Patriotic once in a year
I claim to be patriotic once in a year
So many people may disbelieve and refuse to hear
It will ring them a danger signal in the ears
Still I say it emphatically to all my near and dear
I am no stranger to golden history of independence
For sow many years we remained under dominance
I am being poisoned repeatedly by the current trend
I have no more scope to improve or make amend
I feel shy of calling my forefathers idiots or stupid
Had it been known to them, they would have not made any bid?
Or laid down arms and lives for gaining freedom?
I have gone through complete history but came across seldom
Had I known for ever that it will be made only Government function?
I would have opted for making presence in any desolate junction
There at least I could have breathed freedom with free air
Can any one claim today that participation in such function is fair?
I salute to all those who consider mother land as more precious than heaven
I could have still considered less fortunate to take part even
My soul feels pinch of salt to hear the ill treatment of dependents of martyrs
It all drains my energy out and compels me to tire
I am for sure they will be remembered only for today
If they do not then they will be hackled for all the days
They have found all the escape routes to malign war veterans
Why do they want to share all plight and agony with concern?
I know it has been won after great sacrifice and struggle
I too know it well that it was barbaric and rule of jungle
Still they have spared some bright history behind
We nothing as such in store today to find
Even as on today we remember less all past glorious kings
Even from history we pick up the name of traitors and remember
How many such traitors we find in our free land as of date?
The history of independence is of recent times and not very late
We have mastered the art of laundering national wealth
We can play havoc with nourishment food and health
We can temper with judiciary and even holy constitution
With What respect I raise my head and claim part of institution?
I can compromise national interest for paltry some
If not war booty then cut back money can be received very handsome
If I fail to catch the nerves of my country men with their plight
How can I claim to be patriotic or even feel part or sensibly right?
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Related quotes
Traitors of today
Traitors of today occupy imminent position
Well orchestrated songs in praise for composition
Establishment of personal rule over millions of people
Can not look forward for anything good and are unable
What have they to do for their own country?
Rob, steal, cut backs and commission in form of money?
Add vows to already worsened poverty?
Can any one tell us when this will end misery?
I have all praise and kudos for their divine talent
We have tears in eyes but nothing more to lament
What else do they deserve to invite us for comment?
We prefer to be mere spectator and be silent
In ancient time people were hanged to death
For crimes, murders and ill gotten wealth
Today it is considered as an adorable art
Academicians, politicians present themselves as smart
Where is the national interest and security?
How can one claim to be powerful and mighty?
When house is full of defaulters and selfish?
Searching for troubled water to catch the fishes
Why are we facing such national scene?
Such a low lever acts were never witnessed or seen?
How come national wealth is deposited in foreign banks?
How come National security weakened and remains with unsecured flank?
I am no crocodile to shed the tears
I am immune and have no fears
I have power and money to manage the show
I can reign supreme and in full readiness to grow
O, countrymen wake up and prepare for national funeral
Decorate with honor and shields upon their arrival
They are our heroes to barter and take away the freedom
Such things may never appear to witness seldom
I feel pity upon those who foolishly laid down their lives
Curse on those parents who push their children and believe
“The motherland is precious than heaven” and come forward
Time has come now to think and look back ward
Where are those golden days when promises were kept?
Words were honored and nights were spent without being slept?
The national interest ruled supreme in the mind and at heart
Where from to pick thread now and with open mind to restart?
I do not blame the culture or present set up
We have degraded ourselves and deserve to be shut up
We can see the scoundrels flourish with position and wealth
Who bother’s about country men and its deteriorating health?
I wish to born in land again and again
Where Mafias, traitors, and squanders reign
The borders are left open to venture at will
Thousands of innocents to wait for terrorists to come and kill
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Black History Month
In January...
There they are making history.
In February...
There they are making history.
In March...
There they are making history.
In April...
There they are making history.
In May...
There they are making history.
In June...
There they are making history.
In July...
There they are making history.
In August...
There they are making history.
In September...
There they are making history.
In October...
There they are making history.
In November...
There they are making history.
In December...
There they are making history.
But...
It's nice to know
The shortest month of the year
Was chosen to celebrate
The great deeds of African-Americans!
However...
It is those LEAP YEARS,
That really have the blacks jumping for joy!
