Unsung Heroes
The land laid waste and desolate.
Opposing armies came and went,
that neither thought to contemplate
the end result is evident.
There’ll be no harvest here to reap
There’s no one left to till the land.
Beneath the soil the farmers sleep.
The warriors failed to understand
In war there is no victory.
The winners and the losers fail
to learn from all past history.
That warriors die to no avail
The real heroes are men of peace.
The farmers and the labourers
the men who toil without surcease
to feed themselves and their neighbours.
14-Aug-07
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Warriors Of Faith
They search the desert plains
In the land of no return
To seek out the danger, time to burn
They are the rightous ones
Theyve come to claim this land
Like warriors under command
They fight for gold and glory
Proclaim the dead man's land
Into the dungeons they must go
To find the answers, left untold
Under the burning sun
In danger, eye to eye
They all now that someone must die
Into the well theyre falling
Past immortality
Led by temptation and devotion
Rendered deathless by the touch of the sword
Onwards victory, let us hear your battle cry
The enemies, will renounce or die
Hail the warriors of faith
Together they march through the fire
Forever theyre lost in this world
Onwards victory, let us hear your battle cry
The enemies, will renounce or die
Eternally, they will fall under the sign
Of victory, fighting all for one
Hail the the warriors of faith
song performed by by Hammerfall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Winners Are Always The Heroes
The winners are always the heroes in life it is always this way
The losers are quickly forgotten though a fine and sporting
game they did play
'Tis only a sport it may well seem where people chase after a ball
But many take football quite seriously though 'tis only a game after all,
The winners are always the heroes and that's how it always will be
The fans of the winners are singing rejoicing in their victory
Life and sports are akin in many ways though some may say 'tis only a game
The winners get all of the applause and the winners can bask in their fame,
The winners are always the heroes and the winners get all of the praise
And always only to the winners the toasters their toasting glasses raise
The losers are quickly forgotten though some must lose for some to win
Yet some look on losing as shameful to them there is no greater sin,
In life as in sport the poor losers are the people the masses ignore
And in football the really big hero is the one who kicks the winning score.
poem by Francis Duggan
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One Who Rejects Christ
There's farmers and there's farmers,
There's many a field and field,
But none of the farmers round about
Can haul such harvest-wagons out
As I from an acre's yield.
There's plenty and plenty of farmers
That leave the ground by the fence,
Thinking it's nice if a patch of roses
Should scratch out the hay and tickle their noses
With nice little wild-rose scents.
I'm not like other farmers,
I make my farming pay;
I never go in for sentiment,
And seeing that roses yield no rent
I cut the stuff away.
A very good thing for farmers
If they would learn my way;
For crops are all that a good field grows,
And nothing is worse than a sniff of rose
In the good strong smell of hay.
poem by John Crowe Ransom
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Africa my land
Africa my land
Land of the condemned
Your mountains are the measures of your strife
Your rivers are the measures of your tears
Your soil is the measure of your pride
Africa my land
Land of trials and tribulations
Your wisdom has raised foreign nations and instilled hope to the desolate
Your African sun still shines jubilantly, lighting your beauty and humility
Your scars are hidden in your valleys and streams
Africa my land
Land of conquerors and warriors
With cracked feet you continue to stand
Like Sirius you shine against all odds
exonerate your fears and continue to strive
Africa my land
Land of hope and victory
Beat the drum and call your children to rejoice in your might and strength
Let your wounds mark the battles you've won
Let your beauty mark the beginning of a great journey, but not the end
poem by Thobile Masondo
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By Those Interested In War History
By those interested in war history war history is read
But the winners write the war history or so it is said
That is how it is and will always be
