The Waving of the Red
It is a sad and cruel fate the country’s coming to,
And there’s no use in striking, ‘so what are we to do?’
“I know what we could do, but then, there might be traitors near,
And things are running in my head that only mates should hear!”
The world cannot go on like this, in spite of all that’s said,
And millions now are waiting for – the Waving of the Red.
“Last night as I lay slipping out a vision came to me;
A girl with face as fair and grand as ever man might see –
Her form was like the statues raised to Liberty in France,
And in her hand a blood-red flag was wrapped around a lance.
She shook the grand old colour loose, she smiled at me and said;
“Go bid your brothers gather for the Waving of the Red.”
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Wave The Old World Goodbye
Wave the old world goodbye
Its time to say hello to the new world
Praying it will be right
That the world may soon see the light
Ill be waving oh waving
And Ill be waiting
Sure the old folks have tried
But now its time for us in the new world
Pray that it will be right
That the earth dont turn out the lights
Wave the old world goodbye
Its time to say goodnight to the old world
Lets pray that it will be right
So the world will soon see the light
Ill be waving oh waving
And Ill be waiting oh waiting this night
Its time to say goodnight to the old world
Its time to say hello to the new world
And wave the old world goodbye
Ill be waving oh waving
And Ill be waiting oh waiting this night
Its time to say goodnight to the old world
Time to say to say hello to the new world
And wave the old world goodbye tonight
song performed by by Simply Red
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kittie’s Toys
A CHILD'S SONG
[WRITTEN FOR KATHLEEN]
I wish I had a soldier, a soldier, a soldier,
I wish I had a soldier to fight for love of me
Marie has a soldier, a soldier, a soldier,
Marie has a soldier, a gallant man is he.
I wish I had a bright flag, a gay flag, a dear flag,
I would love a fair flag to fly in liberty,
Gretchen has a big flag, a brave flag, a strong flag,
Gretchen has a fine flag that floats all high and free.
I wish I had a small ship, a strong ship, a good ship,
I would love a trim ship to sail upon the sea.
Johnny has a big ship, a grey ship, a grand ship,
Johnny took my small ship with all his big navie.
I wish I had a penny, a penny, a penny,
I wish I had a penny that all belonged to me,
I would build a fair house, a great house, a strong house,
I would make one grand house for all the world to see.
But Johnny stole my penny, my penny, my penny,
And Johnny took my bright flag that floated fair and free,
Then Johnny had my small ship, my trim ship, my good ship,
And Johnny broke my soldier that fought for liberty.
Now John would be my soldier, my soldier, my soldier,
But John he is a greedy boy, a selfish boy is he;
And Johnny beats the wee ones, the small ones, the weak ones,
He takes their playthings from them in the name of liberty.
When Johnny gets a whacking, a whacking, a whacking,
When Johnny gets a whacking, I think he'll let me be,
And I shall have my penny, my penny, my penny,
And I shall buy a bright flag to wave in victory.
poem by Dora Sigerson Shorter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Live Free
Waving your flag a blind patriot
can no longer see cause your eyes are shut
love it or leave it is your sentiment
instead of working for improvement
but I want to live free
and won't settle for this mediocrity
waving your flag, we're number one
society's got you under their thumb
too ignorant too see through their subtle attack
to make us content but we must fight back
you don't love your country
you just love yourself
because you sit complacent
like everyone else
if your fights for freedom
then do what's right
put down that flag, protest and come join the fight
song performed by by Youth Of Today
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Slippin' Through My Fingers
Schoolbag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning
Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile
I watch her go with a surge of that well-known sadness
And I have to sit down for a while
The feeling that I'm losing her forever
And without really entering her world
I'm glad whenever I can share her laughter
That funny little girl
Slipping through my fingers all the time
I try to capture every minute
The feeling in it
Slipping through my fingers all the time
Do I really see what's in her mind
Each time I think I'm close to knowing
She keeps on growing
Slipping through my fingers all the time
Sleep in our eyes, her and me at the breakfast table
Barely awake, I let precious time go by
Then when she's gone there's that odd melancholy feeling
And a sense of guilt I can't deny
What happened to the wonderful adventures
The places I had planned for us to go
(Slipping through my fingers all the time)
Well, some of that we did but most we didn't
And why I just don't know
Slipping through my fingers all the time
I try to capture every minute
The feeling in it
Slipping through my fingers all the time
Do I really see what's in her mind
Each time I think I'm close to knowing
She keeps on growing
Slipping through my fingers all the time
Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture
And save it from the funny tricks of time
Slipping through my fingers...
