On Their Feet
My feet walk on soil where my ancestors blood, sweat and tears where shed.
Blood from the lashes on their backs that was put there by a cold wet whip all because they fought to be free.
Sweat that dripped from their brows from the hard work they did to help build this country we call America.
Tears that was cried so many nights they could fill a river with their sorrow.
But even after all that they did not crawl upon their knees or slide upon their bellies.
Their faith gave them hope for a brighter future for all those who would come after them. People such as Rosa Parks, Dr. Martin Luther King, Malcolm X and even me, and because of this faith no matter what they always stood upon their feet.
Related quotes
I Know a Dream Called America
I know a dream called America -
That led to freedom - our precious -
freedom. That was won - That was won -
through - loneliness - hunger - blood-
Sweat - and tears. By your christian forefathers - who
Fought on with determination - through
The night - and through the day - till
The war was won. In the cold - cold - winter snow of
Seventeen-Seventy-Six - that won us
our freedom. Happy birthday America to everyone
Say a prayer for your country - everyone -
Give a helping hand - everyone - for the
Cause of freedom - everyone - let no one
take your freedom from this land - for
It is our hope - and our passport everyone -
And our golden gate - to the promised land -
Where our almighty God abides. - Happy birthday America - to everyone -
May we share - many many more. I know a dream called America -
That lead to Freedom - our precious Freedom. That was won - that was won -
Through loneliness - and hunger - blood -
Sweat - and tears Happy birthday America - to everyone -
Say a prayer for your country - everyone -
Give a helping hand - everyone - for the
Cause of Freedom from this land - for it's
Our hope - and your passport - everyone - and
Our golden gate - to the promised land -
Where Almighty God - abides.
poem by Theresa M. Leicht
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Blood Sweat And Tears
We have nothing to offer
you.. say the cows of
their gravy.. but our
blood, sweat, and tears.
How is it that their
tears..
are crystalline and clear
when they are made of
crimson blood and torn
from their broken hearts?
How is it that such tiny
orbs.. can contain
a globe of suffering?
=====================================
(to Ingrid Newkirk..
No 2 people in the animal rights movement agree on priorities
or tactics, but Ingrid Newkirk, cofounder of PETA, has with the help
of members and volunteers and other groups around the world
built a 2 million member organization which is currently asking people
to boycott KFC)
(blood sweat and tears: blood containing animal fat, sweat containing
trioxypurine or uric acid, more harmful than caffein, and tears
containing terror hormones of adrenalin)
poem by Saiom Shriver
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Is Freedom Free? ? ?
America, Land of the Free',
We know the phrase like the back of our hands
We say it pridefully with our flag flying high,
As we sing to the tune with the marching bands
Yet is freedom really free?
Our ancestors had to fight the English,
They had to earn what we take for granted today
Blood was shed and tears were cried,
But there was no alternate way
So tell me is freedom really free?
The Confederates and the Union went head to head,
The Civil War tore America in two
The African Americans had to fight for their rights,
They had to pay the price to do what they wanted to do
Yet we still think Freedom is really free?
Women fought for their right to be equals,
They fought for their rights to work and vote
They stumbled upon a lot of road blocks,
But they never gave up their hope
And you think Freedom is really free?
Even today we are still fighting for our freedom,
Soldiers abroad are defending our rights
Protecting our people and our homeland,
And losing thier lives in the fights
And still you say Freedom is really free?
It's something we don't always think about,
It's something we all take with a grain of salt
But what if one day, you would wake up and it was all gone,
Who do you think would be at fault?
You see little by little they're drawing the strings,
Your privacy can be invaded
Telephones tapped and cameras in your home,
If ever you are suspected
They say in order to keep us safe and our freedom intact,
They have to take such drastic measures
But stop and think for one minute,
What is the purpose of all these pleasures?
If Freedom isn't really free?
poem by Elizabeth U. Adams
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To Samuel E. Sewall And Harriet W. Sewall Of Melrose
OLOR ISCANUS queries: 'Why should we
Vex at the land's ridiculous miserie?'
So on his Usk banks, in the blood-red dawn
Of England's civil strife, did careless Vaughan
Bemock his times. O friends of many years!
