Rutherford McDowell
They brought me ambrotypes
Of the old pioneers to enlarge.
And sometimes one sat for me—
Some one who was in being
When giant hands from the womb of the world
Tore the republic.
What was it in their eyes?—
For I could never fathom
That mystical pathos of drooped eyelids,
And the serene sorrow of their eyes.
It was like a pool of water,
Amid oak trees at the edge of a forest,
Where the leaves fall,
As you hear the crow of a cock
From a far-off farm house, seen near the hills
Where the third generation lives, and the strong men
And the strong women are gone and forgotten.
And these grand-children and great grand-children
Of the pioneers!
Truly did my camera record their faces, too,
With so much of the old strength gone,
And the old faith gone,
And the old mastery of life gone,
And the old courage gone,
Which labors and loves and suffers and sings
Under the sun!
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Related quotes
Sons Of The Pioneers
(myles goodwyn)
Published by northern goody two tunes, ltd./capac - ascap
Reachin for a space in time, layin our fate on the line
Starting out a life anew, after weve come so far
Wont you look and see now, here we are
You were the ones, there is no doubt
You ate it up and spit it out
You were the ones, you made it clear, you could take it
We are the sons of the pioneers (we are the sons of pioneers)
The day has come, our fate is clear
Were the sons of the pioneers
Sons of the pioneers (sons of the pioneers)
Were not afraid to try (were not afraid to try)
Sons of the pioneers (sons of the pioneers)
Men not afraid of fear
Whats the point of going on, if you feel that it couldnt be done
Cause I just wanna understand, freedoms the soul of a man
Wont you look and see now, and show me how
We have the chance, there is no doubt
Well pick it up, and see it out
We are the ones, you made it clear, we can take it
We are the sons of the pioneers (we are the sons of pioneers)
The day has come, the way is clear
For the sons of the pioneers
Sons of the pioneers (sons of the pioneers)
Men not afraid to try (men not afraid to try)
Sons of the pioneers (sons of the pioneers)
Men not afraid of fear......................fear
When you think of how far weve come, and to know that weve only begun
Leaving us a legacy, makes sense to me
That now our time has come, for we have to move on
You were the ones, there is no doubt
You ate it up and spit it out
You were the ones, you made it clear, you could take it
And now its time, our fate is surely here now
There is no doubt about it, its time we thought about it
We are the ones, the way is clear, for the sons of the pioneers
Sons of the pioneers (sons of the pioneers)
Men not afraid to try (men not afraid to try)
Sons of the pioneers (sons of the pioneers)
Men not afriad of fear
Is there any doubt, none at all, they heard the call of the
Sons of the pioneers (sons of the pioneers)
Men not afraid to try (men not afraid to try)
Sons of the pioneers (sons of the pioneers)
Sons of the pioneers (sons of the pioneers)
Men not afraid to try (men not afraid to try)
Sons of the pioneers (sons of the pioneers)
Men not afraid of fear
song performed by by April Wine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Strength Within
i felt the LORDS power within the first hour
with a strength that swelled up in me.
i broke those chains and set myself free.
those chains that seem to drag you down
and it becomes a heavy crown.
HE gave me the will and a strong desire
to fight the problems that affect all men
and women in this world.
to try to save all the boys and girls.
we instill strength or weakness into our children
and then we watch them grow.
'reap what you sow'.
is what comes into my mind.
but! it stays with them for the longest of time.
we are the elders, we are the caretakers
of all the children that come into this world.
they are our oysters, they are our pearls.
as the sea protects all that is in their waters
we have to create this same order.
surround them with all the love that we have
to give, for in this world that's all there is.
i have a thought that always comes into my mind.
the same way that a womans pregnancy protects
this child in a womb filled with water
and the seas protect all life in its womb
why then do we create a tomb?
why are we letting our children die?
and we don't even get up to try
to save all that god has created
they are not like a card which is sent belated.
