Negro Heroines
Down in history we find it and in grandest works of art,
How the men on fields of battle play so well the soldier's part,
But I come to tell the story of relief from care and pain
Rendered them by Negro women in the Cuban War with Spain.
When the scourge of yellow fever fell upon the boys in blue.
And the nation stood in wonder scarcely knowing what to do,
There was found a Negro woman, Mrs. Curtis was her name,
Wife, she was, of a physician with the highest social fame.
When the name of Mrs. Curtis fell upon the nation's ear
And her worth on such occasions had been shown in language clear,
She was summoned by McKinley to the White House—there to plan
How to change the dread condition; how to stay the soldier's ban.
By him there she was commissioned, given fullest oversight
Of relieving fever-stricken in the famous Cuban fight;
With a confidence unfailing, she her preparations made—
Uncle Sam his backing promised true success could not be stayed.
When a call she made for helpers, from the nation's busy throng,
The response from Negro nurses came three hundred eighty strong,
In the Catholics were also, found one hundred twenty nuns,
Who would brave the field as nurses for the fever-stricken ones.
In this noble work of mercy were their duties done so well
That a halo of enchantment round them all is made to dwell,
When we search the war department no complaint of them is found,
Not a word to their discredit and to truth that record's bound.
While upon the field of battle helping stem the fever's tide,
While upon that angel mission seven Negro nurses died,
In this work the nuns had fallen till the same had numbered four;
Thus on snowy, angel pinions they the news to heaven bore.
When our boys had thrashed the Spaniards, Mrs. Curtis straightway sent
A petition into congress praying that a monument
Be at Arlington erected out of sacred memory
Of the nurses who in Cuba died to make the island free.
Mrs. Curtis went in person, she in congress did appear,
Told the story of her labors, of her precious deeds of cheer,
She convincingly impressed it in the nation's congress true,
That for those who fell on duty still a monument was due.
An apportionment by congress for the same at once was made,
Yea, to make a fit memorial for the nation's honored dead;
Twenty-five will name the thousands of the dollars that were spent—
In the nation's cemetery stands the nurses' monument.
Mrs. Curtis and her nurses have been valiant in the strife,
May such heroines be favored with a long and happy life;
In the face of such achievements on the nation's battle field,
Prejudice is made to tremble, partly too, his lips are sealed.
poem by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Door of Hope
The president has thus disclosed
In words his noblest plan:
'The door of hope shall not be closed
Upon the Negro man.
'His opportunities must be
With other men's the same;
As nation's chief I will not see
Him forced in ways of shame.'
Official work he'd scarce begun
When from his lips did fall,
'A special right I give to none,
But equal rights to all.
'Square dealing for the soldiers true,
Who made this country grand;
But more than this no man is due,
And none shall less demand.
'I'm president of all the land,'
The broiling South was told.
'For truth and fight I mean to stand,
Such policy I hold.'
When urged to crush the Negro race,
He answered with a zest,
'All men of worth shall have a place,
True manhood is the test.
''Tis better all the people up,
Than keep a portion down,
You need, my friends, a loving cup,
Your prejudice to drown.
'The doors of hope are open wide
To all within the land,
With God forever on our side,
This sentiment will stand.'
With spinal column stout and strong,
With arm that's made of steel,
He crushes prejudice and wrong,
And makes the demons reel.
To heal the nation's open sore
Of hatred for a race,
He wider swings the open door,
And bares the monsters face.
No president could stem the tide
Of opposition blind,
Since Lincoln for the Negro died,
Till Roosevelt we find.
Long may he live to bless the land
With truth and liberty,
Who for the right will take a stand
And set a nation free.
Then Roosevelt for nineteen four
Our president should be,
Who gives to all an open door
Of opportunity.
poem by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Loyalty to the Flag
In the love of home and country and the flag of Uncle Sam,
Can the loyalty be doubted of a dusky son of Ham?
Wheresoever duty calls him, as a freedman or a slave,
The response is ever hearty when 'Old Glory' he would save.
'Twas the war of Revolution, when a Negro's blood was first,
To be shed for independence, when a yoke the land had cursed;
Crispus Attucks died in Boston, on State street he paid the debt,
Liberty his blood has planted and the tree is growing yet.
