Dark soul in the broad daylight
A poor chap is digging trenches
in the frontier beneath the Sungod.
He is not in regular army
who enrol voluntarily.
Like an arrow he has fallen to the earth
who cannot read and write.
For the daily wage he press his thumb mark
on the matt finished wages sheet
but his cataract blurred the notes.
He scorch like charcoal
and he sweats like an ocean.
During the short interval he take a catnap
and he dreams who became the Major General.
He is bit unhappy when he come to the reality
But this brave soul's smile covers all his mentality.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Related quotes
What is a general without his troops?
What is a general without his troops?
Whom he knows, down to the last injury
From the naive to the brave
Digging trenches deep within.
Witness to the great reach of humanity
More so than bravery.
On the battlefield.
When one soldier leaps to rescue another
The heart warms, a greater tribute than any medal of valour.
For in the end, what is a man, without a friend?
poem by Kamini Arichandran
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A Dot On White Sheet!
Green leaves of spring are not there;
Colourful flowers of all seasons are gone;
Only white snow covers all in winter!
Winter snow thick or thin is white sheet
That covers all colourful things long!
Scrubbing snow on the road is a daily exercise
To clear route for all vehicles to go smooth;
All covered with fur cloth move in the street;
This white snow is like a white sheet of paper;
All the movements on it are the dots of scribble!
Writers are hungry of white paper to write on;
Poets are fond of writing poems on white sheet;
And the matters on white paper are men on snow;
But nobody likes winter as all are for colourful life!
poem by Ramesh T A
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The Fields of France
JESUS CHRIST they chased away
Comes again another day.
Could they do without Him then
His poor lost unhappy men?
He returns and is revealed
In the trenches and the field.
Where the dead lie thick He goes,
Where the brown earth's red as a rose,
He who walked the waters wide
Treads the wine-press, purple-dyed,
Stoops, and bids the piteous slain
That they rise with Him again.
To His breast and in his cloak
Bears the younglings of the flock:
Calls His poor sheep to come home
And His sheep rise up and come.
They shall rest by a clear pool
'Mid the pastures beautiful!
Jesus Christ they chased away
Has come back another day.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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The Diggers
The diggers are digging, and digging deep,
They’re digging and singing,
And I’m asleep.
They’re digging and singing and swiftly they’re swinging
The flying earth as it falls in a heap.
And some of it scatters and falls on my head;
But the diggers dig on. They can only dig.
They can only sing and their eyes are big,
Their eyes are big and heavy as lead.
They dig and they sing and they think I’m dead
The diggers are digging, and filling the hole.
They’re sighing and singing.
They pray for my soul.
I hear what they say, and from where I am lying,
I hear a new corporal calling the roll.
But the diggers dig on and fill in my bed,
They diggers dig on, and they sweat and they sweat.
They sigh and they sign, and their wyes are wet.
The brown earth clatters and covers my head;
Then I laugh and I laugh, for they think that I’m dead.
poem by Leon Gellert
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Charcoal Night
On a charcoal night the owl calls.
On a charcoal night wolves sharpen their claws.
On a charcoal night children shake with fear.
The charcoal night is growing near.
On a charcoal night the demon dogs sing.
On a charcoal night the little stars gleam.
On a charcoal night the air goes cold.
The nightmares and stories are always told.
On a charcoal night wolves wet their fangs.
On a charcoal night the owls call rang.
On a charcoal night the beasts are out.
On a charcoal night this is their town.
On a charcoal night lock up the doors.
On a charcoal night don't sleep on the floors.
On a charcaol night say good bye to those dear.
Because the charcaol night is finally hear.
poem by Okami Kamikaze
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If I Had A Million In Money
Though money will not save you from the reaper and your mental depression won't cure
I'd rather be wealthy and unhappy than to be unhappy and poor
For how can some one poor be truly happy and it does not make much sense to me
When some says he is happy go lucky though he is living in poverty?
If I had a million in money I could help out a needy few
For if you are a poor ordinary battler not much to help out can you do
I know what it feels like without money one might say tell us something new
And that money can speak any language as ever happens to be true.
You may be a well meaning person a kind soul with a heart of gold
But lack of money is your major drawback the same old story as of old
And without money you cannot do much for others though you can help them in some other way
Like doing work for some needy person without asking for any pay.
If I had a million in money I could help a few friends in need
And others would say he is generous and by good example he lead
But I am as poor as a church mouse and I've never been financially secure
And like everyone lacking in money I cannot do much for the poor.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Like any parents, mine wanted me to have a secure job with a regular wage and career prospects. And the one job my father knew of, that he'd had experience of himself, was the army, so he could help me in that direction.
quote by James Blunt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Certainly other things we can do, we gotta promote after-school employment, give kids an opportunity, raising the minimum wage was part of that, we can't expect that young people are going to feel they can make a living out there for such low wages.
quote by Matt Gonzalez
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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And I My Poem/I Could Not Write
AND I MY POEM/ COULD NOT WRITE
And I my poem
Could not write
Because I heard
Another light.