(they are us, and we are them)
we were the children who have been protected
from all the harm and misery.
is'nt that the way life should be? .
we are the strength within each child
let us sit and teach them for a while.
our lives are numbered, that much i know
is selfishness the way to go? .
poem by Louis Rams
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Big & Strong
(mark heard)
Strong man strangles universe--he drowns the stars
Blinded by the mission of a thousand wars
Hes fit and dominant--no wonder why
He loves the battle cry
Strong man is survivor--he lives to pound
Little wooden crosses in the bloody ground
Hes fit and dominant--his will is truth
His hand is absolute
And the world keeps on turning
And the sun keeps on burning
And the children keep learning
How to grow up big and strong
How to grow up big and strong
Strong man takes no prisoner--favors no plea
He leaves no gold in teeth of enemy
Hes fit and dominant--rises above
He has no word that means love
And the world keeps on turning
And the sun keeps on burning
And the children keep learning
How to grow up big and strong
How to grow up big and strong
And the world keeps on turning
And the sun keeps on burning
And the children keep learning
How to grow up big and strong
How to grow up big and strong
How to grow up big and strong
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Women Of Courage
Women of courage, women of strength ,
Women of faith and devotion.
Mothers of children with spirits so strong
Who may have unbridled imaginations. REFRAIN: They are women, women of courage
They are Christians, towers of strength.
They are women who put Jesus first in life
Show’ ring His love on all those they greet. Women with losses, women who love,
Whose strength and whose courage comes from above,
Whether they're mothers; or loving Aunties,
It's plain to see Jesus’ love shines through them. REFRAIN: They are women, women of courage
They are Christians, towers of strength.
They are women who put Jesus first in life
Show’ring His love on all those they greet. Women I work with, women I know,
Whether at church, or other places I go.
Women whose spirits are battered by pain,
But Christ lifts them up, and they go on again. REFRAIN: They are women, women of courage
They are Christians, towers of strength.
They are women who put Jesus first in life
Show’ring His love on all those they greet.
poem by Kathy L. Goings
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Sonnet XXXIX. Power Of Faith
I sat me down in earth's benighted vale,
And had no courage and no strength to rise;
Sad to the passing breeze I told my tale,
And bowed my head, and drained my weeping eyes.
But Faith came by, and took me by the hand;
And now the valleys rise, the mountains fall.
Welcome the stormy sea, the dangerous land!
With Faith to aid me, I can conquer all.
Faith lays her hand upon the lion's mane;
Faith fearless walks within the serpent's den;
Faith smiles amid her children round her slain;
When words are burning, cries unmoved, Amen.
Yes, I am up, far upward on the wing;
The withered arm is strong, the broken heart doth sing.
poem by Thomas Cogswell Upham
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Pioneers! O Pioneers!
COME, my tan-faced children,
Follow well in order, get your weapons ready;
Have you your pistols? have you your sharp edged axes?
Pioneers! O pioneers!
For we cannot tarry here,
We must march my darlings, we must bear the brunt of danger,
We, the youthful sinewy races, all the rest on us depend,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
O you youths, western youths,
So impatient, full of action, full of manly pride and friendship, 10
Plain I see you, western youths, see you tramping with the foremost,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
Have the elder races halted?
Do they droop and end their lesson, wearied, over there beyond the
seas?
We take up the task eternal, and the burden, and the lesson,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
All the past we leave behind;
We debouch upon a newer, mightier world, varied world,
Fresh and strong the world we seize, world of labor and the march,
Pioneers! O pioneers! 20
We detachments steady throwing,
Down the edges, through the passes, up the mountains steep,
Conquering, holding, daring, venturing, as we go, the unknown ways,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
We primeval forests felling,
We the rivers stemming, vexing we, and piercing deep the mines
within;
We the surface broad surveying, we the virgin soil upheaving,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
Colorado men are we,
From the peaks gigantic, from the great sierras and the high
plateaus, 30
From the mine and from the gully, from the hunting trail we come,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
From Nebraska, from Arkansas,
Central inland race are we, from Missouri, with the continental blood
intervein'd;
All the hands of comrades clasping, all the Southern, all the
Northern,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
O resistless, restless race!
O beloved race in all! O my breast aches with tender love for all!