Ask the spirit of Pitcairn how he came to meet his death?
Where and who it was that brought him down to breathe the dying breath?
'Twas the Negro Salem's bullet at the charge of Bunker's Hill,
Bringing to the whites their freedom but to Negroes naught but ill.
In the battle of New Orleans, eighteen fourteen was the year,
When the Negro fought with valor till the victory was clear;
Jackson paid this glowing tribute—may the spirit never lag—
'None more strong and none more useful, none more loyal to the flag.'
O, how brave the Negro soldiers when the Civil war was fought!
Shall they fight such noble battles in the nation's cause for naught?
Hark! the battle cry of Charleston! at Fort Wagner is the place!
At Port Hudson and Fort Pillow how the rebel guns they face!
Fifty-fourth of Massachusetts—may such regiments be praised—
By its valor at Fort Wagner, North and South became amazed!
Hall began as color-bearer but was killed on duty grand,
To the spot went William Carney and the colors took in hand.
Wounded many times was Carney, shot in head, in arm and thigh,
On one knee he fell and crawling kept the colors flying high,
Blood upon the banner streaming while his words the action crowned;
'Boys I've kept aloft 'Old Glory' and it never touched the ground!'
Colonel Stafford was disabled, Dwight his men to battle led,
With great feeling at New Orleans, Stafford to the sergeant said,
'Guard, protect defend these colors,' 'Yes,' he answered, 'though I die
I will bring them back in honor or to God report the why.'
All the world has heard the story of the Cuban war with Spain,
Ah! the sound of Negro valor falls upon the ear again,
At Elkaney and San Juan how they helped to win the day,
Near the town of Santiago, held the enemy at bay!
Side by side with other soldiers being in complexion white,
Negroes died to take San Juan in the thickest of the fight,
Thus they gained the worthy plaudit from the loyal, brave and true;
'Negroes on the field of battle, dignify the nation's blue.'
Shall the prejudice existing in the country now, increase,
While the Negro's patriotism merits rest at home and peace?
Nay, the hydra-headed monster in the end will surely die,
We expect the right to triumph over evil by and by.
poem by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
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The Negro Ballot
Can America be reckoned as the country of the free?
In the light of recent actions 'tis a truth that's hard to see.
It has taken from the Negro his protection, yea, his vote,
How oppressive is the finger that such cruel mandates wrote!
'Equal rights are not for Negroes; they shall never have a vote,
To supremacy of white man shall be raised the highest note.
Keep the black man from the ballot and we'll treat him as we please,
With no means for his protection, we will rule with perfect ease.'
Those are words of Southern white men, backed, it seems, by all the land,
From the blacks they'll take the ballot, with their rights on every hand;
O, the maladministration in enforcement of the ills,
Thus they re-enslave the Negro till their cup of evil fills.
When appeal is made to Congress for protection of a race,
They will promptly dodge the issue, saying,'This is not the place;
In the courts alone there's power to decide it for a fact,'
'We evade it,' says the court-room, 'Congress has the power to act.'
So when Negroes cry for justice in this commonwealth of ours,
There is none to give an answer, none to regulate the powers,
Congress claims no jurisdiction, and the courts declare the same,
None in all this Christian nation who will face the load of shame.
More than all the host of Egypt or the Canaanites of old,
Were the Jews when God was captain of the army, we are told.
Stronger than the ancient mountain of the waters of the sea,
Nature hastened to the rescue, making all opposers flee.
Though Elisha, when at Dothan, was encompassed round about,
By the forces of Benhadad, as he put the Jews to rout,
His protection came from heaven in the chariots of fire,
Yea, the angels and the horses told the earth of heaven's ire.
When for God and fight we battle, numbers cannot make a mark,
For while countless millions perished, eight were saved in Noah's ark.
'Twas the faithful few, my readers, who were found on holy ground,
That were saved, while all remaining in the raging flood were drowned.
Tell me not of shame or failure in a just and righteous cause,
For the right at length will triumph in the face of wicked laws,
Heaven still extends protection to the weakened and oppressed,
Who will cry to God for succor and relief when sore distressed.
Yea, the angel still encampeth round about when Christians fear,
To deliver them from evil and their souls to fill with cheer.
