As I suffer in the defence of my Country, I must consider this hour as the most glorious of my life -Remember that I die as becomes a British Officer, while the manner of my death must reflect disgrace on your Commander.
quote by John Andre
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
In hour of darkness, I remember you
In hour of darkness,
I remember you
And the darkness of my life quickly flutters away
In hour of happiness,
I remember you
And the happiness comes much more
In hour of difficulty,
I remember you
And my faith goes stronger
In hour of death,
I remember you
And I breathe my last with a smile
In hour of losing courage
I remember you
And I become more confident
In hour of failure,
I remember you
And my failure turns into success due to you
In hour of seeking you
I don’t remember you
Because you are in me and I am in you
poem by Pushkar Bisht
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The Great Three
At one time when the country was ruled by creul british
there came the Tremendous three
who were on mission to make our country free
they distributed templates
to stop their mission
the british called simon commission
they knew it was test of the best
against simon they made protest
but it proved them costly
as their leader was beaten by sticks
furious by their behaviour
it was time to teach british lesson
The officer guilty deserved the punishment
it was justice
After some days
once again the british at its creulity
for their pleasure
they were going with train of treasure
the Revolutionaries decide to do justice
they steal the train
The british pass bill
which made sure that the farmers will not get justice
it was test of best
as they protest
in the Assembly they throw bomb
the british catch the tremendous three
the punishment they get is hanged till death
but fear is stranger to them
as they happily hang themselves
and they still say
long live the revolution
vande mataram
I proud to be indian
poem by Rohan Bendre
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Salmon Van As
On a night just as the moon is rising
a British officer comes by horse with a white flag
and the rifle barrels of the Boers follow him,
as they are on guard at the front post.
Evening after evening he comes
and sometimes rides past in a cloud of dust
where he is spying on their positions
and tries to lead them astray with his chattering.
With words that by now they know:
“No nation will win against us.
Surrender tonight,
as you have already lost the war.”
On a hillock Salmon van As is at the front post
and something creaks below him in the trees and bushes
where he is standing with his Mauser rifle at the ready
and he knows of the atrocities of this Englishman
where with a thunder clap he shoots at him.
Some black men run back to the British camp
to tell the story of the shot,
where a red headed major stamps his feet in anger
and swears to God to take revenge.
Convinced of his own innocence Salmon van As
stays openly on his own farm,
where he goes on with his life in Heidelberg
and just after the peace of Vereniging,
when it fits the British,
they insist on his arrest.
He is brought before a military court
where he is not given any chance to defend himself,
as probably he would have succeeded in his own defence
and the British officer says his final say.
At daylight the Lee Metford rifles of the British soldiers fire
and like Gideon Scheepers there’s a Boer that falls,
a Boer citizen is murdered by the British
and in the cliff a thorn tree on his grave still tells that story.
poem by Gert Strydom
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On the March to Sinopi
Mithridatis, glorious and powerful,
ruler of great cities,
master of strong armies and fleets,
on the march to Sinopi took a route
through a remote part of the country
where a soothsayer lived.
Mithridatis sent one of his officers
to ask the soothsayer how much more wealth,
how much more power, he'd accumulate in the future.
He dispatched one of his officers,
then continued his march to Sinopi.
The soothsayer withdrew into a secret room.
About a half an hour later he came out
troubled, and said to the officer:
"I wasn't able to clarify things very well.
Today is not a propitious day—
there were some murky shadows, I didn't understand them fully—.
But, I think, the king should be content with what he has.
Anything more will prove dangerous for him.
Remember, officer, to tell him that:
for God's sake to be satisfied with what he has.
Fortune changes suddenly.
Tell King Mithridatis this:
it's extremely rare to come across anyone like his ancestor's companion,
that noble companion who wrote in the earth with his lance
those timely words that saved him: ‘Escape, Mithridatis.' "
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Don’t disgrace the work
Don’t disgrace the work
‘O’ dad, please leave this petty job.
He was a Gardner, who flies the birds to save fruits from them.
‘O’ my son always remember that no work is small of big.
Several bricks are bound to go in the foundation
Only few reaches on the top of the building.
Efforts of a soldier and commander have equal significance.
Their best efforts are essential for the success.
Every men could not be the manager.
For the development of the society
Every type of work is necessary.
So, please don’t disgrace the work.
poem by Vijay Gupta
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Be The C.E.O. Of It
Handle your own business.
With an expertise,
You keep.
