The Very Wars They Inflict Upon Us
history remembers names
sculpted on white marbles
of soldiers who died
in their own valor
the very wars they inflict upon
us perhaps history too must not forget
the civilian, the innocent children, the crying women,
the mosques, and churches in ashes, the playgrounds missing,
the markets all blown up,
the trails erased one day, the forest flaming, the art museums gone
they planted the mines
and those who may have not forgotten
still clearly remember
on some days while they sleep on bed
some explosions still come alive
the dead still keep on dying
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Let's Remember Those Soldiers
Let's remember those soldiers
No matter alive or dead
Hold them dear to our hearts
And keep their memories in our heads
Let's remember those soldiers
As they fight on foreign lands
And pray they make it back home
Because it is all up to Gods hands
Let's remember those soldiers
And the hell they are going through
Praise them when they get home
For all they've done for me and you
Let's remember those soldiers
And their families they left behind
Should you know some of these families
Try and treat them a little more kind
Let's remember those soldiers
They are fighting for our rights
Before you go to sleep tonight
Say a prayer for them tonight
Let's remember those soldiers
And let them know that we care
But for the grace of God
We might be the ones over there
Let's remember those soldiers
And let's wish them all the best
May they all make it back home
So we all can get some rest
Let's remember those soldiers
Even ones from wars of the past
Though some are dead and gone
Let's make sure their memories last
Let's remember those soldiers
And docs and nurses in those camps
Taking care of the wounded
Let's put their faces on postage stamps
Let's remember those soldiers
And not just count them as a loss
For they are truely the ones
That pay the ultimate cost
wrote 3/7/2008 by Norman Hale Jr.
poem by Norman Hale
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The Foe...
(i must write it now,
lest this be forgotten
when you read this
perhaps by chance
this will tell you
that it is you and
i cannot forget what
i think you did
and that it could have
been disastrous
but i am never affected
and despite all those
malicious intents
i stay whole and
moving towards my
own specific direction)
then this afternoon we meet
again
(you are older now
some white locks of hair
tell me that i must pity you
and hence must forgive
you have nothing to pay
me
you have no debt)
if you ask me
i could have told you
no man can put a good man down
and the evil that you inflict
upon another
always comes back to
you with
twice as much destruction
or even more
the worst has become
your true friend and
the one who orders
you to destroy me
has vanished
in vain
erased from the map
and no one
remembers
or hates to remember his name
it is tautologous with
inequity)
i am inside my white
car
and i open my power
window
and i see you
walking in the rain
like a helpless
wet all over
chick
what a pitiful sight
for one
who was once
very
powerful
(and too corrupt
and very very
cruel!
how many innocent
souls have you
thrown to your
hell?
how many have you
ordered
liquidated?)
i cannot say any word
but then i say something
pleasing to your
ears when i say'
'Get inside the car!
I'll drive you
home.
It is raining.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Stupidity.
Stupidity.
We celebrate our dead heroes.
Their white headstones arranged in rows.
To mark where soldiers bodies lie.
They are no longer friends and foes
War cemeteries are tended well
in honour of the men who fell
It is the least that we can do
for men who died by shot and shell.
Each single death a tragedy,
each one recorded carefully.
To satisfy the bureaucrats
who collate deaths statistically.
I wonder why we cannot see.
That death alone claims victory.
Each new war adds to the score
of people dying uselessly.
Though we remember them with pride.
The countless men who sadly died.
Each thinking that their cause was just.
Involuntary suicide.
We celebrate our dead heroes
with white headstones arranged in rows.
Yet we still send young men to die
And always will do I suppose.
We do not learn from history
For no good reason I can see.
That wars prove nothing in the end
Except how stupid we can be.
