Children Of The War
SHRUNKEN little bodies, pallid baby faces,
Eyes of staring terror, innocence defiled,
Tiny bones that strew the sand of silent places,
— This upon our own star where Jesus was a child.
Broken buds of April, is there any garden
Where they yet may blossom, comforted of sun,
While their sad Creator bows to ask their pardon
For the life He gave them, life and death in one?
Spared by steel and hunger, still shall horror blazon
Those white and tender spirits with anguish unforgot;
Half a century hence the haggard look shall gaze on
The outrage of a mother, shall see a grandsire shot.
Man who wings the azure, lassoes the hoof sparkling,
Fire-maned steeds of glory and binds them to his car,
Cannot man whose searchlight leaves no horizon darkling
Safeguard little children upon our golden star?
poem by Katharine Lee Bates
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
After A Lecture On Keats
'Purpureos spargam flores.'
THE wreath that star-crowned Shelley gave
Is lying on thy Roman grave,
Yet on its turf young April sets
Her store of slender violets;
Though all the Gods their garlands shower,
I too may bring one purple flower.
Alas! what blossom shall I bring,
That opens in my Northern spring?
The garden beds have all run wild,
So trim when I was yet a child;
Flat plantains and unseemly stalks
Have crept across the gravel walks;
The vines are dead, long, long ago,
The almond buds no longer blow.
No more upon its mound I see
The azure, plume-bound fleur-de-lis;
Where once the tulips used to show,
In straggling tufts the pansies grow;
The grass has quenched my white-rayed gem,
The flowering 'Star of Bethlehem,'
Though its long blade of glossy green
And pallid stripe may still be seen.
Nature, who treads her nobles down,
And gives their birthright to the clown,
Has sown her base-born weedy things
Above the garden's queens and kings.
Yet one sweet flower of ancient race
Springs in the old familiar place.
When snows were melting down the vale,
And Earth unlaced her icy mail,
And March his stormy trumpet blew,
And tender green came peeping through,
I loved the earliest one to seek
That broke the soil with emerald beak,
And watch the trembling bells so blue
Spread on the column as it grew.
Meek child of earth! thou wilt not shame
The sweet, dead poet's holy name;
The God of music gave thee birth,
Called from the crimson-spotted earth,
Where, sobbing his young life away,
His own fair Hyacinthus lay.
The hyacinth my garden gave
Shall lie upon that Roman grave!
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet II: Bridal Birth
As when desire, long darkling, dawns, and first
The mother looks upon the newborn child,
Even so my Lady stood at gaze and smiled
When her soul knew at length the Love it nurs'd.
Born with her life, creature of poignant thirst
And exquisite hunger, at her heart Love lay
Quickening in darkness, till a voice that day
Cried on him, and the bonds of birth were burst.
Now, shadowed by his wings, our faces yearn
Together, as his full-grown feet now range
The grove, and his warm hands our couch prepare:
Till to his song our bodiless souls in turn
Be born his children, when Death's nuptial change
Leaves us for light the halo of his hair.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Jesus, Oh What A Wonderful Child
Jesus, jesus
Oh what a wonderful child
Jesus, jesus
So lowly meek and mild
New life, new hope, new joy he brings
Wont you listen to the angels sing
Glory, glory, glory
To the new born king
Jesus, jesus
Oh what a wonderful child
Jesus, jesus
So lowly meek and mild
New life, new hope, new joy he brings
Wont you listen to the angels sing
Glory, glory, glory
To the new born king
He was herald by the angels
Born in a lowly manger
The virgin mary was his mother
And joseph was his earthly father
Three wise men came from afar
They were guided by a shining star
To see king jesus where he lay
In a manger filled with hay
Jesus, jesus
Oh what a wonderful child
Jesus, jesus
So lowly meek and mild
Oh new joy he brings
Wont you listen to the angels sing
Glory
To the new born king
Oh jesus
Jesus
Marys baby
Lamb of god
Heavenly child
Jesus
Jesus
I love him
Oh jesus
All mighty god
King of kings
Oh jesus
Oh jesus
Oh, oh, oh, jesus
Wonderful, wonderful one
Oh, oh
Oh jesus
Oh jesus
Son of god
Oh jesus
Glory...
