Quotes about flag, page 101
Soldiers Of The Kargil War
You trek through the snow-clad vales with guns,
knowing well you march ahead into traps of death,
forgetting yourselves, your kith and kin,
to face the fierce foes religion-eaten
and kill them and be killed or lynched.
You bury the corpse of those fanatics
doing the rites their parents need to do,
as you are from a humane race.
But when we receive your flag-draped coffins,
seeing your mangled bodies
we vent our spleen in flowing tears.
The Tololing peak and the Tiger Hill
speak volumes of your valiant deeds.
But not even a bit of land we have
will ope its lips of our cowardly life.
The wealth we heaped and the life we reaped
will go to waste as the wheel turns..
Our morbid blood is not fit to spill
even on the dells around our hamlets.
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poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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When Gassy Thompson Struck It Rich
He paid a Swede twelve bits an hour
Just to invent a fancy style
To spread the celebration paint
So it would show at least a mile.
Some things they did I will not tell.
They're not quite proper for a rhyme.
But I will say Yim Yonson Swede
Did sure invent a sunflower time.
One thing they did that I can tell
And not offend the ladies here:—
They took a goat to Simp's Saloon
And made it take a bath in beer.
That ENTERprise took MANagement.
They broke a wash-tub in the fray.
But mister goat was bathed all right
And bar-keep Simp was, too, they say.
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poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Last Post
THE day's high work is over and done,
And these no more will need the sun:
Blow, you bugles of England, blow!
These are gone where all must go,
Mightily gone from the field they won.
So in the workaday wear of battle,
Touched to glory with God's own red,
Bear we our chosen to their bed!
Settle them lovingly where they fell,
In that good lap they loved so well;
And, their deliveries to the dear Lord said,
And the last desperate volleys ranged and sped,
Blow, you bugles of England, blow,
Over the camps of her beaten foe --
Blow glory and pity to the victor Mother,
Sad, O sad in her sacrificial dead!
Labour, and love, and strife, and mirth,
They gave their part in this kindly earth --
Blow, you bugles of England, blow!
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poem by William Ernest Henley
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Woman's Dream
The woman I want to be
A woman of valor and integrity
One that fears the creator of heaven, earth
And everything there in.
A woman with a warm, loving heart
So welcoming, reliable and confident
A woman that the world will confidently
Look up to for any help.
The woman I want to be
A wife that is adorable and supportive
Render my heart to him that wins it
Give my time to love, adore, cherish
Encourage him to soar to greater heights
To achieves his dreams with my support
A forgiving, cooperative wife is all I want to be
Together with the conqueror of all times
To be the flag bearers of what a family is.
The woman I want to be
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poem by Kente Lucy
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Dedication : To The Memory Of Cecil Spring-Rice
STEADFAST as any soldier of the line
He served his England, with the imminent death
Poised at his heart. Nor could the world divine
The constant peril of each burdened breath.
England, and the honour of England, he still served
Walking the strict path, with the old high pride
Of those invincible knights who never swerved
One hair's breadth from the way until they died.
Quietness he loved, and books, and the grave beauty
Of England's Helicon, whose eternal light
Shines like a lantern on that road of duty,
Discerned by few in this chaotic night;
And his own pen, foretelling his release,
Told us that he foreknew ' the end was peace.'
II.
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poem by Alfred Noyes
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Aux Ternes
(PARIS)
SHE. — 'Up and down, up and down,
From early eve to early day.
Life is quicker in the town;
When you've leisure, anyway!
'Down and up, down and up!
O will no one stop and speak?
I am fain to eat and sup,
All my limbs are heavy and weak.
'What's my price, sirs! I'm no Jew.
If with me you wish to sleep,
'Tis five francs, sirs. Surely you
Will admit that that is cheap?'
HE. — 'Christ, if you are not stone blind,
Stone deaf also, you know it is
Christian towns leave far behind
Sodom and those other cities.
'Bid your Father strike this town,
Wipe it utterly away!
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poem by Francis William Lauderdale Adams
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Digenis Acritas
Pursued fromward eastern directions I stand,
an aeriform of the dawn comes to annunciate,
dark soldiers close in, borders to infiltrate,
to overkill farmers and our lands to demand.
I stand upon black turf, damp from the rain,
unfaithful disorderly horde closes to border;
the peace of pasture subsides to onset order,
and the waving of steppe horses black mane.
I slaughter the attacking impertinent mortals,
benevolently I send them to warriors' terra;
Crimson spills onto Tagma Flags of Porphyra,
and my face to dissipate on spring's portals.
The flag waves crimson in dawn, and morning
rises innocent from some euphoric nostalgia,
forsooth bless of Mistral liturgy and eulogia,
the orderly kills of barbarians and mourning.
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poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Freedom on the Wallaby
Australia's a big country
An' Freedom's humping bluey,
An' Freedom's on the wallaby
Oh! don't you hear 'er cooey?
She's just begun to boomerang,
She'll knock the tyrants silly,
She's goin' to light another fire
And boil another billy.
Our fathers toiled for bitter bread
While loafers thrived beside 'em,
But food to eat and clothes to wear,
Their native land denied 'em.
An' so they left their native land
In spite of their devotion,
An' so they came, or if they stole,
Were sent across the ocean.
Then Freedom couldn't stand the glare
O' Royalty's regalia,
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poem by Henry Lawson
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To The Republicans Of North America
I.
Brothers! between you and me
Whirlwinds sweep and billows roar:
Yet in spirit oft I see
On thy wild and winding shore
Freedom’s bloodless banners wave,--
Feel the pulses of the brave
Unextinguished in the grave,--
See them drenched in sacred gore,--
Catch the warrior's gasping breath
Murmuring 'Liberty or death!'
II.
Shout aloud! Let every slave,
Crouching at Corruption's throne,
Start into a man, and brave
Racks and chains without a groan:
And the castle's heartless glow,
And the hovel's vice and woe,
Fade like gaudy flowers that blow--
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poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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I Am You And You Are Me
We are as free as free can be
A construct of mentality
And if I can be you
And you can be me
We could walk a grand eternity.
Would you agree?
Yesterday's forgetting and tomorrows in the way
We are at odds with ourselves, chaos enthralling.
Order and reason long lost callings.
Join the big river harp in singing
Join the slide into blues and more
Each door a world revealing
Each solemn chord is somehow pleasing
As I cast myself from the shadows of my mind.
All is mine the world’s remembrance
Oblivion beckons in the corner of our eyes
No time for sinking now!
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poem by David Lacey
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