The Grey Monk
I die I die the Mother said
My Children die for lack of Bread
What more has the merciless Tyrant said
The Monk sat down on the Stony Bed
The blood red ran from the Grey Monks side
His hands and feet were wounded wide
His Body bent his arms & knees
Like to the roots of ancient trees
His eye was dry no tear could flow
A hollow groan first spoke his woe
He trembled and shudderd upon the Bedt
At length with a feeble cry he said
When God commanded this hand to write
In the studious hours of deep midnight
He told me the writing I wrote should provet
The Bane of all that on Earth I lovd
My Brother starvd between two Walls
His Childrens Cry my Soul appalls
I mockd at the wrack and griding chain
My bent body mocks their torturing pain
Thy Father drew his sword in the North
With his thousands strong he marched forth
Thy Brother has armd himself in Steel
To avenge the wrongs thy Children feel
But vain the Sword and vain the Bow
They never can work Wars overthrow
The Hermits Prayer and the Widows tear
Alone can free the World from fear
For a Tear is an Intellectual Thing
And a Sigh is the Sword of an Angel King
And the bitter groan of the Martyrs woe
Is an Arrow from the Almighties Bow
The hand of Vengeance found the Bed
To which the Purple Tyrant fled
The iron hand crushd the Tyrants head
And became a Tyrant in his stead
poem by William Blake from Songs and Ballads (1794)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Related quotes
Ye Spirits Of The Free
Ye spirits of the free,
Can ye forever see
Your brother man
A yoked and scourged slave
Chains dragging to his grave,
And raise no hand to save?
Say if you can.
In pride and pomp to roll,
Shall tyrants from the soul
God’s image tear,
And call the wreck their own,—
While, from the eternal throne,
They shut the stifled groan
And bitter prayer?
Shall he a slave be bound,
Whom God hath doubly crowned
Creation’s lord ?
Shall men of Christian name,
Without a blush of shame
Profess their tyrant claim
From God’s own word ?
No! at the battle cry,
A host prepared to die,
Shall arm for fight—
But not with martial steel,
Grasped with a murderous zeal ;
No arms their foes shall fell,
But love and light.
Firm on Jehovah’s laws,
Strong in their righteous cause,
They march to save.
And vain the tyrant’s mail,
Against their battle—hail,
Till cease the woe and wail
Of tortured slave !
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tyrant
Behold tis I the commander
Whose grip controls you all
Resist me not, surrender
Ill no compassion call
(tyrant) capture of humanity
(tyrant) conqueror of all
(tyrant) hideous destructor
(tyrant) every man shall fall
Your very lives are held within my fingers
I snap them and you cower down in fear
You spineless things who belly down to slither
To the end of the world you follow to be near
(tyrant) capture of humanity
(tyrant) conqueror of all
(tyrant) hideous destructor
(tyrant) every man shall fall
Mourn for us oppressed in fear
Chained and shackled we are bound
Freedom choked in dread we live
Since tyrant was enthroned
I listen not to sympathy
Whilst ruler of this land
Withdraw your feeble aches and moans
Or suffer smite from this my hand
(tyrant) capture of humanity
(tyrant) conqueror of all
(tyrant) hideous destructor
(tyrant) every man shall fall
Mourn for us oppressed in fear
Chained and shackled we are bound
Freedom choked in dread we live
Since tyrant was enthroned
My legions faithful unto death
Ill summon to my court
And as you perish each of you
Shall scream as you are sought
(tyrant) capture of humanity
(tyrant) conqueror of all
(tyrant) hideous destructor
(tyrant) every man shall fall
song performed by by Judas Priest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sword Of Mine
The Sword that I carry
Though made not of iron or steel,
It is a mighty sword
That I proudly do so wield.
Though it wont break the skin
Or combat the weapons of a foe
But this is a mighty sword of mine
More precious than silver or gold.
This sword that I carry
I proudly display it in my hand,
For I know this sword of mine
Is greater, than any other mans.
It comforts me when I am tired
It will warm me when I am cold
It will lie down beside of me
To protect, and strengthen my soul.
The sword that I hold
Is tattered, and so very worn
It has been a friend along side of me,
In the sunshine and many storms.
It has shown me a path to follow
And has lit the road that I walk,
And those nights when I was alone and scared
Then to me, I could hear it talk.
