He raised his voice
Ken Saro-Wiwa spoke out
against
the environmental degradation
of the land
and waters of the Ogoni.
Ken Saro-Wiwa raised his voice
but not his fist
His home land in the Niger delta
ravaged, polluted
by decades of crude oil dumping.
Ken Saro-Wiwa raised his voice
but not his fist
He chastised
the Nigerian government
for refusing
to enforce regulations
that would have protected
Ogoni land
Ken Saro-Wiwa raised his voice
but not his fist
for this,
Ken Saro-Wiwa was hanged.
Ken Saro-Wiwa was hanged
but not silenced
His words live on
to be read
a thousand times
by millions of other
outspoken voices.
poem by Diana Rosser
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Sarah Jane
I got a wife and five little chillun
I'm gonna take a trip on the big McMillan
With Saro Jane
Saro Jane
Ain't nothin' to do
But to set down and sing
And rock about my Saro Jane
The boiler busted and the whistle squall
The Captain gone through the hole-in-the-wall
Oh Saro Jane
Saro Jane
Ain't nothin' to do
But to set down and sing
And rock about my Saro Jane
The engine give a crack and the whistle gave a squall
The engineer gone to the hole-in-the-wall
Saro Jane
Saro Jane
Ain't nothin' to do
But to set down and sing
And rock about my Saro Jane
Yankee built boats to shoot them Rebels
My gun's steady gonna hold it level
Saro Jane
Saro Jane
But to set down and sing
And rock about my Saro Jane
I got a wife and five little chillun
I'm gonna take a trip on the big McMillan
Saro Jane
Saro Jane
Ain't nothin' to do
But to set down and sing
And rock about my Saro Jane
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Muttallab my brother
Muttallab my brother,
I believe I can call you that
Though you are now a global outcast
Rejected by family, religion, race, and earth inhabitants
I call you brother, though you didn’t win an orange,
Booker or noble peace prize
Instead you failed to detonate a liquid bomb
In your underpants
Saving your life and hundreds others
Muttallab my brother,
I believe I can call you that
Though the memories of the Biafran war,
Incessant religious killing in the north
With our mother’s children always the victim,
Threatens to tear the fabric of our society.
Muttallab my brother
Though the world will question my integrity
for calling you a brother at a time as this,
But i have always loved the rejected and condemned,
i never forget to remember the forgotten
Like ironsi, ifeajunna, and nzeogwu,
And have made many enemies of men my friend,
Che Guevara, Stephen Biko, Saro Wiwa, even Lucifer
Because my love questions none’s race,
religion or political agenda
but the height of your sacrifice
what you denied yourself for the sake of others
Muttallab my brother,
who are you truly,
Nigerian or yemenian?
Tribal provocations and religious riots
Gives us opportunity for shallow mass graves
But we are peace lovers,
And Thousands of our children die in the nations of others
Promoting peace in their lands
from Darfur, Freetown to Monrovia
Muttallab my brother, even though I call you brother
I condemn the killing of innocents
I condemn every act of war, or terrorism
I condemn religious crisis or killing in the name of Allah or Jehovah
your conscience now carry the weight
Of the condemnation of your
150 million half brothers
Whom you never considered
as you set out on your vengeful mission
Why did you try to do it
for Islam? Islam is a religion of peace
and for Misunderstanding the Quran,
for your soul Muslims grieve,
to spite your father?
Did he fail to respond to your emotional
and psychological needs?
For middle east crisis?
Maybe you know sides of the story
better than most of us
who sit at home and never bother to understand
why God only Comes to Afghanistan to weep
and demons have chosen Jerusalem as the
city of conflict between Israel and palestine
Or do you just hate the world
for making injustice so permanent
That you abhor being a part of yourself and others
That chose not to love
the faith that you have loved more than yourself
Muttallab my brother, I call you brother
Because i sympathize with you,
And know how it feels like to feel like dying for others,
Because my corpse would be rotten
If my death will correct mistakes of my Nation,
And its sins and debt to be forgiven it
By its citizens whom its leaders have raped with Injustice
I believe in sacrifice, Muttallab my brother
But you chose the wrong people to kill
And maybe the wrong reason to die,
For I honestly know
that Allah and Jehovah doesn’t hate each other in Heaven
I do not believe with you that suicide is right
But I know how it feels to die just to be able to live.