O I mourn and yet exult--I am rapt with love for all,
Pioneers! O pioneers! 40
Raise the mighty mother mistress,
Waving high the delicate mistress, over all the starry mistress,
(bend your heads all,)
Raise the fang'd and warlike mistress, stern, impassive, weapon'd
mistress,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
See, my children, resolute children,
By those swarms upon our rear, we must never yield or falter,
Ages back in ghostly millions, frowning there behind us urging,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
On and on, the compact ranks,
With accessions ever waiting, with the places of the dead quickly
fill'd, 50
Through the battle, through defeat, moving yet and never stopping,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
O to die advancing on!
Are there some of us to droop and die? has the hour come?
Then upon the march we fittest die, soon and sure the gap is fill'd,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
All the pulses of the world,
Falling in, they beat for us, with the western movement beat;
Holding single or together, steady moving, to the front, all for us,
Pioneers! O pioneers! 60
Life's involv'd and varied pageants,
All the forms and shows, all the workmen at their work,
All the seamen and the landsmen, all the masters with their slaves,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
All the hapless silent lovers,
All the prisoners in the prisons, all the righteous and the wicked,
All the joyous, all the sorrowing, all the living, all the dying,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
I too with my soul and body,
We, a curious trio, picking, wandering on our way, 70
Through these shores, amid the shadows, with the apparitions
pressing,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
Lo! the darting bowling orb!
Lo! the brother orbs around! all the clustering suns and planets,
All the dazzling days, all the mystic nights with dreams,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
These are of us, they are with us,
All for primal needed work, while the followers there in embryo wait
behind,
We to-day's procession heading, we the route for travel clearing,
Pioneers! O pioneers! 80
O you daughters of the west!
O you young and elder daughters! O you mothers and you wives!
Never must you be divided, in our ranks you move united,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
Minstrels latent on the prairies!
(Shrouded bards of other lands! you may sleep--you have done your
work;)
Soon I hear you coming warbling, soon you rise and tramp amid us,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
Not for delectations sweet;
Not the cushion and the slipper, not the peaceful and the
studious; 90
Not the riches safe and palling, not for us the tame enjoyment,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
Do the feasters gluttonous feast?
Do the corpulent sleepers sleep? have they lock'd and bolted doors?
Still be ours the diet hard, and the blanket on the ground,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
Has the night descended?
Was the road of late so toilsome? did we stop discouraged, nodding on
our way?
Yet a passing hour I yield you, in your tracks to pause oblivious,
Pioneers! O pioneers! 100
Till with sound of trumpet,
Far, far off the day-break call--hark! how loud and clear I hear it
wind;
Swift! to the head of the army!--swift! spring to your places, Pioneers! O pioneers.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Strong Black Woman
Baby, such a long life, my child
So many stories I have to tell you
Of slavery and of tragedy
Sit down and listen to my tales
Everybody thinks that the strong black woman died
No, she only stood back because she had not cried
She took a minute to rest. She cried. Her heart so heavy
But she’s back, baby. And child, she’s so pretty
I’m a strong black woman, and I am fighting
Don’t mess with me; I’ll leave your eyes shining
I give these children all the love they crave
I’ll beat away any energy that makes life grave
Hallelujah, the strong black woman still lives
Hallelujah, the strong black woman still gives
Hallelujah, can you feel the strength of her?
Hallelujah, this woman is one you can’t deter
Praise the lord’s name and speak in tongues
May all the strong black women live so long
I am a strong black woman, I am here
A strong black woman lives in my heart
Hallelujah, the black woman is so strong
Hallelujah, this has become my favorite song
Hallelujah, the strong black woman prospers
Hallelujah, she is no different than her brothers
The strong black woman never died, she lives
See, no matter what happens she always survives
I am here, I am a strong black woman, in disguise
And this newly strong black woman never dies
Praise the lord’s name the black woman is back
Now the world knows that we survive any attack
Give her all the suffering children or people in despair
Because the strong black woman will return them to air
The strong black woman was not lynched or killed
She gave herself a proud face and lived on so skilled
Praise the lord’s name and know that she lives on
Hallelujah, the strong black woman will never be gone
poem by German Alcala
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Don't you listen to him Dan...'
