Our Liberation War
the chief commandant
mustafa kemal ataturk
uproared
on his horse upright
rearing
armies
do not stop
go ahead
your mission is on top
your first target
the mediterrenean sea
the aegen too
atter the last
chief commandant hood
field battle
dumlupı nar
the 30th august 1922
greek left
many dead
behind
exhausted
bewildered
and retreated
killing women and children
and burning the oxen
our armies did not stop
followed the enemy
pursuı ng
on foot
some on horse back
the cavalry was the swiftest
the trains were whistling
strangely and prosperously
and happily
a little bit strangely
the people applauding
our soldiers
the enemy was swept to the aegen
in seven days
erected our flag in smryna
to izmir
our reign assembly
escaped in haste
with the english ships
what a betrayel limits
from there homeland
to england
those were hard days
great dayus
severe days
no turc must forget
our republic days were being emerged
atter the harsh field battle ended
chief commandant ataturk
looking at the dead greek soldier
lyı ng on the ground
and murmuring to himself asked
why did you leave your country
in your youth,
who persuaded and told you
to invade our country
sorry this is our homeland
we are supposed to defend
you have come as an enemy
not a guest
what a pity
for you for us
and for the history
but the fault is not ours
it is our enemies'
we find in our noble blood
the needed strengh
even if the world is against us
really
our has to live forever and eternally
our history writes it so
it was 87 years ago
ataturk has delivered
this mission
to turkish youth too
even now still
we have no doubt
to acomplish though
poem by Metin Sahin
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Related quotes
Statue’s Source
Ataturk was wonderful.
Ataturk was great.
Yet if Ataturk
was so wonderful?
Why did he drink raki
every night so late?
If he had been a
Winston Churchill?
He might have partaken
of brandy and cigars?
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Mustafa Kemal Ataturk (1881-1938) was a soldier, statesman, reformer, founder and first president (1923-1938) of the Republic of Turkey. He was given the name Ataturk (‘Father of Turks’) by the National Assembly in 1934.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Secular God
Secular, pertaining to the present world,
to things not spiritual or ecclesiastical,
earthly life, a particular time, temporal,
lasting, occurring in and accomplished
within a century, such a very short time!
Atatürk. Legendary Atatürk.
Source silhouette sustaining; noble wonder.
Atatürk legitimately stood stallion.
Among histories legendary; as a great leader.
Yet if Atatürk. In reality
was embodied God!
The Turkish Nation
Statue Worships States!
Why did he often drink alone?
Day through narcotic night!
Fallen to such a common fate?
Because a man for all that!
Feats required as resolute
Nation-Maker!
Are in themselves in truth
emphasis enough!
Without serving up sermon
ritualistic Godhead halo!
Upon embellished silver
sanctification sanctimonious plate!
Hail Mustafa Kemal Atatürk
a General a Turkish army officer,
a revolutionary statesman a writer,
founder of modern Republic of Turkey
first president of fledgling eagle country
enduring defeating sea aggressive invasions!
Ottoman Empire assaulted on all frontiers
Atatürk led Turkish national movement
throughout Turkish War of Independence!
Established provisional government in Ankara,
defeated all forces sent by invading Allies!
Atatürk’s successful military campaigns
led to liberation creation of new found country
to proud establishment of modern Turkey!
In memory in a grateful nation
Atatürk’s statutes statutes must stand tall!
Mustafa Kemal Atatürk stands
a towering figure of the 20th Century!
“Among the great leaders of history,
few have achieved so much in so short period,
transformed the life of a nation as decisively, ...
given such profound inspiration to the world at large.”