What is true to one is not to another that's how it seems to me
Of war and war heroes many stories are written and many poems to recite
And mostly of war winners that war writers stories do write
And readers believe what they want to believe
And the mothers of the war dead for their dead children grieve
In war as in life 'tis the winners who count
And the stories of losers to little amount
For the dead war heroes many a parade
And far too many films of war have been made
And 'tis mostly the winners write the war history
That is how it is and always will be.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Warriors Of The World United
Here our soldiers stand from all around the world
Waiting in a line to hear the battle cry
All are gathered here victory is near
The sound will fill the hall bringing power to us all
We alone are fighting for metal that is true
We own the right to live the fight we're here for all of you
Now swear the blood upon your steel will never dry
Stand and fight together beneath the metal sky
Brothers Everywhere
Raise you hands into the air
We're warriors
Warriors of The World
Like thunder from the sky
Sworn to fight and die
We're warriors
Warriors of The World
Many stand against us but they will never win
We said we would return and here we are again
To bring them all destruction suffering and pain
We are the hammer of the Gods we are thunder wind and rain
There they wait in fear with swords in feeble hands
With dreams to be a King first one should be a man
I call them out and charge them all with a life that is a lie
And in their final hour they shell confess before they die
Brothers Everywhere
Raise you hands into the air
We're warriors
Warriors of The World
Like thunder from the sky
Sworn to fight and die
We're warriors
Warriors of The World
If I should fall in battle my brothers who fight by my side
Gather my horse and waepons tell my family how I died
Until then I will be strong I will fight for all that is real
All who stand in my way will die by steel
Brothers Everywhere
Raise you hands into the air
We're warriors
Warriors of The World
song performed by by Manowar from Warriors Of The World
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For Murderers
The law is not only laid down for a righteous person but,
Also for the unholy and profane;
To the land of dragons,
To the land of elephants,
To the land of crocodiles,
To the land of parrots,
And to the land of farmers;
The law is not only laid down for a righteous person but,
Also for murderers of fathers and murderers of mothers.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Farmers Daughter
Written by brian wilson.
I could come from miles away
Aint got (aint got, aint got)
No place to stay (place to stay, place to stay)
Glad to (glad to, glad to)
Help you plow your fields (help you plow, help you plow)
Farmers daughter (farmers daughter, farmers daughter)
Might be (might be, might be)
Just a couple of days (couple of days, couple of days)
Clean up (clean up, clean up)
Rest and on my way (on my way, on my way)
Thank you (thank you, thank you)
And Im must obliged (much obliged, much obliged)
Farmers daughter (farmers daughter, farmers daughter)
Mmmm-mmm-mmm-mmm-mmmmm
Mmmm-mmm-mmm-mmm-mmmmm
So long (so long, so long)
Better leave your land (leave your land, leave your land)
Many thanks (many thanks, many thanks)
It was mighty grand (mighty grand, mighty grand)
I do (hope to, hope to)
Hope to see you again (see you again see you again)
Farmers daughter (farmers daughter, farmers daughter)
Oh oh
Farmers daughter (farmers daughter, farmers daughter)
Oh oh
Farmers daughter (farmers daughter, farmers daughter)
song performed by by Fleetwood Mac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Unveiled And Uncovered
Plow in hope and sow in tears,
For he who sows bountifully will reap bountifully;
This is like law, order, peace and calmness,
But my love is now unveiled and uncovered to you.
To the land of oil,
To the land of tomatoes,
To the land of oranges,
To the land of onions,
To the land of pepper,
To the land of coconuts,
But enslaved under the elements of the world!
And my love is now unveiled and uncovered to you.
Have i become your enemy by telling you the truth? !
Then think twice before you close that door;
For she who sows bountifully will reap bountifully.
To the land of beauty,
To the land of romance,
To the land of peace,
To the land of emotions,
To the land of love,
To the land of passion,
And with no stumbling blocks to my success! !