Only Allah can judge perfectly
the reasons that inspired your dream
and motivated your intent to kill
your self and innocent others
just to spite an enemy, you would have chosen to love
love your enemy as yourself,
is that written in any of the book of faith?
Oh It must be lost now in the missing scriptures?
And Alas all I can say is the messenger is truly not important
but the message, and we all, lets correct our mistakes
Just like Muttallab my brother who truly regret.
poem by Cookie Iwuoha
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ballad of Fisher's Boarding-House
'T was Fultah Fisher's boarding-house,
Where sailor-men reside,
And there were men of all the ports
From Mississip to Clyde,
And regally they spat and smoked,
And fearsomely they lied.
They lied about the purple Sea
That gave them scanty bread,
They lied about the Earth beneath,
The Heavens overhead,
For they had looked too often on
Black rum when that was red.
They told their tales of wreck and wrong,
Of shame and lust and fraud,
They backed their toughest statements with
The Brimstone of the Lord,
And crackling oaths went to and fro
Across the fist-banged board.
And there was Hans the blue-eyed Dane,
Bull-throated, bare of arm,
Who carried on his hairy chest
The maid Ultruda's charm --
The little silver crucifix
That keeps a man from harm.
And there was Jake Without-the-Ears,
And Pamba the Malay,
And Carboy Gin the Guinea cook,
And Luz from Vigo Bay,
And Honest Jack who sold them slops
And harvested their pay.
And there was Salem Hardieker,
A lean Bostonian he --
Russ, German, English, Halfbreed, Finn,
Yank, Dane, and Portugee,
At Fultah Fisher's boarding-house
They rested from the sea.
Now Anne of Austria shared their drinks,
Collinga knew her fame,
From Tarnau in Galicia
To Juan Bazaar she came,
To eat the bread of infamy
And take the wage of shame.
She held a dozen men to heel --
Rich spoil of war was hers,
In hose and gown and ring and chain,
From twenty mariners,
And, by Port Law, that week, men called
Her Salem Hardieker's.
But seamen learnt -- what landsmen know --
That neither gifts nor gain
Can hold a winking Light o' Love
Or Fancy's flight restrain,
When Anne of Austria rolled her eyes
On Hans the blue-eyed Dane.
Since Life is strife, and strife means knife,
From Howrah to the Bay,
And he may die before the dawn
Who liquored out the day,
In Fultah Fisher's boarding-house
We woo while yet we may.
But cold was Hans the blue-eyed Dane,
Bull-throated, bare of arm,
And laughter shook the chest beneath
The maid Ultruda's charm --
The little silver crucifix
That keeps a man from harm.
"You speak to Salem Hardieker;
"You was his girl, I know.
"I ship mineselfs to-morrow, see,
"Und round the Skaw we go,
"South, down the Cattegat, by Hjelm,
"To Besser in Saro."
When love rejected turns to hate,
All ill betide the man.
"You speak to Salem Hardieker" --
She spoke as woman can.
A scream -- a sob -- "He called me -- names!"
And then the fray began.
An oath from Salem Hardieker,
A shriek upon the stairs,
A dance of shadows on the wall,
A knife-thrust unawares --
And Hans came down, as cattle drop,
Across the broken chairs.
. . . . . .
In Anne of Austria's trembling hands
The weary head fell low: --
"I ship mineselfs to-morrow, straight
"For Besser in Saro;
"Und there Ultruda comes to me
"At Easter, und I go
"South, down the Cattegat -- What's here?
"There -- are -- no -- lights -- to guide!"
The mutter ceased, the spirit passed,
And Anne of Austria cried
In Fultah Fisher's boarding-house
When Hans the mighty died.