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Soldier (not really a poem)
the american revolution was fought witha new breed of soldier.
this country was founded on that soldier.
that soldier is the one that those on the front lines calls the coward
that soldier is the one that those on the front lines call when they need help
because these soldiers dont miss.
these soldiers are trained harder than the most elite frontline man
these soldiers are tought to kill their enemy before there enemy sees them.
these soldiers are the ghosts in the night,
these soldiers are the wind in the day
these soldiers are everywhere.
these soldiers are the bush next to u.
these soldiers are the the tree across the field.
these soldiers are the lump of snow in the flat plain.
these soldiers are snipers.
snipers are the reason we are free.
snipers stop the enemy before the enemy gets close to u,
poem by Joshua Decker
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Snow Sweet
the woman was walking
perhaps she was a grand mother
very old and old old old and ancient
like a walking monument
there left a bit of her femininity
her breasts
like long flat oven loaves of bread
towards the gravity
she tries to be ottoman
as she could be
and the years
nestled in her whitening hair
very difficult to weave or plait
a rough walking stick in her hand
hatred tapping on the ground
was shr walking
or the walking stick
one of her eyes
covered with a white stain
seeing clearly is in vain
a present from her mother in law
jealous of her son
when weaving a carpet
she was remembering her days
on horse ride
told a love story
her grand daughters gigled and laughed
never understood
sometimes she us of the
hard and harsh days
during the liberation battle against the greeks
invading our country
and of my father asa a veteran officer
returning from a long war
arabs killing turks
evoked by lawrence of arabia
who reached every area
she said
the trains whistled strangely and prosperously
when greeks retreated and defeated in our country
who were swept to the mediterranean sea
ytes those were the harsh and hard days
she had ever seen
she was very old
was it a garment
or an old and torn cloth she wore
nobody could guess any more
eas she walking
or the walking stick nobody understood
years on her piled
she was at the edge of death
her only last wish
toı taste the snow sweet
she loved the best
but nobody bothered to mix the snow
and the teacle for her
she had also small jack knife
just to peel the apples
she liked the apples too
but her teeth cannot bite
one evening
on a cold very cold winter day
she left this world
in a cold and desolate room
swearing everthing to all
shivering and alone
with white snow in her hands
and mouth
near the window pane
and in vain
they told me that
what a pity she was my auntie
I could notf appreciate and knew value
unless she died
she used to call my mother
our bride
honest to say
our bride looked after her very well
sometimes jealousy covered my soul
what a pity
one day
our bride too fled to infinity
like a bridal falling on trees on a cold winter day
both of them are I think now in heaven really
our bride mother and my old auntie
where who knows
looking well after each other
I wish I were there
who will look after me when I die
I wonder
If there were snow sweet there
If there is
I tooo wonder
who will
mix the snow and the treacle
to make snow sweet there
poem by Metin Sahin
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Field of Battle
Forced are the troops of battle,
Into the field of war, of war.
Feed on their movement, general,
As a leader of war, of this battle.
I, a troop, have forced my mind
Into the war of my dreams,
Into the fire of my wishes;
They are like dread and scare.
To belittle a young man, who is a soldier,
A fighter, born of the skill to fight and parry,
Is never agreeable in the eyes of the warlord,
The hard man or woman, the harsh chief.
Punishment awaits those who excel at war crime
And force is a force that fades from power
To weak pull, a reaction to the enemy,
A full explosion for them who oppose.
Swords and crossbows are the implements
That win the war more than anything else.
Your horse is put to death, the standard-bearers
Are put down for their bravery, gallantry.
Forced are the troops of battle,
Into the field of war, of war.
Feed on their movement, general,
As a leader of war, of this battle.
poem by Naveed Akram
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30 Days Out
We fell in love and I made you the world
I spent all my time tryin to satisfy you, girl
Just one thing that I cant figure out [? ]
Closer I get, farther baby I am out [? ]
30 days, 30 days out
Well Im six days runnin but Im 30 days out
30 days, 30 days out
With every kiss you leave a little shadow of doubt
The roof was leakin honey where we live
And Im wonderin whats that something that you wont give
I started loving you but I gotta stop
You got me mostly waitin for that other shoe to drop
30 days, 30 days out
You keep me six days runnin but Im 30 days out
30 days, 30 days out
With every kiss you leave a little shadow of doubt
Tried to talk about whats goin on
You just smile and tell me baby there aint nothin wrong
In your smile theres a sign in red
It said thousand miles of hard road dead ahead
30 days, 30 days out
Yeah Im six days runnin but Im 30 days out
30 days, 30 days out
With every kiss you leave a little shadow of doubt
30 days, 30 days out
Well Im six days runnin but Im 30 days out
30 days, 30 days out
With every kiss you leave a little shadow of doubt
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Unassailable Fidelity!
