Remember
I hear the sound of distant guns,
as good lives march away,
to foreign lands to fight and die,
to preserve the rights of freedom,
for those in that distant land,
can have the right to live,
and not under a tyrant’s hand.
They go not as heroes for glory,
but to help innocent souls,
so they can sleep securely at night.
However, the battlefield where they are,
hold allsorts of dangers there,
some will never return safely home.
Their souls will look over
the battlefield where they fell,
possibly wondering at
the folly of it all.
Therefore, the next time you look at,
a monument with columns of names,
remember that their sacrifice
was made not for one, but for all.
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Tears Of Blood
On every battlefield,
the ground is stained with tears of blood.
The cruelty of war holds no bounds.
Men and boys fight together
and against each other.
Theirs deaths are just numbers
on someone’s statistics chart.
Their names are quickly forgotten
except by their loved ones.
Their bodies rot where they fell
in the no man’s land on a battlefield.
No one can make sense of the useless slaughter
by a faceless enemy across the invisible lines.
Lines drawn in the lunacy of a moment
for which hundreds will die for.
The tears of blood will fall like raindrops
from machinegun fire,
and so the crazy war goes on.
Each side losing brave men
to save some politicians face.
There is no glory in death
and wasting tears of blood on some foreign land,
just a waste of good lives.
When will it ever end?
22-23 May 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Across The Battlefield
Hear the cannons roar
across the battlefield
with its pits of pain
where the dead and dying lay.
In the no man’s land
that separates friend from foe.
Hear the mournful sounds
of weeping flesh
entangled within the baptism of death.
Across the battlefield
where there are fleeting ghosts
of those who fell on another day.
One day the guns may fall silent
and flowers will once again dance
with an evening breeze.
Instead of the blood of innocence
milking the no man’s ground.
Birds may again sing one day
replacing the agony of young men
dying before their time.
In twenty, fifty or a hundred years
they will be remembered
for the sacrifice they gave,
condemning themselves to an early grave.
Maybe when that day comes
no more cannons will again roar
across the battlefield
with its pits of pain.
19 May 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A War To End All Wars, But Wasn’t
They not only fought the enemy,
but fought the elements as well.
They fought for their country
in lands far from home.
They fought rain, mud and the enemy
in trenches stained with blood
from those who had fallen there before.
They fought on and on
while the Generals watched
the slaughter from far away.
For their mistakes men died
by the score across the battlefield.
Their blood would stained the land
then and forever more.
Then came the gas
like a creeping mist across the battlefield
that silenced all in its wake.
It made no distinction to young or old,
just poisoned all it touched.
Their contorted bodies rotted where they fell.
They said this was a war to end all wars, but it wasn’t.
Almost twenty years later
men from different countries gathered to fight another war
and again in the trenches men fell.
The mechanics had changed;
machines became more prevalent across the battlefield,
still men died for small victories in the tide of war.
3 July 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Battlefield Of Love
I am a soldier
A casualty of love
I've been from heaven
All the way to hell
I've had a journey
Much more than I can tell
I've got stories
Much more than I can sell
All this mass confusion
Causes chaos in my brain
I'm on the battlefield
The battlefield of love
With all of the illusions
I won't ever be the same
I'm on the battlefield
The battlefield of love
I'm a prisoner
A prisoner of love
I have been captured
And kept underground
I have been tortured
But I don't make a sound
'Cause I know one day
One day I will be found
All this mass confusion
Causes chaos in my brain
I'm on the battlefield
The battlefield of love
With all of the illusions
I won't ever be the same
I'm on the battlefield
The battlefield of love
song performed by by Lenny Kravitz from Lenny
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Seventh Star
Theres a vision in the sands
Rising from the ancient past
Crying let my spirit go
Lead my burning soul to rest
Hear the sound of distant ages
Its the call of the seventh start
Theres no shelter from the heat
Theres no mercy from this land
Hear a thousand chanting souls
Waiting judgement from gods hand
Hear the sound of distant ages
Its the call of the seventh start
Hear the sound of fallen angels
Its the call of the seventh start
The pyramids will fall
Turn to dust before the sun
And the star will rise again
Until destiny is done
Hear the sound of distant ages
Its the call of the seventh start
Hear the sound of fallen angels
Its the call of the seventh start
song performed by by Black Sabbath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
America- America, How I Love You So
America, America,
How I love you so,
We are richly blessed from up above,
Where all good blessings flow.
What other land upon this earth,
Like ours could ever be,
We are duty bound and ready to fight,
From sea to shining sea.