Slipping through my fingers all the time
Schoolbag in hand she leaves home in the early morning
Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile
song performed by by ABBA
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Waving Minds
Waving minds,
Waving love,
Waving magic! !
Muse it up and use it up;
But some one went to the court when,
You had no roof on your head.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Slipping Through My Fingers
Schoolbag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning
Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile
I watch her go with a surge of that well-known sadness
And I have to sit down for a while
The feeling that Im losing her forever
And without really entering her world
Im glad whenever I can share her laughter
That funny little girl
Slipping through my fingers all the time
I try to capture every minute
The feeling in it
Slipping through my fingers all the time
Do I really see whats in her mind
Each time I think Im close to knowing
She keeps on growing
Slipping through my fingers all the time
Sleep in our eyes, her and me at the breakfast table
Barely awake, I let precious time go by
Then when shes gone theres that odd melancholy feeling
And a sense of guilt I cant deny
What happened to the wonderful adventures
The places I had planned for us to go
(slipping through my fingers all the time)
Well, some of that we did but most we didnt
And why I just dont know
Slipping through my fingers all the time
I try to capture every minute
The feeling in it
Slipping through my fingers all the time
Do I really see whats in her mind
Each time I think Im close to knowing
She keeps on growing
Slipping through my fingers all the time
Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture
And save it from the funny tricks of time
Slipping through my fingers...
Slipping through my fingers all the time
Schoolbag in hand she leaves home in the early morning
Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile...
song performed by by ABBA
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's Grand
It's grand to be a squatter
And sit upon a post,
And watch your little ewes and lambs
A-giving up the ghost.
It's grand to be a "cockie"
With wife and kids to keep,
And find an all-wise Providence
Has mustered all your sheep.
It's grand to be a Western man,
With shovel in your hand,
To dig your little homestead out
From underneath the sand.
It's grand to be a shearer
Along the Darling-side,
And pluck the wool from stinking sheep
That some days since have died.
It's grand to be a rabbit
And breed till all is blue,
And then to die in heaps because
There's nothing left to chew.
It's grand to be a Minister
And travel like a swell,
And tell the Central District folk
To go to -- Inverell.
It's grand to be a socialist
And lead the bold array
That marches to prosperity
At seven bob a day.
It's grand to be unemployed
And lie in the Domain,
And wake up every second day --
And go to sleep again.
It's grand to borrow English tin
To pay for wharves and docks
And then to find it isn't in
The little money-box.
It's grand to be a democrat
And toady to the mob,
For fear that if you told the truth
They'd hunt you from your job.
It's grand to be a lot of things
In this fair Southern land,
But if the Lord would send us rain,
That would, indeed, be grand!
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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General Christiaan De Wet At Doornberg
(after David Naude)
In the dust lay de Wet's son;
he prayed to God, further did not say a word,
traitors came under a white flag,
spied for the British before the battle;
it was very sad to see
while a brave man served his country.
On his hands was his own son's blood
but he still gave courage to his men
causing the British and traitors to loose,
driving them back over the Zant River
winning more fame in the world's eyes
while a brave man served his country.
The British had fled past Winburg
to avoid general de Wet's commando,
some of the traitors were very scared
when the Boer commando captured them;
in de Wet's eyes God was still providing,
while a brave man served his country.
