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Weekly Poetry Stuffage > Week 179 (August 24th- 31st) Poems Topic: Modern Warfare

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message 1: by Stephanie (new)

Stephanie (chasmofbooks) | 2875 comments You have until end of August 31st to post a poem, and from September 1st to end of September 5th we’ll vote for the story we thought was best.

Please post directly into the topic and not a link. Please don’t use a story previously used in this group.

Please post directly into the topic and not a link. Please don’t use a poem previously used in this group.

Your poem may be any length. However, poems significantly more than 3000 stanzas long may not be fully read.

This week’s topic is: Modern Warfare

The rules are pretty loose. You may write a poem about anything that has to do with the topic. We do not care how, but the poem you post is to relate to the topic somehow, even if very loosely or metaphorically.

Above all, have fun

message 2: by Kehinde (new)

Kehinde Sonola (westori) All Roses Are Sweet.

I have no sympathy for
The arsonist
Or discriminator
Where was your compassion?
When you were
Lynching us
Burning us
Bullying us
Beating us
Raping us
Killing us?
We obviously bleed if you stick us
We will squeal if you waterboard us
We will eat dirt if you electrocute us
We will prostitute ourselves if you solicit us
So yes
I am warped
And have sympathy
For the victim
Not the perpetrator.

Swan Song Alley
Kehinde Sonola

message 3: by Stephanie (last edited Sep 11, 2013 03:01PM) (new)

Stephanie (sbrooks17) Our Village

Our village was small.
Our village was weak.
Our village seemed silly,
pointless and meek.

Your men wanted land.
Your men wanted fear.
Your men wanted a hand
in this modern warfare.

Our people were good.
Our people were kind.
Our people weren't ready
for war of any kind.

Your people came running.
Your people had guns.
Your people left shouting
that they had won.

I was on the ground when they left.
I was on the ground for one reason.
I was on the ground 'cause the bombs flew
and now our village, and I,
have nothing left.

message 4: by Lilian (new)

Lilian Moore (thethirdsense) | 366 comments Watch The Rain

The old man hobbled in with his cane
He said “Son, come out with me to watch the rain.”
The son said, “Sorry, dad. Maybe after I shoot down this plane.”
The bright screen shown with blood as the old man turned sadly away.

“Son, do you know what war is?” he asked with tears in his eyes.
“Sure, dad,” said the boy. “It’s all about shooting down the bad guys,”
The old man walked out and looked at the skies
Wondering if his son would ever really know of his crimes

The son suited up in khaki when he turned eighteen.
“Son,” said the old man, with his eyes holding a hopeful gleam
“Tell me son, why are you going to the world of blood and canteens?”
The son smiled and said, “I want to be a hero to Kathleen.”

After years of vague blood-stained letters in his hands
The son came back to his sweet homeland
The old man looked at him sadly and asked if he could understand
And the son said, “Maybe after my leg grows back.”

And the old man remembered the glory he went for
He remembered the pain that he so bravely bore
He remembered the reason he went to war
He went to fight for his life, and he came back no more

“Son, can I tell you that I know how you feel?
I went to war once, though I hated to kill
I remember the powder and the shrapnel
And I remember the one day on that one hill

I came face to face with the enemy lines
One young faced boy stood in my sight
And when I looked at him straight in the eyes
I felt like a traitor to sever all his mortal ties.”

The son looked at the old man like he saw him for the first time
He said, “Dad, I’m sorry for all the things I didn’t recognize
And I’m sorry if I ever caused you pain.”
Then son and father both went out to watch the rain.

message 5: by Lilian (new)

Lilian Moore (thethirdsense) | 366 comments Kehindle: Wow! This poem really shows that you have a strong, poignant vocabulary. It touches the reader profoundly. At first I skimmed over it and I thought, well, that seems kind of horrible. Then I read it carefully and I realized that the honesty is truly heartwrenching. Thank you!