*an old Country Western Tune
sung by Son of the Pioneers
'...he spreads the buring sands
with water-cool-clear-water.'*
Chris Antley: age 34, jocky, dead, O.D.,
Xanax, meth, alcohol, Pasadena, California.
Who hasn't been to the edge of a pool-
Somehow found their back?
How to hang on without hope?
Someone else may know the rule;
Without drugs to help up and down,
Without a record nine 1st place wins in a day
And two Derby wins hanging on him
Like a heavy crown.
Cell phone in hand pacing 'round his pool
Nothing on the surface draws a smile.
Racing endless laps 'round the edge.
Thoroughbred going nowhere all the while.
poem by Tom J. Mariani
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Children Of Gaza
Ooo! ! ! you young infants of the stolen land
Be strong, you are the seeds of the sand
Rain of missiles showered you every day
the world watch as if it is a comic play
your playground has become a missile garden
And you had become a weed that need to be up rooten
every day of yours, some of you are called by him above
But with tears of sorrow you buried them with love
Ooo! ! ! you children of gaza
Be strong, God will answer your prayer
You have never had a memory of sweet infancies
your childhood is constantly rubbed by plague of brutalities
Your eyes are running water no more
they pumped blood from sorrows core
Ooo! ! ! children of this ruined kingdom
let no one break your spirit, they will call freedom
Ooo! ! ! you children of palestine
Be strong, your home will be a glowing vine
our hand are tied to our eyes
our ears are deaf only few of us heard your cries
But I say to you hold on
It wouldn't be long before you see the sun
It wouldn't be long before we hear your solitary strain
It wouldn't be for ever this pointless emblem of pain
Be strong children of gaza
Freedom will wipe your fear
poem by Kemurl Fofanah
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The Old Woman On The Road
why does the old woman
walk on the road
in her hand
a cane or a baton
softly and gently
tapping on the stone
as caressing
slowly and slowly
prone to her destiny
where are her children
where are her grand children
does she sees
enough to look
noone knows
lonely
as a desolate tree
when did they leave her
may be she is goı ng
to the desolate house she used to haunt
she lived with her husband
goı n g to water the flowers
in their garden
but her husband is dead
though she she quarrelled regularly
when he was alı ve
she misses him desperate
why did they leave her
alone
on the road
roads are dangerous
traffı ccı ng the cars
why does this old woman walk
with a cane or a baton
in handslowly..softly...gently
tapping on stone
her looks are even hopeful
never bored of lı fe
on this hour
on this time
why does the old woman
walk on the road
has she escaped from an asylum
or booted from it
ı t is evident
she does not see clearly
she looks like my poor auntie
how old women
look like each other
where are her children
where are her grand children
where are her beloved neighbours
a crow crows in the distant
in a desolate tree
does loneliness walks wth so diffı culty
and so bitter
how soon we have forgotten our elder
may god bewaring everyhing ever
hope god forget them never......
poem by Metin Sahin
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Cortez The Killer
He came dancing across the water
With his galleons and guns
Looking for a new world
And a palace in the sun
And on the shore lay montezuma
With its coca leaves and pearls
In his halls he often wondered
With the secrets of the world
And the subjects gathered round him
Like the leaves around the trees
His coat of many colors
For the angry gods to see
And the women all were beautiful
And the men stood straight and strong
He offered life with sacrifice
So that others might go on
Yeah
Now hate was just a legend
And war was never known
The people worked together
And they lifted many stones
And they carried them across the flatland
But they died along the way
(many lives were lost)
Built up with their bare hands
What we still cant do today
(many lives were lost)
And I know shes living there
And loves me to this day
I cant remember when
Or how I lost my way
Ah-oh
Ah-oh
Ah-oh
Ah-oh
He came dancing across the water
Cortez, cortez
What a killer
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Recipe For Happiness Khaborovsk Or Anyplace
One grand boulevard with trees
with one grand cafe in sun
with strong black coffee in very small cups.
One not necessarily very beautiful
man or woman who loves you.
One fine day.
