Our native land attracts us with some mysterious charm, never to be forgotten.
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The Only Land For Me (A currency Lad)
Prate not to me of foreign strand,
Of beauty o'er the sea -
"This is my own - my native land" -
The only land for me!
The only land for me
The only land for me
"This is my own - my native land" -
The only land for me!
I love to roam, like a wild gazelle,
O'er my native mountains blue,
And wildly, thro' the woody dell,
Chase the bounding kangaroo!
The bounding kangaroo
The bounding kangaroo
And wildly thro' the woody dell
Chase the bounding kangaroo!
I've rode upon the stormy wave,
I've danc'd aboon the sea;
And where's the pleasure that it gave
Like my native land to me?
My native land to me
My native land to me
And where's the pleasure that it gave
Like my native land to me?
poem by Anonymous Oceania
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God Bless Our Native Land
God bless our native land,
Land of the newly free,
Oh may she ever stand
For truth and liberty.
God bless our native land,
Where sleep our kindred dead,
Let peace at thy command
Above their graves be shed.
God help our native land,
Bring surcease to her strife,
And shower from thy hand
A more abundant life.
God bless our native land,
Her homes and children bless,
Oh may she ever stand
For truth and righteousness.
poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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Red With Native Blood
Give them back their bloody land,
red with native blood.
We have soiled it so, with our hands,
red with native blood.
The earth was stained, when we first came,
red with native blood.
We stole their domain, with a barbaric claim:
that we were civilised and they were not,
that they were the savages and we were not,
when we ravaged the land that began to clot,
red with native blood.
Not content with genocide
we interned them in reserves.
To break their culture
and tribal ways;
in stealing children
the state was brave,
to turn their women
into household slaves,
and hope their men would die,
unmourned, in lonely graves;
a problem to us no more.
Give them back their bloody land,
red with native blood.
Acknowledge their just demands,
wash the stains from our hands,
give them back their bloody land,
red with native blood.
poem by David SmithWhite
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Native American
I am native american
Ho ka hey wah nah (steven and bruce)
Ho ka hey wah nah woh
Ho ka hey wah nah
Ho ka hey wah nah woh
Ho ka hey wah nah
Ho ka hey wah nah woh
(editors note: the above is war cry of the lakota(sioux) meaning
Lets go - now)
Life was forever when we were young (steven)
The land was protected for everyone (bruce)
Forever as long as the rivers run (both)
But now the water no longer comes (steven)
And now all that remains (both)
Is darkness a poisoned earth
And now before its too late
We must provide our own new birth
Chorus:
I am native american
I am native american
The question of honor you must decide (bruce)
The soul of the nation has been denied (steven)
Our dreams have been stolen before our eyes (both)
How do you say theres no tomorrow to a child? (bruce)
>from us there is much to learn (both)
There is so much youve forgotten
You cant change me
Try and understand I am proud of who I am
Chorus:
I am native american
I am native american
We must try and remember what were here for (steven)
You will suffer the darkness alone no more (bruce)
You will have the strength of all of us
Gathered here today (both)
That is something they can never take away (bruce)
Chorus:
I am native american
I am native american
Ho ka hey wah nah (steven and bruce)
Ho ka hey wah nah woh
Repeat 7 more times til fade
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's mysterious what attracts you to a person.
quote by Jeff Goldblum
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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From Worlds Within My Dreams
I feel a kindred with you,
My native...
Land.
And brethren of spoken tongues.
Those of my ancestors,
Every one.
I feel a kindred with you,
My native...
Home I've come to know.
I feel the wind coming to sweep,
And stir the prairies.
I see the tumbleweed roll.
And swirls of dust enfold it!
I feel the rhythm with each drum beat.
I paint those symbols I see,
From skies above.
And when they land,
We beings meet.
We greet as if lost souls.
I feel a kindred with you,
My native...
From worlds within my dreams you've come.
To me and others who have not succumbed...
With misgivings of a tortured faith.
Never in doubt but sometimes clouded!
I feel a kindred with you,
My native...
Land.
And brethren of spoken tongues.
Those of my ancestors,
Every one.
I feel a kindred with you,
My native...
Home I've come to know,
From worlds within my dreams.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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One mustn't look at the abyss, because there is at the bottom an inexpressible charm which attracts us.
quote by Gustave Flaubert
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Charm Is In Vain
A woman attracts many men
A man fall for many women
She self denies and gets men starve
Her charm and glory end in vain.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Of all the Beauties, it is that which attracts the most lasting Admiration, gives the greatest Charm to every thing we say or do, and renders us amiable in every Station, and thro' every Stage of Life.
quote by Eliza Haywood
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hast Thou Forgotten Me?
