Anti-war poems

[Anonymous No.11594726]

And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said;
"For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

[Anonymous No.11596111]

>>11594726
Fire and Ice
by Robert Frost

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

[Anonymous No.11596693]

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

-Wilfred Owen

[Anonymous No.11596781]

No War
No More!
-Me

[Anonymous No.11596815]

War
Uh
Good God
What is it good for?
Absolutely
Nothin

[Anonymous No.11596871]

Suicide In The Trenches by Sassoon


I KNEW a simple soldier boy
Who grinned at life in empty joy,
Slept soundly through the lonesome dark,
And whistled early with the lark.

In winter trenches, cowed and glum, 5
With crumps and lice and lack of rum,
He put a bullet through his brain.
No one spoke of him again.
. . . .

You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye
Who cheer when soldier lads march by, 10
Sneak home and pray you’ll never know
The hell where youth and laughter go.

[Anonymous No.11597126]

>>11596693

I had a teacher who would read this every remembrance day.

Also, it's barely a poem:

"If any question why we died
Tell them, because our fathers lied"

But it's the fact that fucking Kipling wrote it that gives it impact.

[Anonymous No.11597151]

Beach Burial by Kenneth Slessor


Softly and humbly to the Gulf of Arabs
The convoys of dead sailors come;
At night they sway and wander in the waters far under,
But morning rolls them in the foam.

Between the sob and clubbing of the gunfire
Someone, it seems, has time for this,
To pluck them from the shallows and bury them in burrows
And tread the sand upon their nakedness;

And each cross, the driven stake of tidewood,
Bears the last signature of men,
Written with such perplexity, with such bewildered pity,
The words choke as they begin –

‘Unknown seaman’ – the ghostly pencil
Wavers and fades, the purple drips,
The breath of the wet season has washed their inscriptions
As blue as drowned men’s lips,

Dead seamen, gone in search of the same landfall,
Whether as enemies they fought,
Or fought with us, or neither; the sand joins them together,
Enlisted on the other front.

[Anonymous No.11597162]

What's with all this fag shit? "boo hoo, I'm a pussy ass bitch and killed myself in the trenches like a giga queer." "boo hoo, we live in a society mang"

here's some PRO war poetry for you basedboys

Riding through dust clouds and barren wastes
Galloping hard on the plains
Chasing the redskins back to their holes
Fighting them at their own game
Murder for freedom the stab in the back
Women and children are cowards attack

Run to the hills, run for your lives
Run to the hills, run for your lives

Soldier blue in the barren wastes
Hunting and killing their game
Raping the women and wasting the men
The only good Indians are tame
Selling them whiskey and taking their gold
Enslaving the young and destroying the old

Run to the hills, run for your lives
Run to the hills, run for your lives

[Guitar Solo]

Run to the hills, run for your lives
Run to the hills, run for your lives
Run to the hills, run for your lives
Run to the hills, run for your lives

[Anonymous No.11597170]

>>11597126

[Anonymous No.11597216]

>>11594726
Ode to a conceptual war; being of the word war, in the combined Petrarchan tradition and most beloved other that is not, chaos. Warrior, being of the class suited to war, war being of the ... Actually I give up, sorry. This isn't my thing. I don't really care who's living off my taxes. Or, maybe I do care now that whatever shit happens happens and someone has to clean up after diner. I really don't like to point out all the good wars, (not bravery, but an end which is a beginning.) some times that foot is gangrenous and needs to be taken off to save the more important part, the individuals. You'll come across these sometimes when you travel. Do you get out much?

[Anonymous No.11597262]

And when he gets to heaven
To Saint Peter he will tell
One more soldier reporting, sir
I've served my time in hell

[Anonymous No.11597396]

>>11597162
Good Iron Maiden song

[Anonymous No.11597589]

>>11597162
More poetry needs guitar solos.

[Anonymous No.11597824]

>>11597162
Cringe, even though it's bait