Submitted by Britton
poem by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
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From pools of blood
From pools of blood bushes, trees
and aloes grow in the veldt
where British soldiers
fired on my countrymen
and some bayoneted them.
Concentration camps where twenty thousand
women and children died without dignity
at the hand of foreigners,
who claimed to be fellow Christians
are now covered with grass
and that past are being blotted out
as if the misery, the indignity,
the mass murder
never happened
and great Queen Victoria
is still dignified
and still I hold Great Britain responsible
for the murder of my great grand mother,
for the destruction
of my great grand father’s farm,
for the seizure
of my other great grand father’s property,
for sending him to St. Helena
as a prisoner of war,
for invading my country
for making profit from the minerals
and the quarter Scotsman in me
together with my three quarters Afrikaner parts
forever wants to be free
from the enslavement
which that foreign nation brought.
[Note: My own great grandmother died in a British concentration camp and my great grandfather was sent by the British to St. Helena as a prisoner of war and as a result of this, my grandfather(Gert Strydom) grew up in a orphanage.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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My taste of Life
I drink coffee seems it is my favorite wine,
How much I can enjoy until the end of my life?
How much I can keep for happiness as in my life?
When my life is going to be disappearing as a morning frost?
I am still worrying a thousand years’ later although,
There are a few grand children around me.
I could not see my grand children after a century,
But I worry about their fortune and children after my death.
poem by Albert Wong
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My Walk II: Spring
Ducklings floating serene
Over water shimmering glean
Throw in some bread
Ducks now fed
Walk on up to the Grand house
Nothing quiet, save the field mouse
Trickling stream
Down hill on a lean
Flowing water
Calming as we wander
Cool breeze
Through leafless trees
Fallen trees laying about
Birds singing, never a shout
Clouds float by
Masking blue sky
Great Grand Son sits in path well trodden
Clothes dirty, but not sodden
Collecting cones
Not walking alone!
Over wooden bridge
On upto to the ridge
His footsteps so light
Eyes shinning bright
Back down the hill
We're running! Almost a spill
Trees flash past
He won, I'm last
Puffing and panting
Just climbed a mountain
Back past the lake
Homeward trek we make.
poem by Robert Green
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The Old Pioneers
These old friends of ours! Sixty years back,
Bearded and booted, they followed the track,
Came like their Saxon forefathers of old,
Carving a nation from waste and from wold,
Mighty of purpose and stalwart of limb,
Clove they a path through the forest so dim,
Forward, adventuring, knowing no fears--
Honour and praise to the old pioneers.
Now they are feeble and bowed are their backs,
Long laid aside are the stockwhip and axe;
Dulled though each sense is, the hearing is quick
Oft-times to catch the faint ring of the pick,
Eyes, too, are closed yet they see clear and plain
The camp and the creek and the ranges again;
Australia's first story and the world never hears,
It is locked in the hearts of the old pioneers.
Then to the workers of those distant days
Certain poor players came bringing their plays,
Lighter grew toil for the songs that they trolled,
Sweeter was life for the love-stories told,
Gone now the music, the laughter is stilled,
Audience and players together are chilled,
Yet--like the flowers--the smiles and the tears
Ever are fresh for the old pioneers.
Yes, they are old, nor of wealth have they hoard,
Heap we the fire, then, and plenish the board;
Age steals upon them and chilly life grows,
Workers and players have earned their repose.
Soon on their names all in vain we shall call,
For even the grandest old landmarks must fall.
Just a warm hand-clasp ere one disappears--
These are the last of the old pioneers.
poem by Frank Dalby Davison
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Big And Strong
Strong man strangles universe, he drowns the stars
Blinded by the mission of a thousand wars
He's fit and dominant, no wonder why
He loves the battle cry
Strong man is survivor, he lives to pound
Little wooden crosses in the bloody ground
He's fit and dominant, his will is truth
His hand is absolute
Chorus:
And the world keeps on turning, and the sun keeps on burning
And the children keep learning how to grow up big and strong
How to grow up big and strong
Strong man takes no prisoner, favors no plea
He leaves no gold in teeth of enemy
He's fit and dominant, rises above
He has no word that means love
chorus repeats 2x
How to grow up big and strong...