Though faith and trust are stronger than our fears,
And the signs promise peace with liberty,
Not thus we trifle with our country's tears
And sweat of agony. The future's gain
Is certain as God's truth; but, meanwhile, pain
Is bitter and tears are salt: our voices take
A sober tone; our very household songs
Are heavy with a nation's griefs and wrongs;
And innocent mirth is chastened for the sake
Of the brave hearts that nevermore shall beat,
The eyes that smile no more, the unreturning feet!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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For The Ease of It
Some folks say what they do,
For the ease of it.
That is quicker to produce,
Than it is what they've said they've done.
If the mind isn't there with a physical connection.
Produced by faith that takes blood, sweat and tears.
And a spiritual affinity...
That is closer than any blood one my drip,
From that attachment.
Only then can someone say they do something...
Because it is loved.
The others?
They say what they say at social functions,
To impress.
And it shows from a lack of discipline...
Whenever they do what they do is addressed.
The mediocrity of it is a mess!
There is no work ethic that has been expressed,
Or valued.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Working Man's Wage
(wynn varble/leslie satcher)
I've seen mornings when a thousand bales of hay
Looked like a mountain to a boy my age
And i've seen my daddy in that hot southern sun
Move those mountains one by one
And i've seen that same man come home from the mill
Pull forty hours for a hundred-dollar bill
I've watched him struggle and i've watched him age
Raising a family on a working man's wage
I grew up on a working man's wage
Blood, sweat and tears on every dollar he made
For the little he earned there was so much he gave
And i hope i am worthy of a working man's wage
I pick this guitar six nights a week
Daddy can't believe they're paying me
It would be so easy to let it go to my head
But there's just one thing that i can't forget
I grew up on a working man's wage
Blood, sweat and tears on every dollar he made
For the little he earned there was so much he gave
And i hope i am worthy, i hope i am worthy
Of a working man's wage
I've seen mornings when a thousand bales of hay
Looked like a mountain to a boy my age
song performed by by Trace Adkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Working Man's Wage
(wynn varble/leslie satcher)
I've seen mornings when a thousand bales of hay
Looked like a mountain to a boy my age
And i've seen my daddy in that hot southern sun
Move those mountains one by one
And i've seen that same man come home from the mill
Pull forty hours for a hundred-dollar bill
I've watched him struggle and i've watched him age
Raising a family on a working man's wage
I grew up on a working man's wage
Blood, sweat and tears on every dollar he made
For the little he earned there was so much he gave
And i hope i am worthy of a working man's wage
I pick this guitar six nights a week
Daddy can't believe they're paying me
It would be so easy to let it go to my head
But there's just one thing that i can't forget
I grew up on a working man's wage
Blood, sweat and tears on every dollar he made
For the little he earned there was so much he gave
And i hope i am worthy, i hope i am worthy
Of a working man's wage
I've seen mornings when a thousand bales of hay
Looked like a mountain to a boy my age
song performed by by Trace Adkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If Rosa Parks had not refused to move to the back of the bus, you and I might never have heard of Dr. Martin Luther King.
quote by Ramsey Clark
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Remember Me
Remember me in hard times, in times of pain and sorrow,
remember your fellow man in hope of his dreams for tomorrow.
Remember what its like to be hated, and remember that they hated me first;
remember the words that I tell you, listen and fell no remorse.
Remember what I did for you, how I lead you from the hard-ache and pain, remember how you never thanked me, remember that you never praised my name.
I AM, who I AM, and who I'm meant to be, I am the one who you once loved, although you could never see. I delivered you from your owners, because you are one like me, remember how I loved you so, how my blood dripped from thee.
Remember of my coming, remember that I came, remember that I'm coming again, remember my blessed name. Remember how I died, remember that I rose again, remember everything I took for you especially the retched pain. Remember of my scares both mentally and physically for me, remember that I loved you, that I did this so you can be free. Remember of my tears, and red sweat that dripped from me, remember how it was never easy to set my own people free. Remember of my sacrifice, the death of my son on a tree, remember that no other action can equal to a greater sacrifice than me.