With the faith of ancient Hebrews should the Negro of today,
Ask the Maker for the ballot, and with courage wend his way.
If a fervent prayer is offered by a race ten million strong,
Telling of discrimination, persecution, hate, and wrong,
God will hasten to the rescue and the ballot will restore,
And reclaim for Negro manhood, equal justice evermore.
poem by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jim Crow Cars
If within the cruel Southland you have chanced to take a ride,
You the Jim Crow cars have noticed, how they crush a Negro's pride,
How he pays a first class passage and a second class receives,
Gets the worst accommodations ev'ry friend of truth believes.
'Tis the rule that all conductors, in the service of the train,
Practice gross discriminations on the Negro—such is plain—
If a drunkard is a white man, at his mercy Negroes are,
Legalized humiliation is the Negro Jim Crow car.
'Tis a license given white men, they may go just where they please,
In the white man's car or Negro's will they move with perfect ease,
If complaint is made by Negroes the conductor will go out
Till the whites are through carousing, then he shows himself about.
They will often raise a riot, butcher up the Negroes there,
Unmolested will they quarrel, use their pistols,rant and swear,
They will smoke among the ladies though offensive the cigar;
'Tis the place to drink their whiskey, in the Negro Jim Crow car.
If a Negro shows resistance to his treatment by a tough,
At some station he's arrested for the same, though not enough,
He is thrashed or lynched or tortured as will please the demon's rage,
Mobbed, of course, by 'unknown parties,' thus is closed the darkened page.
If a lunatic is carried, white or black, it is the same,
Or a criminal is taken to the prison-house in shame,
In the Negro car he's ushered with the sheriff at his side,
Out of deference for white men in their car he scorns to ride.
We despise a Negro's manhood, says the Southland, and expect,
All supremacy for white men—black men's rights we'll not protect,
This the Negro bears with patience for the nation bows to might,
Wrong has borne aloft its colors disregarding what is right.
This is called a Christian nation, but we fail to understand,
How the teachings of the Bible can with such a system band;
Purest love that knows no evil can alone the story tell,
How to banish such abuses, how to treat a neighbor well.
poem by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
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The Battling of a Nation
The inevitable battle strikes the awesome nation,
We call this town a nation of strength, the battle.
Itself the battle climbs, to put on an action of wounds,
The unavoidable victory is theirs, the defeat even theirs.
The battling may become a studied nation,
The work of bright light, a final lunch and an act of carnage
That belittles us if we were a nation of strong acts.
The battle shall learn more from the defeated,
The vanquished are celebrating an ion and atom,
The defeated are celebrating an awesome molecule.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Lynching
Have you ever heard of lynching in the great United States?
'Tis an awful, awful story that the Negro man relates,
How the mobs the laws have trampled, both the human and divine,
In their killing helpless people as their cruel hearts incline.
Not the heathen! 'Tis the Christian with the Bible in his hand,
Stands for pain and death to tyrannize the weaklings of the land;
Not the red man nor the Spaniard kills the blacks of Uncle Sam,
'Tis the white man of the nation who will lunch the sons of Ham.
To a limb upon the highway does a Negro's body hang,
Riddled with a hundred bullets from the bloody, thirsty gang;
Law and order thus defying, and there's none to say them nay.
"Thus," they say, to keep their power, "Negroes must be kept at bay."
How his back is lacerated! how the scene is painted red,
By the blood of one poor Negro till he numbers with the dead!
Listen to the cry of anguish from a soul that God has made,
But it fails to reach the pity of the demons in the raid.
To a tree we find the Negro and to him a chain beside,
There a horse to it is fastened and the whip to him applied.
Thus he pulls the victim's body till it meets a dying fate,
And to history is given a new scandal to relate.
Limb from limb he's torn asunder! See the savage lynchers grin!
Then the flesh is cut in pieces and the souvenirs begin;
Each must have the piece allotted for the friends at home to see,
Relatives will cluster round him, laughing, dancing, filled with glee.
To a stake they bind the Negro, pile the trash around him high,
Make the fire about his body; it is thus that he must die.
Burn him slowly, hear the lynchers: "That's the part we most enjoy!