Thus slew they Hans the blue-eyed Dane,
Bull-throated, bare of arm,
But Anne of Austria looted first
The maid Ultruda's charm --
The little silver crucifix
That keeps a man from harm.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Land, Ho!
I know ’tis but a loom of land,
Yet is it land, and so I will rejoice,
I know I cannot hear His voice
Upon the shore, nor see Him stand;
Yet is it land, ho! land.
The land! the land! the lovely land!
‘Far off,’ dost say? Far off—ah, blessèd home!
Farewell! farewell! thou salt sea-foam!
Ah, keel upon the silver sand—
Land, ho! land.
You cannot see the land, my land,
You cannot see, and yet the land is there—
My land, my land, through murky air—
I did not say ’twas close at hand—
But—land, ho! land.
Dost hear the bells of my sweet land,
Dost hear the kine, dost hear the merry birds?
No voice, ’tis true, no spoken words,
No tongue that thou may’st understand—
Yet is it land, ho! land.
It’s clad in purple mist, my land,
In regal robe it is apparellèd,
A crown is set upon its head,
And on its breast a golden band—
Land, ho! land.
Dost wonder that I long for land?
My land is not a land as others are—
Upon its crest there beams a star,
And lilies grow upon the strand—
Land, ho! land.
Give me the helm! there is the land!
Ha! lusty mariners, she takes the breeze!
And what my spirit sees it sees—
Leap, bark, as leaps the thunderbrand—
Land, ho! land.
poem by Thomas Edward Brown
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Land Is Your Land
Well I rode that ribbon highway
I saw above me the endless sky
I saw below me the golden valley
This land was made for you and me
Ive roamed and rambled and followed my footsteps
Through the sparkling sands of her diamond deserts
And all around me a voice was calling
This land was made for you and me
This land is your land
This land is my land
From california
To the new york island
From the redwood forest
To the gulf stream waters
This land was made for you and me
Well the sun came shining and I was strolling
Through wheat fields waving and dust clouds rolling
And a voice was sounding
As the fog was lifting
Saying this land was made for you and me
This land is your land
This land is my land
From california
To the new york island
From the redwood forest
To the gulf stream waters
This land was made for you and me
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ballad of Fisher's Boarding-House
That night, when through the mooring-chains
The wide-eyed corpse rolled free,
To blunder down by Garden Reach
And rot at Kedgeree,
The tale the Hughli told the shoal
The lean shoal told to me.
'T was Fultah Fisher's boarding-house,
Where sailor-men reside,
And there were men of all the ports
From Mississip to Clyde,
And regally they spat and smoked,
And fearsomely they lied.
They lied about the purple Sea
That gave them scanty bread,
They lied about the Earth beneath,
The Heavens overhead,
For they had looked too often on
Black rum when that was red.
They told their tales of wreck and wrong,
Of shame and lust and fraud,
They backed their toughest statements with
The Brimstone of the Lord,
And crackling oaths went to and fro
Across the fist-banged board.
And there was Hans the blue-eyed Dane,
Bull-throated, bare of arm,
Who carried on his hairy chest
The maid Ultruda's charm --
The little silver crucifix
That keeps a man from harm.
And there was Jake Withouth-the-Ears,
And Pamba the Malay,
And Carboy Gin the Guinea cook,
And Luz from Vigo Bay,
And Honest Jack who sold them slops
And harvested their pay.
And there was Salem Hardieker,
A lean Bostonian he --
Russ, German, English, Halfbreed, Finn,
Yank, Dane, and Portuguee,
At Fultah Fisher's boarding-house
The rested from the sea.
Now Anne of Austria shared their drinks,
Collinga knew her fame,
From Tarnau in Galicia
To Juan Bazaar she came,
To eat the bread of infamy
And take the wage of shame.
She held a dozen men to heel --
Rich spoil of war was hers,
In hose and gown and ring and chain,
From twenty mariners,
And, by Port Law, that week, men called
her Salem Hardieker's.
