Quotes about flag, page 94
Where’s Grandad
The hearse had been booked at the Co-op
for the Friday before the Goose Fair.
We paid for a top notch send off,
with a carriage and six to bear.
The hearse was well behind schedule
on the morning we were burying grandad.
The wind was howling and the sky was dark,
and it began to rain quite bad.
The coffin lay on the front room table
with the flag and white lilies on top.
My dad was anxiously twitching the curtains
until he saw the carriage and horses stop.
It had finally arrived to take grandad
to his resting place in the ground.
Six solemn bearers came into the house
and they never made a sound.
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poem by Orlando Belo
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What Are We?
1) Two legs sat upon three legs,
With one leg in his lap;
In comes four legs
And runs away with one leg;
Up jumps two legs,
Catches up three legs,
Throws it after four legs,
And makes him dropp one leg.
What are we?
2) Old Mother Twitchett had but one eye,
And a long tail which she let fly;
And every time she went over a gap,
She left a bit of her tail in a trap.
3) Thirty white horses upon a red hill,
Now they tramp, now they champ, now they stand still.
What are we?
We have nothing to say today
We are being asked
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Death, Is A Pirate...
Death, Is A Pirate
Who, Plunders Our Treasure
In Stolen Lives
And Grief, Without Measure
Death, Raids The Waters
Of All Humankind
Death, Is The Thief
Who Treads Our Time
His Cannonballs Blast
Dreams To Oblivion
His Skull and Crossbones
Raze Horizons
Death, Sails The Seas
Of All Mortal Beings
The Dreaded Sea King’s
Patch-Eye … Is Seeking
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poem by MoonBee Canady
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“I remember…Justice”
“Struggles of women! ” rang in my ears as a child
“Poor justice! ” rang in my ears as a child
“Equality for us! ” rang in my ears as a child
What’s the point of screaming out loud?
I kept thinking in that moment as a child.
As marching with Nepal’s flag and holding index finger of my uncle,
I saw people in blue dress, green dress, and devil face without justice.
I saw people with sad face, gloomy face, and red face that didn’t had justice.
With my squeaky voice I said, ” Uncle, why are people so loud and hate man in blue and green dress? ”
He turned around and with polite voice he said, “Because that’s the people who does not give us justice”
“Struggles of women! ” screamed women next to us,
followed by, “Poor justice! ” by massive group of citizens.
I kept wondering, people need to stop chanting in my ear.
‘PEEOWW PEEOWW'
I saw women lying in concrete floor,
I remember, that thick red blood floating to my uncles toe.
He grabbed me so tight by hand, I thought hands were sore.
At age seven, this was too much to digest
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poem by Rimbus Shrestha
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Lady Avalanche
Now look how desolate we've grown together,
such a lonesome pair; you and your remote polar star,
possessing a destitute coldness all your own.
Idly, I watched, as you claimed for yourself
your own sovereign arctic sub-region.
How my proud army of leather headed masculinity mocked,
as your gelid, limpid flag fell densely in the cold snow carrying winds.
Now I see, it was no laughing matter.
You ruled your newly founded, frostbit nation
behind the icy stonewall of isolation,
like a self suppressive commander and chief.
Censuring every line of communication,
insulating the hearth,
levying the spring,
Taxing our livelihood, as if you were entitled to all
of what little we claimed.
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poem by Gregory Allen Uhan
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Brave Boys Are They!
Heavily falls the rain;
Wild are the breezes tonight;
But 'neath the roof, the hours as they fly,
Are happy and calm and bright.
Gathering round our fireside,
Tho' it be summer time,
We sit and talk of brothers abroad
Forgetting the midnight chime
Brave boys are they!
Gone at their country's call;
And yet, and yet we cannot forget
That many brave boys must fall.
Under the homestead roof
Nestled so cozy and warm,
While soldiers sleep, with little or naught
To shelter them from the storm.
Resting on grassy couches,
Pillow'd on hillocks damp;
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poem by Henry Clay Work
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Washington and Lincoln
Come, happy people! Oh come let us tell
The story of Washinton and Lincoln!
History's pages can never excel
The story of Washington and Lincoln.
Down through the ages an anthem shall go,
Bearing the honors we gladly bestow--
Till every nation and language shall know
The story of Washington and Lincoln:
Who gave us independence,
On our continent and sea
Who saved the glorious Union!
And set a people free!
This is the story--
Oh happy are we--
The story of Washington and Lincoln.
Parents to children shall tell with delight,
The story of Washington and Lincoln;
Free born and freed men together recite
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poem by Henry Clay Work
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Daydreams for Ginsberg
I lie on my back at midnight
hearing the marvelous strange chime
of the clocks, and know it's mid-
night and in that instant the whole
world swims into sight for me
in the form of beautiful swarm-
ing m u t t a worlds-
everything is happening, shining
Buhudda-lands,
bhuti
blazing in faith, I know I'm
forever right & all's I got to
do (as I hear the ordinary
extant voices of ladies talking
in some kitchen at midnight
oilcloth cups of cocoa
cardore to mump the
rinnegain in his
darlin drain-) i will write
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poem by Jack Kerouac
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Fragment. Welcome Joy, And Welcome Sorrow
'Under the flag
Of each his faction, they to battle bring
Their embryo atoms.' ~ Milton.
Welcome joy, and welcome sorrow,
Lethe's weed and Hermes' feather;
Come to-day, and come to-morrow,
I do love you both together!
I love to mark sad faces in fair weather;
And hear a merry laugh amid the thunder;
Fair and foul I love together.
Meadows sweet where flames are under,
And a giggle at a wonder;
Visage sage at pantomine;
Funeral, and steeple-chime;
Infant playing with a skull;
Morning fair, and shipwreck'd hull;
Nightshade with the woodbine kissing;
Serpents in red roses hissing;
Cleopatra regal-dress'd
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poem by John Keats
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The Last Buccaneer
The winds were yelling, the waves were swelling,
The sky was black and drear,
When the crew with eyes of flame brought the ship without a name
Alongside the last Buccaneer.
"Whence flies your sloop full sail before so fierce a gale,
When all others drive bare on the seas?
Say, come ye from the shore of the holy Salvador,
Or the gulf of the rich Caribbees?"
"From a shore no search hath found, from a gulf no line can sound,
Without rudder or needle we steer;
Above, below, our bark, dies the sea-fowl and the shark,
As we fly by the last Buccaneer.
"To-night there shall be heard on the rocks of Cape de Verde,
A loud crash, and a louder roar;
And to-morrow shall the deep, with a heavy moaning, sweep
The corpses and wreck to the shore."
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poem by Thomas Babbington Macaulay
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