Quotes about canon, page 5
The Fairest Cape
The mild Cape Town winter weather
triggers blooming of the Heather.
The Erica shines their lanterns
amongst the Foxtail Ferns.
The white clouds overhead feather.
The Silver Trees create a foil
against which the flora toil.
The King Proteas are gearing up
to supply a feast for birds to sup.
The Cape Cobra in slumber coil.
The Aloes have many a use
and can withstand much abuse.
The fiery red Cape Honeysuckle
led the cultivated hedges to buckle.
Mountain fires lit by the obtuse.
Our proud heritage was in full bloom -
a rambling pathway the only room.
[...] Read more
poem by Suzette Crous
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La Grande Chartreuse
J'ai vu, tels que des morts réveillés par le glas,
Les moines, lampe en main, se ranger en silence,
Puis pousser, comme un vol de corbeaux qui s'élance,
Leurs noirs miserere qui plaisent au coeur las.
Le néant dans le cloître a sonné sous mes pas ;
J'ai connu la cellule, où le calme commence,
D'où le monde nous semble une mêlée immense
Dont le vain dénoûment ne nous regarde pas.
La blancheur des grands murs m'a hanté comme un rêve ;
J'ai senti dans ma vie une ineffable trêve :
L'avant-goût du sépulcre a réjoui mes os.
Mais, adieu ! Le soldat court où le canon gronde :
Je retourne où j'entends la bataille du monde,
Sans pitié pour mon coeur affamé de repos.
poem by Rene Francois Armand Prudhomme
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I am a FILIPINO
Malay is my race, build like
a warrior whose body and shape
ripen my strength to any battle
to protect the native land
live in a simple and fashionable
style amongst neighbor in Asia,
respected and love by the people
who share the common vision of
what is Life
thou blood shattered in every
canon and sword, the flesh conquer
the journey to live in the shield
of independent nation of the
South East countries
our home has always allure other
to walk and find life, a Paradise
to live, abundantly the sweat and
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poem by Antonio Liao
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To the border
When I got in at the train door
there were tears glittering in your eyes
and through the open window
we kissed again,
your hands clenched mine,
your image was burnt into my soul
and how you waved
while we pulled away around a corner,
but when projectiles exploded in other armoured cars,
the canon of the Ratel hit with deadly force,
I smelled my own sweat and fear
and I could only see how death looks
and I looked into the abyss.
I were another person without a soul
and you disappeared out of my thoughts
into the naught
and you were wiped out
as if you were in another world,
[...] Read more
poem by Gert Strydom
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Waterborne love with Neptune’s Daughter
I’m goin’ wash you
right outa my hair
I’m goin ‘to wash you right outa’
this torrid affair,
I’m goin’ wash my hands
of you untrue
Once made my mouth water,
the likes of you,
You held my love like water
on a ducks back
You conniving water nymph
dressed in black,
Plying your waterborne love,
in you I did trust
Lying on your waterbed
goading my lust,
My God I knew this would
not hold water
Are you really the delinquent
Neptune’s daughter,
[...] Read more
poem by Ken e Hall
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C'est la nuit ; la nuit noire, assoupie et profonde
C'est la nuit ; la nuit noire, assoupie et profonde.
L'ombre immense élargit ses ailes sur le monde.
Dans vos joyeux palais gardés par le canon,
Dans vos lits de velours, de damas, de linon,
Sous vos chauds couvre-pieds de martres zibelines,
Sous le nuage blanc des molles mousselines,
Derrière vos rideaux qui cachent sous leurs plis
Toutes les voluptés avec tous les oublis,
Aux sons d'une fanfare amoureuse et lointaine,
Tandis qu'une veilleuse, en tremblant, ose à peine
Éclairer le plafond de pourpre et de lampas,
Vous, duc de Saint-Arnaud, vous, comte de Maupas,
Vous, sénateurs, préfets, généraux, juges, princes,
Toi, César, qu'à genoux adorent tes provinces,
Toi qui rêvas l'empire et le réalisas,
Dormez, maîtres... - Voici le jour. Debout, forçats !
poem by Victor Hugo
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Shema
The hidden sound, the spell under the tongue,
Hints of our truth revealed. Behold, Shema:
A doorway opens from a dwelling of despair
To speed the fate of birth and teach
To wear death’s sudden mask.
The bodies of our ancestors, eroded by disease
Unnamed and unconfined. Vital organs inflamed
By domestic plague, blamed on foreign clime.
Limbs torn by canon, severed by sword,
Lives cascaded into waters, in armour drowned.
They carried in their recessed minds
A fragment of the sound, beyond the language of their time.
The colleges, hunched passageways of stone,
The worn and lettered tombs by which the students pass
Libraries rebuilt on wooden beams
In the sunlight of stained glass.
Illuminated minds renew
The stunted frames of ancient words:
[...] Read more
poem by Frank Bana
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The Soldier
Once upon a time a Soldier,
Reside in the Perm Moldier;
All creatures beloved his bravery,
And praise him for his bravery.
Jealous is he in honour and seek reputation,
Full of strange oaths and quick pride;
Gorgeous is he in nature, full of agitation,
Fearless even in front of canon's slide.
Want to prove himself, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Does everything in name of his and his country honour,
Can't tolerate anyone treating nation lowel,
Stain everything with his blood who behave in this manner.
Sudden war starts with another nation,
He fought bravely in war,
Kills many of sepoy of another nation,
Lambastic like fire on them in war.
Fought till last shell and breathe remain,
And died the death of Martyr.
Tears floats in every mother's and sister's eyes,
Ah! He was such Marvellous guy.
poem by Indrajeet Mishra
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Rocking Bonnie
Bonnie and me in the rocking chair
Hours go by and we don't care
Time can come and go as it may
We'd sit in the chair and rock all day
Pachelbel Canon on the stereo
In time we rock back to and fro
The rocking chair making a creakedy squeak
Dreamy sounds that put her to sleep
She's in a heap across my chest
Comfy and cozy, peaceful, at rest
I kiss the top of her head and her hair
She smells like roses petals wafting on air
More time passes, she's still asleep
Laundry and dishes will have to keep
As soon as I stop she frets a bit
I'll just wear the rocker legs off of it
[...] Read more
poem by Sara Fielder
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The Writer and The Soldier
The Writer and The Soldier
By
Tolly Rebeka Christian BlackWolf Hawk
The writer writes a sad lament for the love that he lost long
ago,
The soldier mourns the loss of a fellow slain long ago.
The writer has lead and ink on his hands,
The soldier has blood on his.
The writer can wash away the pigments and with them his
memory’s go, but the soldier can only wash the blood on his
skin; he can not wash the blood on his heart nor
The memory’s in his mind,
Burned into his mind with canon fire and the cries of
His falling comrades.
Oh,
When the two meet, they give to each other much needed gifts;
The writer gives the soldier understanding and a few happy
tales to think of when tears try to strike him down,
And the soldier gives the writer a new sad lament to write, and
[...] Read more
poem by Tolly Rebeka Christian BlackWolf Hawk
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