And be the C.E.O. of it.
You are the Chief Executive Officer.
Commander of your ship.
Know this.
And conduct yourself with a firm grasp held,
Within an unrelenting fist.
Get over mistakes made.
Moaning over them for you leaves no benefit.
You alone can make it known,
Persistence is in your grip.
And with it,
There is no quitting.
Handle your own business.
With an expertise,
You keep.
And be the C.E.O. of it.
You are the Chief Executive Officer.
Commander of your ship.
Know this.
And conduct yourself with a firm grasp held,
Within an unrelenting fist.
Release from your mind designs of defeat.
You...
And no one else,
Can succeed with skills to achieve.
Handle your own business.
And be the C.E.O. of it.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Mariposa
Butterflies are white and blue
In this field we wander through.
Suffer me to take your hand.
Death comes in a day or two.
All the things we ever knew
Will be ashes in that hour,
Mark the transient butterfly,
How he hangs upon the flower.
Suffer me to take your hand.
Suffer me to cherish you
Till the dawn is in the sky.
Whether I be false or true,
Death comes in a day or two.
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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My character and good name are in my own keeping. Life with disgrace is dreadful. A glorious death is to be envied.
quote by Horatio Nelson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death Is Not The End
When youre sad and when youre lonely and you havent got a friend
Just remember that death is not the end
And all that youve held sacred, falls down and does not mend
Just remember that death is no the end
Not the end, not the end
Just remember that death is not the end
When youre standing at the crossroads that you cannot comprehend
Just remember that death is not the end
And all your dreams have vanished and you dont know whats up the bend
Just remember that death is not the end
Not the end, not the end
Just remember that death is not the end
When the storm clouds gather round you, and heavy rains descend
Just remember that death is not the end
And theres no one there to comfort you, with a helpin hand to lend
Just remember that death is not the end
Not the end, not the end
Just remember that death is not the end
Oh, the tree of life is growing
Where the spirit never dies
And the bright light of salvation shines
In dark and empty skies
When the cities are on fire with the burning flesh of men
Just remember that death is not the end
And you search in vain to find just one law abiding citizen
Just remember that death is not the end
Not the end, not the end
Just remember that death is not the end
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sinner's Visit from Death
Whence the reek, the sombre clouds?
Those of billows gargantuan;
Of storms immense, blushing black,
Wishing sought of me to assess?
And have I passed? I have?
Hence I hear a knock on oak;
Unwelcomed, dullened cloak
Flowing dourly - it was a bitter breeze.
‘Have you mulled my sins? ' I ask.
‘Have you seen my impotence -
Though observe destruction at mine hands?
Forgive me, I am but Man.'
‘And are not sinners forgiven? ' I excuse,
‘Hence forgiveness avoids me of Hell?
Must my Demons of Sin revisit eternally
And reflect back on me to suffer well
The synergy of vengeance and wrath?
Are you not now pitying of my terror?
See my withering, regretful flesh -
Feel you not my tardy repentance? '
But Death just focused his stare,
That which pierced my pulseless heart,
For I was empty of remorse in all my years.
He knew that - and led me away.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
Death death death
Death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death
Death death death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Ship That Never Returned
On a summer's day while the waves were rippling, with a quiet and a gentle breeze;
A ship set sail with a cargo laden for a port beyond the sea.
Did she ever return? No, she never returned, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
There were sad farewells, there were friends forsaken, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander on a ship that never returned.
Did she ever return? No, she never returned, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
Said a feeble lad to his aged mother, I must cross that deep blue sea,
For I hear of a land in the far off country, where there's health and strength for me.
Did she ever return? No, she never returned, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
'Tis a gleam of hope and a maze of danger, and our fate is still to learn,
And a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
Did she ever return? No, she never returned, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
Said this feeble lad to his aged mother, as he kissed his weeping wife,
"Just one more purse of that golden treasure, it will last us all through life.
Did she ever return? No, she never returned, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
"Then we'll live in peace and joy together and enjoy all I have earned."
So they sent him forth with a smile and blessing on a ship that never returned.
Did she ever return? No, she never returned, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
poem by Henry Clay Work
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Australia Infelix
HOW long, O Lord, shall this, my country, be
A nation of the dead? How long shall they
Who seek their own and live but for the day,
My country hinder from her destiny?
Around me, Lord, I seem again to see
That ancient valley where the dry bones lay,
And ’tis in vain that long I wait and pray
To see them rise to men resolved and free.
