Our Part
The honored dead lay in their graves
While on this special day we praise
Their unselfish contributions:
Each gave their lives for this nation;
A great country with liberty
Enjoyed by its citizenry.
What do we do to contribute?
Lay flowery wreaths, a tribute?
We the living need to do more:
We must earnestly strive toward
A lasting peace, not just in words
But deeds, so war does not recur.
The toll is too great on the young:
Our dead and wounded are its sum.
poem by Albert Ahearn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Honor the Vets
I looked at the grave stones of the veteran dead
Tears filled my eyes as I bowed my head.
All of them had served their country proud
Now they lay in this ground.
They were sons and daughters, mothers and fathers
Sisters and brothers, uncles and aunts
And the list goes on and on.
But how many of them are honored
with a flower or two.
It’s really not hard to do.
They gave their lives so that we can be free
Don’t they deserve some dignity?
This country is standing on the lives of the dead
All of these have died, and many have bled.
Freedom isn’t really free
Other wise these grave stones you would not see.
Isn’t there someone in your family
Who died fighting for liberty?
Let us honor the dead
And thank the living for all that they have given.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Losers Never Write The War History
The losers never write the war history that's something we already know
Yet for the many wars fought through the ages we do not have the wisdom to show
That victory too comes at a huge cost for war the price is huge to pay
For families who grieve for their dead members their sense of loss with them will stay
Until they themselves go to the reaper the reaper who claims one and all
The loved one war had taken from them with great sadness they will recall
But the dead to life cannot be returned better to live as a coward than die brave
For none has yet come back for to tell us that there is a life beyond the grave,
They died for their God and their Country of dead war heroes some well may brag
Those who place too much worth on the unknowable and the colour of their Nation's flag
I for one find religion and patriotism confusing of god and war heroes hymns and songs are sung
But surely it is a misnomer that only the good do die young
And yet from war we have not learned young lives are lost for wars to be won
And if lasting peace ever does come it won't be through the barrel of a gun
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hymn For a Lasting Peace
The world needs a lasting peace if man is to survive:
Let nation not fight nation,
Let race not conquer race,
Let the strong not commit invasion,
Let all men share Earth's grace.
Ban aggression of any kind,
Ban all arms production,
Ban man's violence against mankind,
Ban all forms of destruction.
It is for a lasting peace that man has got to strive.
The world needs a lasting peace if man is to survive:
To save the snow capped mountains,
To save the depths of the seas,
To save the springs and fountains,
To save the birds and the bees;
That farms and forests flourish,
That rivers and streams flow pure,
That fields give life and nourish,
That Earth's great seasons endure.
It is for a lasting peace that man has got to strive.
The world needs a lasting peace if man is to survive:
That man may walk upon Earth,
That he will find an open door,
That there be the rights of birth,
That man destroys not, be the law;
That each to his faith can hold,
That homes and gardens are safe,
That not a child dies in the cold,
That not a child is a hungry waif.
It is for a lasting peace that man has got to strive.
The world needs a lasting peace if man is to survive:
That Human Rights be for all men,
That every injustice should cease,
That Human Rights protects all men,
That all men can find perfect peace;
That there be but one brotherhood,
That the land, sea and sky be free,
That progress be for the common good,
That peace everlasting will be.
It is for a lasting peace that man has got to strive.
poem by Pauline D'Roza
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Dead whno Died for Ireland
The dead who died for Ireland!
Oh, these are living words
To nerve the hearts of patriots —
to steel avenging swords —
They thrill the soul when spoken,
and lowly bend the head
With reverence for the memories
of all our martyred dead.
The dead who died for Ireland —
the noble ones — the best,
Who gave their lives for Motherland,
Who poured upon her breast,
In Freedom's cause, the blood she gave —
Who with their dying breath,
Sent prayers to God to heal her woes —
then sealed their love in death.
The dead who died for Ireland,
How hallowed are their graves!
With all the memories fresh and green,
Oh! how could we be slaves?
How could we patient clang the chain?
How could we fawn and bow?
How could we crouch like mongrels
'neath the keeper's frowning brow?
Be proud, ye men of Ireland!
Be proud of those who died;
Never men o'er all the earth
Had greater cause for pride —
Hope and strive, and league for freedom,
And again the souls will rise
Of the dead who died for Ireland
To cheer you to the prize.
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Martha
SEXTON! Martha's dead and gone;
Toll the bell! toll the bell!
Her weary hands their labor cease;
Good night, poor Martha,-- sleep in peace!
Toll the bell!
Sexton! Martha 's dead and gone;
Toll the bell! toll the bell!
For many a year has Martha said,
"I'm old and poor,-- would I were dead!"
Toll the bell!
Sexton! Martha's dead and gone;
Toll the bell! toll the bell!
She'll bring no more, by day or night,
Her basket full of linen white.
Toll the bell!
Sexton! Martha's dead and gone;
Toll the bell! toll the bell!
