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Poems On / About MURDER  8/28/2015 9:41:51 AM
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The Martial Courage Of A Day Is Vain

THE martial courage of a day is vain,
An empty noise of death the battle's roar,
If vital hope be wanting to restore,
Or fortitude be wanting to sustain,
Armies or kingdoms. We have heard a strain
Of triumph, how the labouring Danube bore
A weight of hostile corses; drenched with gore
Were the wide fields, the hamlets heaped with slain.
Yet see (the mighty tumult overpast)
Austria a daughter of her Throne hath sold!
And her Tyrolean Champion we behold
Murdered, like one ashore by shipwreck cast,
Murdered without relief. Oh! blind as bold,
To think that such assurance can stand fast!
William Wordsworth

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Murder Music

Music some time
Murder about me...
At my dream
Thril and...

Thril...pop or Rap
Music on radio
At my sleeping time day
Or night
Murder at my sleep...

I did not Breath normal
With with out my sweet
Dreams and sleep...!
otteri selvakumar

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I Do Not Wish To Hear Your War Stories

Do not wish to hear your war stories of battles fought and won
Since I saw on t v this evening a mother grieve for her dead son
Her son murdered by a sniper with a bullet in his back
And I could only feel pity for this poor mother in Iraq
Of war and stories of it I do not wish to hear
Men who declare war on other people are those who rule by fear
Tell me some happy story or otherwise let me be
Your stories of war and war heroes only bore and sadden me,
Of war and it's brutality so much written and said
And in the news headlines on radio I hear of more war dead,
Tell me some happy story laughter in me provoke
Today I need a break from your war stories instead tell me a good joke
Today a mother in Iraq grieves for her murdered son
And I've heard enough of war from you of battles fought and won.
Francis Duggan

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A Pool Of Blood

A pool of water causes us to play with words,
Inner feelings may conceive an exalted frame of mind.

A pool is like radiation, all the yawning is converted
Into a character of good, a conversion has been made.

A pool is of blood, a real royal boredom of blue blood,
A spoilt man is issuing secrets that kingdoms do love.

When murder is bloody and minded by the some
We crave, destruction is the key, for almighty freedom.

A pool of immediate appearance is before my own eyes,
My ears are against my sight, for I have no idea of sound.

What is the murder when pools of bright blood stain the floors
With the anger and hunger of a killer, a sentinel of alien rudeness.
Naveed Akram

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Poems On / About MURDER