But seamen learnt -- what landsmen know --
That neither gifts nor gain
Can hold a winking Light o' Love
Or Fancy's flight restrain,
When Anne of Austria rolled her eyes
On Hans the blue-eyed Dane.
Since Life is strife, and strife means knife,
From Howrah to the Bay,
And he may die before the dawn
Who liquored out the day,
In Fultah Fisher's boarding-house
We woo while yet we may.
But cold was Hans the blue-eyed Dane,
Bull-throated, bare of arm,
And laughter shook the chest beneath
The maid Ultruda's charm --
The little silver crucifix
That keeps a man from harm.
"You speak to Salem Hardieker;
"You was his girl, I know.
"I ship mineselfs to-morrow, see,
"Und round the Skaw we go,
"South, down the Cattegat, by Hjelm,
"To Besser in Saro."
When love rejected turns to hate,
All ill betide the man.
"You speak to Salem Hardieker" --
She spoke as woman can.
A scream -- a sob -- "He called me -- names!"
And then the fray began.
An oath from Salem Hardieker,
A shriek upon the stairs,
A dance of shadows on the wall,
A knife-thrust unawares --
And Hans came down, as cattle drop,
Across the broken chairs.
. . . . . .
In Anne of Austria's trembling hands
The weary head fell low: --
"I ship mineselfs to-morrow, straight
"For Besser in Saro;
"Und there Ultruda comes to me
"At Easter, und I go
"South, down the Cattegat -- What's here?
"There -- are -- no -- lights -- to guide!"
The mutter ceased, the spirit passed,
And Anne of Austria cried
In Fultah Fisher's boarding-house
When Hans the mighty died.
Thus slew they Hans the blue-eyed Dane,
Bull-throated, bare of arm,
But Anne of Austria looted first
The maid Ultruda's charm --
The little silver crucifix
That keeps a man from harm.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I've never, ever, raised a fist to anybody in my life.
quote by Robbie Williams
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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At The Banquet To the Japanese Embassy
AUGUST 2, 1872
WE welcome you, Lords of the Land of the Sun!
The voice of the many sounds feebly through one;
Ah! would 't were a voice of more musical tone,
But the dog-star is here, and the song-birds have flown.
And what shall I sing that can cheat you of smiles,
Ye heralds of peace from the Orient isles?
If only the Jubilee--Why did you wait?
You are welcome, but oh! you're a little too late!
We have greeted our brothers of Ireland and France,
Round the fiddle of Strauss we have joined in the dance,
We have lagered Herr Saro, that fine-looking man,
And glorified Godfrey, whose name it is Dan.
What a pity! we've missed it and you've missed it too,
We had a day ready and waiting for you;
We'd have shown you--provided, of course, you had come--
You 'd have heard--no, you would n't, because it was dumb.
And then the great organ! The chorus's shout
Like the mixture teetotalers call 'Cold without'--
A mingling of elements, strong, but not sweet;
And the drum, just referred to, that 'couldn't be beat.'
The shrines of our pilgrims are not like your own,
Where white Fusiyama lifts proudly its cone,
(The snow-mantled mountain we see on the fan
That cools our hot cheeks with a breeze from Japan.)
But ours the wide temple where worship is free
As the wind of the prairie, the wave of the sea;
You may build your own altar wherever you will,
For the roof of that temple is over you still.
One dome overarches the star-bannered shore;
You may enter the Pope's or the Puritan's door,
Or pass with the Buddhist his gateway of bronze,
For a priest is but Man, be he bishop or bonze.
And the lesson we teach with the sword and the pen
Is to all of God's children, 'We also are men!
If you wrong us we smart, if you prick us we bleed,
If you love us, no quarrel with color or creed!'
You'll find us a well-meaning, free-spoken crowd,
Good-natured enough, but a little too loud,--
To be sure, there is always a bit of a row
When we choose our Tycoon, and especially now.
You'll take it all calmly,--we want you to see
What a peaceable fight such a contest can be,
And of one thing be certain, however it ends,
You will find that our voters have chosen your friends.