Tell it out in all the nation how we killed a Negro boy!"
Savage mob a Negro's chasing, and to catch him must not fail;
If it does, another's taken, there to force from him the tale
Where the fleeing man is hiding; if the facts he cannot raise,
Though his innocence protesting, for the same by death he pays.
"'Tis a Negro's blood we're craving; such will have at any cost;
We must lynch the one in keeping, for the other one is lost!"
This they say, and when they're questioned answer like this is the why,
"To the race at large a warning here a Negro man shall die!"
O, how brave the Southern white man when, a hundred men to one,
Lynch a lone, defenceless Negro, when each lyncher has a gun.
If at midnight or the noonday, the result is all the same,
Law is powerless to hinder, and the nation shares the blame.
Lynchers go into the Senate and their savagery uphold,
How they shoot and butcher Negroes is the story that is told.
Guns and ropes they have in plenty, and, if necessary, will
Use them on an office holder, such a Negro they must kill.
How they clamor for the Philippines and Cubans far away,
While a worse thing is transpiring in this country every day.
In the eyes of such law-breakers lives a beam of greatest size,
That will hinder all the pulling of the mote from others' eyes.
Are the candidates for lynching always found among the men?
No, the fiends of human torture lynch a woman now and then.
Yea, the Spanish Inquisition insignificant will pale,
When compared with such atrocities that in the South prevail!
'Tis a blot on Christian manhood time, itself, cannot erase;
Human blood upon the conscience centuries cannot efface.
Simply to suspect a Negro is sufficient for the band,
He must die without a hearing, in a boasted gospel land.
Sowing antedates the reaping, and the nation should beware,
That the sowers to the wind will reap the whirlwind everywhere.
Hark the cry! the blood of Negroes cries for vengeance from the dust!
How I tremble for the nation when I think that God is just!
poem by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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International Nurses’ Day,2009
Long time ago, a Nightingale
In human form, from Florence town,
Had rent the air, with tunes of joy,
Comfort and hope and painfree days,
For ailing souls and suffering ones,
And those about to die!
Known as the ‘Lady with the Lamp’,
She went across from bed to bed,
In hospitals and zones of war,
To heal the sick and bandage wounds,
From dawn to dusk and through the night,
With smiling face that made all bright!
The Founder of the nursing stock,
Had left her hundreds of her flock,
To render loving care for all
Diseased and sick, in throes of death,
Awaiting exit from this earth,
To where, suffering has no birth!
May nurses all, follow her call,
To render service globally,
To patients distressed by disease,
In times of war and times of peace,
And make the earth a paradise,
For just a paltry price!
The world can’t go on sans nurses!
The profession must noble stay;
And bestow love that patients need,
By selfless service, without greed.
Greetings to nurses on this day!
Let fame and fortune come your way;
All doctors join me, just to say,
‘A Truly, Happy Nurses’ Day! ’
Fondly dedicated to all nurses,
By the Dean, IRT PMC, Perundurai.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-12-2009
poem by John Celes
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Crushed By The Wheels Of Industry
Call me in the morning just before the breakfast show
Well watch tv and analyse the weather
Before we go to work well have planned the day ahead
Well while away the working day together
Work all day or work all night its all the same
If you want to play
Some are nurses
Some steal purses
Some are workers
Some are not
It is time for a party
Liberation for the nation now!
Crushed by the wheels of industry
Theres a party going on thats going to change the way we live
But how do we know weve even been invited
Now the invitations waiting and the table is reserved
So just play it cool and dont get excited
Work all day or work all night its all the same
Will we ever change
Its vocation or vacation
Some are workers
Some are not
It is time for a party
Syncopation for the nation now
Crushed by the wheels of industry
Breaking in the future just before the week is up
They can do it but its going to take some money
Have what you desire if and when you see the fact
They will lead us to the land of milk and honey
Work all day or work all night its all the same
If you want the pay
Some drive tankers
Some are bankers
Some are workers
Some are not
It is time for a party
Liberation for the nation now!
song performed by by Heaven 17
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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State Of The Nation
You can walk, or you can run
You dont have to be someone
I went on a summer cruise
Upon an ocean born to lose
My brother said that he was dead
I saw his face and shook my head
Can you see where we cant be
Were losing our blood in the sea
cause its the state of the nation
Thats holding our salvation
Yes, its the state of the nation
Thats holding our salvation
Oh, the state of the nation
Is causing deprivation
Oh, the state of the nation
Is causing deprivation
From my home I traveled far
I drove in my stolen car
When it broke down, I kissed the ground
cause I dont kiss when youre around
I dont find that I have been
The portrait of an only son
If thats the case, then who could tell
Where my story had begun?