'Tis fitting she should lie below
A pure white sheet of drifted snow.
Toll the bell!
Sexton! Martha's dead and gone;
Toll the bell! toll the bell!
Sleep, Martha, sleep, to wake in light,
Where all the robes are stainless white.
Toll the bell!
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Some Life’s Paradoxes
The dead can’t care about living;
The living must pray for their dead;
Though dead took care of living then,
The living can’t take care of dead!
The elderly cared for all young;
The young must care for aged when old;
The love that parents had shown then,
Can’t be repaid ever by young!
The fruits I enjoy now when young,
Are from the trees planted by aged;
The things I do to others now
Will be returned to me when old!
The measure I use for others
Will be used unto me by God;
The judgments I pronounce on next,
Will decide my after-life’s rod!
Let’s do our duty with great love;
Reward will come from heav’n above.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 20-11-2010
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
After the Azkarah (Memorial Service)
AFTER THE AZKARAH (Memorial Service)
After the Azkarah
There is Silence
Silence and the Sadness of Silence
What is there to say after all?
The words have been said
Words of Love and Gratitude
Words of Tribute
They have been said
There is nothing more to say
The dead are dead
And the living are the living
Soon the Silence of Sadness
Will end
And the words even trivial words begin again
The Living are the Living
We are not yet
The Dead.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
America s Strength (series #2)
As a youngster I began to wonder “ how this great nation came to be”.
People from all over the world looking for a new life to escape tyranny.
This became AMERICAS history.
Then we had our civil war and we fought as state to state.
We all became UNITED and that made this nation great.
So we put the two together and the UNITED STATES was formed.
Little did we know- that this would be the “ norm”.
Look around you, and you will see
Every ethnic group, that’s how we came to be.
AMERICA is not just a country, but a land
Where the bell of freedom rings
And from every country, its people it will bring.
AMERICA is a dream- a vision, a quest- if you must
But in this great nation we put all our trust.
So give us your humble, your poor, your weak
If freedom is what they seek.
This is what made this nation, and gave dreams to all mankind
For we will fight for this country, our lives we’ll put on the line.
We will get stronger, and you will weaken and die
For you can not break our spirit, no matter how you try.
“ now many will say I’m a dreamer”
But that’s how this world came to be
Every small dream has become a reality.
We wanted to hide the pictures and videos
From our children of what you had done.
Because we had felt that they was much to young.
Now we’ve decided to teach and show them about
This cowardly act, and to give them knowledge
And show them all the facts.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Don't Forget who is your Father
God is Great
He created you and me so ladies and gentleman
he is the only person to praise and pray
Cause some of us we pray Alan people you pray him
who is him God is the one who created us
so guys help me to Thank him every time i'm sick i call him cause
he is the hiller the killer of diseases in the world
Help me to sing.
How great is our God sing with me how great is our God
all we sing is how great is our God age to age praise his
Great great great great great
great great great great great great great
great great great great great great great
great great great great great great great great great great great
GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD..
Thank you Help me pliz.
poem by Ruvimbo Daisy Matsika
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet- This Is The World
When one has power, each will bow his head;
When one has clout great, all will flock like sheep;
When one has wisdom, all tussles are dead;
When one has wealth great, all praises will heap.
When one is living, none takes pain to see;
When one is much ill, no one cares to meet;
When one has glory, all to him will flee;
When one has riches, all gather upbeat.
When one is poor now, not a friend will peep;
When one's retired, none will come to speak;
When one is dead, now garlands, wreaths all steep;
When one is aged, not a soul doth seek.
When one is healthy, people are afraid.
When one is wealthy, people flock for aid.
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dead Alive
Mourned to be the one -
To wake -
To live -
To see -
To walk -
Alive but dead -
Days by day, my oasis lives by the colour of night -
Energies of the living, absorbed -
To live in the between of dead -
Peace to be found, the yard where we spade the graves -
Where tombs act the way of stones -
The dead of the flowers, vase the portrait of a future to be -
Flesh to earth, invested to be inverted -
Still born -
Aged we pass to birth -
To be boned -
To die in death
poem by Unic Cjonr
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Peace Of The Man And The Dragon
finally we have found peace,
the outcome of the war,
as we have seen greatness since,
as we have seen light and darkness,
the king welcomes us for a meeting,
we gave a great toast to peace to the lands,
and the lost honored in memory,
we have found the light,
as soon as we've seen the great light of peace,
our people have became the allies of peace,
we have seen our men attacked in the night,
for peace has prevailed for now.
poem by Nicholas Spandrel
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To R A A
Was it not a great end?
Wrote your Philip, with a story
Of a great deed, a great death--
Not foreseeing his own glory
And his budding laurel-wreath--
In the last words he should send.
Philip's followed Alan's lead.
They are gone into the night
With the great heroes of old,
With the stars, the stars they are bright;
They are warm; they are not cold.
They live: they are not dead.