To the new born king, yeah...
song performed by by Mariah Carey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Epilogue (Part Three)
shivering nails,
black and white coffins whisper.
bodies without heads,
strewn in the sand.
the taste of gunpowder
on my lips.
i bow, but cannot pray!
the sound of the oil rigs,
the coarse rhythm of greed.
take and destroy, take and fulfill!
the cry of sea life,
the gurgling choke,
soon to be the children
of flaccid men.
buildings like bodies,
stripped empty and bare.
the memories smell
of life that once was.
empty, and pulsing,
with the want of need,
no one hears the ghosts within.
hunger and homelessness,
heroin and Jesus.
the shelves are bare,
the mother's eyes are bleeding.
the nameless and unwanted,
cast aside in the storm,
while ghouls walk amid
the rubble of the lie.
sing for me, pray for me,
take my hand, take my hand...
even when i close my eyes,
i still hear, still feel,
the faces of the wind!
and god, if there be,
in each and every tear!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Christmas Star
The star that appeared in the east
To the wise men ‘magi’ made an eye feast
And to see the baby Jesus, lead them fast
As the star was different and distinguished amongst the celestial lights
So is Jesus from other righteous men, shed his blood to take the sinner to spiritual heights
In the dark nights of our hopeless life
He is the morning star who sheds light on our gloomy strife
The way, the truth and the life he is
As a moving star he leads us to peace with ease
He is the wonderful guiding star in the sky so high
Will come back to take us to father in a span of nigh
He, the shining star and beacon, appears from distance, sparkling and bright
His promise of salvation gives us hope for deliverance from the carnal plight
He assures us of everlasting joy and happiness being a star of hope
Giving us an escape by His grace from the Satan’s snare and rope
Jesus the king of kings and the star of stars
Loves us day and night with no bounds and bars
poem by Ch J Satyananda Kumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Of A Virgin Born
Have you seen the
Star of wonder
Star of grace
Star by which
The stars themselves
All navigate?
Have you sensed the
Star behind all sight
Reaching out
Through all the senses
Calling you in
Silent song?
Is this the
Star that brought me here
The light behind my eyes
The store of shining words
Before the living thoughts
Are spoken?
Have you seen the
Star of wonder
Star of grace
Star that lights
The life behind
Each face?
poem by Steven Silent Wolf
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Rocket Love
Do do do, do do do, do do do, do do do
Do do do, do do do, do do do-oo
I longed for you since I was born
A woman sensitive and warm
And that you were
With pride and strength no one would test
But yet have feminie finesse
And so much more
You took me riding in your rocket gave me a star
But at a half a mile from heaven you dropped me back
Down to this cold, cold world
Took me riding in your rocket gave me a star
But at a half a mile from heaven you dropped me back
Down to this cold, cold world
A female shakespeare of your time
With looks to blow picassos mind
You were the best
Your body moved with grace and song
Like symphonies by bach or brahms
Nevertheless, oh oh
You took me riding in your rocket gave me a star
But at a half a mile from heaven you dropped me back
Down to this cold, cold world
Ooh you took me riding in your rocket gave me a star
But at a half a mile from heaven you dropped me back
Down to this cold, cold world
Da da da, da da da, da da da, da da da
Da da da, da da da-aa
The passion burning in your heart
Would make hells fire seem like a spark
Where did it go
Just why that you would overnight
Turn love to stone as cold as ice
Ill never know
But you took me riding in your rocket gave me a star
But at a half a mile from heaven you dropped me back
Down to this cold, cold world
Baby you took me riding in your rocket gave me a star
But at a half a mile from heaven you dropped me back
Down to this cold, cold world
Cold, too cold, you took me riding in your rocket gave me a star
But at a half a mile from heaven you dropped me back
Down to this cold, cold world
Oh, oh, oh, took me riding in your rocket gave me a star
But at a half a mile from heaven you dropped me back
Down to into this cold, cold world
I would not do that to a dog
Took me riding in your rocket gave me a star
But at a half a mile from heaven you dropped me back
Down to this cold, cold world
You took me riding in your rocket gave me a star
But at a half a mile from heaven you dropped me back
Down to this cold, cold world
Ooh baby
Rocket love
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
April on the Battlefields
April now walks the fields again,
Trailing her tearful leaves
And holding all her frightened buds against her heart:
Wrapt in her clouds and mists,
She walks,
Groping her way among the graves of men.
The green of earth is differently green,
A dreadful knowledge trembles in the grass,
And little wide-eyed flowers die too soon:
There is a stillness here --
After a terror of all raving sounds --
And birds sit close for comfort upon the boughs
Of broken trees.
April, thou grief!
What of thy sun and glad, high wind,
Thy valiant hills and woods and eager brooks,
Thy thousand-petalled hopes?
The sky forbids thee sorrow, April!
And yet --
I see thee walking listlessly
Across those scars that once were joyous sod,
Those graves,
Those stepping-stones from life to life.