If the horse that stands saddled is first in the race,
You will greet your old friend with the weed in his face;
And if the white hat and the White House agree,
You'll find H. G. really as loving as he.
But oh, what a pity--once more I must say--
That we could not have joined in a 'Japanese day'!
Such greeting we give you to-night as we can;
Long life to our brothers and friends of Japan!
The Lord of the mountain looks down from his crest
As the banner of morning unfurls in the West;
The Eagle was always the friend of the Sun;
You are welcome!--The song of the cage-bird is done.
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Eldad
Fauna and Flora,
Build up your dreams and never give up;
And like the unleavened wafers spread with oil,
But, do no wander like shepherds on the top of the hills.
Yahweh allows cetain things to occur in our lives,
And of the protection that he has for us;
But all males must be circumcised in order to keep the law,
And like the joy of your music in the land of the living.
I was full when i left home but, i came back empty!
And while the girls were dancing,
Each man caught one of them and carried her off to be his wife;
But my joy is to meet you once again in the land of your muse.
To be raised up as a servant and to serve many people,
But the negative spirit came up and fought with me! !
So write down your poetry so that i may read them;
For out of the eater came out something sweet.
Why do you ask of my name when, you've already seen it?
However, i am very wonderful and i am a lover;
But, my name so sweet to your ears is Eldad,
And you will bewail your virginity on this hills when the time comes.
This voice is like the voice of my lover!
But the touch of your hands are like the hands of one who is at peace;
And like your life in the Valley of Lebanon,
However, come to me and i will teach you more about life.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Bible in Poetry: Revelation 10
1Another mighty angel came
Down from heaven, robed in a cloud,
With a rainbow above his head;
His face shone brightly like the sun,
His legs were like fiery pillars.
2He held an open scroll in hand.
He planted his right foot on sea
And placed his left foot on the land,
3His voice was loud like lion’s roar;
As if the seven thunders spoke.
4And when the seven thunders spoke,
Just as I was about to write,
I heard a voice from heaven say,
'Seal up what seven thunders said
And do not write it down at all.'
5The angel raised his right hand to heaven.
6 He swore by Him who lives forever,
Who created all the heavens
And everything that is in them,
The earth and all that is in it,
The sea and all that is in it,
And said, 'There won’t more delay!
7 In the days when the seventh angel
Is about to sound his trumpet,
God’s mystery will be accomplished,
Just as He told to His prophets.'
8The voice I had heard from heaven spoke
To me once more: 'Go, take the scroll
That lies open in angel’s hand
Who stands both on the sea and land.'
9 I asked the angel for the scroll.
He said to me, 'Take it and eat.
It will turn your stomach sour;
Your mouth will have honey’s sweetness.'
10 I took the little scroll and ate.
It tasted as sweet as honey,
My stomach turned sour thereafter.
11I was told, 'Prophesy again,
About many peoples, nations,
And languages, races and kings.'
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bleeding Ink
I lay naked, bleeding ink
with pages of forbidden text;
but though I'm ill yet cannot blink,
you mockery tongue had perplexed.
I clinched my fist;
the remains of my heart cries out,
'I may no longer exist! '
with my raging voice I shout.
Your blasphemy you had spoke,
shattered my bearing soul;
and by your voice my heart broke,
and it is my heart that which you stole.
poem by Adam M. Snow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Little Town Girls Dream
she was a litle town girl with a common name
a little town girl seeking fortune and fame.
she would do what ever her agent said
including with him going to bed.
she said that nothing would get in her way
and to an audience she would play.
she had the voice of an angel so rare
and with the world she wanted to share.
she was a little town singer
a MARILYN MONROE ringer.
her beauty like her voice
would capture the hearts of men
and take her to her journeys end.
realizing that there are so many who
would abuse, which one should she choose?
starting to feel hurt, lonely, depressed
she went to a church that she heard
voices of beauty filling the air
walked in and started to stare.
for in the church no one was there.
but the voices continued to sing
and filled her heart with strange emotions
and she raised her voice in devotion.