The sword that I wield
Though may be different, in shape or size,
But it is the same sword
Which for years has cushioned the souls cry.
It has been here since the dawn of time
And will be here when the great walls fall,
And then when all men of war and hate reflect,
My sword, will be the mightiest sword of all.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Circle Of Tyrants
After the battle is over
And the sand's drunken the blood
All what there remains
Is the bitterness of delusion
The immortality of the Gods
Sits at their side
As they leave the walls behind
To reach the jewels gleam
The days have come
When the steel will rule
And upon his head
A crown of gold
Your hand wields the might
The tyrant's the precursor
You carry the will
As the morning is near
I sing the ballads
Of victory and defeat
I hear the tales
Of frozen mystery
The new kingdoms rise by the circle of the tyrants
In the land of darkness the warrior, that was me
Grotesque glory none will (ever) see them fall
And hunts and wars are like everlasting shadows
Where the winds cannot reach the tyrant's might was born
And often I look back with tears in my eyes
Grotesque glory none will (ever) see them fall
And hunts and wars are like everlasting shadows
song performed by by Obituary
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sword
THE FORGING OF THE SWORD.
At the forging of the Sword--
The mountain roots were stirr'd,
Like the heart-beats of a bird;
Like flax the tall trees wav'd,
So fiercely struck the Forgers of the Sword.
At the forging of the Sword--
So loud the hammers fell,
The thrice seal'd gates of Hell,
Burst wide their glowing jaws;
Deep roaring, at the forging of the Sword.
At the forging of the Sword--
Kind mother Earth was rent,
Like an Arab's dusky tent,
And monster-like she fed--
On her children; at the forging of the Sword.
At the forging of the Sword--
So loud the blows they gave,
Up sprang the panting wave;
And blind and furious slew,
Shrill-shouting to the Forgers of the Sword.
At the forging of the Sword--
The startled air swift whirl'd
The red flames round the world,
From the Anvil where was smitten,
The steel, the Forgers wrought into the Sword.
At the forging of the Sword--
The Maid and Matron fled,
And hid them with the dead;
Fierce prophets sang their doom,
More deadly, than the wounding of the Sword.
At the forging of the Sword--
Swift leap'd the quiet hearts,
In the meadows and the marts;
The tides of men were drawn,
By the gleaming sickle-planet of the Sword!
* * * * *
Thus wert thou forged, O lissome sword;
On such dusk anvil wert thou wrought;
In such red flames thy metal fused!
From such deep hells that metal brought;
O sword, dread lord, thou speak'st no word,
But dumbly rul'st, king and lord!
Less than the Gods by some small span,
Slim sword, how great thy lieges be!
Glint but in _one_ wild camp-fire's light,
Thy God-like vassals rush to thee.
O sword, dread lord, thou speak'st no word,
But dumbly rul'st, king and lord!
Sharp, God, how vast thy altars be!
Green vallies, sacrificial cups,
Flow with the purple lees of blood;
Its smoke is round the mountain tops.
O sword, dread lord, thou speak'st no word,
But dumbly rul'st, king and lord!
O amorous God, fierce lover thou!
Bright sultan of a million brides,
Thou know'st no rival to _thy_ kiss,
Thy loves are _thine_ whate're betides,
O sword, dread lord, thou speak'st no word,
But dumbly rul'st, king and lord.
Unflesh thee, sword! No more, no more,
Thy steel no more shall sting and shine,
Pass thro' the fusing fires again;
And learn to prune the laughing vine.
Fall sword, dread lord, with one accord,
The plough and hook we'll own as lord!
poem by Isabella Valancy Crawford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Power Of Thy Sword
Lord of battle I pray on bended knee conquest by the rising sun
I'll wait for thy command with flame and blood at hand
glory and a broken sword.
I'm the master of the world I have no fear of man or beast
Born inside the soul of the world
Riding hard breaking bone with steel and stone
Eternal might I was born to wield.
Let us drink to the battles we've lived and we've fought
Celebrate the pain and havoc we have wrought
Great heroes charge into the fight
From the north to the south in the black of night
The clash of honor calls to stand when others fall
Gods of war feel the power of my sword
Drink to the battles we've lived and we've fought
Celebrate the pain and havoc we have wrought
Great heroes charge into the fight
From the north to the south in the black of night
Fierce is my blade fierce is my hate born to die in battle
I laugh at my fate
Now pay in blood when your blood has been spilled
You're never forgiven death is fulfilled !