For the seeds are now well planted to yield a bumper harvest.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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This time in june
It's june
The farmer's spell
With cutlasses and hoes
We rushed off our feet;
Off to the feild we go
It's june
The farmer's delight
With so much rigor
We worked our fingers sore
And in the night
We barely had a sleep
It's june
The farmer's joy
The heavens had opened up
Their hearts upon the earth
For the farmers household
It's time to toil
So, in november;
When harvest finally comes
The farmer walked with pride
It's the pinnacle of his yeild
And he is proud to trade
So, in november;
When harvest finally comes
With basket and sacks
We headed for the feild
It's time to fill our barns;
Even our bellies,
Also; the farmers wallet
A heavy weight to lift
And for the farmers household
It's time for spoils
This time in june;
It was a different story
And my father says;
No pain, no gain!
poem by Bolami lawal
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Farmers Daughter
I could come from miles away
Aint got (aint got, aint got)
No place to stay (place to stay, place to stay)
Glad to (glad to, glad to)
Help you plow your fields (help you plow, help you plow)
Farmers daughter (farmers daughter, farmers daughter)
Might be (might be, might be)
Just a couple of days (couple of days, couple of days)
Clean up (clean up, clean up)
Rest and on my way (on my way, on my way)
Thank you (thank you, thank you)
And Im must obliged (much obliged, much obliged)
Farmers daughter (farmers daughter, farmers daughter)
Mmmm-mmm-mmm-mmm-mmmmm
Mmmm-mmm-mmm-mmm-mmmmm
So long (so long, so long)
Better leave your land (leave your land, leave your land)
Many thanks (many thanks, many thanks)
It was mighty grand (mighty grand, mighty grand)
I do (hope to, hope to)
Hope to see you again (see you again see you again)
Farmers daughter (farmers daughter, farmers daughter)
Oh oh
Farmers daughter (farmers daughter, farmers daughter)
Oh oh
Farmers daughter (farmers daughter, farmers daughter)
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Soldiers of the Soil
IT'S a high-falutin' title they have handed us;
It's very complimentary and grand;
But a year or so ago they called us 'hicks,' you know--
An' joshed the farmer and his hired hand!
Now it's, 'Save the country, Farmer!
Be a soldier of the soil!
Show your patriotism, pardner,
By your never ending toil.'
So we're croppin' more than ever,
An' we're speedin' up the farm.
Oh, it's great to be a soldier,--
sweatin' sun-burnt soldier,--
A soldier in the furrows--
Away from 'war's alarm!'
While fightin' blight and blister,
We hardly get a chance
To read about our 'comrades'
A-doin' things in France.
To raise the grub to feed 'em
Is some job, believe me--plus!
And I ain't so sure a soldier--
A shootin', scrappin' soldier,
That's livin' close to dyin'--
Ain't got the best of us!
But we'll harrer and we'll harvest,
An' we'll meet this new demand
Like the farmers always meet it--
The farmers--and the land.
An' we hope, when it is over
An' this war has gone to seed,
You will know us soldiers better--
Th' sweatin', reapin' soldiers,
Th' soldiers that have hustled
To raise th' grub you need!
It's a mighty fine title you have given us,
A name that sounds too fine to really stick;
But maybe you'll forget (when you figure out your debt)
To call th' man who works a farm a 'hick.'
poem by Everard Jack Appleton
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The War King
War above the clouds,
War below the earth,
The War King rules this land.
This strife has gone on for too long,
So a Band of warriors has come,
The War King rules this land.
War and strife,
Anger and hate,
The War King rules this land.
When the warriors come,
There will be death,
The War King rules this land.
The War King rules this land no more,
The wars are over,
Justice has prevailed.
poem by Steve Vaughan
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Confederate Memorial Day
The marching armies of the past
Along our Southern plains,
Are sleeping now in quiet rest
Beneath the Southern rains.
The bugle call is now in vain
To rouse them from their bed;
To arms they'll never march again-
They are sleeping with the dead.
No more will Shiloh's plains be stained
With blood our heroes shed,
Nor Chancellorsville resound again
To our noble warriors' tread.
For them no more shall reveille
Sound at the break of dawn,
But may their sleep peaceful be
Till God's great judgment morn.