Remember those who love you, forgive those who don't, pray for those who hurt you, and love those who won't. Remember your brothers and sisters, not just because of relation to thee, remember them because I asked of you, will you listen to your savior's plea? Feed them if there hungry, anoint them if there sick, shelter them if there homeless, and do this oh so a quick. Do this in remembrance of me, because since I did it for you, and you do it for thee, then it might truly show.....that no one has forgotten me.
poem by Augustus Gatlin
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Love, Hope, and Faith
We live tomorrow
the dreams of today
Our hopes of the future
gives us faith along the way
Love is the river
of this wakened state
Its never out of time
its never too late
It gives us life
as it flows through our lives
It tears through confusion
loneliness and strife
Love cuts a clear path
through the test of time
You can see where it has been
and watch it unwind
Free as a river
that you can’t control
You can’t even say
where it might flow
Hope is a power
that cant be taken away
It can pull you through
even the toughest of days
Hope can keep you going
when everything else fails
It keeps you company
on the loneliest of trails
Faith is ever daring
in the face of defeat
It can bring you courage
that nothing can beat
Faith is never doubting
in yourself or your beliefs
Holding on to what you know
when content is just a dream
Faith can give you strength
to face what the future brings
Combined with hope and love
you only need the three of these
Love is like a River
Hope is like a dream
Faith is just believing
with nothing to be seen
So dream of tomorrow
and love for today
Hope with all your heart
Let faith show you the way
poem by Rusty Gibson
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Children's Playground In The City
THIS is a place where men laid their dead,
Each with his life-tale of good or ill;
Here prayers were murmured and hot tears shed,
And passionate anguish moaned its fill.
Silent now is each voice that cried,
And the tears that were wept have all been dried
In the dust; and dust are the hearts that bled
With hopeless longing for hearts grown still.
Dead and forgotten! for Death, requiter
Of love, taught Memory how to forget!
The love that remembered them died. Grow brighter,
Oh, dim grave-garden, with dead hearts set!
Room for the small flying feet to pass,
The feet of the children over the grass!
The dead, if they knew it, would feel them lighter
Than the weight of a stone that no tears make wet.
We must die too, and the grief that will live
Must die as surely--death comes to all;
But you who come after--let Nature give
To our graves her tears, to our dust her pall:
Let her hide us away in her cold broad breast,
Let us be forgotten, and be at rest,
And over our heads let the great world strive,
And the children's voices carol and call.
If your heart on the flower of remembrance is set,
There is one way to pluck it--and only one:
Dare you ask your country not to forget
A name that needs to be graved on stone?
By grief, strife, sacrifice, scorn of fame,
You may grave on the people's hearts your name,
Or your name may die, and your soul live yet
In the cause you died for--the work you have done.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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I Am (Defiant)
i am, become...
i am the seat on the bus
Rosa Parks would not leave..
i am the fires of anger
when Martin Luther King was killed.
i am the grassy knoll,
where the true killer stood.
i am the Little Bighorn,
and Crazy Horse weeping...
i am the men that built the bombs,
and all the faceless souls screaming
through their long sleepless nights...
i am the brothers that killed each other
in the long Civil War...
i am the slaves set free,
i am the Native Americans sent
to live in poverty on reservations
in the name of a white god...
i am the farm worker exploited,
the coal miner who died...
i am the rats and the filth
of tenements and trailers...
i am the blues hand picked,
moonshine made in the hills...
i am the grandfather who built
his house with his own hands.
i am the rage of the common,
i am America defiant,
i am, become....
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Workers Of America
Workers of America shout long and loud
As we work together hard and proud
We are the ones that built this great country of ours
From the strain on our backs and our blisters and scars
We were the ones to clear the fields and lay the tracks
We are the ones to build the cities and break our backs
And we are the ones to sweat and bleed and die
As we built this great country, which no one can deny
We work the factories, and the stores and the mills
We dig the ditches and collect the garbage to pay our bills
We are the ones to work in the snow and in the heat of the sun
If it wasn't for us the workers, no work would ever be done
It wasn't the politicians or the judges who built this great land
But it was the workers of America as destiny had planned
Also we are the ones to fight the fires and all the wars
When our elected officials send us away to foreign shores
And we are the ones to feed the deprived and the needy
While the rich man cares for no one, but himself and the greedy
Without us the workers this land or any land would certainly fall
As we are the one that mixes the mortar and builds the wall
We pay the taxes to keep America's heart beating
And we are the ones to keep America always competing
Workers of America look up, as GOD gives us a nod
And listen to the past, as our forefathers do applaud.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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This Has Not Been A Part Of My Experience
You come to me with a desire,
To have me explain...
How best to take each step you make,
On the way to accomplish 'your' dream.
I admire that and I am flattered!
But what I would like to see you do...
First,
Is a stumbling fall as your crawl to your feet.
I want to see you move on from mistakes...
You believe defeat.
I want to see tears in your eyes,
Cried!
