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Coward
Only cowards are
residing here.
The cowards only
does not say anything.
The cowards are
not there to take
any decision at
any point of time.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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This republic was not established by cowards; and cowards will not preserve it.
quote by Elmer Davis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Law
Test the spirits to see whether they are of Yahweh,
And love out of a pure heart.
Do not be cowards in doing what is right,
For cowards die many times before their death.
Deceivableness of sin,
The law is not only laid down for a righteous person but,
Also for the lawless and disobedient
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Trafalgar Day
LAURELS, bring laurels, sheaves on sheaves,
Till England's boughs are bare of leaves!
Soon comes the flower more rare, more dear
Than any laurel this year weaves--
The Aloe of the hundredth year
Since from the smoke of Trafalgar
He passed to where the heroes are,
Nelson, who passed and yet is here,
Whose dust is fire beneath our feet,
Whose memory mans our fleet.
Laurels, bring laurels, since they hold
His England's tears in each green fold,
His England's joy, his England's pride,
His England's glories manifold.
Yet what was Victory since he died?
And what was Death since he lives yet,
Above a Nation's worship set,
Above her heroes glorified?--
Nelson, who made our flag a star
To lead where Victories are!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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You, too, women, cast away all the cowards from your embraces; they will give you only cowards for children, and you who are the daughters of the land of beauty must bear children who are noble and brave.
quote by Giuseppe Garibaldi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Soldier’s Wife
Let’s go out
In this cold city
Let me feel
The warmth here
The beloved daughter
As
I am going tomorrow
And who knows
The dinner
Out in the restaurant
A nearby photographer
In uniform
My laurels and stars
I fight for my country
I am a proud soldier
Daughter in his arms
The wife proud
Veil pushed back
So the soldier's family
I found this
In a room
A barrack
Of the soldier
Looked at the photograph
Of thousand hopes
The soldier’s bag
His laurels and stars
The soldier was dead
His laurels and stars
His thousand hopes
What is my fault?
Asked his daughter
And mine too
Asked his wife
His laurels and stars
For the soldier is dead
poem by Sadiqullah Khan
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Cowards charge
Orders issued
Cowards charge
Only to withdraw
Brave charges
To capture in large
Quantity of ammunition
Both want to hold
Victory belongs to only bold
Victory is hailed
Cowards have failed
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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I never said I was a poet just a man
dear francis,
do not call yourself
'just a man',
do not deprive yourself
the laurels of
'a poet'
you are a man, and a man is more than a poet
the man with the urge to write is more than a man without an urge
even just to write
and be this 'poet'
the poets (those taking the top charts) either have died
(and take the fame posthumously) or they have rested
on laurel
leaves, or they have confined themselves on
some
writers' block
but you francis
behold the stars and the other suns
has written more
and toiled more, your fruits are many
and more have eaten them
tasted how sweet what wisdom you have
i crown you the true laurels
these living laurels of poetry
moving, alive, toiling, working, always thinking
about those that must come
next for generations to come
i crown you,
Francis Duggan
the true laurels of working, moving, living poetry
i give you the title,
the true, living poet.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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This is a formidable enemy. To dismiss it as a bunch of 'cowards' perpetuating 'senseless acts of violence' is complacent nonsense. People willing to kill thousands of innocents while they kill themselves are not cowards. They are deadly vicious warriors and need to be treated as such.
quote by Charles Krauthammer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Violence and perversion
All heroic deeds
Are enacted by cowards
And seen by cowards.
All romantic scenes
Are enacted by perverts
And seen by perverts.
Thus violence and
Libido find their exit,
Sparing the mrality.
20.06.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Sins undefined
Nobles have died miserably
Rascals have died peacefully.
Man grow great with sins hidden
Like trees with bushes trodden.
God will punish sinners,
The pious tell cowards
And the cowards abide by the pious.
Sins aren’t defined by the God
03.10.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Battalion
Statistics jog our memories,
Alternatives of thought and abilities.
Begin with originality
And the battle is ordinary.
Why does the ground shake with rigour?
Then when it hugs fondly a clear space
The races do arrange their cleverest weight
And bestow a companion of much delight.
Faster are the cowards who enjoy this peace,
The neighbours are elegant, well-dressed,
As usual, and more of those beautiful cowards
Do embrace the same speed of battle.
poem by Naveed Akram
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They're Singing In The Laurels
They're singing in the laurels
At first our lovers danced
Behind the evergreen box-hedge
O' then they're singing in the laurels
Housed by the woodlands-edge…
Then they're making their house
Taking-in reeds and rushes too nest.
As the wild wind in skyward climbs
Burst's open her golden fields songfest.
O' how soon their family flourishes
Under a tired world, two become eight.