Cause its the state of the nation
Thats holding our salvation
Yes, its the state of the nation
Thats holding our salvation
Yes, the state of the nation
Thats causing deprivation
Oh, the state of the nation
Thats causing deprivation
Even now, Im all alone
Behind a wall thats made of stone
I think about where we have been
And all the sights that could be seen
I know it all could be worthwhile
If only I could force a smile
Now we turn our backs to the sea
The shame of a nation well never be
Cause its the state of the nation
Thats holding our salvation
Yes, its the state of the nation
Thats holding our salvation
Oh, the state of the nation
Is causing deprivation
Yes, the state of the nation
Is causing deprivation
song performed by by New Order
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Voice of the Negro
All ye nations, pause a moment! listen to the Negro's voice,
Coming up from all vocations where his life has made a choice!
Listen to each rank or station, as you cross the sea of time,
It is heard in ev'ry nation, any race and ev'ry clime.
If you'll go among the tradesmen and their work of worth inspect,
If you'll tarry with the lowly and their lack of skill detect,
If you'll travel o'er the planet, filled with thought, with action stirred,
In them all you'll find, my brother, that the Negro's voice is heard.
Search the patents of invention, or the soldiers record find,
Peep into the author's study, or the poet keep in mind,
In the avenues of science or the broadest fields of art,
You. will hear the voice of Negroes as they bravely play their part.
As good lawyers and physicians, or as men who're called to preach.
As an orator and statesman who the hearts of people reach,
As you view the great professions that have made the world rejoice,
If you'll listen for a moment, you will hear the Negro's voice.
'Tis a voice that cries for justice, not for favors to be shown,
For an equal chance with others, for a manhood of its own,
Give that voice a proper hearing in the forum of the world,
Then all prejudice and envy from the race will soon be hurled.
poem by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Injustice of the Courts
Whites alone upon the jury in a number of the states,
Thus they crush a helpless Negro with their prejudicial hates;
Legal ills they thrust upon him, and the tale is passing sad—
Equal rights with white men? Never! Color-phobia makes them mad.
'Tis the training of the children, every Negro to suppress,
They their spleen may vent upon him and he happy, none the less,
They will boast aloud in anger if by Negroes they are crossed,
'If we shoot or kill a Negro, not a cent will be the cost.'
Juries represent the people and their sentiments make known,
When a Negro comes in question there's discrimination shown.
They are bold to make assertion that they will not do the same
For a Negro as a white man, and no feeling comes of shame.
Jurymen have made confession after trial had been made
Of a Negro, and 'He's guilty!' was the verdict there displayed.
Stern remorse so touched the conscience, they the story did relate,
How the verdict they had rendered was to stay the dying fate.
'It was hard to say him guilty, for the man, we thought, was clear.
But a mob was making clamors that were terrible to hear.'
'Punishment or death!' it shouted, and around began to press;
And of two impending evils, we have chosen him the less.
Thus we legalized the lynchers, we their words to court have brought,
And the innocent convicted! how revolting is the thought!
When a mob has forced a jury to a stand against the right,
All the waters of the ocean cannot make the conscience white.
Once a Negro girl was saucy, and the wife the husband told,
Who in haste arraigned the servant and began to swear and scold.
Then he whipped her without mercy—straightway she to law applied.
Passing strange—they found him guilty, and the judge was sorely tried.
This he said, in making sentence, 'No disfavor comes to you,
You have only done as others, or as I myself would do,
If your servants vex the mistress, thrash them out again, I say,
Go to jail ten minutes only, and a fine of five cents pay!'
If a judge is conscientious, then the people vote him out,
His partiality to white men they must know, beyond a doubt.
No equality for Negroes in the law the world must know,
If he fails to make distinctions, from the bench they'll have him go.