Yet sure, O Lord, upon this land of death
At last Thy Spirit will descend with power;
And Thou wilt kindle patriots with Thy breath,
Who, venturing all to win their country’s good,
Shall toil and suffer for the sacred hour
That brings the fullness of her nationhood.
poem by William Gay
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Im In Disgrace
The first time that I saw you
You were the lady of my dreams.
The very next time I had to make you mine,
And I treated you like a queen.
The third time that I saw you
You treated me with such distaste,
Now I wish Id never seen your face.
Im in disgrace,
Im in disgrace.
Because I fell for your pretty face,
Im in disgrace. hes in disgrace.
Im in disgrace. hes in disgrace.
You captured me in your embrace.
Theres no use blaming me
And saying I was your ruination
Because it was you equally
That got us into this situation.
It wasnt lust, it wasnt rape,
It was just a mistake
Im in disgrace. hes in disgrace.
Im in disgrace. hes in disgrace.
Because I fell for your pretty face.
Im in disgrace. shes in disgrace.
Im in disgrace. hes in disgrace.
You captured me in your embrace.
Was your love real or faked?
Or was it only infatuation?
Picture you in my place.
I wish Id acted with a little less haste.
Im in disgrace.
Im in disgrace.
Because I fell for your pretty face.
Oh what a waste. hes in disgrace.
Im in disgrace. hes in disgrace.
Now my names dirt and Im disgraced.
Im in disgrace.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Veteran
They preferred death to honour
No to life for dishonour
To die for the cause
Constant move with no let or pause
It may be need of an hour
Better lay down life than to lie on floor
Death may not wait and come fast
You will not have time to breathe your last
Chances for bright life may recede
You may fight the war but not concede
Who knows when death may make fast visit?
You will find hell is let loose and find exit
Country may not know it so soon
Bodies may be flown in bright noon
Countrymen may weep and lay a wreath
May mourn and offer roses on death
You may be down in history as hero
Over night change of status from zero
You may be nobody but never forgotten
You may shine as lamp from small lantern
Veterans were not war mongers
They were true sons and messengers
They made smooth and easy passage
Countrymen can lead life with peaceful message
Why one may need to risk the life?
When he has happy life and wife
Soldiers face this dilemma in entire span
He may not bother where does he belong or clan
He doesn’t need any action plan
He may swim across as white swan
We may not remember his small contribution
Keep trophies ready for bravery and distribution
Remember he is true and brave son
We should portray him well with reason
Country may offer so much with sole concern
How can we forget our comrade and veterans?
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Death, Inevitable Death
Death, inevitable Death.
So now You come to show Your world,
Hence the blackened cloak – unfurled.
And peering down upon my form
– Bereft of pity – Your eyes of storm.
Death, inexorable Death.
‘When? ’ The only question out of Thee.
My dream retorts 'But ne’er for me! ’
But now awake, I bid you so –
My giving tears cry ‘Where to go? ’
Death, adamant Death.
You cast Your spell and guide me 'way,
For life and I have had our day.
And what of me? I prey You, tell!
Be glorious in Heaven or gnarled in Hell?
Death, ineluctable Death.
Oh wiry ghoul, I'm here to follow –
I leave my body grey and shallow.
‘Come! ’ You bid in thund’ring tones,
‘Beg farewell to shattered bones.’
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
Death
Death death
Death death death
Death death death death
Death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death
Death death death death
Death death death
Death death
Death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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One Day's Command
The plumed staff officer gallops
Along the swaying line,
That shakes as, beaten by hailstones,
Shakes the loaded autumn vine;
And the earth beneath is reddened,
But not with the stain of wine.
The regular shock of a battery
The rattling tumult stuns;
And its steady thrill through the hill-side
Like a pulse beneath it runs;
The many are dead around it,
But the few still work the guns.
'Who commands this battery?'
And Crosby his clear, young eyes
From the sliding gun-sights lifting
As the well-aimed death-bolt flies,
'I command it today, Sir!'
With a steady voice replies.
Answers as heroes answer,
With modest words and few,
Whose hearts and hands to duty
Even in death are true,
Though its awful light is breaking
Full on their blenchless view.
The officer passes onward
With a less troubled eye,
The words and the look unshaken
Bid every wild doubt fly;
He knows that the young commander
Is there to do or die.
