Quotes about flag, page 88
The Old and Bold
When England sets her banner forth
And bids her armour shine,
She'll not forget the famous North,
The lads of moor and Tyne;
And when the loving-cup's in hand
And Honour leads the cry,
They know not old Northumberland
Who'll pass her memory by.
When Nelson sailed for Trafalgar
With all his country's best,
He held them dear as brothers are,
But one beyond the rest.
For when the fleet with heroes manned
To clear the decks began,
The boast of old Northumberland
He sent to lead the van.
Himself by Victory's bulwark stood
And cheered to see the sight;
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poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
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Judgement Of A Word
Global internet on line
American spelling machine?
When searching online
will flag British judgement
as spelling incorrect
will insist on US judgment
yet is this judgement correct?
Both judgment and judgement
occur with equal frequency set?
One spelling English one American
what a bother when both are correct?
Will you your online dictionary update?
Your own personal ‘judgment call' abridgment?
This choice spelling inconsistencies will assist?
Still wondering why the two spellings resist?
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poem by Terence George Craddock
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A Hero Laid to Rest
A Hero Laid to Rest
By: Venice Roberts
A hero born one summer day,
A Son, a Brother, in a special way,
Being Strong, Tough, and Brave,
Millions of lives he's willing to save,
They bombed the U.S. of A
On that one September day,
He rose and boarded that plane,
In that place they call Ft. Wayne,
Stationed in Kuwait,
A long way from that Hoosier state,
A few brave men,
Ready to go into battle over and over again,
In vehicles loaded with steel,
The man at the steering wheel,
Did not see the bomb on the side of the road,
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poem by Venice Roberts
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You Who Bury Your Poets
America....
you who bury your poets
like fallen leaves beneath weeping trees.
like the sound of the tire
that strikes the stray cat.
like the trembling dark skinned hands
you ban from your voting booths.
like the flag draped caskets
of your sacrificed young.
like the books you burn
with religious fervor....
like the shuffle of boots
in your unemployment lines.
like the faceless ones
in your clinics shutting down.
like the ones who speak out,
then suddenly disappear.
like the crack pipes and needles
of your 'worthless' poor....
like the babies born to babies
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Echo
Of A Ballad Sung By H. Plunket Greene To His Old School
Twice three hundred boys were we,
Long ago, long ago,
Where the Downs look out to the Severn Sea.
Clifton for aye!
We held by the game and hailed the team,
For many could play where few could dream.
City of Song shall stand alway.
Some were for profit and some for pride,
Long ago, long ago,
Some for the flag they lived and died.
Clifton for aye!
The work of the world must still be done,
And minds are many though truth be one.
City of Song shall stand alway.
But a lad there was to his fellows sang,
Long ago, long ago,
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poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
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A Take on Red
Red for blood –
Pumping out a life;
Paling in a death;
Blushing in a feminine face –
Flushing out her puberty;
Stain a presage for the mother ready.
And red, a flag of hatred in the eye –
The brutal other side –
Blood-release of war;
The sundered heart!
But then the red of simple dress
To give a beauty all she needs –
And flaming hair
And flimsy lace of underwear
And passion in the wanton heart
And dreams of crimson stockinged legs apart –
The rawness in the fantasy that
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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A Christmas Greeting
Here's to you, little mother,
With your boy so far away;
May the joy of service smother
All your grief this Christmas day;
May the magic of his splendor
Thrill your spirit through and through
And may all that's fine and tender
Make a smiling day for you.
May you never know the sadness
That from day to day you dread;
May you never find but gladness
In the Flag that's overhead;
May the good God watch above him
As he stands to duty stern,
And at last to all who love him
May he have a safe return.
Little mother, take the blessing
Of a grateful nation's heart;
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poem by Edgar Albert Guest
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Southern Tribes Of Youth
southern tribes of youth...
high and tight fastball,
louisville slugger cocked,
bases loaded, two outs!
freckled faced girdle wrapped
momma sworn girls laughing...
old chevy trucks, three on the tree,
careful not to jam the gears.
rock n'roll blaring, pedal to the floor,
Richard Farina rebellion,
'beware the monkey demon'!
and Vietnam lied and vomited
on the tv screens...
gunshots, dead Kennedy's,
and Martin Luther King defiled
by angry riots...
marching for peace,
cuffed and stuffed in a van...
staring through the bars,
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Playing Hurt
Personally I never had
To play that hard
Flag football
Did not require
Taping of wrists ankles ribs
Mouth-pieces knee braces
Post game ice packs
Help getting up
And out of bed
The next morning
Shake it off
Back to practice
Our daughter played basketball
First co-ed Boys/Girls club then
Through her second year
At the local junior college
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poem by Tom J. Mariani
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My fatherland
I will fight for my land,
I will work for my land,
Will it foster with love, in my faith, in my child.
I will eke every gain,
I will seek boot for bane,
From its easternmost bound to the western sea wild.
Here is sunshine enough,
Here is seed-earth enough,
If by us, if by us all love's duty were done.
Here is will to create;
Though our burdens be great,
We can lift up our land, if we all lift as one.
In the past we went wide
O'er the sea's surging tide,
And the Norman's high walls stand on many a shore.
But our flag flies its way
Ever farther to-day
And is red with life's vigor as never before.
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poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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