She has conquered lands around the world,
In great and numerous wars,
Let freedom ring for everyone,
From shore to gleaming shore.
Her gallant men strong and true,
Bear arms to keep her safe,
Old glory flies in distant lands,
None can take her place.
Her brave young men in foreign lands,
Go forth that freedom may flow,
That this great land may forever stand,
America, America, how I love you so.
Author,
Franklin Spriggs
April 26,2008
Dedicated to our Veterans, (active and inactive)
poem by Franklin Spriggs
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Woodstock Generation/Memorial Day
For every aging boomer
there are one or two they've known:
Heroes of the battlefield
Who never made it home.
Some classmate who was butchered
in a fire fight in “Nam.
A sibling who had perished
in the standoff at Khe Sanh.
Perhaps the Tet offensive
left some friend's blood spilled and spent.
Politicians speak of glory-
It’s the grunts who pay the rent
From the walls of Hue to Can Ranh Bay
from Tonkin to Saigon.
there is a wall in Washington
with their names inscribed thereon.
The lucky ones who did come home
recall the name and face
of some heroic eighteen year old
who perished in their place.
(dedicated to Corporal Frank Evangelista, Jr. and 58000 others who never made it to woodstock)
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dream On
(being, in love)
Been travelling this road for so long
My eyes are tired but I carry on
The sun lays down its golden threads
I need a place to rest my head
Although I am far from home now
My souls with you
Its hard to be out here on my own
So far away, so far from home
I need to touch and feel your skin
To live this dream in sleep again
Although I am far from home now
My souls with you
So dream on, dream on
Freedom comes with timeless sleep
Dream on, dream on
In the arms of night
Your silent shadow gently speaks
Dream on, dream on
This hotel rooms a lonely place
Its a one night cell I must escape
So I drink away my loneliness
So I can sleep and dream again
Although I am far from home now
My souls with you
And as I fall into
The darkness of the night
You come to rescue me to
Shield me in your light
I feel your touch
The softness of your skin
You hold me close before
The day breaks in
This dreams so true
My heart it beats, it beats
It beats for you, for you
Although I am far from home now
My souls with you
So dream on, dream on
Freedom comes with timeless sleep
Dream on, dream on
In the arms of night
Your silent shadow gently speaks
So dream on, dream on
Dream on, dream on
So dream on, dream on
Dream on
song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Her innocent smile
I never knew what did she mean?
Was her yes a gesture or win?
I picked the message from distant land
She must remain more than a friend
I have observed her innocent smile
She has elegant and different style
May be she is more than a woman
I must exactly prove myself the true man
She may have her own ideas
About freedom, appeal and peaceful pleas
I may know her with passage and time
To loose her in haste may be unpardonable crime
Do you hear o, young aspirator
You are wonderful gift from creator
I may not last long till the end
Let some more time with beautiful flowers be spent
She has burning desire and ultimate aim
She may sometimes come in open and claim
Many souls need no claps from other people
As they are within their rights and really capable
I wish to be so near
As it seems she is very dear
She is fearless and stormy wind
But at the same time very kind
She has beating heart
And that is beautiful art
One may claim to be very smart
But to live with it is really commendable part
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Babe's Requiem
Wars are fought by babes with a gun,
fought by them but never won.
Taught to think that war is just,
to preserve freedom is a must.
So off they march to foreign lands
and soon they're mired with bloody hands,
praying that what they're doing is right,
shooting and killing both day and night.
While back at home we continue to buy
and let the flags continue to fly.
Reading the news, watching the scenes
not understanding, it only demeans
What human life is all about.
Why babes were born and how they've turned out.
Pointing the finger at imaginary foes,
forgetting to point at the white shirts of those
who plan these wars way in advance.
How do our babes even stand a chance?
They play with guns from the age of three.
Can't their parents wake up and see?
In foreign lands the parents do weep
watching in horror as their babes go to sleep,
never to awaken and breathe in again
the air in Iraq or Afghanistan.
How is it the babes of those in power
are not involved? In fact they do cower,
hiding behind the white shirts that lead,
never having to fear they might bleed.
Wars are not games that big people play.
The guns are given to the babes everyday.
No lullabies will be sung for them.
The song for these babes is a requiem.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I am not a soldier
'Hey! I take my hands up
And please don't shoot me
This is my grand son's toy gun.'
'Then why did you come to the battlefield? ' Soldier inquired.
'I am jogging as per my diabetes doctor's advise.'
'You should go to a playground.'
'Certainly this is a playground not a battlefield brother,
Both parties are friends and why hold the guns?
