I long to be in the Field again, doing my part to keep the old flag up, with all its stars.
quote by Joshua Chamberlain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thick-Sprinkled Bunting
THICK-SPRINKLED bunting! Flag of stars!
Long yet your road, fateful flag!--long yet your road, and lined with
bloody death!
For the prize I see at issue, at last is the world!
All its ships and shores I see, interwoven with your threads, greedy
banner!
--Dream'd again the flags of kings, highest born, to flaunt
unrival'd?
O hasten, flag of man! O with sure and steady step, passing highest
flags of kings,
Walk supreme to the heavens, mighty symbol--run up above them all,
Flag of stars! thick-sprinkled bunting!
poem by Walt Whitman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The flag that was the symbol of slavery on the high seas for a long time was not the Confederate battle flag, it was sadly the Stars and Stripes.
quote by Alan Keyes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Lowering
The flag is folded
lengthwise, and lengthwise again,
folding toward the open edge,
so that the union of stars on the blue
field remains outward in full view;
a triangular folding is then begun
at the striped end,
by bringing the corner of the folded edge
to the open edge;
the outer point, turned inward along the open edge,
forms the next triangular fold:
the folding continued so, until the end is reached,
the final corner tucked between
the folds of the blue union,
the form of the folded flag is found to resemble that
of a 3-cornered pouch, or thick cocked hat.
Take this flag, John Glenn, instead of a friend;
instead of a brother, Edward Kennedy, take this flag;
instead of a father, Joe Kennedy, take this flag;
this flag instead of a husband, Ethel Kennedy, take this flag;
this 9-times-folded red-white-striped, star-spotted-blue flag,
tucked and pocketed neatly,
Nation, instead of a leader, take this folded flag.
Robert Kennedy, coffin without coverlet,
beside this hole in the grass,
beside your brother, John Kennedy,
in the grass,
take, instead of a country,
this folded flag;
Robert Kennedy, take this
hole in the grass.
poem by May Swenson
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Love Field
You lie so unfolded
In a love field
With your contempt for any modesty
In a love field
In a love field
In a love field
You yield with your lips still sealed
In a love field
Lost in a sea of imaginary women
Everything youd want
From the dawn to the dimming
Breath comes sharp and heart beats faster
In a love field
Cold ground for a pillow
Under a blanket of stars
In a love field
In a love field
In a love field
Headlights that startled
This embrace of hours
In a love field
In a crooked house
Where things can be arranged
You think youre different from the rest
But you dont see how youve changed
Under an archway
On a road of white linen
In a love field
Feel the anxious rhythm of a functional stranger
In a love field
In a love field
In a love field
Shes so tense but its never mentioned
In a love field
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Memory of Those who Fought and Died-Part I
The day the tears dried on your loved ones' faces...
The day those men in uniform carried your casket
to your last resting place...
The day the solemn sound of the bugle
was heard once and for all - in your name...
by your friends, comrades-in-arms, relatives
and mourners you did not even know...
The day that you did not hear the 21-gun salute
were fired not towards the enemy but
in your honor in deafening silence...
The day when they folded the flag neatly on
your funeral service then handed this
'gift of life' to your grieving mom and dad,
your spouse, your son, your daughter,
your brother or sister...
Was the day - the beginning...
you were forever remembered!
You are not forgotten and never will,
my buddy...my comrade.
As long as the stars and stripes,
fly proudly in every 50 states
...you will be remembered because
you are part of that flag.
Yes, you are even part of those
who abuse and misuse this so-called
precious freedom that you have died for.
They, too, are indebted to you.
The freedom we have now -
we may not cherished were it not
for your bravery, patriotism and the lives
you sacrificed to fight it with.
Freedom to argue; freedom to protest
and demonstrate; freedom to vote and
not to vote, freedom to elect our leaders
and damn them too; freedom to burn the flag -
Let them be!
That is what real freedom is all about.
America will always be a great nation,
today, tomorrow and forever...
because of you!
poem by Don Allan Dinio
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Our Flag
see
my flag is colourful
your flag is very nice
but this kid love the red....
you like the other
we can raice our flag
we can be proud
we can raice in high
I wish to hang it up
raice it up
fly with my loving stars.....
poem by Thampi KEE
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The Dear Old Flag
Oh! we love that dear old flag,
That our forefathers gave
Over one hundred years ago, boys,
They once stood under that dear flag,
But now they are in their graves,
Sleeping their everlasting sleep, boys.