The clash of honor calls to stand when others fall
Gods of war feel the power of my sword
The clash of honor calls
I will stand when others fall
Open magic doors
The will know the power of my sword
There is blood in my hands there is blood in my eyes
With blood in my voice I scream as you die
Thirsting for vengeance and mounds of the slain
Shaking the forest onto the plain
Fierce is my blade fierce is my hate born to die in battle
I laugh at my fate
Now pay in blood when your blood has been spilled
You're never forgiven death is fulfilled !
The clash of honor calls to stand when others fall
Gods of war feel the power of my sword
Know the power of my sword
Know the power of my sword
Know the power of my sword
Know the power of my sword
They will know the power of my sword
song performed by by Manowar from The Triumph Of Steel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I dreamed of an angel last night
I dreamed of an angel
last night,
that appeared shiny and bright.
The angel had a sword with an orange burning blade
in his hand and was dressed in armour
as if it was going to war.
Thunder rumbled from the sky
when he spoke and a terrible wind
rushed past and dark clouds covered the stars.
Write and give power,
to set things right and let your enemies feel worst fury
than they bestowed on you.
Write and smite them with words,
that there words and deeds might crucify them
and that fate may take them before their time.
Write about destruction
and take vengeance on thy enemies
and give power to words, he commanded.
The sword changed to white-hot heat
and the clouds and wind
took the dimensions of destructive power.
They are ordained to be brothers of mine
and the Lord says that vengeance
belongs only to Him, I replied.
The angel faded away
and the wind and the clouds disappeared from the sky
as if they never were there.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Children Need A Helping Hand
(featuring various artists)
Children need a helping hand
Children need a promise land
Let the children feel again
That love is alive
Children need a helping hand
Children are so innocent
Make this world a wonderland
So give us a sign
So give us a sign
Children have a heart of gold
Sometimes they feel alone and sold
They need someone to be around
Reach out
A helping hand
So many children dont know what to do
cause no ones there to guide em through
Were living in a world so cold
Dont make them sad and sold
They need a helping hand
Children need a helping hand
Children need a promised land
Let the children feel again
That love is alive
That love is alive
Children need a helping hand
Day by day
Children are so innocent
Show them the way
Make this world a wonderland
Join us and stay
So give us a sign
So give us a sign
Children, need a helping hand
We are all called to change
Into a world of hope
Without war, without pain
Children do have fantasies
The thoughts of far away and free
Dreamin of a wonderland
They live
In a childrens world
We could live in perfect harmony
Wonderland could be reality
Without war and without pain
And no one dies in vain
Thats the promised land
Children need a helping hand
Children need a promise land
Let the children feel again
That love is alive
That love is alive
Children need a helping hand
Day by day
Children are so innocent
Show them the way
Make this world a wonderland
Join us and stay
So give us a sign
So give us a sign
Children wanna find their own way
Gettin stronger day by day
Children have a heart and soul
Dont let them live without a goal
Children, make the world go round
Dont destroy what they have found
Set an example be consequent
Be confident with a helping hand
Children need a helping hand
Children need a promise land
Let the children feel again
That love is alive
Children need a helping hand
Children are so innocent
Make this world a wonderland
So give us a sign
So give us a sign
song performed by by Backstreet Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Field Of Battle
The Deed of Blood is o'er!
And, hark, the Trumpet's mournful breath
Low murmurs round it a Note of Death—
The Mighty are no more!
How solemn slow that distant Groan!—
O, could AMBITION, wild with fear,
The deep prophetic Warning hear,
And, looking, listning vain around
For one soul-soothing, softer sound,
While near, unseen, the Fiends of Hell
Toll round the wretch his fancied Knell,
Rave all alone!
But, hark, soft Plaints arise!—
Friendship, adieu; farewel, soft Love!
I go to smiling Peace above:—
The Friend, the Lover dies!
