Quotes about roar, page 13
Across The Battlefield
Hear the cannons roar
across the battlefield
with its pits of pain
where the dead and dying lay.
In the no man’s land
that separates friend from foe.
Hear the mournful sounds
of weeping flesh
entangled within the baptism of death.
Across the battlefield
where there are fleeting ghosts
of those who fell on another day.
One day the guns may fall silent
and flowers will once again dance
with an evening breeze.
Instead of the blood of innocence
milking the no man’s ground.
Birds may again sing one day
replacing the agony of young men
dying before their time.
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poem by David Harris
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Half sleeping birds
I should be driving over roads' margins;
arcane path in dim light; I rode in glory,
the flying sea gulls cared for my story,
and a peculiar writers' group to burgeon.
Inside me was a bellow, earth trembling,
was it a roar or many? In a stormy sea,
(half sleeping birds stood on a marquee) ,
both ships and humans were dissembling!
In the horizon the ships floated bitter,
onto their trip of sempiternal sorrows,
as I reached the moors in half shadows,
the three fates were my life's knitters.
It echoed reminding of my days of past,
it was the roar inside me like a thunder
my inner entity won't be torn asunder,
while the ships' travel to infinity lasts.
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poem by Giorgio Veneto
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All Men's Dream - FIFA World Cup
Fifa World Cup
my heart dribbles, shoots, jumps
like a ball
Fifa World Cup
my heart is
the goal post
Fifa World Cup
the men, the goal, the roar
jeers and tears
Fifa World Cup
the soar, the goal, the roar
jeers and tears
bet-ters, footballers
The Poem
-
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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Storm
a whole upper row classes
move their furniture - the roar
rumbles through the eardrum
someone slices a bulbous pillow
and rips the darkness with her dexterous fingers
the tear comes away a broken mirror
a cache of memories flash from here
the wind whistles, the trees sigh,
water swirls and sketches the periphery
of the sky like a child - pieces of providence
riding the force of the winds in all directions
first version -
a whole upper row classes
move their old furniture -
the roar rumbles in the eardrum
someone slices a bulbous pillow
and rips the darkness with her fingers
the tear comes away a broken mirror
memories sad and sweet flash from here
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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The Sea Loving People
The true sea loving people never live far from the sea
They pine if the ocean they can't hear or see
The feel of the sea spray where the wild breakers roar
Where huge waves pound the stony cliffs overlooking the shore.
They can only live near to where the surf waves roll
And to them the breath of the sea air is good for the soul
In towns by the ocean they grow old and gray
From salt-water they could not live far away.
The sea loving people enjoy the coastal sunshine
Inland from the ocean they surely would pine
To live two miles from the ocean for them does seem far
Though in distance that only a short drive by car.
The sea loving people love the rumble of the big surf waves
In cemetery close to the cliffs are their ancestors graves
They would pine if they could not hear the sea breakers roar
They only could live in towns near the Sea-shore.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Were I A Lion King
Were I a lion king of the pride how proud a lion I'd be
To think that other lions for miles around are very scared of me
In the stillness of the African night I would roar aggressively
I would not be kind to other lions or in ways act neighbourly
Of the prey the lionesses did kill I would be first to eat
The other members of the pride would have to wait for their share of the meat
The male lion who has compassion will never rule a pride
Of any honour in his life by his attitude self denied
If I were a lion king of the pride the lionesses for me would kill the prey
But if's an obstacle that always does get in the way
Human beings need some aggression in life for to succeed
The timid like the timid lion are not destined to lead
Were I a lion king in the African night I'd give a mighty roar
That would be heard by other lions for two miles distant or more.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Shut My Window
windows keep shut
lest sky enters the room
if sky enters wind sunbeam rain sea-roar
the green of tall trees, the distance far away the horizon
will meet my individual world
will quake my tranquility in confinement
the disorder begins
when small wants to meet big wide
expanded nature never knows its limit
my individual world just small
four walls its limit
roof overhead and a man sleeps quiet
to slip from the enlarged
not to loose its enchained passion
not to live spreading wings
windows keep shut to show
no world behind it could exist..
thoughts are dark to dark the expansion
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poem by Pranab K. Chakraborty
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Through Struggle To The Stars
With roar of engine in his head
Wishing he could’ve stayed in bed,
Off to battle with a grin
Higher, higher the air getting thin.
Over the water testing his gun
Enemy sighted here comes the fun,
In his tail, the guns start to roar
His wing is hit, still shoots as before.
Tail gunners are sharp and quick to learn
Some of our friends never return,
Look out, fighters are coming in low
They maybe ours, don’t shoot ‘till you know.
Bombs away boys then turn back
There’s the target give it plenty of flak,
Planes going down, exploding in the air
We think of loved ones and whisper a prayer.
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poem by Hazel Connelly
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Your hay it is mow'd, and your corn is reap'd
(Comus.) Your hay it is mow'd, and your corn is reap'd;
Your barns will be full, and your hovels heap'd:
Come, my boys, come;
Come, my boys, come;
And merrily roar out Harvest Home.
(Chorus.) Come, my boys, come;
Come, my boys, come;
And merrily roar out Harvest Home.
(Man.) We ha' cheated the parson, we'll cheat him agen,
For why should a blockhead ha' one in ten?
One in ten,
One in ten,
For why should a blockhead ha' one in ten?
For prating so long like a book-learn'd sot,
Till pudding and dumplin burn to pot,
Burn to pot,
Burn to pot,
Till pudding and dumplin burn to pot.
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poem by John Dryden
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Poor Tiger, Mad Lover
A tiger was sent into an abeyance.
His roars are frail and feeble.
What good is a tiger
Without his tremendous roar?
A nuisance that flourishes and shakes
The forests?
You have left this tiger
Cold and desolate
Under the brambly, prickly bushes
As the calamitous ripples
Of desertion and betrayal
Loom within your thresholds.
I’ve had the courage to
Roar for you -
And now you talk?
You mad lover.
Why only now,
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poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr
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