Note: 'Black History Month' along with other
works of interest can be found in...
*'MindPrints from Untouched Places-VOL I'*
~Now available online at a PC near you~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You Tell Me Of Your Australian History
You tell me of your Australian history your ancestors were British and Irish pioneers
But your history in this Land is not an old history just two centuries and twenty years
And in time that may seem quite a long span though the combined life spans of three people nothing more
Your ancestors hardly were Aussies they came here from a distant shore.
The first Australians have lived in this Country for longer than most care to know
Their ancestors came here from Asia more than sixty thousand years ago
They are indigenous to this Country all others have links to elsewhere
Yet they still struggle for recognition and that to me seems quite unfair.
Dispossessed by the Northern invaders they never did get back their Land
And that they are now ruled by white people I find that hard to understand
You talk of the history of this Land as if it were only two hundred years old
But then suppose the history of the ancient Dreamtime by white people will never be told.
I was not even born in this Country which makes you more Aussie than I
And though I'm not Nationalistic or Patriotic my heritage I won''t deny
You talk of your pioneering ancestors but why talk of Human history at all
If the history of the first Australians you do not see fit to recall.
You tell me of your pioneering ancestors but one fact you tend to ignore
That they were not born in this Country they came here from a foreign shore
You''d swear by you the Human history of this Land was only two centuries old
But the true history of this great Country by your type will never be told
poem by Francis Duggan
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I Pledge
I pledge allegiance to national flag
Let there be any attempt to tarnish the image or drag
It shall remain super most in my mind
I am not novice so not to understand and go blind
How many people have shed their blood for motherland?
How many might have perished in foreign land
For upholding the national pride and honor
What might have they expected in return for?
I am for sure many might have perished unsung?
No national anthem might have been aired or sung
Yet we owe our head in their honor for brave front
This is what all citizens expect from soldiers or want
Today we are free country with all liberal thoughts
On national front we have undergone sufferings when fought
No one wanted any material benefit but only free air
Have we given them what they wanted as fair share?
Motherland is compared to a beautiful and sacred lady
Love and respect shown for all the time from everybody
No one can think of harming national interest?
It is expected and desired even more as best
We have forgotten our past
We have lost the trust
Our head bows down in shame
Where to go and whom to blame?
The beautiful lady, motherland we call, is torn apart
She has been taken off cloths and divided in parts
Who can claim they have national interest at heart?
Can any one think of making again a noble start?
No, nothing will be done
Past golden days are for memory to remain
Flowers will laid as mark of respect once in year
Everybody is afraid and gripped of fear
We are killing our own brethrens
Poor are dying everyday without much concern
This is welfare state we enshrined?
Was that the show for later on to be fined?
We have created position to corner the wealth
Compromised with nature and helped to deteriorate health
It is world boxing match to attract more people
To pay for the show and invite more trouble
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The History Teacher
Woman!
Where exactly
Did you put me
In the women's history?
Am I History?
Or a part of it?
And for how long you are lacking me in;
Between
Your History,
Women's History, and
Your archives?
Does time make sense to you
As a History teacher or
As a History professor?
Cause', History, buying time, and rejuvenation
Are for emperors.
Are you making me
An emperor?
Or a Faeroe?
If so,
How precise your are?
And if you can't feel my present presence
how possibility could you feel me through your archives?
poem by Atef Ayadi
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Seldom Won
Independence, liberty and freedom
Bloodlessly won seldom
Stalwarts and leaders had shown wisdom
This all we now read in class rooms
Who will not want to be in free country?
Where it is classless, non racial and sans misery
What else can be dreamed of to lead it happily?
And country is surging ahead steadily
Foreign occupants are taken as cruel and marauders
Their position is that of land hungry and invaders
They might have plundered the country in process
And brutally murdered for gaining the access
All said and done and now they have packed
No more claims on our land is staked
We are fully independent and sovereign
Free from any yoke as independence is regained
What is scenario there after?
Is country leading towards disaster?
Is the freedom struggle really a boom?
Is there any scope for poor with room?
It has tuned into grim reality
It has proved our incompetence and inability
We have pushed country into Dark Age
We failed to look after people and manage
Farmers are coming suicide
Politicians are asking for free ride
Everybody is on rampage and hands are full of corruption
The loot is clearly seen and going on without any interruption
Yes, death is wealth
To take pride for Poor’s health
Where are we today on this freedom day?