her voice so beautiful
that it resouded through out the town
that people left their homes to follow the sound.
then they saw this girl with her back to the crowd
looking up at the cross, with her
arms outstretched to her sides.
singing HALELUJAH ON HIGH.
her voice touching all that stood there
a voice which was beyond compare.
the people joined in and started to sing
startled and in dismay, she turned and tried to run away.
but the people stopped her at the door
and begged her to stay
and fell to their knees and began to pray.
seeing this she got choked up inside.
for now the choice was no longer hers
but of the LORD, who gave her this voice
for the world to see.
that in GOSPEL, she was meant to be.
she raised her voice once again.
now who do you think this is my friend?
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hand Over Fist
Words by neil peart, music by geddy lee and alex lifeson
Hand over fist
Paper around the stone
Scissors cut the paper
Cut the paper to the bone
Hand over fist
Paper around the stone
Scissors cut the paper
And the rock must stand alone
I could disappear into the crowd
But not if I keep my head in the clouds
I could walk away so proud
Its easy enough if you dont laugh too loud
I thought I was okay alone
Wait for the postman and the telephone
Lost in a world of my own
I thought I could run alone
Thought I could run through the night alone
Hand over hand
Doesnt seem so much
Hand over hand
Is the strength of the common touch
You talk as we walk along
You never imagined I could be so wrong
Humming your favorite song
You know Ive hated that song for so long
How can we ever agree?
Like the rest of the world
We grow farther apart
I swear you dont listen to me
Holding my hand to my heart
Holding my fist to my racing heart
Take a walk outside myself
In some exotic land
Greet a passing stranger
Feel the strength in his hand
Feel the world expand
I feel my spirit resist
But I open up my fist
Lay hand over hand over
Hand over fist
song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Was Born and Raised
When the sun was hanging bright
And the moon gloom with execsive light
Then I was born
When the days were constantly burning
And the cloud immensely weeping
Then I was born
When human were not humble
And the races were different people
Then I was born
When actions were filled with advantage
And the minds were like gabbage
Then I was born
When the street were filled with blood
And human words were built with fraud
Then I was born
When parents cannot make their stomach feed
And they cannot take the responsibility of their breed
Then I was born
Where the people were just part of a story
And their effort was to build another man glory
Their I was raised
Where men were like iron
But their strength was for a corn
Their I was raised
Where people were deprived
And from them wealth is derived
There I was born and raised
Where the land is good
But the people cannot make their food
Their I was born and raised
Where the place is called africa
And the people are called african
Their I was born and raised
I was born and raised
Where the people’s destiny lies in the grave
poem by Kemurl Fofanah
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Matthew
Had an uncle named matthew
Was his fathers only boy
Born just south of colby, kansas
Was his mothers pride and joy
Yes, and joy was just the thing that he was raised on
Love was just the way to live and die
Gold was just a windy kansas wheatfield
Blue, just a kansas summer sky
All the stories that he told me
Back when I was just a lad
All the memories that he gave me
All the good times that he had
Growin up a kansas farmboy
Life was mostly havin fun
Ridin on his daddys shoulders
Behind a view beneath the sun
Yes, and joy was just the thing that he was raised on
Love was just the way to live and die
Gold was just a windy kansas wheatfield
Blue is just a kansas summer sky
Well, I guess there were some hard times
And Im told some years were lean
They had a storm in forty-seven
A twister came and stripped them clean
He lost the farm and lost his family
He lost the wheat and lost his home
But he found a family bible
Faith as solid as a stone
Yes, and joy was just the thing that he was raised on
Love was just the way to live and die
Gold was just a windy kansas wheatfield
Blue, just a kansas summer sky
So he came to live at our house
And he came to work the land
He came to ease my daddys burden
And he came to be my friend
So, I wrote this down for matthew
And its for him the song is sung
Ridin on his daddys shoulders
Behind a mule beneath the sun
Yes, and joy was just the thing that he was raised on
Love was just the way to live and die
Gold was just a windy kansas wheatfield
Blue, just a kansas summer sky
Yes, and joy was just the thing that he was raised on
Love was just the way to live and die
Gold was just a windy kansas wheatfield
Blue, just a kansas summer sky
Words and music by john denver
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No Voice
There are times when we feel
we have no voice
we are suffocated by circumstances.
