Quotes about flag, page 54
Hero and Tracks
train tracks,
or just tracks...
either way,
going nowhere.
girl on his lap
not wearing panties;
he thinks he's god,
or at least bulletproof.
gonna ship out tomorrow,
got 'hero' written on his forehead.
she's got 'gonna crash' down
inside her, written with invisible ink...
gonna stand by a hero's grave
stand alone in the pouring rain...
gonna stand on a street corner,
just feeding them tracks.
[...] Read more
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Ja Guult og Rødt er Spaniens Farver
Ja Guult og Rødt er Spaniens Farver,
De straale ildfuldt fra Flag og Faner,
Og Cactusblomsten dem samlet har,
En Smeltning i det hede Solkys.
Du Solens Blomst, Du Spaniens Symbol,
Du blev, da Maurerne man bortjog;
Jordbunden holdt Du, groer til et Vildnis,
Med Flammeblomst og Lædskedrik.
Dig frelste ikke de tusind Dolke,
Der pible frem fra dine Blade,
Paa Disken kom Du, blev solgt for Spotpriis,
Du Solblomst-Frugt med Spaniens Farver!
poem by Hans Christian Andersen
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No surrender
Sometimes I wake with a glad smile.
At other times reluctantly
and long to linger for a while
right where I am so comfortably.
But duty calls and I must rise
I wash and shave habitually.
Then realise to my surprise,
I face the day quite happily,
I get on with my daily chores.
Whilst I still have the energy
I’m bound to flag in time of course.
Advancing age the enemy.
My body tells me I must rest
a quick nap will renew my zest.
7-Jan-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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To the People of Texas & All Americans in the World
The blank parchment is wordlessly taunting me
Shall I write out a Will? Or a Plea?
The troops of Santa Anna surround us,
Should I surrender unconditionally?
No! I've replied with the cannon!
I'm determined to here make my Stand.
My life and my honor for Texas,
My beloved adopted homeland.
Their red flag of no quarter is flying.
So far I have not lost a man.
Ceaseless is their cannonading,
"Victory or Death! "- My command.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Mourn Not For Me
As I pass by mourn not
but render me a smile.
Feel pride in your heart
stand a little taller.
Mourn not for me
just because I am gone.
Let not your tears
be those of sorrow.
As I pass by salute.
Salute not only me
but the flag as well.
I fought so hard for.
Hold dearly and tightly
to those ideals.
Without regret or remorse
I defended.
[...] Read more
poem by Kurt Hearth
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Life Uselessness
new space still be disorderly
window curtain which poke
like army flag which fail the war
chair which its spume have destroyed
poking my bottom when siting
idea do not be important
which can born from there
except hunchbacked grandfather
sit in mat of semi furling
I confuse
what else I which must write
except life
uselessness
from body which Old age
what momentarily
consisting with land; ground
where he come
for centuries then.
poem by Prasetya Utama
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Under Cover of Night
To slip into your shadow under cover of night.
To follow your footsteps, your shadow at the window.
That shadow at the window is you and no one else;
it's you.
Do not open that window behind whose curtains you're moving.
Shut your eyes.
I'd like to shut them with my lips.
But the window opens and the breeze, the breeze
which strangely balances flame and flag surrounds my escape
with its cloak.
The window opens: it's not you.
I knew it all along.
poem by Robert Desnos
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Beat the plowshare
Pound the drum
Of war to come
Rhythm on steel
Red from the forge
Forms the sword
To carry to war
The sledge makes beat
On thinning edge
As it pounds
pounds
[...] Read more
poem by James Timothy Jarrett
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What I Trust
What I trust is God's unconditional love
to bring someone in my life who
will trust me
but on a recent occassion
I felt like the enemy
I became angry and defensive
who does he think I am? and why?
We created a bond, forever, based on trust.
I am looking for the link
I want to get over the pain
Unconditionally. I still trust you
It's chilly out here
Tell me I am mistaken
I will raise my white flag
Our conflict will be set aside.
poem by Aj1 Aji
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Only The Crippled
only the crippled go to war...
the bird afraid of the sky
tears flesh with his beak.
the moral ones wearing
clothes of black and white,
whose religion is their ego,
whose god made of stone.
hands made of me and mine,
feet whose eyes gone blind...
to the drumbeat of take and destroy,
terrified of what lies within.
but freedom never fired a gun,
and justice never waived a flag.
peace never won by blood and bodies,
and the spirit has no religion!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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