[Reference: 'Die slag van Doornberg' ('The battle at Doornberg' by David Naude.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Different Kind Of Free
Broken hearts, broken homes
There's a war deep in motion
Fighting hard to find
Some kind of peace of mind
Breathing in, breathing out
Missing life, living doubt
Searching for a cure
Some kind of open door
Bring it back to the beginning
To the first taste of shame
A fallen world in waiting
Only One could take the blame
Fast forward to the ending
One truth remains
There's a miracle waiting
For all who speak His name
[refrain]
Take my life, my liberty
It's all but a breath in the grand scheme of things
Oh, I have found eternity
It's a different kind of free
And they can't take it from me
Pleading the most worthy cause
For the innocence we lost
With His tears of blood
He started freedom's flood
As the world's opinion sway
My beliefs will not be changed
Nothing ever can
Take me from His hand
Way back in the beginning
To the first taste of shame
A fallen world in waiting
Only One could take the blame
Fast forward to the ending
One truth remains
There's a miracle waiting
For all who speak His name
[refrain]
Take my life, my liberty
It's all but a breath in the grand scheme of things
Oh, I have found eternity
It's a different kind of free
And they can't take it from me
[rap]
Yeah - sure I remember
Matter of fact it was just last September
She still calls it the fall to remember
Little Heather when it all came together
Said you remember the first time you met her?
She cried when it rained and blamed the weather
But inside she strained with suicide letters
The kind of cold you couldn't warm with a sweater
Hardly lasted past December
She said she was headed down to defeat
That's the last time you'd seen and never had a dreamed
That's the same little Heather - it's who you saw last week
In an instant you couldn't have missed her gleam
As she listened she looked like a distant queen
With a difference, there, for all to see
She found a different - a different kind of free
[refrain] 3x
Take my life, my liberty
It's all but a breath in the grand scheme of things
Oh, I have found eternity
It's a different kind of free
And they can't take it from me
It's so much different, it's a different kind of free
And it's here for you and me
It's a different kind of free, and it's here to set you free
It's a different kind of free, oh
song performed by by ZoeGirl
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Purple
I think I'm coming round
Coming round to way of thinking
Trying to find the ground
Somewhere new to stop us slipping
Always , always straight back down
Kicking out the fool
Theres no sense in us going under
Holding on to you
Trying to swim but we're treading water
Always , always straight back down
I think that you're the one , the colour never runs
A hand that heals me over , over today
You take away the grey , bring the colour as it fades
A hand that heals me over
Comfort in the sound
Lift the world from off you shoulders now
Lying on the ground ,
Staring up at a face that haunts you
Always , always straight back down
I think that you're the one , the colour never runs
A hand that heals me over , over today
You take away the grey , bring the colour as it fades
A hand that heals me over
Always , always straight back down
I think I'm coming round
Coming round to way of thinking
Always , always straight back down
I think that you're the one , the colour never runs
A hand that heals me over , over today
You take away the grey , bring the colour as it fades
A hand that heals me over ... again
I think that you're the one , the colour never runs
A hand that heals me over , over today
You take away the grey , bring the colour as it fades
A hand that heals me over
song performed by by Feeder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My advantage
There were three women on travel,
Sitting in front of me on a train,
And they seemed to be lass
Her mother and her grand mother.
The girl was tenderly lovely.
Her mother was firm and striking.
The grand mother had majesty.
My age of seventy is an advantage.
02.08.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poppies
Poppies they say adieu, goodbye,
men fought, yet did not want to die,
Poppies were tossing, waving free,
as war took lives so poignantly.
Poppies upstanding, boldly grow,
youth enlisted but did not know,
Poppieswould represent such pain,
that they would never forget the slain.
Poppies beautiful, fresh and new,
All one bright colour, flawless hue,
Poppies petals see where they land,
upon a face, an arm or a hand.
Poppies vibrant, stunningly red,
softly surround each silent head,
Poppies fragile, dainty and neat,
guard the space around their feet.
Poppies carpeting the hard ground,
where the marching of boots resound,
Poppies whose wind blown seas of blood,
captured them like a mighty flood.
Poppies tell of their dreams long lost, ,
we hear their names, we count the cost.