While enemies groan in their castles comfortably.'
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To The White People Of America
O'er this wide extended country,
Hear the solemn echoes roll,
For a long and weary century,
Those cries have gone from pole to pole;
See the white man sway his sceptre,
In one hand he holds the rod—
In the other hand the Scripture,
And says that he's a man of God.
Hear ye that mourning?
'Tis your brothers' cry!
O! ye wicked men take warning,
The day will come when you must die.
Lo! Ten thousand steeples shining
Through this mighty Christian land,
While four millions slaves all pining
And dying 'neath the Tyrant's hand.
See the 'blood-stained' Christian banner
Followed by a host of saints
While they loudly sing Hosannah,
We hear the dying slave's complaints:
Hear ye that mourning?
Anglo-sons of God,
O! ye Hypocrites take warning,
And shun your sable brothers blood.
In our Legislative members,
Few there are with humane souls,
Though they speak in tones of thunder
'Gainst sins which they cannot control,
Women's rights and annexation,
Is the topic by the way,
While poor Africa's sable nation
For mercy, cry both by night and day.
Hear ye that mourning?
'Tis a solemn sound,
O! ye wicked men take warning,
For God will send his judgment down.
Tell us not of distant Island —
Never will we colonize:
Send us not to British Highlands,
For this is neither just nor wise,
Give us equal rights and chances,
All the rights of citizens —
And as light and truth advances,
We'll show you that we all are men.
Hear ye that mourning?
Tis your brothers sigh,
O! ye wicked men take warning,
The judgment day will come by
poem by Joshua McCarter Simpson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Our Soldiers
A loaf of bread inside his hat
The young soldier was found there
At the middle of the road
His pure body was laying down there alone
Ah adorable ones broken are our hearts
How an ugly an admiring fact
The difference between the both
The goodness and the Badness
The destruction and sacrifice
How can some destroy and steal lives
The existence of the both
Simply two extreme points
The darkness of the haters souls
And the lightened pure spirited souls
How if we look to the world through soldiers pure souls
How peaceful would be the world for whole
On behalf of protecting other's lives they sacrifice their lives
For their country's sake and for their prides
Our martyrs the heroes who deserve the heavens above
Those who sacrifice their precious lives on behalf of others pride
Will forever live in our hearts adorable precious ones
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Battlefield
(paul carrack/nick lowe)
I live on a battlefield
Surrounding by the ruins of a love we built
And them destroyed between us
The smoke has cleared
As I stumble through the rubble
Im dazed, seeing double
And Im truly mystified
My new home is a shell-hole filled
With tears and muddy water
And bits of broken heart
All around, there is desolation
Scenes of devestation
Of a love been torn apart
I live on a battlefield
Though one where not one
Single drop of blood has spilled
Is no less horryfying
Sweet memories
Of a bygone situation
Lie shattered, torn and battered
And scattered all around
My new home is a shell-hole filled
With tears and muddy water
And bits of broken heart
All around, there is desolation
Scenes of devestation
Of a love been torn apart
Everything that can, has gone wrong
Its gonna take spine to carry on
Like a drownin woman coming up for air
Im looking for another survivor
I cant see one anywhere
My new home is a shell-hole filled
With tears and muddy water
And bits of broken heart
All around, there is desolation
Scenes of devestation
Of a love been torn apart
I live on a battlefield, hey
I live on a battlefield, hey
Cant go on, baby
Tears and muddy water
Scattered all around me, babe
I live on a battlefield
I live on a battlefield
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
LANDSCAPE WITH FIGURES by carlos bulosan
Homeward again under foreign stars,
history was a strange gush of wind from memory
that came to echo waterfalls of those years:
home to find the place lost among
galaxies of signs. The hills were gone. The river
trail was forgotten... Trying to remember meadowlark
and those who perished in the vanishing land
(bones in the earth where our parents died poor) ,
the journey fell into heavy tides of flowing
scorn that echoed and reechoed time there.
The sun was most unkind to the place:
history: names of men: patterns of life:
all that distant floodtide heaved and moved,
breaking familiar names that immortal tongues
clipped for the heart to cry, 'Home is a foreign address,
every step toward it is a step toward three hundred years
of exile from the truth...'
It was not homeward
to the first known land, nor escape
to white sea sprays blossoming on inland shore,
nor love leaping the boundaries naked in the soul,
but a vast heritage of war and destruction breaking
too soon for the living and willing to die.
Life is a foreign language. Every man mispronounced it...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Fly-Boys & Ultimate Sacrifice = 2012
World War-I gave us the flyboys
Who flew by the seat of their pants.
