Fortresses
Fortresses are built on the mighty mounds
Keeping war within the country, and it sounds.
Fight along the time of war and you are victorious,
Just as the ancestry will prevail in your mentality.
Forcing the imagination with war-like attributes
Cancels the war effort, and effort must be preserved.
To win the skirmish of war is faster in the thinking
And once we see surrender, we see a flag of joy.
We need fortresses of great weight and danger
That have feeling of battle, on the top of the head.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Of Dimitrios Sotir
Everything he'd hoped for turned out wrong.
He'd seen himself doing great things,
ending the humiliation that had kept his country down
ever since the battle of Magnesia
seen himself making Syria a powerful state again,
with her armies, her fleets,
her big fortresses, her wealth.
He'd suffered in Rome, become bitter
when he sensed in the talk of friends,
young men of the great families,
that in spite of all their delicacy, their politeness
toward him, the son
of King Selefkos Philopator-
when he sensed that in spite of this there was always
a secret contempt for the Hellenized dynasties:
their heyday was over, they weren't fit for anything serious,
were completely unable to rule their peoples.
He'd cut himself off, indignant, swearing
it would be quite different from the way they thought.
Why, wasn't he himself full of determination?
He would act, he would fight, he would put it all right again.
If he could only find a way of getting to the East,
only manage to escape from Italy,
then all this inner strength,
all this energy,
he'd pass on to his people.
Only to be in Syria!
He was so young when he left his country
he hardly remembered what it looked like.
But in his mind he'd always thought of it
as something sacred that you approach reverently,
as a beautiful place unveiled, a vision
of Greek cities and Greek ports.
And now?
Now despair and sorrow.
They were right, the young men in Rome.
The dynasties resulting from the Macedonian Conquest
can't be kept going any longer.
It doesn't matter. He'd made the effort,
fought as much as he could.
And in his bleak disillusion
there's only one thing in which he still takes pride:
that even in failure
he shows the world his same indomitable courage.
The rest: they were dreams and wasted energy.
This Syria -it almost seems it isn't his country
this Syria is the land of Valas and Herakleidis.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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On occasion we need to make a second effort - and a third effort, and a fourth effort, and as many degrees of effort as may be required to accomplish what we strive to achieve.
quote by Thomas S. Monson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Freedom's Battle-Song
RED, white, blue, the flag that leads us on,
Stripes as red as blood well shed by many a hero gone.
Now 'tis ours to storm the towers of tyranny and wrong,
Freedom's sons who front the guns with Freedom's battle-song.
Fly the flag from dome and steeple,
Fly the flag from home and school,
Flag of Freedom's birth,
While we battle that the rule
Of the people
By the people
For the people
Shall prevail o'er all the earth.
Red, white, blue, the flag that leads us on,
White as peace for whose release our fighting gear we don;
Peace enchained, crushed, profaned, shall yet in beauty stand,
Yet shall bless with fruitfulness her desolated land.
Fly the flag from dome and steeple,
Fly the flag from home and school,
Flag of Freedom's birth
While we battle that the rule
Of the people
By the people
For the people
Shall prevail o'er all the earth.
Red, white, blue, the flag that leads us on,
Blue as skies whose starry eyes shall see our victory won.
Freedom's sons and champions, to her our hearts are true,
We who fight for Human Right, and the Red,
White, Blue.
Fly the flag from dome and steeple,
Fly, the flag from home and school,
Flag of Freedom's birth,
While we battle that the rule
Of the people
By the people
For the people
Shall prevail o'er all the earth.
poem by Katharine Lee Bates
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In The Cold
My hazard is a parcel for us to collect in the cold,
When wizards bite the skin of their own, in the cold.
My innocence resides in the head of my trustworthy soul,
Please be obedient to me when obeying to enthrone, in this cold.
My thought is your thinker’s achievement, for you saw,
And I as a seer am a fountain all alone, in the cold.
To strive is goodness, to think for the soul works well,
Let religious views be the issues of concern the wind has blown in the cold.
To be strong the backbone needs strengthening so well,
Once the effort of the high spirits becomes a cyclone in the cold.
Justice needed my deity to prescribe separate laws for all conditions,
Hot or cold, warm or cool, the effort of a man or a clone, in the cold.
Let us be never weak with danger, so high, so mighty as a goal,
And this test must be achieved when flown, in the cold.