Poppies bring tears as we recall,
our loved ones parted from us all.
Poppies they say goodbye, adieu,
men fought for me, they fought for you.
Those tossing poppies, waving free,
mean remembrance to you and me.
Copyright. Ernestine Northover
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Beautiful Stranger
I cannot know what country owns thee now,
With France's forest lilies on thy brow.
When England knew thee thou wert passing fair;
I never knew a foreign face so rare.
The world of waters rolls and rushes bye,
Nor lets me wander where thy vallies lie.
But surely France must be a pleasant place
That greets the stranger with so fair a face;
The English maiden blushes down the dance,
But few can equal the fair maid of France.
I saw thee lovely and I wished thee mine,
And the last song I ever wrote is thine.
Thy country's honour on thy face attends;
Men may be foes but beauty makes us friends.
poem by John Clare
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A Bull For Me
I think, Sirs, and most inimitable Ladies
I think I prefer to look at a bull
The sketch of a bull, the head of a bull perhaps
even if but a study by an artist
rather than some fancy prophet in glorious paint
or in grand chapel or some miracle recounted
in paint and colors and with consummate skill
or even God descending
ah, all these do not take my fancy
they smack too much of the Elevated;
there’s too much
of the grandstanding in these
Grand Divine Themes
but the face of a bull, ah give me a sketch
of the face of a bull
just the bull, all marks of nature in it
and just itself
no symbolism, no conceit, no artifice
no High sounding theology, no Revelation
but just animal nature in its nudity
being a bull
just animal, its eyes and mouth and horns
just all coming together to form one creature
a portrait of a bull anytime for me
Sirs and most inimitable Ladies
none of the Holy Ones and the Great Prophets
and the Mighty and the Divine
and the Grand-Looking:
no bull for me, please;
just the plain head of a bull, as it is
poem by Raj Arumugam
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My grand dad
I remember you grand dad
Back since I was only three
I remember you granddad
How much you adored me
I remember you grand dad
How you made me smile
I remember you grand dad
You made my toddler years worthwhile
I remember you grand dad
Your lovely smell of tobacco
I remember you grand dad
The love for others you would show
I remember you grand dad
When I came to see you, you would give me a jellybean
I remember you grand dad
You always made me feel like a queen
I remember you grand dad
And I miss you everyday
Seen
I saw a child today,
She finished her lollipop and smiled
I heard her say gone
and she smiled
I saw a feral cat today
I threw him a scrap and he hissed
He wolfed down his treat
I heard him hiss
And I smiled
I have seen many things grand and great
I have forgotten to really relate
To the humble and those with ill fate
Tennesee Homesick Blues
New york city ain't no kind of place
For a country girl with a friendly face
If you smile people look at you funny
They take it wrong
The greenest state in the land of the free
And the home of the grand ole opry
Is calling me back to my smoky mountain home
I wish i had my old fishin' pole
And was sitting on the banks of the fishing hole
Eating green apples and waiting for the fish to bite
Life ain't as simple as it used to be
Since the big apple took a bite out of me
And lord, i'm so tennessee homesick that i could die
Chorus:
But i ain't been home in i don't know when
If i had it all to do over again
Tonight i'd sleep in my old feather bed
What i wouldn't give for a little bitty taste
Of mama's homemade chocolate cake
Tennessee homesick blues running through my head
Mama you can fluff my feather bed
Just as soon as i can i'm gonna head
Back to the tennessee hills and it better be soon
Daddy you can load the rifles up
We're gonna load them dogs on the pickup truck
And take off to calhoun country and catch us a coon
Repeat chorus
Eatin' grits and gravy and country ham
Go to church on sunday with dinner on the grounds
Tennessee homesick blues are runnin' through my head
Repeat chorus
Good lord have mercy on a country girl
Tryin' to make a living in a rhinestone world
It's hard to be a diamond in a rhinestone world
With tennessee homesick blues runnin' through my head
I've got those tennessee homesick blues runnin' through my head
Tennessee homesick blues
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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After the Munich Putsch..