Yet, happy Soul to Freedom giv'n,
Go where no proud tyrannic Lord
Drives Man upon his Brother's sword;
Where Angels from thine arms shall tear
The Chains AMBITION bade thee wear;
Where, on the once pale Cheek of Woe,
In Smiles immortal, Roses blow—
The Bloom of Heav'n!
poem by James Henry Leigh Hunt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lazarus Heart
He looked beneath his shirt today
There was a wound in his flesh so deep and wide
From the wound a lovely flower grew
From somewhere deep inside
He turned around to face his mother
To show her the wound in his breast that burned like a brand
But the sword that cut him open
Was the sword in his mothers hand
Every day another miracle
Only death will tear us apart
To sacrifice a life for yours
Id be the blood of the lazarus heart
The blood of the lazarus heart
Though the sword was his protection
The wound itself would give him power
The power to remake himself at the time of his darkest hour
She said the wound would give him courage and pain
The kind of pain that you cant hide
From the wound a lovely flower grew
From somewhere deep inside
Every day another miracle
Only death will keep us apart
To sacrifice a life for yours
Id be the blood of the lazarus heart
The blood of the lazarus heart
Birds on the roof of my mothers house
Ive no stones that chase them away
Birds on the roof of my mothers house
Will sit on my roof some day
They fly at the window, they fly at the door
Where does she get the strength to fight them anymore
She counts all her children as a shield against the pain
Lifts her eyes to the sky like a flower in the rain
Every day another miracle
Only death will keep us apart
To sacrifice a life for yours
Id be the blood of the lazarus heart
The blood of the lazarus heart
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tear It Up
I got a black top road out in front of me
And I might just tear it up
I gotta rock'n'roll jones pumpin' in deep
Just might tear it up
Gimme a bar room floor a back beat band
Play the kinda music I can understand
Sweet sixteen take me by the hand just might tear it up.
Tear it up hey I just might tear it up
Tear it up Tear it up
Ya know I just might tear it up
I got a ticket from a cop on the way over here
Just might tear it up
I got the repossession notice for my car right here
Just might tear it up
Oh one of these nights I ain't lyin'
If the moon is right and I feel like flyin'
Sweet sixteen take me down the line just might tear it up
Chorus:
The way you rock and roll me you make it look so easy
And when you're out on the floor baby
You make it look so easy
Hey you really touch my soul baby
You make it You make it
Tear it up
The way you rock and roll me you make it look so easy
And when you're out on the floor baby
You make it You make it You make it
We got the rock'n'roll band pumpin' tear it up
We got the kids in the gym jumpin' tear it up
We got the chaperones hip hoppin' tear it up
We got sweet sixteen
Sweet sixteen take me by the hand Tear it up
Sweet sixteen take me by the hand Tear it up
Sweet sixteen take me by the hand Tear it up
song performed by by 38 Special
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The child tastes the tear
The tear is made of salt
The tear is made of water
The tear is made of the sea
But you cannot swim in it
The tear can leak down the cheek
The tear is like a good rhyme
The child wipes away the tear
The wipe is made of the hand
The hand is made by…who
The child thinks of the hand
The hand can shake a hand
The hand can slap a cheek
The hand can wipe the tear away
The hand and tear are made
The child is thinking
I am made too
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Thousand Desires
Thousands of desires, each worth dying for...
Many of them I have realized...yet I yearn for more...
Why should my killer (lover) be afraid? No one will hold her responsible
For the blood which will continuously flow through my eyes all my life
We have heard about the dismissal of Adam from Heaven,
With a more humiliation, I am leaving the street on which you live...
Oh tyrant, your true personality will be known to all
If the curls of my hair slip through my turban!
But if someone wants to write her a letter, they can ask me,
Every morning I leave my house with my pen on my ear.
In that age, I turned to drinking (alcohol)
And then the time came when my entire world was occupied by alcohol
From whom I expected justice/praise for my weakness
Turned out to be more injured with the same cruel sword
When in love, there is little difference between life and death
We live by looking at the infidel who we are willing to die for
Put some pressure on your heart to remove that cruel arrow,
For if the arrow comes out, so will your heart...and your life.
For god's sake, don't lift the cover off any secrets you tyrant
The infidel might turn out to be my lover!
The preacher and the bar's entrance are way apart
Yet I saw him entering the bar as I was leaving!
Thousands of desires, each worth dying for...