HAST thou forgotten me? the days are dark—
Light ebbs from heaven, and songless soars the lark—
Vexed like my heart, loud moans the unquiet sea—
Hast thou forgotten me?
Hast thou forgotten me? O dead delight
Whose dreams and memories torture me to-night—
O love—my life! O sweet—so fair to see—
Hast thou forgotten me?
Hast thou forgotten? Lo, if one should say—
Noontide were night, or night were flaming day—
Grief blinds mine eyes, I know not which it be!
Hast thou forgotten me?
Hast thou forgotten? Ah, if Death should come,
Close my sad eyes, and charm my song-bird dumb—
Tired of strange woes—my fate were hailed with glee—
Hast thou forgotten me?
Hast thou forgotten me? What joy have I?
A dim blown bird beneath an alien sky,—
O that on mighty pinions I could flee—
Hast thou forgotten me?
Hast thou forgotten? Yea, Love’s horoscope
Is blurred with tears and suffering beyond Hope—
Ah, like dead leaves forsaken of the tree,
Thou hast forgotten me.
poem by Philip Joseph Holdsworth
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The Emigrant's Farewell
Our native land - our native vale -
A long and last adieu!
Farewell to bonny Teviotdale,
And Cheviot mountains blue.
Farewell, ye hills of glorious deeds,
And streams renown'd in sing -
Farewell ye braes and blossom'd meads,
Our hearts have lov'd so long.
Farewell, the blythesome broomy knowes,
Where thyme and harebells grow -
Farewell, the hoary, haunted howes,
O'erhung with birk and sloe.
The mossy cave and mouldering tower
That skirt our native dell -
The martyr's grave, and lover's bower,
We bid a sad farewell!
Home of our love! our fathers' home!
Land of the brave and free!
The sail is flapping on the foam
That bears us far from thee.
We seek a wild and distant shore,
Beyond the western main -
We leave thee to return no more,
Nor view thy cliffs again!
Our native land - our native vale -
A long and last adieu!
Farewell to bonny Teviotdale,
And Scotland's mountains blue!
poem by Thomas Pringle
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Beauty attracts us men; but if, like an armed magnet it is pointed, beside, with gold and silver, it attracts with tenfold power.
Do, Get Away!
Do, get away!
From those player haters.
Stop that nagging that attracts,
The backbiting of braggers...
Without delay.
And oh oh...
Do, get away!
From the pinch that inches tensions.
Don't give them more attention,
To incense sentiments.
Eliminate that taste.
And oh oh,
Yes...
Do, get away!
From those player haters.
Stop that nagging that attracts,
The backbiting of braggers...
Without delay.
Don't be used as sucker bait.
Or be a loser estimated.
Get yourself away right now today!
Keep your flow going.
Demote those 'whoa-s' that float.
Without delay.
And stop that nagging that attracts,
The backbiting of braggers!
And get yourself away,
Right now...
Today!
Don't let them pay a cent,
As if they pay you rent!
And, get away!
Oooooh do, get away!
From those player haters.
Stop that nagging that attracts,
The backbiting of braggers...
Without delay.
Oooooh,
Stop that nagging that attracts,
The backbiting of braggers...
And get away.
Oooooh,
Stop that nagging that attracts,
The backbiting of braggers...
And get away.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Haven't Forgotten
I haven't forgotten when I meet you first!
I haven't forgotten when I greet you last!
I haven't forgotten your pretty face!
I haven't forgotten your smile and grace!
I haven't forgotten how we started chatting!
I haven't forgotten when we started dating!
I haven't forgotten our last walk together!
I haven't forgotten how I became a loser!
I haven't forgotten how it became too late!
I haven't forgotten when I understood fate!
I haven't forgotten that summer's northwester!
I haven't forgotten and won't forget ever!
poem by Asif Andalib
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0078 Thanksgiving Day
A celebration of the grace
of the past, or
a celebration of the grace
of today?
For thousands of years,
the Native Americans
whose origin is so mysterious
held, as do all the peoples in the world,
a celebration of the harvest
now brought home, rejoicing
in its abundant wealth and
offering gratitude to that source
from which it comes - as do we...