Can they take us to peaceful way?
Can we not dream for two square meals?
Can they not strike a simple deal?
They come once in five years
To feed with oasis waters in deaf years
No answer may ever be found
Out economy is claimed to be sound
All well but country is in ill health
Entire country is robbed of its wealth
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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One Ancestry
One race...one ancestry
One place...one history
The importance of all these -
The start of you and me
Our family is like branches of tree
Some remain in Palompon, Leyte
A place where we can feel and see
Our great ancestor's merits and bravery
Others grow in different lands
Yet, our roots remain as one.
Each of our lives will always be intertwined
The breathe we take
The blood that flows through our veins
Is like a song that will never change.
A tear in my eye
With a heart full of pride
And that I cannot hide.
As I'm so blessed to be a part of history
A history that will be remembered and treasured
Not only today but on the next generation..
All of the information
Gathered from the past
Through your help & coordination we made it at last!
So, thank you for all you do,
I appreciate it and that's true!
poem by Amor Olorvida
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History Maker
History maker World shaker it’s what I wanna be
Going places seeing faces making history
Stepping out not afraid coming up against the enemy
History maker world shaker that’s what I wanna be
Get up and go-there is trouble everywhere
Finding solutions to our problems is so very rare
No more talking cause all the talking’s done
History maker world shaker I already have begun
Stand up for right I am in a fight
Trying with all my might to free them from their plight
History maker world shaker that’s what I want to be
Helping people change, changing history
But I can’t do it alone I need someone
To help me do the job and get it done
Become a history maker starting here today
Be a world shaker follow me I will show the way
Copy Right HN Brown 31 January 2009
poem by Henry Brown
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History Is Made Today
Kunta Kinte's Gambia,
Kwame Nkrumah's Ghana,
Nelson Mandela's South Africa,
Kofi Annan's U.N.,
And Barack Obama's U.S.A.;
All the records are there for a purpose,
For today history is made in the U.S.A.!
Check the history of these great men and what they are made of?
For the Slave Trade started in the year 1530;
And in 2008, a Blackman is elected as the 44th U.S.President.
1530 to the Slave Trade,
And after 478 years today history is made;
4th November's U.S. Election made a history!
Of slaves from Nigeria,
Of slaves from Ghana,
Of slaves from Senegal,
Of slaves from Gambia,
Of slaves from Angola,
And all the other places of the African Continent;
What was due to us has been done.
'I have a dream'! Martin Luther King (1963):
And today (2008) the dream is fulfilled (Barack Hussein Obama) .
Even babies could pronouce the name 'Obama'! ! !
For the American dream is for a better America.
Of the slaves gone by and the tears of the people today,
Out of Africa to America;
Inot the plantations of a hard work to fulfil this dream today,
So i really understood the tears of many after the results.
'Yes we can'! After 478 years in history;
The American Independence came but many were still not liberated,
Not until the 4th November's 2008 U.S. Election.
I say the tears of many,
And this history of the First Black Family to sit in the White House;
But to al things, let us give glory to the Creator Almighty.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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History may be past
History may be past
Embedded in memory and may not last
It is glorious past with memorable events
Preserved with honor as unforgettable counts
As the things can be clearly seen in mirror
History will site you mistakes and errors
It may not repeat in near future or for times to come
We take pride for being a part and welcome
How many bloody wars have been fought?
Was peace not explored or sought?
Why so much bitterness about past?
Why still not coming to terms very fast?
How can I forget that number of times country was invaded?
How can that easily it be wiped out that in problem we were landed?
The poverty, helplessness and backwardness come before like picture?
Making me restless with burning rage at heart for future
I am for sure and everybody will share
You can not equate past with future
The present is in between to balance
It must be thought over and given chance
We can’t carry bitterness all along
History may not pardon us for pursuing wrong
If we had rich tradition in forgiving the evil and past
We must surely feel elated with very good start
We have witnessed hostility running in for decades
It has no reasons to be continued for indefinite days
Each passing day is proving costly and very deadly
We must learn lesson from it and end it immediately
It is invaluable treasure to have it as glorious history
New generation can take pride in not feel sorry
It is freedom and free environment that we intended to give
For our lapses they may surely understand forgive
History can be considered as past milestones
The present can not ignore it and consider as bye gone
We have come to stay here as inseparable part
Even thought it may be unworthy or glorious past
What does this indicate in particular?