The horse never slept
Nor it lay on ground
His mind was battling
With the songs of swords
The challenges of the riders
The splash of blood
The pool of blood
The horse kicked
The horse of the enemy
Eager to cut the throat
Of his master on him
The horse trampled on
The dead on the battlefield
To take his master to safety
When the hissing sound of sword
Lashed at him like a storm.
The horse learnt the rule
The rule of sword
The rule of battlefield
The justice of killing
And the destiny of killed!
His master on him swing
With the sword socked with blood
Of the enemy cavalry
And enemy animal carriers
And moved fast to fix
The mast and flag
At the fort his master seized.
As the thunder and lightening
Deafened and blinded
The horse lost a leg
And the master had the wound
Gushing blood with all force
The horse leapt as a wind
And crossed the river
And fell on the river bed
And his master took his head
To put on his lap
To see the flash of life
Taking wings through eyes!
The horse had the satiety
Of saving his master
And serving him to keep alive!
poem by Vadakkumpurath Ramesan
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He Entered Into Battle With A Blunt Edged Sword
He entered into battle with a blunt edged sword,
But he did not know quite why.
His sword selection was done without motive,
To battle and kill his fellow man.
So subconsciously he picked out this sword.
This sword not of this world, not out to cut to bleed.
But this innocent man didn't wish to realize,
What prize he would pay.
In midst of this battle, recieving the swiftest,
Blows from his enemy,
This soldier just kept getting hurt.
Five, six and seven more blows made him hit back,
This soldier proudly used his blunt sword,
Till his nemesis bearing a razor sharp one,
Came along and challenged the already fallen one,
Who gave a swift plunge into his enemy's heart.
But the enemy did not stagger or fall.
Neither did the soldier with the blunt sword.
This soldier's enemy left the battleground,
When he saw that the one with the blunt sword,
Knew all along the possibility of his death.
Still he fought, so he himself could die,
Which the other soldier was saddened by that man's stance.
He told that man, 'if we all fought battles with a blunt
sword,
Then we would all truly win,
For the battleground would know no mortality.
He further told him, 'because of you, your side
Truly wins. But so does our.
We love you,
Blunt edged sword soldier man.'
poem by Vera Sidhwa
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Freedom and indedendence form my character.
quote by Mustafa Kemal Ataturk (24 April 1921)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Science is the only true guide in life.
quote by Mustafa Kemal Ataturk (22 September 1924)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Losing Armies
May 1945, the occupying forces in Norway surrenders, a flag
is lowered another one hoisted. The occupiers’ commandant
hand his revolver to the man from the home front, there is
dignity. The enemy now prisoners, go back to their barracks
and wait to be skipped home to their country.
Another war, in the Middle East 70 years later, the occupiers
leave in the night unseen by the masses, they too have lost
but pretend they are victors. No dignity, only an unspoken
sense of dishonor. And the soldiers, of the vanquished army,
will be demobbed, given medals and sacrifices are forgotten.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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These Are The Days
Ah ah
Heres a song
About living in the past
If it was so good then
How come it didnt last?
If it helps you
Ill put it in a phrase
Those were the times
But these are the days
These are the days
These are the days
These are the days
These are the days
These are the days
The times youre smiling back on
Had that great sitcom
It hardly compensated
For the terror of the bomb
Let me help
cause youre looking through a haze
Those were the times
These are the days
These are the days
Hey hey hey
These are the days
Can you hear me now?
These are the days
Look around look around look around
These are the days
These are the days
Hey hey live today
These are the days
Its time to put the past away
These are the days
The more you do the more you say
These are the days
The more I need to get away
Youre longing for a time
There never was
Now tell me the truth
Youre looking for the reason
Its because
Youre fighting for youth
But if I have to listen any more
To fantasy talk
Or any other bug you have
Im leaving
Now Im not saying
Everything is really great
Hey hey hey
After sixteen years
Of legalised class hate
Why waste time
Looking back for things to praise?
Those were the times huh
But these are the days
These are the days
Looking back in history
These are the days
Time to get contempory
These are the days
The past is not the place to be
song performed by by Human League
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A brave Field Cornet
From a hillock
two Boer commandoes
ride into an English camp
and a few of the British are shot,
a lot are caught
and most flee away.