CHORUS:
The Union forever,
Hurrah, boys, hurrah;
Down with the traitors,
Up with the stars;
For we love that dear old flag
That our fathers fought to save
When they were fighting for our freedom.
We will rally around its standard
Every Fourth day of July,
For we dearly love our nation;
We love to see the stars and stripes
A waving up on high
Over our Union celebration.
Three cheers for the Union
And the red, white and blue,
And our forefathers that formed the constitution;
May the flag forever wave
O'er our native land so true,
May God protect our flag and nation.
poem by Julia A Moore
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Australia's Forgotten Flag
Oh! the Cross of deepest blue,
With the bright stars shining through,
That was raised, my sons, for you,
On a skirt of purest whiteness long ago,
Long ago,
Long ago,
On the field of far Eureka long ago.
Oh! the girl that sewed the silk,
Blue as skies and white as milk,
(Jeanie Scotland – of that ilk)
In the hut there by Eureka long ago –
Years agone –
Auld Lang Syne –
With her young dead digger sweetheart on Eureka long ago.
Oh! the prayer the diggers said,
With the Southern Cross o'erhead!
It is whispered by the dead –
In the graveyard by Eureka whispered still –
Whispered still,
Murmured still,
By the shades that haunt Eureka murmured still.
Oh! the brother and the mate,
In the bonds of love and hate,
Ah! the help that came too late,
When the diggers marched from Creswick to the dawn,
Years agone!
Long years gone,
Oh! the midnight march from Creswick to Eureka and the dawn!
Few, and taken by surprise,
Oh! the mist that hid the skies –
And the steel in diggers' eyes –
Sunday morning in September long ago;
And they grapple and they strike –
With the pick-handle and pike –
Twenty minutes freed Australia at Eureka long ago.
For the leader won his crown,
Though the flag was trampled down,
For it rose in Melbourne town,
Oh, it rose in Melbourne city that same year,
With a clear
Ringing cheer
Oh! it floated high in Melbourne that same year.
When the London strikers starved,
While old England's roast was carved,
And our loaf with them was halved,
Then they bore our flag through London wreathed in flowers,
Wreathed in flowers,
Wreathed in flowers,
In the dreary streets of London, brightest spot in those dark hours.
They have stained it mongrel red,
And the stars are dull and dead,
With a northern cross instead,
Oh. the bloodstain like a red star long ago,
Long ago –
Long ago –
Oh! the red star that was bloodstain on the goldfields long ago.
We're divided – we are curst,
By the paltriest and worst,
Parties striving to be first.
But the shots from far Eureka echo yet,
Echo yet, –
Echo yet.
And they rattle round my window in the wet.
Flag and banner of my dreams!
The time is not as it seems,
And the tide of freedom streams
With the spirit of the people over all.
We shall raise the bright flag yet,
Ne'er to falter or forget,
And 'twill go through many battles ne'er to fall.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It is the soldier who salutes the flag, serves beneath the flag, whose coffin is draped by the flag who gives that protester the freedom to abuse and burn that flag.
quote by Zell Miller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Harry Wilmans
I was just turned twenty-one,
And Henry Phipps, the Sunday-school superintendent,
Made a speech in Bindle’s Opera House.
“The honor of the flag must be upheld,” he said,
“Whether it be assailed by a barbarous tribe of Tagalogs
Or the greatest power in Europe.”
And we cheered and cheered the speech and the flag he waved
As he spoke.
And I went to the war in spite of my father,
And followed the flag till I saw it raised
By our camp in a rice field near Manila,
And all of us cheered and cheered it.
But there were flies and poisonous things;
And there was the deadly water,
And the cruel heat,
And the sickening, putrid food;
And the smell of the trench just back of the tents
Where the soldiers went to empty themselves;
And there were the whores who followed us, full of syphilis;
And beastly acts between ourselves or alone,
With bullying, hatred, degradation among us,
And days of loathing and nights of fear
To the hour of the charge through the steaming swamp,
Following the flag,
Till I fell with a scream, shot through the guts.