I have danger and with this belief in my heart to not shake,
The name I am called is the noun I have grown, even in the cold.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Mighty Fine Blues
Feeling mighty fine
Feeling mighty fine at this time, yes I am
Feeling mighty fine
Feeling mighty fine at this time, yes indeed
Walk down any street
Pass the people you meet
What is it about this place that keeps you on your feet
Feeling mighty fine
Feeling mighty fine at this time, yes I am
Feeling mighty fine
Feeling mighty fine at this time, yes indeed
Night is coming down
Closer to the ground
Gonna have a little fun while I'm still around
Feeling mighty fine
Feeling mighty fine at this time, yes I am
Feeling mighty fine
Feeling mighty fine at this time, yes indeed
Don't believe the words they say to you when their soul's hurting
Don't believe a word they say about me because I'm feeling mighty fine
Think I gotta go
Think I'm gonna die
Oh my God somethings wrong
The end is coming near
because I'm
Feeling mighty fine
feeling mighty fine at this time, yes I am
Feeling mighty fine
Feeling mighty fine at this time, yes I am, yes I am
song performed by by Eels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When something can be read without effort, great effort has gone into its writing.
quote by Enrique Jardiel Poncela
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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When something can be read without effort, great effort has gone into its writing.
quote by Enrique Jardiel Poncela
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Surrender
Baby I’m waving the white flag.
I’m giving up.
I surrender.
You have captured my heart.
You have imprisoned my soul.
There is no escaping for what I’m feeling.
And I’m here to tell you I am sentence for life.
Sentenced to love you and care for you until death do we part?
And since I no longer can or want to fight against it.
Baby I’m waving the white flag.
I’m giving up.
I surrender.
I surrender to our love.
Sweat is sweet
Sweat is
A metabolic outcome
Of an exercise
In a bio system
Human sweat is salty
But it is really sweet
As once you sweat
You are going to gain
It indicates the effort
That goes on inside
More the sweat
Greater the effort
Sweat is not always
The water droplets
Seen on the surface of a body
It may be within
And it could be a emotional outburst
But ensure such emotions are
Positive, proactive and creative
Whatever it is
Sweat is synonymous with effort
Greater the effort
More the sweat
And sweeter the gain
Often we think of
Doing away with sweating
And you natrually are
Doing away with the effort
The gain of such an effort
Cannot be that sweet
We take pride in not having sweated
In achieving a gain
But such a gain is not
Really a gain
Sweat, but, enthusiastically
With love and affection
Towards the effort
With the understanding that
Sweating is no suffering
Let it be a voluntary struggle
With clear goal and destination
In mind
You will understand that
Sweat is sweet
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Surrender
White flag white flag
Jesus be lord of my life
Come and rule that is thine
Fix the shambles And strife
This man is your vassel
Tell me what u want done
Whatever it is, help me i pray
Surrender to one
White flag white flag
Waving in hollow defeat
The enemy has finally won
Brave man hung by the feet
Surrender after surrender
God what have we done! ?
help us please remember
Surrender to one
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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Thank You For My Freedom
November 11th is Veteran’s Day
Where we will bow our heads and pray.
You have been in the big battle,
Where the guns shoot and rattle.
In the dark, dull night,
You grab your artillery and fight.
You are a patriotic man,
Giving America a helping hand.
As I lay in bed and gaze,
I’ll talk to GOD and give you praise.
In my mind you are fighting our enemy,
For the sake of keeping the USA joyous and free.
You are crotched behind a crumbling wall,
Keeping our country strong and tall.
Over in America we are doing just fine,
Hoping you will soon be home from the battle line.
Our flag is still standing and dancing,
While our veteran’s are prancing.
You are as strong and tough as a nail,
Always watching your back from another gun shell.
Thank you all for helping me,
But mostly for keeping America free.
Sam Murphy
Age 10
poem by Sam Murphy
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But with the Berlin, I was able to allow him to get near, but not quite near enough, and I knew where to draw the line with the fortresses I had set up.
quote by Vladimir Kramnik
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Appreciated Effort
Examining him from head to toe,
I've my own worries to share with you;
She saw love in him and couldn't stop looking.
Examining him from head to toe,
I can't shoulder your problems as well;
His skin was as young as a boy.
Appreciated effort,
With love, scope and imaginations;
Appreciated effort,
With sharply defined muscles over his torso;
That's the love that she finds in him.
Very handsome, very lovely;
An appreciated effort to the one she loves.
Very pretty, very lovely;
An appreciated effort to the one she loves.
What we do and how we do it is all in the name of love,
'Ah, mademoiselle'!
The voice of the man to the curious woman;
She saw love by examining him from head to toe.
He is really a poet and the inevitable occurred,
Dressed in a flowing lavender gown to approach the man;
Ah! Their love met with a kiss,
'Oh my dear'! She finally managed to say words like these;
But the human brain of his man is very far ahead of mankind.
I'm not certain but only hopeful,
'You are mine and mine only' were the very words;
She had finally found love by examining him from head to toe.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The mighty coward
He was called the king of zanga,
his physique so built he's glaring with danger.
He lost his banter, now frowning with fire
his eyes red and strong, he's glowing with anger.
He found great pleasure in oppressing the weak,
they tremble in fear, for he threatens to kill.
He was seen as a mighty warlord,
for he was good with the sword.
