Quotes about flag, page 92
If Ever
It is not shame
If I ever I name
Her as divine gift
And stand never shift
From my friends
As I understand
We are no where coming near
As has been gripped by the fear
You are gifted soul
As I received it as call
It was near fall
You were felt by me like precious eye ball
I saw vast world in you
And found it nearly true
What was I dreaming for?
What was actually on the shore?
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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Strangled Capitulate
The brass moon flaccidly craned
Into the fringes of your rivers
And it scattered in the graceful waves
Touching the bosom of your caves
And the phosphors of the ripples betroths
My sullen vision, tired and wrought,
With the peril of aberrations
Of my own paddled surges
Auspiciously perishing the banks
With mouths open to intolerantly devour
The quintessence of your inflection
But then you are there, still,
Afloat in the infinitesimal streams
With fleuron fragrance of dispositions
Tapering the sealed lamentations
You are such a vision
Like a colorless lily
Held by a hand without face,
Kissed by lips without ardor,
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poem by Norman Santos
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Ode to Tomatoes
The street
filled with tomatoes
midday,
summer,
light is
halved
like
a
tomato,
its juice
runs
through the streets.
In December,
unabated,
the tomato
invades
the kitchen,
it enters at lunchtime,
takes
its ease
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poem by Pablo Neruda
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I Will Oppose The Men Of War
I will oppose the men of war until the Reaper takes me
Until the breath that gives me life it finally forsakes me
I'll use words for to oppose them they send the young to battle
To fight for the colour of their National flag and die like slaughtered cattle.
I may not be a wordsmith and my rhymes seem out of fashion
But I will oppose the men of war oppose them with a passion
Because of them so many die and so many have to suffer
They may fool some but they do not fool me for I am not a duffer.
I will oppose the men of war those who send their fighter jets to bomb and slaughter
They leave the grieving mother for to mourn her dead her young son and young daughter
Collateral damage they call it by such arrogance how can one not feel disgusted
I will oppose these men of war for they cannot be trusted.
I will oppose the men of war though some may celebrate them
I will prick their egos with my pen with words I will deflate them
They enjoy the good life with their loathsome mates whilst others all too willing
To go and fight their war for them and for them do the killing.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Where Are They?
I came to the halls of my fathers, and asked, “Where are they?”
and the echoes answered “where.”
Where are they? where! they all are gone,
Whose smiles were wont to answer mine,
When in the hours that long have flown,
These halls were fond affection's shrine?
Gray moss is on the smooth flag-stone,
That once was worn with bounding feet,
When eyes, now dim, all brightly shone,
And minstrel's song resounded sweet.
The harp still decks the mouldering walls,
With all its tuneful chords unstrung,
And silent are the echoing halls,
Where oft the merry laugh has rung.
Where now are all the lips and eyes,
Whose smiles once cheer'd my native bower?
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poem by Elizabeth Margaret Chandler from Poetical Works (1836)
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The Federal Bus Conductor and the Old Lady
Now 'urry, Mrs New South Wales, and come along of us,
We're all a-goin' ridin' in the Federation 'bus.
A fam'ly party, don't you know -- yes, Queenslans's comin', too,
You can't afford it! Go along! We've kep' box seat for you.
The very one of all the lot that can afford it best,
You'll only have to pay your share the same as all the rest.
You say your sons is workin' men, and can't afford to ride!
Well, all our sons is workin' men, a-smokin' up outside.
You think you might be drove to smash by some unskilful bloke!
Well, ain't we all got necks ourselves? And we don't want 'em broke.
You bet your lofe we're not such fools but what we'll do our best
To keep from harm -- for harm to one is harm to all the rest.
Now, don't go trudgin' on alone, but get aboard the trap;
That basket, labelled "Capital", you take it in your lap!
It's nearly time we made a start, so let's 'ave no more talk:
You 'urry up and get aboard, or else stop out and walk.
We've got a flag; we've got a band; out 'orses travels fast;
Ho! Right away, Bill! Let 'em go! The old 'un's come at last!
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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King Christian, A National Song Of Denmark. (From The Danish Of Johannes Evald)
King Christian stood by the lofty mast
In mist and smoke;
His sword was hammering so fast,
Through Gothic helm and brain it passed;
Then sank each hostile hulk and mast,
In mist and smoke.
'Fly!' shouted they, 'fly, he who can!
Who braves of Denmark's Christian
The stroke?'
Nils Juel gave heed to the tempest's roar,
Now is the hour!
He hoisted his blood-red flag once more,
And smote upon the foe full sore,
And shouted loud, through the tempest's roar,
'Now is the hour!'
'Fly!' shouted they, 'for shelter fly!
Of Denmark's Juel who can defy
The power?'
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poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Malvern Hill
Ye elms that wave on Malvern Hill
In prime of morn and May,
Recall ye how McClellan's men
Here stood at bay?
While deep within yon forest dim
Our rigid comrades lay -
Some with the cartridge in their mouth,
Others with fixed arms lifted South -
Invoking so
The cypress glades? Ah wilds of woe!
The spires of Richmond, late beheld
Through rifts in musket-haze,
Were closed from view in clouds of dust
On leaf-walled ways,
Where streamed our wagons in caravan;
And the Seven Nights and Days
Of march and fast, retreat and fight,
Pinched our grimed faces to ghastly plight -
Does the elm wood
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poem by Herman Melville
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Down to the Ground
Pride goes before a fall
High lofty towers burn to the ground
Symbols of money, oppression
Wealth built on the backs of slaves
I am for the distribution of wealth
For all the nations rising
Lets see health care for all
Lets send all to school and college
I hate the death of the innocent
False religions shall also burn
The earth shall soon be on fire
Everything that should fall, will fall
Look at the angry flag worshippers
Idolaters who put nation above love
Ideologies of amassing power
Propaganda, your country is better
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poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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The Dead Soldier
Where the sword has opened the way the man will follow
'Look! they came, the triumphant army!
Over yon hill see their weapons peeping!'
Still I spoke not but my wheel sent turning,
I closed my eyes for my heart was weeping,
My heart was weeping for a dead soldier.
Who is he who looks towards me?
''Tis no man but a gay flag flying.'
Red was his mouth and his white brow thoughtful,
Blue his eyes—how my soul is crying,
My soul is crying for a dead soldier.
'Kneel ye down, lest your eyes should dare them,
Kneel ye down and your beads be saying.'
'Lord, on their heads Thy wrath deliver,'
This is the prayer that my lips are praying,
My heart is praying for a dead soldier.
'Best cheer the path of the men victorious,
For he is dead and his blade lies broken,
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poem by Dora Sigerson Shorter
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