In the direction of the Tuli river
the enemy are followed in haste
where they join comrades
driving a ox wagon
and the Boers are marksmen
and the English flee again
to find shelter in a farmhouse.
The house is shot to pieces
and for the third time on one day
the British flee again
and the next day,
the Boer commando captures nine wagons
with food and ammunition.
The day following Boer scouts
find an abandoned enemy camp
with burned out fires,
tents, horses and mules
and see a big cloud of dust
coming along in their direction.
There’s a Field Cornet
that does not ride away,
while two Boer commandos
escapes to safety.
At dusk Jacobus Potgieter
finds more men with a canon
set on a hillock
and with just more than twenty men,
he prepares
to give resistance to a huge enemy force.
The darker the night gets,
the nearer the cloud of dust comes
and Jacobus Potgieter and his men
are ready to shoot killing shots
and to let no Englishmen past them
and there’s a rambling sound,
but no enemy appear
and they are invaded
by a swarm of locusts.
[Reference: The “JJ Potgieter manuscript.” Second Anglo-Boer war. Boer commando= A group of Boer farmers in a citizen force militia under a Commandant (Lieutenant-Colonel) .]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Gideon Scheepers
There’s a Boer commandant
that proofs himself at Magersfontein
and help to beat the British there
and at Paardeberg on horseback,
rides right through them
and they cannot touch him.
When his commando
enters the Cape Colony
rail tracts are blown away
and British trains stand and wait
and there are many Cape Boers
that joins him
to fight against
the overwhelming British might.
The British give guns
to the black population
and send them to farmsteads
to murder women and children
and to rape
and to Gideon Scheepers it’s more than enough
and it hits him like a hammer blow
and every black man
that his commando catches carrying a firearm
is hanged.
Then it happens
that the British find Gideon Scheepers
lying ill in the field
and they execute him
and somewhere in the field
he is pushed into an unmarked grave
and even today
nobody knows where
Gideon Scheepers lies.
[References: The rank of Commandant is equivalent to that of Lieutenant-Colonel. The heroic story of Gideon Scheepers during the second Anglo-Boer war.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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The havoc of war
a Smoking and burning
enemy battle tank
stands stopped in its tracks,
like a metal coffin
with its occupants
still hatched in.
a BRDM enemy armoured car
is encased by leaping flames
and the phosphoric burning smell
is churning in my guts.
Some dead Cuban soldiers lay
cut from the stem
mangled in blood and guts
and the machinegun is still chattering
and I wish to be,
in another place and time
than to be a part
of this slaughtering.
a Bleating Gemsbok rushes past
trying to outrun the flames,
that leap through the field
while the machines of war
brings death to the living.
Shot after shot is fired
at killing range
and it’s hot and deafening
inside the Ratel,
but the wind
brushes through my hair
where I stand
in the top hatch
and trees and bushes
sweep past
as if screened in a movie house.
Enemy armour keeps exploding
and my voice sounds strange
and unfamiliar to me,
while I give directions
for the next killing.
poem by Gert Strydom
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4th Of July Asbury Park (Sandy)
We fell in love and I made you the world
I spent all my time tryin' to satisfy you, girl
Just one thing that I can't figure out [?]
Closer I get, farther baby I am out [?]
30 days, 30 days out
Well I'm six days runnin' but I'm 30 days out
30 days, 30 days out
With every kiss you leave a little shadow of doubt
The roof was leakin' honey where we live
And I'm wonderin' what's that something that you won't give
I started loving you but I gotta stop
You got me mostly waitin' for that other shoe to drop
30 days, 30 days out
You keep me six days runnin' but I'm 30 days out
30 days, 30 days out
With every kiss you leave a little shadow of doubt
Tried to talk about what's goin' on
You just smile and tell me
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's The Conquerors Who Write The History
As they chased the wild bison on horse back they whooped and cheered loud
And they were great hunters so noble and proud
But now on the prairies the bison are rare
And the people who hunted them no longer there.
Of the great Northern Land the first people till the invaders came
And their tragic dispossession is a thing of great shame
Conquered and put into reservations for to grow old and die
The rights of Indigenous people to them did not apply.