Wednesday,30 December 2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Forgotten Soldier
The forgotten soldier. Hes getting older. Hes getting colder. Scarred for all eternity. Searching for divinity. Prayer yet to be answered. Smoking has just brought cancer. The forgotten soldier. Hes getting older. Hes getting colder. Looking for forgiveness in all the wrong places. So many name and so many faces. An anecdotal pun he has become. A history lesson has been undone. Wars never can be won. The forgotten soldier. Hes getting older. Hes getting colder. In his eyes lies the blood of many. Sleepless nights of sacrifice and murder. And in the end their is no one to comfort him. The forgotten soldier. Hes getting older. Hes getting colder. Times have changed. Now he can only wish he was flying a jet plane. Treated like dirt. Crippled and weak. And the man just turns the other cheek. The forgotten soldier. Hes getting older. Hes getting colder. Today is his birthday and he spends it in a nursing home all alone. To all he is forgotten dead and gone. But i remember, i remember all the forgotten soldiers.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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A Brush with England
There is something
Electrifyingly alive
A spirit of great
Imaginative power
An atmosphere imbued
With history and energy
A bridge that links
The past to the present
Encompassing almost
A thousand years
All this comes alive
In the streets,
In the shopping malls,
In the art galleries,
In the museums,
In the churches
In the castles and
Most of all
In the deep country
poem by Leonard Daranjo
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Wars Defiant Ones
(7/2/12)
They came back from the war as defiant as can be
As if they had a split personality.
Tragedies had opened up the doors
To many things they never saw before.
Seeing homeless children roaming the streets
Women who didn't listen - would get beat.
Terrorist groups killing their own
Pipe bombs planted, ready to be blown.
Civilians scattering all around
Dead bodies laying on the ground.
Men, women and children in the square
On their knees saying their prayers
But to a terrorist they don't care.
Don't they realize that life must change
Nothing ever stays the same.
Families being torn apart
As death tears at their hearts.
Natural causes kill millions of people every day
Why are we letting war lead the way?
No matter what name for GOD you may use
When it comes to war - we all lose.
Look at the hospitals in a war zone
Children left with no skin and broken bones
People have lost many a limb
The war is getting worse - it looks grim.
YES! AMERICA has lots of imperfections
But people look to us for protection.
Our soldiers After seeing all the atrocities
They come back defiant as can be
To try to change the course of history.
poem by Louis Rams
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Forgetting To Never Forget
September 11th 2001,
Only a child of five years,
Now 13,
Now I cant remember,
Now I have forgotten,
I cant remember what I was doing,
I cant remember how I felt,
The worse day of Amarican history,
And I will never remember,
I'll know it was there,
I'll know it was horrid,
I'll just never remember me,
I have forgotten,
To never forget,
poem by Samantha Guinen
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The History Teacher
Woman!
Where exactly
Did you put me
In the women's history?
Am I History?
Or a part of it?
And for how long you are lacking me in;
Between
Your History,
Women's History, and
Your archives?
Does time make sense to you
As a History teacher or
As a History professor?
Cause', History, buying time, and rejuvenation
Are for emperors.
Are you making me
An emperor?
Or a Faeroe?
If so,
How precise your are?
And if you can't feel my present presence
how possibility could you feel me through your archives?
poem by Atef Ayadi
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the threat in Mindanao
there is no need of a crystal ball to see what is really happening
and why
we shall all predict the next event
it starts with a mild attack and there will be so much
talk over tv and the radio
where the ears of the masses are stuck
they will hear about some ears cut and bodies of children mutilated
buses burned and mass evacuation of
innocent civilians on the hinterlands
of known places
mosques and churches shall not be spared
surely these will ignite religious hatred
and stir the hearts of all
good men
it will take days and days of violence
muslims and christians killing one another
ignoring their faiths within their hearts
that they are brothers
under one roof
if we only listen to the laughter of the lying woman
who plans all these things
to prolong her life
for another set of six years or more
like the old man
who died of lupus
many years back
she learns from him and will work the plan layed beforehand
it does not matter who dies and who kills
what matters most is power
we must not lose track of our belief as brothers
keep us in your mosque
as we too shall keep your women and children in our churches
in our houses and places of peace
we shall remain as children of one God
let us pray that her lies shall not cause the annihilation of us all
we are the true owners of this place
and not her or her cohorts
her own devils spread wearing the faces of gentle men
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ashes In Your Mouth
People have round shoulders from fairing heavy loads.
And the soldiers liberate them, laying mines along their roads.
Sorrow paid for valor is too much to recall
Of the countless corpses piled up along the wailing wall.
Melting down all metals, turning plows and shears to swords,
Shun words of the bible, we need implements of war.