Many would never return from war
While others survived by chance.
Their planes were mostly canvas and wood
Gasoline, bullets, bombs and poison gas.
Every pilot carried his own pistol
Wearing leathers, scarf and goggles of glass.
Aviators had no Parachutes
To escape their burning plane.
Many were forced to jump to their death
Or self inflect a bullet to the brain.
Blimps where known as battleships of the sky
The roar of their engines gave reason for fear.
They flew so high they were hard to shoot down
Hiding above clouds till their targets drew near.
Tracer bullets for the first time were used
In the guns of airplanes to set blimps afire.
The skies became man's highway of death
With duty and honor their driving desire.
How many flyboys have we lost since then
Those days of the Great War and more?
Where do we get such brave souls of chance
Who rise from the rest in the battles of war?
ULTIMATE SACRIFICE
Our men and women give the ultimate sacrifice
When they pledge to defend our flag.
In hot spots throughout our world
They defeat our enemies who brag.
Most say their prayers to their own private God
To protect and bring them safely home.
It's our job as patriots and Americans
To let them know we love them as our own.
Think of all of history's heroes of freedom
And what they gave up for 'Old Glory'.
Nothing has changed for over two hundred years
As our soldiers continue the story.
Those rows of white crosses in manicured fields
Tell the story of ultimate sacrifice and love.
Always remember all we treasure and enjoy
Are because of our soldiers and God above.
For Freedom
Remember them, for they were once like you,
With hopes, emotions, days of grey and blue.
Accepting combat, trying to win through,
To fight again, for freedom.
Remember them, for they were young and green,
With so much life ahead, as yet unseen.
They knew not what they faced, but all were keen,
To fight again, for freedom.
Remember them, each fought to give us peace,
That each fierce conflict in this world, would cease.
And then when all was done, they’d find release,
From fighting foes, for freedom.
Remember them, who’ve joined the heroes roll,
Their names inscribed now, on a parchment scroll.
Thousands did not survive the war’s hellhole,
To fight again, for freedom.
Remember them.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
237
LANDSCAPE WITH FIGURES by carlos bulosan
Homeward again under foreign stars,
history was a strange gush of wind from memory
that came to echo waterfalls of those years:
home to find the place lost among
galaxies of signs. The hills were gone. The river
trail was forgotten... Trying to remember meadowlark
and those who perished in the vanishing land
(bones in the earth where our parents died poor) ,
the journey fell into heavy tides of flowing
scorn that echoed and reechoed time there.
The sun was most unkind to the place:
history: names of men: patterns of life:
all that distant floodtide heaved and moved,
breaking familiar names that immortal tongues
clipped for the heart to cry, 'Home is a foreign address,
every step toward it is a step toward three hundred years
of exile from the truth...'
It was not homeward
to the first known land, nor escape
to white sea sprays blossoming on inland shore,
nor love leaping the boundaries naked in the soul,
but a vast heritage of war and destruction breaking
too soon for the living and willing to die.
Life is a foreign language. Every man mispronounced it...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Republic Day Anniversary Celebration In India,2012
IRT PMC, PMCH, RTS & SoN, Perundurai
The day, we know this land is ours, our own;
The day we say all Indians are brethren;
The day we love our motherland, more than our lives;
That day, our freedom, we have truly won!
Let Indians all have just one heart;
Let’s love the soil in which we are born;
Let’s live in unity as one;
Let integrity glow brighter than sun!
Let’s remember the lives all lost,
For getting freedom at blood-cost;
Let’s preserve what with toil, they got;
Let pride not leave our land to rot!
On this great day, let’s all rejoin;
Let’s do our duty selflessly;
Let’s thank and pray to Almighty,
To guide us to heaven, safely.
dedicated by Dean Dr. A.Celestine Raj Manohar MD
‘Jai Hind! Jai Bharat! Vande Mataram!
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Beyond The Distant Hills
The sun is shining for me,
beyond the distant hills.
Where my love is waiting,
for my return.
The water is sweet to drink,
beyond the distant hills,
where a warm fire is waiting,
for my return.
The grass bends in the breeze,
beyond the distant hills.
Where my love’s heart yearns
for my return.
A candle lights a window,
beyond the distant hills.
Where someone keeps a watchful eye,
for my return.
Beyond the distant hills,
where no clouds gather,
and no storms darken the sky.
Beyond the distant hills,
bright eyes wait for my return.
Beyond the distant hills,
my dreams will come true,
and I promised myself one day I will get there.
25 April 1988
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!