Death is an interruption between two heart-beats,
That I know --
Yet know not how I know --
But April mourns,
Trailing her tender green,
The passion of her green,
Across the passion of those fearful fields.
Yes, all the fields!
No barrier here,
No challenge in the night,
No stranger-land;
She passes with her perfect countersign,
Her green;
She wanders in her mournful garden,
Dropping her buds like tears,
Spreading her lovely grief upon the graves of man.
poem by Leonora Speyer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Garden by Moonlight
A black cat among roses,
Phlox, lilac-misted under a first-quarter moon,
The sweet smells of heliotrope and night-scented stock.
The garden is very still,
It is dazed with moonlight,
Contented with perfume,
Dreaming the opium dreams of its folded poppies.
Firefly lights open and vanish
High as the tip buds of the golden glow
Low as the sweet alyssum flowers at my feet.
Moon-shimmer on leaves and trellises,
Moon-spikes shafting through the snowball bush.
Only the little faces of the ladies' delight are alert and staring,
Only the cat, padding between the roses,
Shakes a branch and breaks the chequered pattern
As water is broken by the falling of a leaf.
Then you come,
And you are quiet like the garden,
And white like the alyssum flowers,
And beautiful as the silent sparks of the fireflies.
Ah, Beloved, do you see those orange lilies?
They knew my mother,
But who belonging to me will they know
When I am gone.
poem by Amy Lowell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Niobe
How like the sky she bends above her child,
One with the great horizon of her pain!
No sob from our low seas where woe runs wild,
No weeping cloud, no momentary rain,
Can mar the heaven-high visage of her grief,
That frozen anguish, proud, majestic, dumb.
She stoops in pity above the labouring earth,
Knowing how fond, how brief
Is all its hope, past, present, and to come,
She stoops in pity, and yearns to assuage its dearth.
Through that fair face the whole dark universe
Speaks, as a thorn-tree speaks thro’ one white flower;
And all those wrenched Promethean souls that curse
The gods, but cannot die before their hour,
Find utterance in her beauty. That fair head
Bows over all earth’s graves. It was her cry
Men heard in Rama when the twisted ways
With children’s blood ran red.
Her silence towers to Silences on high;
And, in her face, the whole earth’s anguish prays.
It is the pity, the pity of human love
That strains her face, upturned to meet the doom,
And her deep bosom, like a snow-white dove
Frozen upon its nest, ne’er to resume
Its happy breathing o’er the golden brace
That she must shield till death. Death, death alone
Can break the anguished horror of that spell.
The sorrow on her face
Is sealed: the living flesh is turned to stone;
She knows all, all, that Life and Time can tell.
Ah, yet, her woman’s love, so vast, so tender,
Her woman’s body, hurt by every dart,
Braving the thunder, still, still hide the slender
Soft frightened child beneath her mighty heart.
She is all one mute immortal cry, one brief
Infinite pang of such victorious pain
That she transcends the heavens and bows them down!
The majesty of grief
Is hers, and her dominion must remain
Eternal. Grief alone can wear that crown.
poem by Alfred Noyes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Shoot The Shooting Star
you wished upon a star
the first star
was a fake
you wished upon another star
it was a failure
you wished upon the third star
it was useless and gave you nothing
you wished again on the fourth star
it was ungrateful and took almost everything from you
and then another star
and then another star shooting before you
they all gave you despair
and you believe not
on any star anymore
then you learned to live
without any star
the stars are not true
and you are so disappointed
with all the falsities they are telling you
finally
you have this shotgun in your hand
and then this lone shooting star came one night
splendid in such a dark space
you shot it
hit it
and there it exploded, shattered
it was the only star intended for you
and it was true
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The West A Glimmering Lake Of Light
The West a glimmering lake of light,
A dream of pearly weather,
The first of stars is burning white -
The star we watch together.
Is April dead? The unresting year
Will shape us our September,
And April's work is done, my dear -
Do you not remember?
O gracious eve! O happy star,
Still-flashing, glowing, sinking! -
Who lives of lovers near or far
So glad as I in thinking?
The gallant world is warm and green,
For May fulfils November.
When lights and leaves and loves have been,
Sweet, will you remember?
O star benignant and serene,
I take the good to-morrow,
That fills from verge to verge my dream,
With all its joy and sorrow!