Then squabbles unfold at daybreak
No more time for easy lovers to mate
It's just hellos and good byes at the gate.
As the seasons flicker ta-ta—good bye
Adios, my lover—cheerio, I've got to fly.
I've got to go, with the chaff and the grist
Before, these shadows yoke into the mist.
O' songbird your eyes murmur two stars
Wild-apricots are our hearts two stones.
But when cockscombs not a tombstone
Maybe we'll come a roaming to meet
We'll come, back, come back home!
Home behind the evergreen box-hedge
O' then there will be a dancing
O' then there will be a singing in the laurels
Housed by the woodlands-edge...
poem by Mark Heathcote
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Les Lauriers Sont Coupée
Ah, love, within the shadow of the wood
The laurels are cut down; some other brows
May bear the classic wreath which Fame allows
And find the burden honorable and good.
Have we not passed the laurels as they stood--
Soft in the veil with which Spring endows
The wintry glitter of their woven boughs--
Nor stopped to break the branches while we could?
Ah, love, for other brows they are cut down.
Thornless and scentless are their stems and flowers,
And cold as death their twisted coronal.
Sweeter to us the sharpness of this crown;
Sweeter the wildest roses which are ours;
Sweeter the petals, even when they fall.
poem by Elinor Morton Wylie
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Gouging
Cleanly gouging the eyes in lieu of mistaking the scene
Is to lacerate the heart, and all the worries shall erupt
And gashes bleed small ways, with great boils to add,
Letting steam escape from the treatment of the wounds.
Disrelishing the pain, a man of wounded nature
Wanted the terms of agreement, and these cowards want!
They were irreligious, and needed to be examples,
By gods and goddesses the life had to end in misery for
Him, and not Me as long as I lived.
The cowards were to be gashes and diseases like gangrene,
Later to be in front of the firing-squad.
Yes sirs, the lesson is a riddance of unhappiness,
The cowardice of deserting shall never triumph!
poem by Naveed Akram
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Guerilla
At hoar sunrise, before stars fade
from slumber rise to dress parade.
We steal supplies in angry raid,
with steel surprise in ambuscade:
the tyrant’s spies retire dismayed.
They dropp like flies, their force is frayed;
his martial might, too far has strayed,
is faint, afright, withdraws afraid.
They’ll not stake fight, no longer staid,
see cowards’ flight, - we’ll not be stayed.
Can cowards’ greed crush Liberty?
I shall succeed! Democracy!
Life President soon shall I be! ...
I see unrest strip power from me,
from Satan sent, vile tyranny! ...
Ah! Swiss accounts’ security!
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Waterloo Day
THIS is the day of our glory; this is our day to weep.
Under her dusty laurels England stirs in her sleep;
Dreams of her days of honour, terrible days that are dead,
Days of the making of story, days when the sword was red,
When all her fate and her future hung on the naked blade,
When by the sword of her children her place in the world was made,
When Honour sounded the trumpet and Valour leapt to obey,
And Heroes bought us the Empire that statesmen would sell to-day.
England, wanton and weary, sunk in a slothful ease,
Has slain in her wars her thousands, but her tens of thousands in peace:
And the cowards grieve for her glory; their glory is in their shame;
They are glad of the moth in her banners, and the rust on her shining name.
Oh, if the gods would send us a balm for our sick, sad years,
Let them send us a sight of the scarlet, and the sound of the guns in our ears!
For valour and faith and honour--these grow where the red flower grows,
And the leaves for the Nation's healing must spring from the blood of her foes.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Tell Me To My Face
(clarke / hicks / nash)
Will you try to justify the meaning
Of the note you sent this evening
To my door, youre not deceiving me
Id have thought that youd have known much better
Sending round an unsigned letter
Facing me would be much better now
Is it just that you cant face the future with me
Cant you tell me to my face
You just took the cowards way to say goodbye
How would you feel here in my place
If at last I think Im glad to rid myself of you Im sad
To think about the time Ill have to go
Then Ill turn and walk away so please dont beg for me to stay
Cause I know just what I will say to you
Is it just that you cant face the future with me
Cant you tell me to my face
You just took the cowards way to say goodbye
How would you feel here in my place
Tell me to my face youre leaving now
Tell me to my face youre leaving now
Though you try to justify the meaning
Of the note you sent this evening
To my door, youre not deceiving me
Id have thought that youd have known much better
Sending round an unsigned letter
Facing me would be much better now
Is it just that you cant face the future with me
Cant you tell me to my face
You just took the cowards way to say goodbye
How would you feel here in my place
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All enchantments die; only cowards die with them.
quote by Charles Morgan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Many would be cowards if they had courage enough.
quote by Thomas Fuller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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