>Many of them I have realized...yet I yearn for more
poem by Mirza Ghalib
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spanish Peasant
We have no aspiration vain
For paradise Utopian,
And here in our sun-happy Spain,
Though man exploit his fellow man,
To high constraint we humbly yield,
And turn from politics to toil,
Content to till a kindly field
And bring forth bounty from the soil.
They tell us wars will never cease;
They sy the world is out of joint.
How well we Know! But peace is peace
Even imposed at pistol point.
And we have learnt our lesson well,
By many a death, by many a tear;
So let us live a feudal spell, -
The cost of freedom is too dear.
Let us be the cattle kind,
Praying the goad be not a sword;
In servitude obeying blind
The tyrant ruling of our Lord.
His army can be swift to slay,
His Church teach us humility . . .
But never never will we pay
Again blood-price for Liberty.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To The Genius Of Africa
O thou who from the mountain's height
Roll'st down thy clouds with all their weight
Of waters to old Niles majestic tide;
Or o'er the dark sepulchral plain
Recallest thy Palmyra's ancient pride,
Amid whose desolated domes
Secure the savage chacal roams,
Where from the fragments of the hallow'd fane
The Arabs rear their miserable homes!
Hear Genius hear thy children's cry!
Not always should'st thou love to brood
Stern o'er the desert solitude
Where seas of sand toss their hot surges high;
Nor Genius should the midnight song
Detain thee in some milder mood
The palmy plains among
Where Gambia to the torches light
Flows radiant thro' the awaken'd night.
Ah, linger not to hear the song!
Genius avenge thy children's wrong!
The Daemon COMMERCE on your shore
Pours all the horrors of his train,
And hark! where from the field of gore
Howls the hyena o'er the slain!
Lo! where the flaming village fires the skies!
Avenging Power awake--arise!
Arise thy children's wrong redress!
Ah heed the mother's wretchedness
When in the hot infectious air
O'er her sick babe she bows opprest--
Ah hear her when the Christians tear
The drooping infant from her breast!
Whelm'd in the waters he shall rest!
Hear thou the wretched mother's cries,
Avenging Power awake! arise!
By the rank infected air
That taints those dungeons of despair,
By those who there imprison'd die
Where the black herd promiscuous lie,
By the scourges blacken'd o'er
And stiff and hard with human gore,
By every groan of deep distress
By every curse of wretchedness,
By all the train of Crimes that flow
From the hopelessness of Woe,
By every drop of blood bespilt,
By Afric's wrongs and Europe's guilt,
Awake! arise! avenge!
And thou hast heard! and o'er their blood-fed plains
Swept thine avenging hurricanes;
And bade thy storms with whirlwind roar
Dash their proud navies on the shore;
And where their armies claim'd the fight
Wither'd the warrior's might;
And o'er the unholy host with baneful breath
There Genius thou hast breath'd the gales of Death.
So perish still the robbers of mankind!
What tho' from Justice bound and blind
Inhuman Power has snatch'd the sword!
What tho' thro' many an ignominious age
That Fiend with desolating rage
The tide of carnage pour'd!
Justice shall yet unclose her eyes,
Terrific yet in wrath arise,
And trample on the tyrant's breast,
And make Oppresion groan opprest.
poem by Robert Southey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Deliver Us From Temptation
Freedom" this cry of all slaves will be heard
And the tyrants will feel the steal of the sword
The chains will be broken by all slaves on the earth
Forever to be free from their load
Time has run out for all you tyrants on earth
Your slaves are heedin\' the call
Makin\' an end to all this terror and pain
An end to your lies and your law
Takin\' away all your gold and your money
\'cause dead men don\'t need it anymore
Much too long we felt the slash of your whips
So now you will feel or swords
Freedom the eternal cry will echo high in the sky
The day will come when all power has been broken
Your blood will flow down to the gates of hell
Satan will wait for your souls
Pray to your god he won\'t help you he\'s dead
He won\'t fool our minds and our soul... anymore
Chorus:
Freedom the cry of all slaves will be heard
The tyrants will now feel the steel of the sword
The chains will be broken by all slaves on earth
Chorus
Forever to be free from their load
Chorus
... Forever to be free from their load
song performed by by Helloween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For Frank Gardiner
It is not in a prison drear
Where all around is gloom,
That I would end life's wild career,
And sink into the tomb,
For though my spirit's ever bold
Each tyrant to defy;
Still, still, within a dungeon cold,
I could not calmly die.