Do we want to create the situation like similar?
It is thing of past and must be buried sincerely
We have to pick positive threads and weave it neatly
It will be great tribute to our elderly statesman
They left behind for us a rich and healthy tradition
It is for us to judge the past and shape the destiny
Time may force us to explain our conduct to many
It is our duty to preserve
Assess the situation and observe
Freedom and past must be close to our mind
Yet another similar situation always too find
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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We Affect Forever
We Affect Forever
We are making history, through every day we spend.
We are here, leaving our mark, a mark that will not end.
Others before have left behind this world we now obtain.
Though it’s changed since way back when, the old shall always remain.
History is how we got here, history is who we are.
History is what led to this, yes history is not far.
It remains within our families, its tradition and unchanging ways.
It’s Christmas day, Thanksgiving, its countless nights and days.
History is what you’re becoming; it’s what you are soon to be.
And history never dies; it’s a part of everybody.
We fight to maintain who we are, to maintain who we’ve always been.
And while we fight we know this fight is not easy to win.
Many forget the past, and many never even know,
Many people never hear of how times were long ago.
Those thousands of years before us, are more than just time spent.
They are filled with real people, real feelings, and real places that they went.
The People had different life styles very different from our ways,
But it is true that there is nothing knew under the sun’s golden rays.
Stand proud to be alive, know you affect forever.
Every act that we commit we all commit together.
We are entrusted with this earth; we must love and cherish this life.
We must remember to love our existence lest love becomes our strife.
Yes we are becoming history, through every move we make.
We are here, leaving our mark, a mark ……or perhaps a mistake.
poem by Mary Murphy
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History!
Spoken words are history
Records of some remain a mystery
And when today and tomorrow
Row bitterly over yesterday
Today will become history
With just an empty space
Enlightened by a darkened face
History reminds me of a repetition of events
Dancing to the rhythm of the same kind of achievements
A battle is won or lost
Every love or hatred will eventually be buried in dust
I love you
You love me
Soon our love goes down in history
Someone else will find love a new discovery
So the theory behind is history
Is to have a story that commands all glory
For the inevitable past that will last!
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Only Small Ray
Only a small ray can pass
No one can make trespass
It is living hell and severe punishment
For patriots it is called banishment
How much sacrifice one has to make?
Whose interest is in jeopardy or at stake?
How much humiliation you undergo as slave?
Is there any great abuse and intruder can give?
I took to arms for holy cause
There was complete lull and pause
As if freedom spirit was dying or seen no where
No one could think of taking up arms and dare
Scores of comrades lost their lives in ensuing struggle
There was no law and order as if prevailed in jungle
It was more of insult and complete hell
Nothing was acceptable except the isolation in cell
I don’t remember how many were pushed behind bars?
It was even feared many more might have been pushed very far
Yet we had kept high spirit with burning of freedom lamp
We wanted it to achieve through peaceful means and stamp
I would hear cuckoos and sparrows sweet voice
Though it was reaching to me with faint noise
I had high hope of bright day with promises
When birds could freely sing we could not afford to miss
It was clear in mind that we would be lost in history pages
History would be with full of errors and cleverly managed too
But that was misconception at this time and I was forced to rethink
It was very much advisable to risk life and prefer to sink
The freedom and independence is not won without sacrifices
It has lost its charm during process with disappearance of old faces
New generation may takes us to new zenith with no tall promises
But keep high tradition and values with no more visible lapses
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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2,000 Years Of History! !
2,000 years of history!
2,000 years of history! !
2,000 years of history could not be wiped away so easily.
From the constitution of the Olympic Gods inot Olympic Games,
And from the mystery God of december 25th into Christmas;
But,2,000 years of history could not be wiped away so easily.
Oh! ! What a Babylonian Train of Constantaine to cover the truth of the Zion Train today;
For, the quest of knowledge had really blinfolded my people!
With no reward of positivity to the heaven of heavens;
For, the masses are now giving glory to 'Semiramis'! ! !
Who, through her schemes became the 'Babylonian Queen Of Heaven'.