Now there’s a flag over me in Spoon River!
A flag! A flag!
poem by Edgar Lee Masters from Spoon River Anthology
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Hawker, the Standard Bearer
The grey gull sat on a floating whale,
On a floating whale sat he,
And he told his tale of the storm and the gale,
And the ships that he saw with steam and sail,
As he flew by the Northern Sea.
"I have seen a sign that is strange and new,
That I never before did see:
A flying ship that roared as it flew,
The storm and the tempest driving through,
It carried a flag and it carried a crew,
Now what would that be?" said he.
"And the flag was a Jack with stars displayed,
A flag that is new to me;
For it does not ply in the Northern trade,
But it drove through the storm-wrack unafraid,
Now, what is that flag?" said he.
"I have seen that flag that is starred with white,"
Said a southern gull, said he,
"And saw it fly in a bloody fight,
When the raider Emden turned in flight,
And crashed on the Cocos lee."
"And who are these folk whose flag is first
Of all the flags that fly
To dare the storm and the fog accurst,
Of the great North Sea where the bergs are nursed,
And the Northern Lights ride high?"
"The Australian folk," said a lone sea-mew,
"The Australian flag," said he.
"It is strange that a folk that is far and few
Should fly their flag where there never flew
Another flag!" said he.
"I have followed their flag in the fields of France,
With its white stars flying free,
And no misfortune and no mischance
Could turn them back from their line of advance,
Or the line that they held," said he.
"Whenever there's ever rule to break,
Wherever they oughtn't to be,
With a death to dare and a risk to take,
A track to find or a way to make,
You will find them there," said he.
"They come from a land that is parched with thirst,
An inland land," said he,
"On risk and danger their breed is nursed,
And thus it happens their flag is first
To fly in the Northern Sea."
"Though Hawker perished, he overcame
The risks of the storm and the sea,
And his name shall be written in stars of flame,
On the topmost walls of the Temple of Fame,
For the rest of the world to see."
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Where cries begin when a broken tear smiles
I rest under a shady tree
Autumnal faded leaves tremble
with the peevish wind.
It looks like a Beethoven's symphony.
And I gaze at a faraway roof top flag post.
Torn flag waves in its sad rhythm
But the flag post stands straight
Like a young recruit.
Oh! If I am a newly painted flag post in the battlefield of life
Then I could have teach the flag how to show its true colors.
* To my unseen friend the silent song smith Nick Percowycz.
No palpitation heard since a long time from your territory. [Anchorville/Michigan] Are you passing well my dear?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Veterans
When the last charge sounds
And the battle thunders o'er the plain,
Thunders o'er the trenches where the red streams flow,
Will it not be well with us,
Veterans, veterans,
If, beneath your torn old flag, we burst upon the foe?
When the last post sounds
And the night is on the battle-field,
Night and rest at last from all the tumult of our wars,
Will it not be well with us,
Veterans, veterans,
If, with duty done like yours, we lie beneath the stars?
When the great réveillé sounds
For the terrible last Sabbath,
All the legions of the dead shall hear the trumpet ring!
Will it not be well with us,
Veterans, veterans,
If, beneath your torn old flag, we rise to meet our King?
poem by Alfred Noyes
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I can remember standing in the middle of the field after the race and seeing the American flag raised and hearing 'The Star Spangled Banner' and all the people singing it. Then I walked off the field and just kind of enjoyed the feeling.
quote by Elizabeth Robinson Schwartz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Red Carpet
Like a thunderous storms it sounded
Turning our heart blacked as coal
And our soil turned madder red
So it looked like a fine red carpet
On which our destiny now walk
Like a desert journey where men hardly talk
Peaceful we once lived like days and nights
Where our sun, moon, and stars equally shared
Down the river Niger we once derived our prides
In our millions like the peaceful troops of world war II
This is long before I came
Now that we lost the possessions of the game
Like players on green field
Ours has turned red field
Not by replacement, but bloodshed
Our proudly green-white-green flag has turned red
Where we rushed to see our leaders
We only met mere readers
Saw the missing sunday sun
Some rants while others raves
But only the victims families truly mourned
And I, who saw the red rainfalls
Must I swim through this strange flood?