Page 45
This injustice is a cancer, in the nation's breast it lives,
Quietly and unmolested, awful is the death it gives.
It results from color-phobia, which the God of right defies,
Slaves of prejudice, take warning! pause before the nation dies.
All the land is running riot, laws are trampled in the face,
Negroes must be law-abiding; whites alone the laws debase.
Wrong upon itself is coiling, hissing serpent of the times,
Whites in self-defense are crying, 'Shield us from our people's crimes.'
Barbarism fills the country, all for safety take alarm,
From the lowest to the highest, no one now is free from harm;
Anarchy is rife among us, all resulting from the same,
Gross injustice of the court-room brings the nation into shame.
Page 46
Lawlessness is at a premium, woeful penalty it brings,
Relic of the middle ages is the present state of things.
To the winds we now are sowing, and the whirl-wind comes at length,
Evils cast upon the waters come again with added strength.
poem by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The New Crusade
LIFE is a trifle;
Honor is all;
Shoulder the rifle;
Answer the call.
'A nation of traders'!
We'll show what we are,
Freedom's crusaders
Who war against war.
Battle is tragic;
Battle shall cease;
Ours is the magic
Mission of Peace.
'A nation of traders'!
We'll show what we are,
Freedom's crusaders
Who war against war.
Gladly we barter
Gold of our youth
For Liberty's charter
Blood-sealed in truth.
'A nation of traders'!
We'll show what we are,
Freedom's crusaders
Who war against war.
Sons of the granite,
Strong be our stroke,
Making this planet
Safe for the folk.
'A nation of traders'!
We'll show what we are,
Freedom's crusaders
Who war against war.
Life is but passion,
Sunshine on dew.
Forward to fashion
The old world anew!
'A nation of traders'!
We'll show what we are,
Freedom's crusaders
Who war against war.
poem by Katharine Lee Bates
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Emancipation Day
The sixties brought a clash of arms—
The mem'ry of it thrills and charms—
While Negro slaves for freedom prayed,
Till Heaven bowed to give them aid.
The God of nations—God of right—
Kept back success within the fight,
Till Lincoln vowed on bended knee,
To set the Negro bondsmen free.
The first of January, see!
In eighteen hundred sixty three,
The first Emancipation Day,
When mad oppressors lost their sway,
The sun of freedom rose that day,
The night of bondage drove away,
When sainted Lincoln did decree,
That slaves forever should be free.
As years of time have come and gone,
For each the Negro race has borne,
Abundant fruit in freedom's name,
That will not bring the nation shame.
Emancipation Day, so great!
With joy we meet to celebrate,
The Sun of Righteousness we hail,
Who died that freedom might prevail.
poem by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Crushed By The Wheels Of Industry (Extended Dance Mix)
Breaking in the future just before the week is up
They can do it but it's going to take some money
Have what you desire if and when you see the fact
They will lead us to the land of milk and honey
Work all day or work all night it's all the same
If you want the pay
Some drive tankers
Some are bankers
Some are workers
Some are not
It is time for a party
Destination for the nation now!
Chorus:
Crushed by the wheels of industry
Crushed by the wheels of industry
Crushed by the wheels of industry
Crushed by the wheels
Crushed by the wheels of industry
Crushed by the wheels of industry
Crushed by the wheels of industry
Crushed by the wheels
Work now!
Call me in the morning just before the breakfast show
We'll watch TV and analyse the weather
Before we go to work we'll have planned the day ahead
We'll while away the working day together
Work all day or work all night it's all the same
If you want to play
Some are nurses
Some steal purses
Some are workers
Some are not
It is time for a party
Liberation for the nation now!
Chorus
There's a party going on
That's going to change the way we live
But how do we know we've even been invited
Now the invitation's waiting
And the table is reserved
So just play it cool and don't get excited
Work or day or work all night it's all the same
Will we ever change
It's vocation or vacation
Some are workers
Some are not
It is time for a party
Syncopation for the nation now!
Chorus
song performed by by Heaven 17
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nurses are an integral component of the health care system, and it is important that we recognize the over 2.7 million registered nurses for the significant work that they do.
quote by Nathan Deal
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nurses- hard to tempt
As men to pimps
Are we to nurses, they are immune to touch
Of men or vice versa.