But the silence aches. O friend
In the darkness, cold and stricken,
For anodyne, antidote,
Tell your dead heart, that it quicken,
The last words that Philip wrote:
'Was it not a great end ?' A great end!
poem by Katharine Tynan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The King (II)
And now a son has come again
To keep the peace or strike the blow,
And have a long, great, glorious reign,
Through calm or tempest, weal or woe.
And strange things set me wondering –
As man and youth, we knew him here,
The one the only British King,
To see his Southern Hemisphere.
‘Midst pealing bells and cannons’ din
The countless thousands cheer and strive
To catch one glance of their new King
And queenly Mary, his fair bride;
‘Til on their knees, within the Fane,
The Royal couple meekly kneel,
The Great God’s clemency to claim,
And pray Him for their people’s weal.
And so I see, in vision clear,
The long reign of this noble line,
How on and on, from year to year
The star of peace shall brighter shine,
How men and nations, without fear
Shall hope and labour, strive and sing:
“The day of liberty is here!
The King is Dead! Long Live the King”
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
True Heroes
There at my feet my comrade lies
as though he were but fast asleep.
Death came and took him by surprise.
All soldiers know that life is cheap.
As does each politician.
Whose lies persuade young men to go
and sign on as a fighting man.
Because they are too young to know.
Their country’s leaders are not wise.
Although they all profess to be
They all refuse to recognise
in war there is no victory.
Except the claims which death will make.
That he has added to his score
the lives he’s taken and will take.
In this and any future war.
It has been so through history.
Old men send young men to die
and praise them for their bravery
Although they lie and know they lie.
Dead heroes are of little use.
Of course we praise their memory.
It takes a brave man to refuse
to go and face the enemy.
Though some accept they will not kill
but tend wounded where they can
They are prepared to use their skill
to help not harm their fellow man.
01/05/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Twenty-Fifth Of April
THIS day is Anzac Day!
Made sacred by the memory
Of those who fought and died, and fought and live,
And gave the best that men may give
For love of Land. It dawns once more,
And, though on alien sea and shore
The guns are silent all,
Yet we with pride recall
The deeds which gave it immortality.
Great deeds are deathless things!
The doer dies, but not the deed,
And, when upon that fateful April day
Our Anzacs, throwing all but love away,
Gave life and limb for Honour's sake,
With Freedom tremblingly at stake,
They lit a beacon-light
Imperishable, bright,
That evermore the Nation's soul shall heed.
Not Peace, not Peace alone
Can make a nation great and good
And bring it that full stature, strength, and grace
That fit it for an age-enduring place
In men's regard. Through storm and strife
It runs to sweet and noble life;
For through its veins there runs
The valour of great sons
Who died to give it stately nationhood.
This day is Anzac Day!
Made sacred by the thrilling thought
Of those who proved their souls, it reappears;
And thus 'twill dawn, and dawn through future years
Till Time our petty deeds efface,
And others, dwelling in our place,
Tell o'er, with tongue and pen,
The glorious tale again
Of how on beach and crag the Anzacs fought.
poem by Roderic Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
National Monuments
Count not the cost of honour to the dead!
The tribute that a mighty nation pays
To those who loved her well in former days
Means more than gratitude for glories fled;
For every noble man that she hath bred,
Lives in the bronze and marble that we raise,
Immortalized by art's immortal praise,
To lead our sons as he our fathers led.
These monuments of manhood strong and high
Do more than forts or battle-ships to keep
Our dear-bought liberty. They fortify
The heart of youth with valour wise and deep;
They build eternal bulwarks, and command
Eternal strength to guard our native land.
poem by Henry Van Dyke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Interfaith Debate
God is dead.
God is great.
My God is great.
Your God is dead.
Your God is great.
My God is dead.
Who made the Sun?
My God.
Your God.
Great God.
So, one God?
‘Not two’
So why are we fighting?
Oh it’s politics.
Then leave God out of it?
My God – no…
He’s on our side
He’s not on your side
Shall we start again?
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Love always forgives
Oh foolish man to test her love in this way
hurting her so and causing her such dismay.
Her wonderful love so faithful and so true
has been challenged by the deeds that you do.
But her love was so deep, so great and so vast
that it could all your testing and trials outlast
and swallowed up your deeds so dastardly,
then still loved on despite your treachery.
But wounded and hurt she needed to recover
her strength to carry on loving her lover.
After time spent with Jesus in the upper room
love conquered all and dispersed the gloom.
Love was patient and kept no record of wrong
and despite my failings her love proved strong.
Not to be destroyed by my deeds so repulsive
Her unselfish attitude sought only to forgive.
We Cannot Save The Dead
WE CANNOT SAVE THE DEAD
We cannot save the dead,
Though we perfect our forms of remembrance-
The dead are the dead forever dead-
And we will too one day be among them
Dead forever dead-
Despite the way those left behind strive to remember.
Dead forever dead-
Unless God decide
In some way we cannot understand
That the individual human being
Is as infinitely precious
As those who love them here
know them to be.
-
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!