It's the conquerors who write history as we have been told
And men they have murdered for Land and for Gold
But what matters most when history we trace
That a Country's first people must take pride of place.
You great country singers with your golden guitars,
You politicians and tycoons and billionaire movie stars
There once was a people far greater than you
And to Mother Nature they were far more true.
And the workings of Nature they did understand
And they were the people who cared for the Land
And they were displaced and oppressed and down trod
By those who believed in a different God.
They once were great warriors, wise, noble and proud
And they gave us Chief Seattle and wise Chief White Cloud
And their profound words of wisdom still living today
And such things of great beauty will never decay.
The truth may seem bitter but the truth we must face
That a Country's first people should take pride of place
And around the World Indigenous people are not treated well
Though they have such marvellous stories to tell.
The conquerors write the history as conquerors do
But to the true history they never are true
And the conquered the history never will write
And we are conditioned to believe that might is always right.
The changes keep happening and nothing seem to last
And the great herds of bison a thing of the past
And those who once hunted them were locked away
And in reservations were forced for to stay.
Out on the lone prairie their ghosts still reside
At midnight the hunters their spotted horses ride
As they chase the wild bison across the great plain
The past in the moonlight comes to life again.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Battle Of The Bed
When I cannot sleep
and I toss and turn
all night listless long
my bed is my enemy.
When I am absolutely exhausted
or really exceptionally tired
or on wet rainy dismal days
my bed is my beloved best friend.
Then bedtime
is a wonderful time
then ace I win
the battle of the bed.
Such nights and days
are wonderful times
and restorative bed
is the best place to be.
When I have aced won
the battle of home bed.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Nine Eleven Zero One (misplaced poem)
(09/13/11)
Two days before my birthday
The united states was attacked
By a band of terrorists
That threw this country back.
Never in our history did another
Country come into ours.
Bringing destruction and death
Like a thunderous shower.
They say they did it for ALLAH
Which I find it hard to believe
That GOD, no matter what he may
Be known as, would tell people
To kill one another - knowing that
there are so many who are sister and brother.
So many different religions, so many
Different beliefs, would not do this
To put a country in grief.
A war whether it be declared or not
Have soldiers meet on a battlefield.
There is no honor when you sneak
Up on another and thrust a knife in their back.
Maybe this is the reason it’s called a sneak attack.
They are convinced that martyrs they will be
And that they will LIVE - in their country’s history.
If it is six months from now, or twenty years from now
Their names will never be remembered or put on a plaque
The cards are against them, its already been stacked.
We will find the origin from where they came
And their country s life will never be the same.
So to the supporters of this terrorist attack
We will search for you, there’ll be no turning back.
poem by Louis Rams
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Nationalistic Catastrophe Inequitable? No!
In New Zealand – (developing)
potential equals people
proven source sowing
shared future prosperity?
In Turkey rapidly
expanding masses
within relatively
limited land mass.
Is financially
exploited force separatist formalization;
shorn sociologically
suppressed resource regional degeneration?
Environmental economic republic ruination
potentially nationalistic splintered annihilation?
Nationalism to ensure
continued engendered capitalistic sodality;
maintains status-quo elite
puppeting manipulated republic reality?
Atatürk was wise enough to know
that political economic and cultural reforms;
an Age of Enlightenment was required
to transform the Ottoman Empire...
into a modern secular nation-state. Kemalism!
Atatürk’s radical reforms inspirationally
guided a fledgling nation with educational;
and scientific progress fusing enlightenment
positivism rationalism realism pragmatism
and secularism into a constitution sacrosanct.
Without pause without transition, the progressive
unfolding, the implementation of Kemalism; the
active modification of Turkish society; adapting
Western institutions with Turkish traits patterns,
to make them, indelibly a part of Turkish culture!
Generations of cultural and social experience, the
collective vibrant memory, of the Turkish nation!
Atatürk’s blessed social and political vision are
sacrosanct; must remain irreversible; indelibly
etched; into the Republic’s nationalistic freedom!
Kemalism decrees that in the Republic of Turkey;
all laws should be inspired by the actual needs;
of citizens; here on Earth; as a basis of national life!
Of all Atatürk’s wise sayings I still love best;
his concept ‘Peace at Home Peace in the World! ’
poem by Terence George Craddock
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