References: R1= A rifle similar to the Belgian FN. R4= A rifle similar to the Israeli Gaelil. R5= a Shorter barrelled version of the R4 with folding stock, sometimes used by paratroopers and other special force soldiers. LMG= Light Machinegun. Chop line= Cleared aria on the border between South West Africa (now Namibia) and Angola.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!