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Camp Followers
In the old wars of the world there were camp-followers,
Women of ancient sins who gave themselves for hire,
Women of weak wills and strong desire.
And, like the poison ivy in the woods
That winds itself about tall virile trees
Until it smothers them, so these
Ruined the bodies and the souls of men.
More evil were they than Red War itself,
Or Pestilence, or Famine. Now in this war-
This last most awful carnage of the world-
All the old wickedness exists as then:
But as a foul stream from a festering fen
Is met and scattered by a mountain brook
Leaping along its beautiful, bright course,
So now the force
Of these new Followers of the camp has come
Straight from God's Source
To cleanse the world and cleanse the minds of men.
Good women, of great courage and large hearts,
Women whose slogan is self-sacrifice,
Willing to pay the price
God asks of pioneers, now play their parts
In this stupendous drama of the age
As Followers of the Camps.
They come in the name of God our Father,
They come in the name of Christ our Brother,
They come in the name of All Humanity,
To give their gold, their labour, and their love
To help the suffering souls in this war-riddled earth,
The New Women of the Race-
The New Camp Followers-
The Centuries shall do honour to their names.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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The Lawyer's Wife Has Stage IV Cancer of the Breast...
she lies there in the living room
on that sofa,
her body swells, and her husband says
she is another hopeless case
in whispers seeing to it that she does not hear any word
about
being hopeless, but i think she knows it, she is not dumb after all
that all these are obvious enough
her body does not feel anything now
her eyes speak a lot
but her mouth does not release a word
her tongue coils inside her cheek
the room is filled with the smell of death
urine, fecal matter,
i say a prayer for her repose.
the images of a woman playing tennis during saturday mornings
in sneakers, drinking wine with her husband at the veranda
a lawyer fed up with life's drama
their children have lives of their own
and soon
he will be facing life all alone
when she finally closes her eyes
to see another world
before her
closed eyes
saturdays will never be the same again
but he is strong, he will always be strong
he will have another defense... it is too painful an image to see
and so i shifted my gaze
to the durian tree
lush leaves, strong branches, and
fruitless
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Charles Harpur
Where Harpur lies, the rainy streams,
And wet hill-heads, and hollows weeping,
Are swift with wind, and white with gleams,
And hoarse with sounds of storms unsleeping.
Fit grave it is for one whose song
Was tuned by tones he caught from torrents,
And filled with mountain breaths, and strong,
Wild notes of falling forest currents.
So let him sleep, the rugged hymns
And broken lights of woods above him!
And let me sing how sorrow dims
The eyes of those that used to love him.
As April in the wilted wold
Turns faded eyes on splendours waning,
What time the latter leaves are old,
And ruin strikes the strays remaining;
So we that knew this singer dead,
Whose hands attuned the harp Australian,
May set the face and bow the head,
And mourn his fate and fortunes alien.
The burden of a perished faith
Went sighing through his speech of sweetness,
With human hints of time and death,
And subtle notes of incompleteness.
But when the fiery power of youth
Had passed away and left him nameless,
Serene as light, and strong as truth,
He lived his life, untired and tameless.
And, far and free, this man of men,
With wintry hair and wasted feature,
Had fellowship with gorge and glen,
And learned the loves and runes of Nature.
Strange words of wind, and rhymes of rain,
And whispers from the inland fountains
Are mingled, in his various strain,
With leafy breaths of piny mountains.
But as the undercurrents sigh
Beneath the surface of a river,
The music of humanity
Dwells in his forest-psalms for ever.
No soul was he to sit on heights
And live with rocks apart and scornful:
Delights of men were his delights,
And common troubles made him mournful.
The flying forms of unknown powers
With lofty wonder caught and filled him;
But there were days of gracious hours
When sights and sounds familiar thrilled him.
The pathos worn by wayside things,
The passion found in simple faces,
Struck deeper than the life of springs
Or strength of storms and sea-swept places.
But now he sleeps, the tired bard,
The deepest sleep; and, lo! I proffer
These tender leaves of my regard,
With hands that falter as they offer.
poem by Henry Kendall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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