Yes,2,000 years of history could not be wiped away so easily!
And, the Romans based their letters on the Greek Alphabets;
Which are still in use today,
So, learn from the truth only and come out of this deceived world and be saved.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Good will
How dear is mother and motherland?
Is it simple flash piece or piece of land?
One gives birth and another gives means to live
Both are precious and holy if one takes on to believe
No one on this earth may tolerate any insult?
The sentiments are interwoven and carefully built
Millions may die for the holy cause and honor
The land has turned red many times in color
It is called supreme sacrifice if offered for defense
How many people might have laid down their lives to halt offense?
History is witness that offenders have fled away to save lives
Constant efforts have been made and all are keen or to thrive
The wanton killings and bloodshed is averted
The danger is for time being halted or diverted
The clouds do hover over the sky for causing destruction
At any moment world can be at war with little mischief or instructions
We have witness many changes in recent days
Mighty dictators have fled the land and paved the way
Yet there is human rights violations and suppression
Citizens are killed in their own land under oppression
Democratic countries too are not exception
They have cornered national wealth from the inception
There is no final check over them and have free hand
The people suffer under oppression in their own land
If it is foreign power then it is question of occupation
The dispute can not be confined to local in relation
It has dangerous consequences to engulf all and follow
The indefinite subjugation is not the solution and be allowed
We have seen ruthless purging
There has been no impact on appeal or urging
The blood is constantly shed leading to loss of lives
The situation has not improved and has made nose dive
The liberty and freedom movement has become farce
It has become ridiculous with the command of opportunist forces
We hear no talk on peace initiatives or cessation of hostile move
The danger still looms large with reign of terror and fear yet to be removed
We saw mass slaughters and ethnic cleansing with mass exodus
Many countries faced starvation with the increase of unmanageable influx
We could over come with the great plight and stopped complete annihilation
Yet the world is not assured of full liberty and equal participation
Let us pray almighty for to prevailing common sense and good will
At least there is full stop for border skirmished and unnecessary killings
Oppressors are given no chance to rule and shown the wall
Enough has been flown in red blood and now time is to recall
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Ungrateful stage
Ungrateful stage
We are heading towards ungrateful stage
Country is shamed with no affairs to manage
Not that we lack confidence and skill
But there is deficiency of trust and will
How have we remained ungrateful for days?
What pulls us to remain aloof and stay away?
Why doesn’t it bother us for the supreme sacrifice?
How many have laid their lives for committed promises?
We have remained ceremonial in offering gratitude
There is lack of respect and apathy in our attitude
We love the country but not its departed sons
We think, why do we care for causes and reasons?
They were no fools but our well wishers
They could enjoy luxury and comfortably usher
Yet they preferred stones and prisons
Did not change even changed the seasons
Our soldiers are dying everyday for holy land
Still we find no sympathy for them as true friends
Who on this earth is ready to loose life for money?
Is it not the fault with our thinking and mere pity?
We have remembered father of the nation
But kept no ideals with any of the relation
We sit on strike as soon as interests affected
Burnt national properties and irrationally acted
On his name we have made shamed nation
We have looted national property including ration
Poor are no more at our heart for any future use
We have all sympathy and schemes without any truce
We are cheating today the soul and sprit of great father
I wish he could have lived and witness further
He would have uttered “he Ram”(O, Ram) not with pride
But would have uttered “hai ram”(Oh, Rama) help me to hide
You have remained ideal for few but idol for cheaters
Single place to worship and safe heaven for shooters
The independence and freedom is used only by Government
Safe heaven and passage for any concealing movement
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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We Sing History
History sings, sings what?
Violence? Peace? No.
History sings of truth…
History sings of facts,
which becomes music to our ears.
Like birds chirping
early in the morning.
We learn it. We treasure it.
We sing it… we sing it.
We became part of it.
It was always burning
since the world’s been turning…
History is an endless song.
Distressing, cheerful.
So many cries, so many deaths.
They fought for freedom,
we fight for peace.
Have we won?
Haven’t they heard we won the war
what do they keep on fighting for?
History sings of truth…
History sings of facts,
which becomes music to our ears?
Like stars gleaming
in the dark naked sky.
It’s always there.
So why sing it? Why hear it?
Why learn it? Why treasure it?