Stephanie: This was lovely! I could see and feel the frustration and sorrow that was portrayed in this. I could see someone on their knees, on the charred ground, all alone. It really did bring tears to my eyes. Great job!

message 6: by Jim (new)

Jim Agustin (jim_pascual_agustin) | 625 comments BigDog Takes a Walk

Wonder cast in the sea of dreams
caught your fragments. Pieces
with their own limitations were forged:
rubber, metal, wire, glass, plastic.
Their possibilities stretched to bring you
close to something almost alive.

You were born of careful hands,
patient in taking note of countless failures.
Amazement filled your creators
as the dynamics of behaviour began
to thrash inside your casing: pulse of laser light,
hydraulics, sensors, mechanical organs.

It was not the dark heart
of destruction that pushed your limbs
toward those first twitches, and later
into the complex physics
of walking. It was wonder.

But where to? What burden
are you bound to carry?
Whose hands will take command
of the perfect balance of limbs
now able to navigate riverbeds, dunes,
concrete, rubble, sleet?

You have no choice in matters.
The greater powers have predicted
your history. Geopolitics, interventions,
calculated murder. The language of madness
where my fear of you resides.

July 2008
BigDog is a quadruped robot that walks, runs, and climbs on rough terrain and
carries heavy loads. BigDog is powered by a gasoline engine that drives a
hydraulic actuation system. BigDog’s legs are articulated like an animal’s, and
have compliant elements that absorb shock and recycle energy from one step
to the next. In separate trials, BigDog runs at 4 mph, climbs slopes up to 35
degrees, walks across rubble, and carries a 340 lb load.
The program is funded by the Defense Advanced Research Project Agency
Boston Dynamics


sorry, don't have a new one, so fished this out from years ago.

Jocelyn (Ducky) (ducky113) May I first say that, Stephanie, this topic is genius. Look at what it's done to writers who have been forced to pull out emotion. Such a brilliant topic.

Kehindle: Modern indeed. The way the world is today kills me, and you portrayed it well in this poem.
Stephanie: The pattern is great, it makes this poem stand out. I like the rhyme scheme, and the images were very strong.
Lilian: I love this one, it's soft and gentle but powerful and sad at the same time. I love the emotion it evokes in the reader, and I really enjoyed reading it.
Jim: Interesting way to tie to the topic. It's not your best, but it questions morals in a way people don't do enough of anymore. Nice.

message 8: by Kehinde (new)

Kehinde Sonola (westori) Thank you Lilian and Treasure for your frank, insightful and uplifting comments. They will help me grow as a writer as they've given me a different perspective concerning my work.

Stephanie, thank you as this is indeed an engaging topic. Let's hope that we are able to talk about war as a thing of solely the past one day soon.

Stephanie, Our Village is a masterful and its intensity increases subtly and leaves the reader shaking when they think about the real life situations where this has occurred. The line 'Your men wanted fear', is extremely powerful.

Lilian, what a precocious talent you are.
Watch The Rain is very moving. The line 'After years of vague blood-stained letters in his hands,' really struck a cord. I look forward to reading your work.

Jim, BigDog Takes a Walk is a marvellously descriptive poem. I like the way it is crafted and your use of vivid adjectives. The stanza
'It was not the dark heart
of destruction that pushed your limbs
toward those first twitches, and later
into the complex physics
of walking. It was wonder',
was my favourite and conveyed a sense of hope.

message 9: by Jim (new)

Jim Agustin (jim_pascual_agustin) | 625 comments thanks for reading and the comments, guys! i forgot to say that i do appreciate critique. :)

message 10: by Guy (new)

Guy (egajd) | 11105 comments words to die by

He looked at his wife
and for a moment felt peace,
an unflagged respite
gained after a marathon
of black words thrown like shrapnel.

message 11: by Guy (last edited Sep 01, 2013 04:48PM) (new)

Guy (egajd) | 11105 comments Another week has ended!
Way too quickly, in my experience, but the clock does not lie.
Please go vote.

Poem poll.

Story poll.

The new contest topic is Paper Cut:

Poetry Stuffage.


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