Quotes about canon, page 6
The night is full of brown Ratel armoured cars
The night is full of brown Ratel armoured cars
and Olifant tanks
that drives and rolls in on the ground
and salvos from rocket launching trucks
that draws arcs
and in the distance howitzer canon reports
in volleys
and when a light flare suddenly falls
it is as if the bushes are teeming
with enemy tanks and armoured cars
just where I look
and it looks
like the day of judgement.
Projectiles find their targets
and canister-shot comes down exploding thundering
and it’s an apocalyptic night
for some of the enemy
who are burning,
scorched and blown to smithereens in their armour
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poem by Gert Strydom
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Confrontation with Baba Yaga
In Angola
I saw Baba Yaga
come out of the wood
and in the blue sky
she hanged dark and hideous
with a canon in her beak
and rockets on her sides
that draws red lines
when she eats soldiers
by wiping them out.
No uglier witch
you could get anywhere
and she hanged bony
in the air
above our heads
while she collected skulls
with a shrilling noise.
Day after day
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poem by Gert Strydom
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Swans l
Unruffled, they sailed the seas
their wings set proudly back on racks of air
stiffly but fluently, blown by the breeze
quasi-mechanically
showing all the world no care;
or like a canon with twin, similar themes
that ether-tread the air on one another's
scruffled moccasins, like brothers
heel, in file, shore to shore.
Now back and forth, they swing
placid, in my mind, drawing dreams on dream
ribbons and spider-tethers wound in their bills-
sole and only labor due them:
freer than ducks at carnivals
although they never sing
for that would mean that death's come, so they go
drifting mutely, studying their faces in the quick
dipping a dripping head below
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poem by Morgan Michaels
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The road ahead dissolved into dust
The road ahead dissolved into dust
and we could not see the track
nor any of the other fighting vehicles
consisting out of Olifant main battle tanks
and Ratel armoured cars that were ahead of us.
Bushes were covering the veldt
on all sides and around us,
the early morning fog
had drifted over from the river
and worse still tried to cover things
and in the distance I heard the cannon
of a enemy tank blasting off a projectile
and almost felt the impact hitting us,
but it shrieked past
and at speed we left the track
rammed through some bushes
and the Ratel-90 armoured car
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poem by Gert Strydom
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La France
Poète honore-là
Souci de la Beauté non souci de la Gloire
Mais la Perfection n'est-ce pas la Victoire
Ô poètes des temps à venir ô chanteurs
Je chante la beauté de toutes nos douleurs
J'en ai saisi des traits mais vous saurez bien mieux
Donner un sens sublime aux gestes glorieux
Et fixer la grandeur de ces trépas pieux
L'un qui détend son corps en jetant des grenades
L'autre ardent à tirer nourrit les fusillades
L'autre les bras ballants porte des seaux de vin
Et le prêtre-soldat dit le secret divin
J'interprète pour tous la douceur des trois notes
Que lance un loriot canon quand tu sanglotes
Qui donc saura jamais que de fois j'ai pleuré
Ma génération sur ton trépas sacré
Prends mes vers ô ma France Avenir Multitude
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poem by Guillaume Apollinaire
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Church in evening May
The evening comes down lately in May,
the church bell from the tower rings,
the train rattles through the lanes
of Dublin housing hedgerows.
The grounds are tidy, flagpoles white,
the fuschia flowers again,
the priestly Sunday job is done
the eremitical seal.
Then the staircase,
duvet dream,
and visit from remembering
and wish.
the morning bell like lauds again,
awake the slumbering souls.
And yawn for like a triduum comes
the routine rush and stale staccato.
of novena repetition.
The graveside down the road is full,
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poem by Bernard Kennedy
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The River Kern
While I walk the pavement sooty
In the town,
Tread the stony path of duty
Up and down,
Oh, the Kern, all clad in beauty—
Silver sheen
On blue and green—
Down his canon goes cascading,
Cavalcading,
Cannonading,
Seizing all the brooks and fountains
How they beat
Their crystal feet!—
Shouting to the haughty mountains,
Giant peaks that frown !
Oh, my heart runs with the river
Far away,
Though through wintry streets I shiver
Day by day!
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poem by Harriet Monroe
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The Eagles
They come flying on high sapphire vaults, from far away,
Traveling by savage winds through dales and peaks, night and day
As I watch them in the skies enthralled under their spell
I love hearing the stories they to the morning breeze tell
They have seen places beyond my reach land
And they have found new vast far horizons of dwell
They speak strangely as they fly but I do not understand
Oh I wish I can fly like them and listen to their tale
Over steep mountains slops and pathless forests and raging seas
Shall I be like them; Shall I go anywhere that I please
Roll in the waves of wanton winds and chase the morning breeze
Toss the air; scud the high foliage of the trees in glee and tease
But watch as one clasps the sandy crag with crooked yellow hands
A statue close to the sun in lonely secluded lands
The canopy of the azure sky world over where he stands
As he spreads his wing wide across the rock a majesty in grand
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poem by Isaac Ziv
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Empty And Broken Hearted
You'll always be in my heart
From now to eternity
My thoughts will be on you
Ever since I left I felt empty
Something was missing
my body doesn't feel the same
Pieces of me are gone
that will never return again
the tears I cry will only ripple within your name
I'm like a vase
with no water and no love
I miss the days that went by
and the days that will never be once more
With out you is like being on a drained out subway train
Wanting to stay on but wanting off at the same time
Or a scary rollercoaster wanting to get on but last time
You thought it nearly killed you so you want to
Stay away and yet if that one person asked you you'd ride it again
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poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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Born In Africa
I am born in Africa with the odd triangle,
But that is not the end of my story with you;
And i have the hope of meeting up with stars one day.
Across the ages of history are the ages of mankind,
And across the stages of my age are my dreams;
For i have to take the steps of meeting you one day.
He brews with his people and,
Every son was thrown into the river!
But the daughters were saved for love.
I have made up my mind towards you and,
My age will lead me on to the mountain of love;
For i was born in Africa with the odd triangle but,
The dreams of my mind will lead me on.
Kish, fish, dish;
1611 to the King James Version of the Bible;
But the Roman Pope ssent Augustine to convert England in 596.
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poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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