To do
and
die; for the battle
And day of command are done,
While stands unmoved on the hill-side
Each shattered, blackened gun,
And Crosby in death beside them
A deathless name has won.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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Is This The Type Of Person
Is this the type of person you wish your son to be
A person who is responsible for creating many a refugee
Another tainted leader who abuses his power
So many have to suffer for his most glorious hour.
Is this the type of person that you really admire
the fear of other races in his fellow citizens he inspire
'Twould seem that for your offspring your dreams are not big at all
The future generations of historians fear and war mongers won't recall.
Is this the type of person you wish your son to look up to
There surely will be better things in life for him to do
Than causing death and suffering done by others in his name
Is this what you wish for your son is there no greater fame?
Than causing great unhappiness when the bombs of death rain down
To innocent civilians in some distant foreign Town
Your son deserves far better despite for him what you desire
And to far greater things in life he surely might aspire?
poem by Francis Duggan
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Sir Richard's Song
(A. D. 1066)
I followed my Duke ere I was a lover,
To take from England fief and fee;
But now this game is the other way over--
But now England hath taken me!
I had my horse, my shield and banner,
And a boy's heart, so whole and free;
But now I sing in another manner--
But now England hath taken me!
As for my Father in his tower,
Asking news of my ship at sea,
He will remember his own hour--
Tell him England hath taken me!
As for my Mother in her bower,
That rules my Father so cunningly,
She will remember a maiden's power--
Tell her England hath taken me!
As for my Brother in Rouen City,
A nimble and naughty' page is he,
But he will come to suffer and pity--
Tell him England hath taken me!
As for my little Sister waiting
In the pleasant orchards of Normandie,
Tell her youth is the time for mating--
Tell her England hath taken me!
As for my comrades in camp and highway
That lift their eyebrows scornfully,
Tell them their way is not my way--
Tell them England hath taken me!
Kings and Princes and Barons famed,
Knights and Captains in your degree;
Hear me a little before I am blamed--
Seeing England hath taken me!
Howso great man's strength be reckoned,
There are two things he cannot flee.
Love is the first, and Death is the second-
And Love in England hath taken me!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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This crazy country
I’m in this crazy country
If I could leave I would go tomorrow never to return
Oh Allah how can I go
From this crazy country
When I do what I do for the sake of Allah
My 1st Daughter
The strong & the brave
She was physically & emotionally abused
Some years ago
Taken from me brought up by another
No one knows why
But
Daughter no.2
She was allowed to stay
To be abused
Physically, emotionally & attempted sexually
With emotional problems
No fear of danger
Her father still free
To abuse another
1son & twin daughters the pain still goes on
He is still free
As free as can be
Daughter no 2 went to a special school
She learned to survive
Not wanting to become a woman
She was ready to come home
Her room was made nice
The sisters helped to decorate
Ready for her return
You made new friends
In your white community
They told you that you are British
Me myself I’m not proud to be half British
I’m ashamed you see at what they do to my family
I am a Muslim from Islam
That’s what maters to me
What happened to what I taught you to believe.
You come from a multi-cultural family
You decided to stay
Not come home how can this be
My child needs her mom
I’m told the law gives her the right to choose in this country
So you god fearing mom’s beware when your child goes to school
In this crazy country
As children suffer & even die
There parents free
Free as can be
Then there is my son child no.3
Taken from me
He is with his father you see
In this crazy country
My son runs to be with me
Now he needs therapy
Just for wanting me
I am a God fearing mom doing all I can for my family
In this crazy country
As I see with my eyes
Hear with my ears
What you do to my Brothers & Sisters in this country
I want to leave & go some place where I can be free
As free as can be
To give my all to people who need me
Oh Allah how can I leave this crazy country
When I do what I do for the sake of Allah
To be there for my family
People try to bring me down for I’m a God fearing mom
Before I go
Leave this crazy country
Remember this
You might be free as free as can be
In this crazy country
But when judgment day comes
Who will be free
As free as can be
Will it be you
Or will it be me?
poem by mariam khan Farah Abdulahi
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Why Haven't You Called
I wait hour by hour
Minute by minute
Second by second
To hear the sound of ringing
I yearn to hear your voice
Only yours
Do you like to see me suffer?
Do you even know I suffer
I suffer so bad I want to gauge my eyes
I suffer so bad I want to slit my wrist in front of your eyes
I’m sick and tired if waiting by the phone just for you
I’m sick of seeing your pictures and not being able to touch you
I have to see you
I have to talk to you
Why haven’t you called?
poem by Brytanne Lee
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