Our voice is lost in the void;
we wander with eyes open
and no mouth for things to say.
Those around us are oblivious
that our presence is near.
We are invisible
with only our ears to hear.
We have no voice to shout our protests clear,
no voice to vent our anger at what we can hear.
Our voice is silenced by circumstances
some of which we do not understand.
We have no voice today or tomorrow,
and even if we had a voice
would it be heard?
Would our words fall
on vacant and deaf ears?
The question remain unanswered
for around us silence reins.
Silent as our protests
and frustration is all we gain.
One day our gag maybe lifted,
but will it be too late.
There maybe no one around us
and our anger will be lost,
lost in the silence when no one is there.
We can only hope that one day
when the silence clears
our voice among the millions
will finally be heard.
15 September 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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John Cornstalk
Jack Cornstalk lives in the Southern Land—
What says Cornstalk John?
Jack Cornstalk says in a loud firm voice:
“Land of the South, lead on.”
CHORUS:
Land of the South, lead on, lead on,
Land of the South, lead on!
Land of the South, lead on, lead on,
Lead on, Land of the South!
John Bull lays claim to the Southern Land.
Jack, is the South Land thine?
John Cornstalk cries in a loud, firm voice:
“The Land of the South is mine!”
Land of the South, lead on, lead on,
Land of the South, lead on!
Land of the South, lead on, lead on,
Lead on, Land of the South!
“By the long, long years my father toiled
In the pioneering band;
By the hardships of those early days,
I claim the Southern Land!”
Land of the South, lead on, lead on,
Land of the South, lead on!
Land of the South, lead on, lead on,
Lead on, Land of the South!
But where shall the Land of the South lead to?
Where lead the nation’s van?
Jack Cornstalk cries from his strong young heart:
“To the Dynasty of Man.”
Land of the South, lead on, lead on,
Land of the South, lead on!
Land of the South, lead on, lead on,
Lead on, Land of the South!
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Whose Freedom?
Freedom, freedom, freedom!
Whose freedom?
My freedom, your freedom, our freedoms;
Like e thousand times of a cry in a land!
Yes, they rule with iron-hand but,
We have to obey always;
A rule with an iron fist but,
We have to be the subjects always;
Whose freedom?
Look around you,
It is full of colours;
My freedom, your freedom, their freedoms!
Freedom, freedom, freedom! ! !
We nedd freedom than these shackles.
Whose freedom?
Free-free-free! Freedom to my people! !
Which people?
My people, your people, our peoples;
Have mercy on them and rule them with care.
We need freedom around us,
Whose freedom?
See the type of governments around you;
The people's freedom with an iron fist!
Tell me if all is well.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Land Of Planty
Don?t really know who sent me
To raise my voice and say:
May the lights in The Land of Plenty
Shine on the truth some day.
I don?t know why I come here,
Knowing as I do,
What you really think of me,
What I really think of you.
For the millions in a prison,
That wealth has set apart ?
For the Christ who has not risen,
From the caverns of the heart ?
For the innermost decision,
That we cannot but obey -
For what?s left of our religion,
I lift my voice and pray:
May the lights in The Land of Plenty
Shine on the truth some day.
I know I said I?d meet you,
I?d meet you at the store,
But I can?t buy it, baby.
I can?t buy it anymore.
And I don?t really know who sent me,
To raise my voice and say:
May the lights in The Land of Plenty
Shine on the truth some day.
I don?t know why I come here,
knowing as I do,
what you really think of me,
what I really think of you.
For the innermost decision
That we cannot but obey
For what?s left of our religion
I lift my voice and pray:
May the lights in The Land of Plenty
Shine on the truth some day.
[Thanks to [email protected] for these lyrics]
song performed by by Leonard Cohen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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