He goes all over impossing fear.
wherever he goes, he lives a sign of death.
His palace is filled with skulls
of those slain by his sword,
and he smiles with bliss after tasting their blood.
But soon after, his rulling days were ended
for he became a coward in the sight of death.
He lost courage at the battle field,
his hands trembling, losing his sword.
His mighty heart had fled,
his terror rage quenched.
He saw a warrior like beast and was scared
trying to run, his head was cut off from his neck.
Now the great terror is no more,
for hiss terror days was ended on the battle field.
The mighty warrioir died a mighty coward,
for his fear got him slain by that warrior like beast.
poem by Randy Micheal
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Veterans
When the last charge sounds
And the battle thunders o'er the plain,
Thunders o'er the trenches where the red streams flow,
Will it not be well with us,
Veterans, veterans,
If, beneath your torn old flag, we burst upon the foe?
When the last post sounds
And the night is on the battle-field,
Night and rest at last from all the tumult of our wars,
Will it not be well with us,
Veterans, veterans,
If, with duty done like yours, we lie beneath the stars?
When the great réveillé sounds
For the terrible last Sabbath,
All the legions of the dead shall hear the trumpet ring!
Will it not be well with us,
Veterans, veterans,
If, beneath your torn old flag, we rise to meet our King?
poem by Alfred Noyes
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A Resilient Child
Positive outlook initiative and effort
Progress and Friendship encouraging more effort
Expanding my interests building my skills
Effectiveness in work no longer just frills
Humor and focus with higher esteem
Critical thinking my teachers will gleam
Problem solving thinking abstractly
Handicaps dissolving progressing exactly
Now in control My feelings to share
No ones to wonder...MY POTENTIAL BEWARE!
poem by Robert John Meehan
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When my time comes again
When my time comes again
I will not fight it anymore
For I am too weak to carry on the battle.
When my time comes again
I will surrender.
My cold pale, heart cannot take such endoors
I am too weak to fight such a hatred battle.
And I am getting weaker by the second
Soon my time will come again
I shall not fight no more
poem by Makayla Straight
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Confession
I write
and I can also fight.
I fight for injustice.
I fight for sarcastic
and mislead of your mentality (incapability to fight for injustice) .
I am the protector of a devout,
at the same time, I bend my head in front of a scout.
You will see a' spark.'
A spark, which is unbeatable
because something is going intolerable....
You say, ' Humanity is a gift of the God.'
Yes, that's right.
So, I want to fight
for what gone to unfair.
Manpower has been corrupted in every layer (most of us are selfish) .
To die before death
is no doubt great
for those who the fellow of regret.
Ear-less will never realize it.
Thereby, I shall have to fight.
Please stand by me,
and, we shall again see
a prestigious, theistic world.....,
Yes, this is me. (but I am a simple and well - tempered boy)
poem by Bibhakar Dutta
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Johnny Boer
Men fight all shapes and sizes as the racing horses run,
And no man knows his courage till he stands before a gun.
At mixed-up fighting, hand to hand, and clawing men about
They reckon Fuzzy-Wuzzy is the hottest fighter out.
But Fuzzy gives himself away -- his style is out of date,
He charges like a driven grouse that rushes on its fate;
You've nothing in the world to do but pump him full of lead:
But when you're fighting Johhny Boer you have to use your head;
He don't believe in front attacks or charging at the run,
He fights you from a kopje with his little Maxim gun.
For when the Lord He made the earth, it seems uncommon clear,
He gave the job of Africa to some good engineer,
Who started building fortresses on fashions of his own --
Lunettes, redoubts, and counterscarps all made of rock and stone.
The Boer need only bring a gun, for ready to his hand
He finds these heaven-built fortresses all scattered through the land;
And there he sits and winks his eye and wheels his gun about,
And we must charge across the plain to hunt the beggar out.
It ain't a game that grows on us -- there's lots of better fun
Than charging at old Johnny with his little Maxim gun.
On rocks a goat could scarcely climb, steep as the walls of Troy,
He wheels a four-point-seven about as easy as a toy;
With bullocks yoked and drag-ropes manned, he lifts her up the rocks
And shifts her every now and then, as cunning as a fox.
At night you mark her right ahead, you see her clean and clear,
Next day at dawn -- "What, ho! she bumps" -- from somewhere in the rear.
Or else the keenest-eyed patrol will miss him with the glass --
He's lying hidden in the rocks to let the leaders pass;
But when the mainguard comes along he opens up the fun;
There's lots of ammunition for the little Maxim gun.
But after all the job is sure, although the job is slow.
We have to see the business through, the Boer has got to go.
With Nordenfeldt and lyddite shell it's certain, soon or late,
We'll hunt him from his kopjes and across the Orange State;
And then across those open flats you'll see the beggar run,
And we'll be running after him with our little Maxim gun.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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