The old, sweet spell is unforgot
That turns to June December;
And, tho' the world remembered not,
Love, we would remember.
poem by William Ernest Henley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Wishing star(^, ^)
A brightly star that twinkles in the midnight sky! The royal beauty bright star! The sparkling star like a diamond in the sky! The shinning star like a sliver ring around the finger! The precious star like a bride wearing a wedding dress! The star that goes to east and west like the spite fire aeroplane! The star that you will wish to go in side it and look the beautyness of it! The wishing star..star by karabo mafojane
poem by K.R Relebogile Mafojane
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In Hospital
Under the shadow of a hawthorn brake,
Where bluebells draw the sky down to the wood,
Where, 'mid brown leaves, the primroses awake
And hidden violets smell of solitude;
Beneath green leaves bright-fluttered by the wing
Of fleeting, beautiful, immortal Spring,
I should have said, 'I love you,' and your eyes
Have said, 'I, too . . . ' The gods saw otherwise.
For this is winter, and the London streets
Are full of soldiers from that far, fierce fray
Where life knows death, and where poor glory meets
Full-face with shame, and weeps and turns away.
And in the broken, trampled foreign wood
Is horror, and the terrible scent of blood,
And love shines tremulous, like a drowning star,
Under the shadow of the wings of war.
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Words
Was it sacrilege to reenter the bones of knuckles
thinking of your primrose, a backlash of twigs
in garden of homeless birds, a high-profile
sweep starting a mad rush of blue winds
in the confused landscape of life?
my hills are strewn with bones of eaten, half-cooked
lines of defence, the diplomacy not working to mimic
peace; dead words grip my truths; must you
kill the surgeon who has severed the wrist
of a thief.
I am falling unbidden on Pole Star, the terror
on the wings of flying swans, a child sits
on a chair with enormous head shaking involuntarily
and the cyclone breaking on the dumb noddings
of failing light.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
One Shot At Glory
Let me hear the battle cry
Calling on the wind
Let me see the banners fly
Before the storm begins
Let me feel the spirits soar
Destroy the enemy
Striking at the evil core
For all the world to see
This day will last forever
Deep in the hearts of men
Courage and victory
Remember, remember
One shot at glory
In the crossfire overhead
Fate stands before me
Words have all been said
One shot at glory
Driving hard and seeing red
Destiny calls me
One night of fire
One shot at glory
Fighting on with dignity
In life and death we deal
The power and the majesty
Amidst the blood and steel
I still hear the battle cry
The call goes on and on
I still see the banners fly
The battles always won
song performed by by Judas Priest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Another Baby Born!
another baby born...
dependent...
on a system
that dictates economic
despair...
on a system
that mandates educational
opportunities.
on air and water,
defiled and sucked dry.
on a mother's love,
who is still a child.
on a father's help,
who turns and walks away.
on a faith,
that is worn and failing.
on a tomorrow,
made up of todays.
on a freedom,
sold and bartered away.
on equality,
ravaged by prejudice,
and fear.
on respect,
that must be taught...
another baby born...
a Jesus, a Buddha,
a star in the sky.
the gift of life most precious,
the responsibility, ours!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Lady Is Compared To A Young Tree
When I see a young tree
In its white beginning,
With white leaves
And white buds
Barely tipped with green,
In the April weather,
In the weeping sunshine—
Then I see my lady,
My democratic queen,
Standing free and equal
With the youngest woodland sapling
Swaying, singing in the wind,
Delicate and white:
Soul so near to blossom,
Fragile, strong as death;
A kiss from far-off Eden,
A flash of Judgment's trumpet—
April's breath.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
Have You Seen
Have you ever seen a sunrise on the ocean?
Slowly climbing to the sky that GOD
Has given to you and I.
Or a star shooting across the sky
Colors so bright they hypnotize.
What about a double rainbow?
I had seen it just once in my life
One high in the sky and the other low
The colors given was such a show.
The sunset in the Florida keys is
Like a child covering itself up
From the cold, a wonder to behold.
What about a child in pain
No two faces are ever the same.
Or a child who has been abused
And the fears in their eyes
Every time that person comes by.
Have you seen the hunger in an
Elders face and the trembling in their hands
As they walk this- so called promised land.
Have you seen the lives taken in a war
And the bodies laying on the ground
And no more from their lips, you will hear a sound.
Have you seen a heart broken in two
And they don’t know what to do.
Have you seen a loved one, gasp for their
Last breath in this life.
Some things you have seen, and others you have not.
The biggest question thou is:
HAVE YOU EVER SEEN THE FACE OF GOD?
No! and you may not in your life time.
But you do not have to see to know that they exist.
Look at the ugly, but seek the beauties that he is giving us.
And thank him every day, for in his heart is where
We will always stay.
Look in your heart and you will find, what GOD
has given is a love divine.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!