Because…
we’re part of it….
poem by Fritzner Erauda
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Anzac Day
Patriotic men and women from sixty down to sixteen
Rode proudly on their horses in the famed Anzac green
Followed by the women of the Red Cross in their renowned white and red
On this day every April they honour the war dead.
Up to the war memorial where a large crowd stand around
And at the front of the congregation old 'Diggers' to be found
Old veterans of World war 2 they show their years in gray
Their war medals pinned to their lapels their bravery on display.
A lone bugler played the last post to honour the war dead
And an old man who was standing near i saw him bow his head
And tears were trickling down his face his thoughts were far away
Some noble men who were his friends in foreign Country lay.
We are gathered here this morning the ageing speaker said
To commemorate true heroes our great and brave war dead
They made the ultimate sacrifice and at a young age they did die
And we have them in part to thank for the freedom we enjoy
For our soldiers who died in foreign wars for their souls let us pray
It's only to remember them that we have Anzac day
Their bones may lay in foreign fields but in history they survive
And the spirit of the Anzac is still very much alive.
He thanked the old war veterans who marched in the parade
How can we thank you enough for the sacrifice you've made
You risked your lives in cause of peace 'we salute you today'
You noble men who won the war in Country far away.
He thanked the red cross women the finest in the Land
And the bugler who played 'The Last Post' and the six piece marching band
And the horse riders dressed as Anzacs in the famed faded green
And he asked the band to finish up by playing 'God save the Queen'.
And the band played 'God save the Queen' but not 'Advance Australia Fair'
And i who doesn't believe in war could only feel aware
That in Britain they don't play the Australian anthem when they honour their war dead
Was it for Britain or Australia that young Aussie blood was shed? .
The horse riders dressed as Anzacs in the famed faded green
And the bugler played the last post and the band played 'God Save The Queen'.
And a war veteran spoke of Aussie war dead their bones in Europe lay
At least they are remembered still on every Anzac Day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Grabbers and Looters
Even though we all are stage actors
We still lack courage and need mentors
Politics has become an easy way of amassing wealth
Where as public has accepted the deterioration in moral health
You need no expertise mafia style of functioning
Any seat any where in India is available with auctioning
Such a well knit organization with yes men around
Indian democracy is suited to all and legitimately found
I have high hope for its success
Even though people are denied access
Judiciary has become long process
Fewer days for function and more days for recess
'Not guilty unless found and proved in court'
What can you term this procedure of any sort?
Can that be appreciated for lingering justice?
Where have gone all high ideals and promises?
Our forefathers dreamed of beautiful and strong nation
Based on equality, freedom and for neighborly good relation
What has it turn out to be in public eye and in general?
Will it witness downfall or go for quick funeral?
In general the political class has presented worst scene
Dignity, integrity and honesty is not apparent and rarely seen
Low standard of morality and unruly scenes are order of the day
Parliamentary norms are forgotten and temple status is thrown away
They have mastered the art of telling lies with no shame
Everything in their store to accuse others and pass the blame
Almost majority of the members are with dark history
They have the powerful system to their rescue not to feel sorry
Land grabbing and laundering of national wealth is common
Cut backs, commissions and shady deals are generally known
'But who will bell the cat' and bring them to books
They have power, money and muscles to prove powerful crooks
Life has become really hell for the want of effective control
No one can exactly say or assert who has grabbed or stole?
We are passing to next generation a scene of grabbers and looters
Gangsters, kidnappers, traitors and above all fear of sharp shooters
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Independence Day
On July the Fourth we celebrate
with fireworks so high.
We shoot them off and watch them
as they burst into the sky
reminding us that rockets were a part
of our history.
As a nation, we were formed with hopes
that we'd all be free,
Free from intolerance, injustice
and religious bigotry.
We started out with all of these
but slowly we did see
that ideals in this country
slowly did they change
and now as fireworks go off
I find it rather strange
that different points of view
that make us who we are,
just like the flag we raise
with each and every star
have eroded the respect we had
from all around the world.
We've made so many enemies
that when our flag's unfurled
it's hard to stop the tears we have
streaming from our eyes.
Let's pray our Independence Day
once again will rise
and become the day it was meant to be
when it first was found
so our children's freedom
will stand on solid ground.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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