And fear and far
So deep in me
Distanced my Eternity.
But suddenly my soul in strain
Heard its song once again
And for this little interval
I dare not let myself be still
Instead I’ll laugh and sing again
And play and pray
Until my end -
And nothing in this night or death
Will ever let my mind forget
That I need God
Whatever I do
God and me and also you.
Read read this little poem I pray
This is my blessing for this day.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A whole army, though they can neither write nor read, are not afraid of a platform, which they know is but earth or stone; nor of a cannon, which, without a hand to give fire to it, is but cold iron; therefore a whole army is afraid of one man.
quote by James Harrington
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Battle of Tel-el-Kebir
Ye sons of Great Britain, come join with me,
And sing in praise of Sir Garnet Wolseley;
Sound drums and trumpets cheerfully,
For he has acted most heroically.
Therefore loudly his praises sing
Until the hills their echoes back doth ring;
For he is a noble hero bold,
And an honour to his Queen and country, be it told.
He has gained for himself fame and renown,
Which to posterity will be handed down;
Because he has defeated Arabi by land and by sea,
And from the battle of Tel-el-Kebir he made him to flee.
With an army about fourteen thousand strong,
Through Egypt he did fearlessly march along,
With the gallant and brave Highland brigade,
To whom honour is due, be it said.
Arabi's army was about seventy thousand in all,
And, virtually speaking, it wasn't very small;
But if they had been as numerous again,
The Irish and Highland brigades would have beaten them, it is plain.
'Twas on the 13th day of September, in the year of 1882,
Which Arabi and his rebel horde long will rue;
Because Sir Garnet Wolseley and his brave little band
Fought and conquered them on Kebir land.
He marched upon the enemy with his gallant band
O'er the wild and lonely desert sand,
And attacked them before daylight,
And in twenty minutes he put them to flight.
The first shock of the attack was borne by the Second Brigade,
Who behaved most manfully, it is said,
Under the command of brave General Grahame,
And have gained a lasting honour to their name.
But Major Hart and the 18th Royal Irish, conjoint,
Carried the trenches at the bayonet point;
Then the Marines chased them about four miles away,
At the charge of the bayonet, without dismay!
General Sir Archibald Alison led on the Highland Brigade,
Who never were the least afraid.
And such has been the case in this Egyptian war,
For at the charge of the bayonet they ran from them afar!
With their bagpipes playing, and one ringing cheer,
And the 42nd soon did the trenches clear;
Then hand to hand they did engage,
And fought like tigers in a cage.
Oh! it must have been a glorious sight
To see Sir Garnet Wolseley in the thickest of the fight!
In the midst of shot and shell, and the cannons roar,
Whilst the dead and the dying lay weltering in their gore.
Then the Egyptians were forced to yield,
And the British were left masters of the field;
Then Arabi he did fret and frown
To see his army thus cut down.
Then Arabi the rebel took to flight,
And spurred his Arab steed with all his might:
With his heart full of despair and woe,
And never halted till he reached Cairo.
Now since the Egyptian war is at an end,
Let us thank God! Who did send
Sir Garnet Wolseley to crush and kill
Arabi and his rebel army at Kebir hill.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Arabs Please Pay Heed Feb 24th,2011
The Arabs have a choice: accept the next dictator or change,
Usually a general from the army, who then becomes deranged,
No matter who he/she is, they should be there no more than four years,
Because after that they go power mad or so it appears.
Someone has to sit down and write a constitution for all,
Go to Switzerland, read their’s because they are on the ball,
You have to elect a president by name – not party or rank,
And not someone standing on top of a big orange army tank.
Then put the constitution to the people for a yes or no,
Your first referendum with luck and several more to go,
Getting rid of a dictator is one but starting up is two,
You follow my instructions though everything is new.
FEB 24TH,2011
poem by James Bredin
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Why I Write?
I write poems for myself and I write for the readers
I write for the masses and I write for the leaders
I write to imprint my thoughts in people's mind
I write to make the bad guys helpful and kind
I write to light up our path to Great God
I write for everyone home and abroad
I write to preserve values new and old
I write to make my ink precious like gold
I write for peace and I write for progress
I write to make the world a better place
All major issues I want to address
I write to see smile on God's face
poem by Asif Andalib
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Smile-once More
SMILE-ONCE MORE
smile caressing your lips
fondles my body in bliss
smile a glossy smile
to enliven my mind in style
smile a smile to sparkle
to enlighten my soul to dazzle
smile and smile with you
enthrone my spirit with you
smile a lustrous smile
to enrich my route awhile
smile for Heavens to bloom
smile to cast away my gloom
smile as moonlight glance
see my rhythmic dance
smile on my shoulders' wings
Oh! listen, the bird sings
smile when at its best
cast Cupid's arrow on my chest
(i noticed that more people read my poem 'smile'.so i felt smile is more powerful than 'War' which almost went unnoticed.Hence, this poem happened to me)
poem by Prasanna Kumari
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Falling
In dreams I was
Falling
But in reality I was
Leaping
In dreams I was
Crying
But in reality I was
Waiting
Is there a difference?