Chalklines and red puddles of those who have been slain
Destiny, that crooked schemer, says the dead shall rise again
/chorus/
Where do we go from here?
And should we really care?
The end is finally here,
God have mercy!
Now weve rewritten history
The one thing weve found out,
Sweet taste of vindication,
It turns to ashes in your mouth.
/chorus/
If youre fighting to live
Its o.k. to die!
The answer to your question is...
Welcome to tomorrow!
Where do we go from here?
God have mercy!
/chorus/
song performed by by Megadeth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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History tells
The differences amongst nations
in culture, habit and language.
This is God’s creations
to punish we antagonistic humans.
The consequences if we are egocentric,
with rifles shooting, and atoms finally bombing.
Children whining for dad and women panic,
and men with wounds thinking of home.
The merciless slaughter of bows and arrows,
pistols and guns, grenades and missiles.
“Victory” alleged the colonels,
whilst innocences wailing and dying.
Peace, leaders seemingly strive to maintain.
Militaristic they are, no one deny.
Tough lessons for innocences again.
Battles and wars not refrained.
History does tell…
History does tell…
Yes, I was told…
And I was told history always repeats itself.
poem by Peggy Chau
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When Women Will Rule The World
When women will rule the World sadly i won't be around
My bones will be resting forever in some quiet dead person's ground
But what a World 'twill be to live in the flower of peace will bloom again
And for as long as women do rule the World peace in the World will remain,
For as long as men rule the World terror and warring will live on
They have not learned from the mistakes of past male leaders with men as leaders all hope of peace gone
When women will rule the World the World will be a better place to live in
Mothers will not have to weep for their dead children there will not be wars for to win,
Women give birth to the soldiers mothers do not want their children to die
A dead hero is better than a living coward that is if you believe a lie,
Women do not want their children fighting in wars far away
There would be less wars in the World if women had a greater say
And when women will rule the World war will be a thing of the past
The flower of peace will be blooming and beautiful peace it will last.
poem by Francis Duggan
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From History We've Not Learned
Men crucified the one millions now worship more than two thousand years ago
Yet many men they are as cruel today and any compassion towards others they never seem to show
And the gifts of compassion and empathy to the special few belong
And many far too many seemingly cannot tell right from wrong
Two thousand and seven years ago Jesus Christ was crucified
And nailed to a timber cross on Calvary slowly and painfully he died
Yet we have not learned from human history and it does seem sad to say
That nowadays many decent people die in the foulest way,
The war supposed to end all wars did not live up to it's tag
Young people dying in war zones every day for God and Land and Flag
Before we learn the lesson of history how many more must die
War men mock the sacredness of human life and many wars based on a lie
It has been more than two thousand years since Christ died on Calvary
And from history we've not learned a thing that's how 'twould seem to be.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Big Difference
When men forget why they are here
they take up a gun and kill.
When men remember why they are here
they always do God's will.
Thou shalt not kill the words do say.
And still the wars go on.
Until this phrase is followed
the killing will never be gone.
Women remember why they are here.
They replenish the earth.
They accept the seed that's planted
and honor life through birth.
They bear the pain with no remorse.
They nurture and provide
love and loyalty in their lives.
And cry when men have died.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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We've Not Learned From War History The Facts Never Lie
We've not learned from war history the facts never lie
For God and for Country many still fight and die
The flowers do not bloom brighter on the dead soldier's grave
As the one who died of old age and was not known to be brave.
With the words we've not learned from war history
I happen to be one of those who agree
One war leads to another it does seem to me
And we still have War Memorial day in the twenty first century.
Where there is mistrust between people hatred come to the boil
In war over borders and war over oil
And in wars over God far too many have died
To antiquated thinking many do remain tied.
Out of war and it's suffering many heroes are made
And to honour the war dead another parade
And for as long as those who glorify war do have things their own way
The flower of peace will never see light of day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Forgotten Dead
In this city of death
Sculpted stones lie prone or tilted
Like crooked teeth much decayed.
Fallen markers and forgotten names.
The RIPs of the dearly beloved
Lie here muddied.
No floral tributes laid.
The forgotten dead.
Laid here by the equally forgotten
Man's construct de-constructed.
Scattered.
Demolished.