After history
something to do
with the Munich Putsch
in 1923
and going out
on to the school
playing field
Rolland said
That hot lips chick
is waving to you
from the outer fence
and so off you went
leaving Rolland
to go kick ball
with others on the field
and as you strolled
towards Christina
she came towards you
leaving her giggling friends
behind and met you
half way on the field
and said
I dreamed of you last night
her voice floated
around you
for a moment or two
and you saw across
her shoulder
Rolland head the ball
towards the goal
between two jumpers left
on the ground
then looked back at her
standing there
bright eyed
with her dark brown hair
and you said
Did I behave?
And she took your hand
and walked you across
the field slowly
and replied
Of course you did
Oh good
you said
wishing you could
have shared her dream
making it your own
she squeezed your hand
and said
Do you dream of me?
Yes
you said
Most nights
trying to make the lie
convincing you dramatized
a scene that never happened
and she smiled
and laughed
and you noticed
out of the corner
of your eye
Rolland kicking the ball
goal ward and waving
his hand then
having reached
the boundary of the field
at the wood's edge
she kissed you
on the cheek and said
I'm glad you dream
of me as well
and smiled
and lay her head
upon your arm
and soon you knew
the bell would ring
for end of play
and maybe
you thought
smelling her perfume
and shampooed hair
kissing her head
you might
dream of her
for the first time
tonight.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Brave Page Boys
Air -- "The Fierce Discharge"
In the late rebellion war,
Grand Rapids did send out
As brave and noble volunteers
As ever went down south:
Among them were the brave Page boys --
Five brothers there were in all;
They enlisted and went down south,
To obey their country's call.
John S. Page was the eldest son --
He went down south afar,
And enlisted in the Mechanics,
And served his time in the war.
Fernando Page the second son;
Served in the Infantry;
He was wounded, lost both his feet
On duty at Yorktown siege.
Charles F. Page was a noble son --
In sixty-four did enlist,
And in the same year he was killed
In the fight of the Wilderness.
This brave boy was carrying the flag,
To cheer his comrades on.
He fought in the Eight Infantry;
Now he, brave boy, is gone.
'Tis said of this brave soldier boy --
'Twas just before he died --
Stood the flag standard in the ground,
Laid down by it and died.
The friends that loved this noble boy,
How sad were they to hear
Of his death on a battle field;
His age was twenty years.
James B. Page was a fine young man --
He went in the artillery;
He served his time with all the rest,
To keep his country free.
Enos Page the youngest brother --
Made five sons in one family,
Went from Grand Rapids, here.
His age was fourteen years --
When Enos Page went from his home,
He was only a boy, you know;
He stole away from his mother dear,
For he was bound to go.
She followed him to the barracks twice,
And took him home again;
She found it was no use -- at last
With friends let him remain.
In Eight Michigan Cavalry
This boy he did enlist;
His life was almost despaired of,
On account of numerous fits,
Caused by drinking water poisoned --
Effects cannot outgrow;
In northern Alabama, I hear,
There came this dreadful blow.
How joyful were the parents of
Those noble soldier boys,
There was one missing of the five,
When they returned from war.
The one that carried the Union flag
Lies in a Southern grave,
The other brothers came back home
To Grand Rapids, their native place.
poem by Julia A Moore
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Domestic Shades16
For angst theirs against
Infants and babies shut in classes
Montessori 'holidays' means a lot
That grand-mas are the happiest
Running behind grand children
Bleating to grand-son 'yes sir, yes sir'
Towed by grand-daughter like 'little lamb'
Boasting to daughters
Their baby care olden days..
Kept running behind me
My grand-daughter
My daughter behind her
A cypher-contest finally
Caught defeated for bath
But bath-towel crying elsewhere
Escaped to rescue, my daughter
Little wee locked in momentarily
Battled on a chaos further red mouthed
Poking 'Grandeur''s tongue
Prostrating to my back 'toothsome'...
And...
Now, I am not for Montessori Holidays
poem by Indira Renganathan
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