It is not that my cheek would pale
Within a lonely cell;
It is not that my heart would quail
To bid this world farewell.
For if oppressed by tyrant foe
I'd freely be the first
To give my life, and strike the blow
To lay him in the dust.
But place me in a forest glen
Unfettered, wild and free,
Wtih fifty tried and chosen men
A bandit chief to be.
'Tis there, when fighting with my foes
Amid my trusty band,
I'd freely leave this world of woes,
And die with sword in hand.
poem by Owen Suffolk
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An UnavoidAble Fate
My name is taylor
13 today horay
but from that dream
i can not stray
got a letter today
from my dad
it got me so mad
it said not to look for him
so i left my brother and mother
and went to find him
i didn't know i had a stalker
who followed me town to town
he was quite not much of a talker
and then i died no lie
and i woke up screaming for my life
i pulled my self from the hollow box
who said being in a cofin rocks
and so i carried on
find my father i did
he taught me many new things
fire earth water wind
a gift this power brings
and when i went out
i found my killer
but from above i fell in love
there was a dark side to him
and when he he said he loved me
time stood still
i didnt realise he was my kill
when he went back to his roots
i followed silenlty 3 years past
and im home at last
i'am 16 now
and walking alone
i found
my brother kye he's 13 now
by acident of cource
and he knew who i was
filled with love for him
dropped my gaurd i did
and next thing i knew
my lover found me and my brother
he took kye away made him pay
used him as bait i was the fish
i faught him and almost killed me
but my heart took over
and he got the chance
we faught some more in a dance
and when i had no strengh
my brother cried help me sister
plz oh why and curled in to a ball
crying in pain and as
he emerged a new power he gained
he jump from the rock water in hand
shot my lover down on to the land
i told my brother to stop
and he looked at me sad
i pulled my lover up
and said he was bad
i told him i loved him
and sent him to a place
where he will find no love or grace
so me and my brother crawled back to dad
told him our wish and told him we were sad
he frowned and said.......
what are you talking about your mothers not dead
WHAT me and my brother wisperd hand in hand
so come be with me beacuse this is my fated destiny
poem by Amber Shoremarston
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Song Of The Pacifist
What do they matter, our headlong hates, when we take the toll of our Dead?
Think ye our glory and gain will pay for the torrent of blood we have shed?
By the cheers of our Victory will the heart of the mother be comforted?
If by the Victory all we mean is a broken and brooding foe;
Is the pomp and power of a glitt'ring hour, and a truce for an age or so:
By the clay-cold hand on the broken blade we have smitten a bootless blow!
If by the Triumph we only prove that the sword we sheathe is bright;
That justice and truth and love endure; that freedom's throned on the height;
That the feebler folks shall be unafraid; that Might shall never be Right;
If this be all: by the blood-drenched plains, by the havoc of fire and fear,
By the rending roar of the War of Wars, by the Dead so doubly dear. . . .
Then our Victory is a vast defeat, and it mocks us as we cheer.
Victory! there can be but one, hallowed in every land:
When by the graves of our common dead we who were foemen stand;
And in the hush of our common grief hand is tendered to hand.
Triumph! Yes, when out of the dust in the splendour of their release
The spirits of those who fell go forth and they hallow our hearts to peace,
And, brothers in pain, with world-wide voice, we clamour that War shall cease.
Glory! Ay, when from blackest loss shall be born most radiant gain;
When over the gory fields shall rise a star that never shall wane:
Then, and then only, our Dead shall know that they have not fall'n in vain.
When our children's children shall talk of War as a madness that may not be;
When we thank our God for our grief to-day, and blazon from sea to sea
In the name of the Dead the banner of Peace . . . that will be Victory.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Brother...
More than the blood of my blood. He is my friend,
my rock...my brother.
Brother, in times of need, never judging, always there.
My Brother, could, would, always make things right.
Brother, never made much ado, about the task at
hand...he just did it.
Brother, who lifted me, when I was down.
Brother, who brought the laughter, amid the pain.
Brother, the word he never spoke...was 'no'.
Brother, who had the answers, to my questions.
Brother, who by example, did walk the path of right.
Brother, in all my years...in all my life, never have
I met another...like my loving brother.