Quotes about flag, page 51
Rich Sailor
Fought by the rich, a sailor has a ship
So awkward that he is richer than the clip.
A father mastered his flag much like a master,
The mast of a ship is like that of an abandoner.
Fought by some the sea is a place of sequences,
The waves undulate like curtains and offences.
The walls of a ship work like oars and paddles,
Then shapes and squares appear with angles.
poem by Naveed Akram
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I am raising a white flag
A truce
Stop pounding my head
Bullets of lies
Do not penetrate
Truth proof vests
I am raising the white flag
Of truth
Let us stop this war of lies
Keep your face, save it
I’ll keep my own reality
This is my own territory
You take fantasy land,
Some fairies, wizards, and elves.
Keep the face of Cinderella
To keep the peace, we will
[...] Read more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Answer Me, Love
Answer
I see the light approaching
The earth is rumbling
And the wind is too strong...
I know
Your momentum is great
My question left no traction
For equivocation...
Be swift
If you must blow me away
Remove me completely
From the ground's attachment...
But, if your breath is sweet
Kiss me a thousand times
And I will raise a flag to honor
The breeze...
[...] Read more
poem by Romeo Della Valle
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Bloody Disgrace
During two horrific world wars
thousands of young men died,
defending freedom and democracy?
That's what they were told as they
marched off to a certain death.
But it was a calculated lie!
A hundred years on the freedom
they gave their lives for,
is a freedom for the rich and powerful
to manipulate the weak and poor with impunity.
Under the high flying flag of democracy.
poem by Jerry Hughes
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Young America
Wee Willie sat a-thinking,
And he shook his curly head.
Around him on the nursery floor
His treasures lay outspread.
Firecrackers and torpedoes,
Trumpet and flag and drum,
Rockets and pinwheels and paper caps,
For Fourth of July had come.
'But it makes me sort o' sorry,'
Wee Willie said with a sigh,
'To think of those poor little English boys
Without any Fourth of July.'
poem by Carolyn Wells
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If we slide into one of those rare moments of military honesty, we realize that the technical demands of modern warfare are so complex a considerable percentage of our material is bound to malfunction even before it is deployed against a foe. We no longer waste manpower by carrying the flag into battle. Instead we need battalions of electronic engineers to keep the terrible machinery grinding.
Ernest K. Gann in The Black Watch
Added by Lucian Velea
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Heatwave
A few drops won't save us now, you say,
A crazy god up there
Is bringing Nature to the boil!
But there's no thunder anywhere,
No torrent to slake the thirsty soil
Cracked and disfigured by the endless heat.
With not a breath to stir the air
The flag hangs motionless on the mast.
Reluctantly the clouds begin to leak,
After a hot and humid week
The sky is sweating tears at last....
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Virgin Lights
Virgin lights, the warm sea gone
Dialectical Materialism in the lions mane
Smooth virgin scales
The earth parleys with the fallen
See Venus bright
Pray at the western wall
Iconic death
Children listen to the crickets
Night thick as the roused frontier
Your love is weak like a raised flag
Your love is strong and I feel it
Thank you for your prayers
Virgin lights ascend like serene cherubim
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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If You Were The Breeze!
I see the light approaching,
The earth is rumbling
And the wind is too strong...
I know,
Your momentum is great,
My question left no traction
For equivocation...
Be swift,
If you must blow me away,
Remove me completely
From the ground's attachment...
But, if your breath is sweet,
Kiss me a thousand times
And I will raise a flag to honor
The breeze...
[...] Read more
poem by Romeo Della Valle
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Song Of Unquiet Spirit
Staples were traveling on the
epiderm, thanking the wounds.
The dust, the eternal ugliness
were growling.
Riveting drama:
a royal swanking for a macabre
heist. A bizarre charisma
overtakes the cozy lips.
I was green,
and I was a cloud
where the sunflowers meet
beneath the sun.
Blind poppies assert themselves
unfurling a flag of milky sap.
The wasps were going-
to become stingless.
poem by Satish Verma
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