Marble words once carved deep
Now weather worn or greened with moss
Are muddled, becoming a problematic script,
No translation,
An undecipherable code.
Soon the words will be dust.
Erased from memory.
Mixed in earth.
Lost.
poem by Paul Brookes
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On Passing Cromwell Street
In Melbourne streets named in his honour though he does not warrant such fame
For he lived a life of dishonour yet he never felt any shame
For his crimes against the poor of Ireland the winners write the history they say
And historians are too kind to Cromwell the one who did awful things in his day.
He evicted the poor of rural Ireland those who only knew of poverty
And put them on the hard road to Connacht the victims of crimes against humanity
His army were thugs and not soldiers for they did things that soldiers ought not do
The winners always write the history though their version of history is often not true.
In Cromwell's time the winners wrote the history and the winners still write the history today
But for any crimes against humanity the winners too should be made to pay
But Cromwell and his army honoured for their crimes in Ireland against the poor defenceless poor
'Tis sad to think that one so unworthy of a place in history is secure.
To hell or to Connacht his catch cry he forced thousands of poor families on the road
To people who were penniless and innocent not one scrap of mercy he showed
Thousands of them died in the harsh Irish Winter when homelessness on them took it's toll
Because they were poor they were punished though their life circumstances beyond their control.
I think of the untruths of history each time I drive by Cromwell street
The history written by winners their history of lies and deceit
I say to myself they honour a tyrant and I struggle for to understand
Why they name a street after somebody who oppressed the poor of Ireland.
Andrew Marvell in verse glorified Cromwell but he was one who would not know
What Cromwell and his army got up to in Ireland in those bleak times centuries ago
But he only believed what they told him and they told him what he wanted to hear
History often written by unworthy people those who rule by terror and fear.
In Melbourne streets named in his honour his poor victims long forgotten and gone
Into the World of the forgotten but Cromwell's fame is living on
And the lessons we should have learned from history did not lead to a fair go for all
And the winners only write the story though the real truth they never recall.
poem by Francis Duggan
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We Affect Forever
We Affect Forever
We are making history, through every day we spend.
We are here, leaving our mark, a mark that will not end.
Others before have left behind this world we now obtain.
Though it’s changed since way back when, the old shall always remain.
History is how we got here, history is who we are.
History is what led to this, yes history is not far.
It remains within our families, its tradition and unchanging ways.
It’s Christmas day, Thanksgiving, its countless nights and days.
History is what you’re becoming; it’s what you are soon to be.
And history never dies; it’s a part of everybody.
We fight to maintain who we are, to maintain who we’ve always been.
And while we fight we know this fight is not easy to win.
Many forget the past, and many never even know,
Many people never hear of how times were long ago.
Those thousands of years before us, are more than just time spent.
They are filled with real people, real feelings, and real places that they went.
The People had different life styles very different from our ways,
But it is true that there is nothing knew under the sun’s golden rays.
Stand proud to be alive, know you affect forever.
Every act that we commit we all commit together.
We are entrusted with this earth; we must love and cherish this life.
We must remember to love our existence lest love becomes our strife.
Yes we are becoming history, through every move we make.
We are here, leaving our mark, a mark ……or perhaps a mistake.
poem by Mary Murphy
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Totally confused.
Far below us there are salt mines
From ancient seas.
And fossils from millions of
Of years ago.
But yet I am told that they were put there
To confuse the evolutionists
There is Gods plan.
What plan is that I ask myself.
When millions of soldiers and non-combatants
Died in the two World wars, and a holocaust that decimated the jewish, old men, children and women.
People that died in terror.
Where was he?
Appearing at a time of disaster or war
Would it be wonderful
To see a great hope.
Can you imagine the media!
War is no more, diseases are controlled.
It confuses me because I have belief in him.
Yet no one has returned with the good news,
In 2000 years.
I really want' to see him
But he is like an uncle that I never see.
poem by Willow Moon Pearce
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All About History
History is the past
What do we need it for?
Time runs out real fast
Who cares what happened before? !
Princes who were wed
Forget what your teacher said
No need to fill your head
With people who are dead
Why do we need to know
Let them rest in peace
They died and we will so
From books their lives release
i wrote this one in a history exam (i didnt have anything else to do)