In this mighty river Nile, but it is bLood...
poem by Naseeru Taneemu Annuree
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The Australian Flag
PURE blue Flag of heaven
With your silver stars,
Not beside those Crosses'
Blood-stained torture-bars:
Not beside the token
The foul sea-harlot gave,
Pure blue Flag of heaven,
Must you ever wave!
No, but young exultant,
Free from care and crime,
The soulless selfish England
Of this later time:
No, but, faithful, noble
Rising from her grave,
Flag of light and liberty,
For ever must you wave!
poem by Francis William Lauderdale Adams
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Banner Of Men Who Were Free
Flag of the great republic, banner of men who were free!
Carried aloft for freedom in many a bloody gorge;
Torn by the shot of tyrants in battle by land and sea,
The rallying hope of our fathers by Valley Forge.
But what is it but a rag, save it emblem the higher law?
Striped with the red of blood, flecked with the stars of war.
The ensign of might alone, to be held by the people in awe,
And cursed by savage chieftans in lands afar.
Little we owe to the England of this her lesser day,
But much to the field of Naseby, the spirit of Runnymede;
The bold adventurous Angles, who never shrank from the fray
When Liberty cried aloud in her hour of need.
Aloft on the dome of truth, in the city of brotherly love,
A sign to the world of hate, of Christ enthroned in the state,
Symbol of peace, like the olive leaf and the messenger dove,
Flew the flag of our fathers--the sign of a just debate!
But they dare to raise its standard on a field where the battle smoke,
Is rent with the groans of the slain, like the fallen of Lexington;
Where the eagles have traveled afar from the vultures of war which croak
O'er the bodies of those who died for the prize that it should have won?
Flag of a noble race, no longer our flag in truth,
Borne by a hostile hand in a cause of shame,
Give us the banner that flapped in the eyes of the nation's youth
And sent a thrill through the world of its faultless flame!
Yet, if its soul shall perish, take it for what it was --
For the shroud of those who worship the dead ideal;
Dead to lie with the dead beneath the recurrent grass,
No longer to grieve for the lost and no more to feel.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Wives Pay While Soldiers Lay
As they handed the folded up American flag to her,
For her to have and to hold.
She gazed at the stars and stripes.
Emotions overriding her thoughts.
Not believing this could be real.
She laid it against her chest as shivers went up her spine.
Hugging it tight as if she held it tight enough,
She would make him breath again.
Her heart barley beat and only to the tune of it breaking,
With unleashed tears and,
The combination of the weeks of fears.
Not knowing if he is going to come home,
And now the worst has came true.
Every part of her wants to lose control.
A flag was used to lure away her husband of only 3 years,
And the father of her 16 month old baby.
To lure him the love of her young life.
To fight a war that was not to be won.
He had come home in peace,
At last to stay but maybe,
Her husband could have came back in something,
Other then a coffin.
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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Two Flags
Some people are born under two flags.
Their parents are of two countries
and this is the situation of me.
I live under one flag,
but wish I lived under the other.
For a while, I lived under the other flag
and felt the world belong to me.
Now I live under the one flag
and everything seems to be taken from me.
Those who inspire my life
live under the other flag.
While the ones whose flag I live under
fail to recognise the potential within me.
It is a dilemma I face everyday,
whether to go or to stay.
However I am not the only one,
there must be many more just like me
who live under two flags
and wish they lived under the one farthest away.
2 May 2009
poem by David Harris
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Flag Song
Dear flag! Old flag! O, the blue and white,
Floating in the years long gone,
How our pulses beat,
Mocking at defeat,
Following the standard on.
Proud flag, New flag, purple and the gold
Shouting past the legions go,
Carried onward fleet
Knowing no retreat,
Flouting at the winds that blow.
Old flag, New flag, colours of the sky
Gleaming as the seasons roll,
Morning's blue attire,
Sunset's purple fire,
Golden braid on eve's dark stole.
Clear voice, young voice, ringing through the school,
Fluting in the sweet time flown,
Youth so debonair,
May not linger there,
Youngsters are to grey men grown.
Old school, kind school, fostering the weak,
Never brighter days have shone,
Boys from evil stayed,
Gallant men are made,
Following the Standard on.
poem by Frank Samuel Williamson
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