That you alone eventually dry.
I want you 'then' to come to me,
Acknowledging there is an understanding...
You have gained with relief.
Do not come to me,
Expecting a free trip to the beach.
With a relaxing done...
As you observe me showing you,
How to best build 'your' sandcastle.
As you direct what you would like,
From a 'vision' you wish to come alive...
While I sweat producing your fantasy!
This...
Has not been a part of my experience!
And I do not wish now to invite it.
What I've lived to overcome...
From you has been kept unseen.
And if we do lay on the beach...
It will be 'you' applying on my skin,
Any request I have for Sun blocking screen.
That from you to me will be a given,
I hope you feel will be deserved.
You have any other questions?
Or realities you have not faced?
Remember...
I am here with a wish,
To see you succeed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Junior Basketball Season
Sweat
Blood
Tears
Sprints
Loss of Breath
Hard Work
Team Work
Success
Defeat
And above all...
A waste of my time
poem by Nick Mengerink
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Agony
Ever wonder how He felt?
Praying in the garden
His students asleep
Could not watch for an hour
He knew He had to die
Even if it's just for me
He would be scourged
He would sweat blood
Even if it's just for me
Agony!
There He was, fixed
Nails in hands and feet
For a moment
Abandoned by God
Agony!
They pierced Him
Blood and water gushed
Mom at His feet
Brothers vanquished
Head bowed
Breathed His last
How He felt?
Think you have it hard?
Think about Him
Agony!
He was wrapped
Buried and left
Thought it was the end?
Not so fast!
Three days later
He got up
Just like that
Now He reigns victorious
Today knees bow
Eyes close
Agony?
poem by Buxton Shippy
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Drug Induced Blood, Sweat And Tears
Blood
I bled for you
lies I said for you
Truth I force fed to you
Red leaves stains
Language I took from you
Money I shock from you
white dust had hold of you
Little remains
Sweat
I'm ringing wet
Things that you forget
Now you have regrets
White ringed tides
Kind I cannot be
Cruel will set you free
Son, please stop and see
My love abides
Tears
That I have wept
Nights I haven't slept
Mornings when you crept
Home again
I've done all I can
You are your own man
Need me, here I am
Heal your pain
Tears, sweet, blood will pour
I will mop the floor
You're worth fighting for
Please come back
Be the son I knew
Back with worries few
Where only hope once grew
Before the 'Crack'
poem by Stevie Taite
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Africa. A land...
Africa.
A land full of mysteries,
A land where the Gods speaks,
A land where Nature talks in secret ancestral tongues,
A land rich in Culture and Heritage,
The soil, drenched in sweat and blood
Listens to the poundings of the African feet
As they dance to the sound of patriotism.
Africa.
The land of hope and bliss,
The land of milk and honey,
The land where freedom was fought for,
The land rich in natural beauty,
The people, blessed with strength and grace
Fights for the love of their land
As they listen to the pleas of the drenched soil.
poem by Muneerah Abdulrahman
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Codex Honoris
Jacob Jacobs, of Oakland, he swore:
'Dat Solomon Martin-I'll haf his gore!'
Solomon Martin, of Oakland, he said:
'Of Shacob Shacobs der bleed I vill shed!'
So they met, with seconds and surgeon at call,
And fought with pistol and powder and-all
Was done in good faith,-as before I said,
They fought with pistol and powder and-shed
Tears, O my friends, for each other they marred
Fighting with pistol and powder and-lard!
For the lead had been stolen away, every trace,
And Christian hog-product supplied its place.
Then the shade of Moses indignant arose:
'Quvicker dan lighdnings go vosh yer glose!'
Jacob Jacobs, of Oakland, they say,
Applied for a pension the following day.
Solomon Martin, of Oakland, I hear,
Will call himself Colonel for many a year.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Tears of Faith
Tears of faith
bounded me here
as life goes on
I hide myself
I know the world
has its hard days
holding all of us
with its own strength
we all try to be
the world
holding until we hurt
like shoe we wore out
Tears of faith
bounded me here
as life goes on
I find myself
Here in fear
trying, and trying
not to be sad
but to look
beyond reach
like the stars up in the sky.
Tears of faith
bound me here
telling me
that its time
to change
the page
but look forward
since the stars
look upon you
to guild there light
upon faith, hope and dreams.
tears of faith
are tears of joy
running away
from the darkness
that we fear