But there is a difference.
Nurse can sense her husband’s touch
Unlike pimps,
Like a mother hearing her child amidst noise.
Men, take it for granted,
Nurses can be trusted
To be wife more than a home-in wife,
As nurses are men proof.
30.05.2001, Berh
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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SHE*** Who burns the Fires of his Desires
She*** who burns the fires of his desires
She*** beauty in a pose reflected in a tiny rose,
She ***of figure trim soft silky the opposite of him
She*** the cause of the Taj Mahal,
She*** beautiful who launched a thousand ships
She***who loved diamonds and he’s of plenty did give,
She*** who caused a trillion men to come to grips
She*** who feeds every single new little baby born,
She ***the wonder woman of the world
She *** nurses weary soldiers tired and battle torn,
She***still with all these attributes still makes our dinner!
She***and believe me now can lead a nation with politics,
She *** with no tricks, truly is God’s made natural bread winner.
poem by Ken e Hall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jingoism
Be not jingoistic
and say 'No' to the calls
of to religion and race.
Be patriotic to your nation
to stand by the poor
and book the criminals.
Love your nation
for its war against
illiteracy and poverty.
Love your nation
for its unceasing efforts
to extract work from the youths.
Love your nation
for not encroaching
and enslaving the neighbours.
Love your nation
for her indigenuous efforts
to reach the peak in health-care.
Love your nation
for being secular
and respect all cults and tongues.
Love your nation
for being a model
to other nations in this world.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We must restore the soul of America. Our nation is shaped by the constant battle between our better angels and our darkest impulses. It is time for our better angels to prevail. Tonight, the whole world is watching America. I believe at our best America is a beacon for the globe. And we lead not by the example of our power, but by the power of our example.... Now, together — on eagle's wings — we embark on the work that God and history have called upon us to do. With full hearts and steady hands, with faith in America and in each other, with a love of country — and a thirst for justice — let us be the nation that we know we can be. A nation united. A nation strengthened. A nation healed. The United States of America.
quote by Joe Biden
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Prejudice
How strangely blind is prejudice, the Negro's greatest foe!
It never fails to see the wrong but naught of good can know.
'Tis blind to all that's lofty, yea, to truth it is opposed,
Degrading things will ope his eyes, while good will keep them closed.
How cruel, too, is prejudice! how wicked is the tongue!
The evils reign supremely there, the bad is ever sung;
With some the Negro needs a soul, with others he's a brute,
In silence those remaining live and naught of this dispute.
The schools it legislates against, in keeping Negroes down,
Whatever tends to elevate it meets it with a frown.
It gives to them the Jim Crow car and vessels on the sea;
It makes the stockade to exist and take their liberty.
It makes the press to vacillate up the Negro's name,
The pulpit makes a compromise with evil, for the same,
It makes the Pharaohs of today and seals them with its ban,
It strives to close the door of hope upon the Negro man.
It causes mobs to formulate, to come and go at will,
At morning, evening, noon or night, a Negro man to kill,
It brings injustice to the courts when Negro men are tried,
It wrings the ballot from their hands—a thousand wrongs beside.
It is the country's greatest curse, the nation's open sore,
It slowly saps the precious life, is poison to the core,
Such ravages gave certain death to nations in the past,
The same will lay this country low, its fondest hopes will blast.
It minimizes all that's good and magnifies the ill,
The devil's mission upon earth, it clamors to fulfill;
'Twas prejudice that caused the death of Christ upon the tree,
He knows the pangs that Negroes feel and gives them sympathy.
When men refuse to see the light a darkness is assured,
Such blindness comes upon the scene as never can be cured!
Contagious is the dread disease, for Negroes learn to view
The white man with suspicious eyes, but here's a thing that's new.
The Negro Problem of the land, and all the same entails,
Will be no more whene'er we find a sentiment prevails,
To bury prejudice so deep it never can arise
Till all the races of the earth shall meet above the skies.
Twas God who made the Negro black, the reasons are His own
One blood the nations all the same, the facts are too well known,
He also made the Golden Rule, to use the neighbor well,
Shall prejudice among us dwell forever? who can tell?
poem by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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