And how ironic, looking back,
that the Pilgrim Fathers, unprepared,
as many townsfolk among them were,
for the art of farming in a foreign land,
were taught, from those thousands of organic years
of experience, by those very native Americans -
Wouldn't you like to have seen, been there,
that day in 1621, as settlers
and the invited Indian chiefs
sat down together to celebrate the harvest
in brotherhood?
And then, today: beside remembrance of the past,
how beautiful to dedicate a day
to thinking, listing, all the many things
which we may be truly grateful for.
Will a day be long enough?
It's said, that every year
the day after the Thanksgiving feast
the wild turkeys of America, gathering,
as Native Americans of ancient, brown-faced line,
with lively turkey-trot and song and
stuffing themselves in rather
more natural ways, celebrate
survival
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Rose
Beside the street there is fragrance
And wave of colours.
Rose plant seller attracts the
Passers-by and travellers.
Ladies and gentlemen collect yellow,
Red, white, violet
Coloured flowers;
To the street people it’s an
Enthusiasm and glamour.
In the hands of silvery bonny
Little girls it goes to the garden;
The perfume rends the firmament
And beautifies
The garden’s creation.
The tiny lovely flower attracts
The million.
She is the glory,
Dignity magnificence of our Nation.
On the head of the Goddess she
Is the attraction;
The poets are unable to depict
The charm and mention.
She is a ‘Beauty Queen’ in the
Creation,
With a little glance the
Tiny rosy cosy flower frees the tension.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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This Southern Land of Ours
With alien hearts to frame our laws
And cheat us as of old,
In vain our soil is rich, in vain
'Tis seamed with virgin gold:
But the present only yields us nought,
The future only lours
Till we dare to be a people
In this Southern Land of Ours.
What would pygmean statesmen but
Our new-world prospects blast,
By chaining native enterprise
To Europe's pauper past,
With all its misery for the mass,
And fraud-upholden powers;
But we'll yet have men, - like Cromwell,
In this Southern Land of Ours.
And lo, the unploughed future, boys,
May yet be all our own,
If hearts that love their Native Land
Determine this alone:
To sow its years with crops of truth,
And border these with flowers,
Till we have a birth of heroes
In this Southern Land of Ours.
poem by Charles Harpur
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To The Land
To the land of bribes,
To the land of telephones,
To the land of corruptions,
To the land of trains,
To the land of shops,
To the land of thieves,
To the land of connections,
To the land of drugs,
To the land of trucks,
To the land of cats,
To the land of Banks,
To the land of dogs, To the land of footballers,
To the land of dragons,
To the land of hope,
To the land of ice-cream,
To the land of potatoes,
To the land of chocolates,
To the land of tomatoes,
To the land of apples,
To the land of coffee,
To the land of lights,
To the land of ships,
To the land of birds,
To the land of tigers,
To the land of carpets,
To the land of pillows,
To the land of lions,
TO the land of toys,
To the land of horses,
To the land of beds,
To the land of roses,
To the land of love,
To the land of passion,
To the land of romance;
I never new women do snore until i married one.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Never Ask Twice Aka Airplane
Please observe my continental alligator skin line shoulder bag
Ive covered it in stickers from far and wide
And stuffed it full of suits and matching ties
Ive travelled on the seas and Ive travelled on the land
And theres not a single person I cant understand
Ive forgotten the languages and wave my cash
Ive enjoyed every minute of it with a splash
I wear a panama on my brilcremed hair
I think I carry it with a certain flair
When travelling abroad I know the score
With the voice of authority from the first a-world war
I went all through to congo on a magic pleasure knock
Staving off disease with hallucinogenic drugs
With a mind-bending root from a local native source
Made my mind and my body have a premature divorce
I felt like I was sliding from a massive height
It seemed like it was morning in the middle of the night
My eyes were open, though theres nothing much to see
A swirling mist of images
The seas are my friend and the skies my home
When clinging to the arm-rests, I travel alone
Im always ready to give advice
Travelling companions never ask twice
Ive travelled on the seas and Ive travelled on the land
And theres not a single person I cant understand
Ive forgotten the languages and wave my cash
Ive enjoyed every minute of it with a splash
Ive travelled on the seas and Ive travelled on the land
And theres not a single person I cant understand
Ive forgotten the languages and wave my cash
Ive enjoyed every minute of it with a splash
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Untitled
A window, a heart,
Can always be broken.
It can be replaced,
But never forgotten.
poem by Mystykka Mysterious
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