We bow our heads in solemn prayer
For those who wore the gray,
And clasp again their unseen hands
On our Memorial Day.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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It Is A Bleak Season For Farmers
It is a bleak Season for farmers with climate change and livestock prices down
Some of them have sold what they can sell and moved to live and to find jobs in the town
For many of them the rains have come too late climate change affecting everywhere
Global warming is in every Country in the bigger World out there
Some arrogant Humans think they can control Nature how come they have got it so wrong
How egotistical they must be for to think they can control the one we to belong
For we too are a part of Nature as much as her creatures of sea and of land
And she will always be our master though some that do not understand
Many farmers due to climate change the land are leaving and that seems a sad thing to say
With less farmers less food in the supermarket but the wealthy they will be okay
For a farm food scarcity means higher food prices but for food they can afford for to pay
'Tis the poor will be condemned to suffer in times of food scarcity 'tis always this way
It is a bleak Season for farmers and that is a sad thing to hear
And for the have nots of the World it looks like another bleak year.
poem by Francis Duggan
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It is not the big farmers who reap all the harvest.
Bitter Harvest for Friend Corey
The seeds of death are planted by
men reckless of the consequence
They’re meant to kill the enemy.
But they can destroy innocence.
The warring factions have moved on.
Survivors try to till their land
convinced they’re safe that dangers gone.
They simply do not understand.
Land mines don’t differentiate
between a friend and enemy.
They have been armed and lie in wait
until exploding suddenly.
They are designed to kill and
and this they do impartially.
It’s difficult to name and blame
the authors of each tragedy.
There’s very little you can do
except donate towards the cause.
To pay the experts willing to
clear up the land mines left by wars.
This is your chance to show you
care enough to help financially.
We can provide the men who dare
disarm the land mines carefully
To let subsistence farmers farm
so they can feed their families
Without the constant fear of harm
from dangers which they cannot see.
And leave the children free to play
as children are entitled to.
We can all help in some small way
but only if we’re willing too.
3-Feb-09 http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Johnsons Aeroplane
Four long lines one darker than the rest
Each one has a purpose making borders on the land
Farmers pride you know he works real hard
]from a small aeroplane you can see the fields
Heart shaped hedges
Japanese gardens
A place to work and grow
A place to work and grow
Four long years one leaner than the rest
The animals are fed and the pastures dry
Farmers pride if the weather doesnt lie
]from a small aeroplane you can see the sea
Lots of blue
Very deep blue
A place to work and grow
A place to work and grow
Johnson sees the fields from all the sides
Steel machines and black tar roads
Countryside where the spirit never dies
In his face all the history shows
Farmers pride as the rains came down
song performed by by INXS
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Wonder.
In Flanders Fields red poppies grow.
But long dead warriors lie below.
Their rotted bodies nourishing
The scarlet poppies flourishing..
As if to draw attention to.
The graves of men who never knew.
That they would not see their homes more
But here they lie for evermore.
In Flanders Fields lost heroes lie.
In unmarked graves beneath the sky.
Far from the which gave them birth
They add their substance to the earth.
Which Belgian farmers cultivate.
Selected randomly by fate.
There can be few survivors left
But those of us who choose to go
To Flanders where the poppies grow.
All make the trip to show respect
Numbers dwindling as you'd expect.
There's very few now left to go.
To see the scarlet poppies glow
The numbers grow less day by day.
When they are called they must obey.
Rejoining those who went before.
The men who fell in the Great War.
I wonder will poppies still grow
When there's no one left to go.
Monday,25 June 2012
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Last Of His Kind
Well I hate to say the farmer
Was the last of a dying breed
Living off the land
And taking what he needs
Don't say much for the future
When a family can't survive
I'd hate to say the farmer
Was the last of his kind.
In the struggle for parity
Not one man's voice can sound
Cause the foundation
of the conglomerate
Is firmly in the ground.
Yeah, they want to feed the world
But for power and for greed
Then they'll cut off the supply
Until they get what they need.
Well I dreamed I saw a dust bowl
Where the farmers used to live
Earth was flying through the sky
It had nothing left to give
Tractors were burning
On the Whitehouse lawn
Just woke up one morning
And the farmers all were gone
I hate to say the farmer
Was the last of a dying breed
Living off the land
And taking what he needs.
Don't say much for the future
When a family can't survive.
I'd hate to say the farmer
Was the last of his kind.
Don't say much for the future
When a family can't survive.
I'd hate to say the farmer
Was the last of his kind.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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