In dreams I was
Running
But in reality I was
Walking
In dreams I was
Dying
But in reality I was
Living,
Catching,
Helping,
But helpless,
Watching the earth die
I write
I write and imagine
and create my own story
and what I think I write down
without anybody being able to stop me
and there’s a knight clothed in steel
who’s finished fighting and unsaddles his horse.
I write and imagine
and make everybody’s story
of peace descending to earth,
children honouring their parents,
being exemplary and prepared to study,
but reality is cruel and naked
and I write and imagine.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Tears..Peace..Night Smile..Fear..Time..Fate. The Seven Oceans Of Pain
Swimming across the first ocean, i met my friend-tears
he has been living there, for so many many years
he keeps count of all the tears, i have shed
on every tear, her name is tagged, and my future is read.
Swimming across the second ocean, i met my friend-peace
he left me, the day my heart shattered to pieces
im the master of peace, said, he'll keep the shattered pieces whole
i'll hand your heart over to you, when i departure with your soul.
Swimming across the third ocean, i met my friend-night
he lives there holding on to my dreams so very tight
in every dream, there's a showcase, a portrait of my never ending love
love, love destiny only lies in the heavens above.
Swimming across the fourth ocean, i met my friend :) smile
he deserted me the day she refused to walk down the aisle
capturing all the sadness that lies beneath my face
he said go i'll keep them safe, there'll be in your memory for you to chase.
Swimming across the fifth ocean, i met my friend fear
everytime i try to go in search of her
he appeares in my way with a sing that signals this is the end
i fear not, i fear not, i fear not, for my heart is damaged and will it ever mend?
Swimming across the sixth ocean, i met my friend-time
he laughed and said, your late thats a crime, yes a crime of loving her
thats what happens when you love someone more than what you could do
now my friend, you have to wait in line, for your portal to let you through.
Swimming across the seventh ocean, i met my friend fate
care in his eyes, you know love is a hard journey, and not all can enter its gate
in every journey you take my friend, the pain will always remain
for you to succeed you have to cross the Seven Oceans Of Pain.
My friends
Tears..Peace..Night
Smile..Fear..Time..Fat e.
The Seven Oceans Of Pain.
Written in Salma Torrez's notes
since 2001
Copyright.
poem by Salma. Torrez
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Your Tears Are My Scars
'Kid, you can do it'
I've been told all my life
but now I feel like
I've fallen short
when I look at you
all I do is this
say 'I can't do it'
then walk away
you're my strength
my hopes and dreams
my need for wanting
to find true love
oh, true love
when will I meet you
when will I see
we just can't be
if only you felt
like I do for you
maybe I'd smile
at least once
I like you
so damn much
let a bullet strike my heart
only to save you
let your tears
be my scars
and let your love
fill my heart
just so you know
if I die today
it's because you
take the air from me
I want to breath
the air you do
I want to see
that smile too
I'm trying to
get over you
but that is really
hard to do
you mean a lot
just like the rain
how nothing will happen
without a down poor
oh my dear
where is the smile
the one I fell for
then one I love?
poem by Katherine Bryce
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Catnap
The tiger looked with expert eyes,
Content to see for miles...
And in his own eyes he was wise,
His black heart full of wiles...
There was no doubt within his mind,
This was the time to choose...
A better time he wouldn't find
For him to have a snooze...
He stretched his awesome long legs out,
Then curled up in a ball...
Quite sure there was no-one about,
His catnap came to call...
His eyelids drooped, like weary tails,
Their blackness dead ahead...
And nothing short of fearsome gales
Could open them instead...
Deep breaths and he was on his way,
To where all tigers go,
When big cats' dreams they must obey
And this each one must know...
His whiskers flopped like withered strings,
No longer tight and taut...
So much for tigers thought as kings,
If by his dreams, he's caught...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Catnap'.
The Stephen Gayford poems can be viewed here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Perhaps Just To Myself Alone.....
perhaps to leave a mark
of what i am
i must leave a memory of
us,
but it is not just possible
there is no us
we're like lovers who
got entangled in the arms of
foreign cities
so perhaps to leave a mark
without us
i can just write and write
anything i wish
anything i can imagine that
could have been a possibility
or perhaps i can tell you
that the best i can do is to accept
that without you my life
can still be a beautiful thought
whatever,
i still must a leave a mark
a kiss on the earth's surface
that perhaps you can
feel
sometimes i laugh at myself
awed by the
wonders of my
own grasping about what is this
loneliness
all about
perhaps after i have crossed this
border
i shall remember
perhaps alone i can smile in the
mirror
and then finally
tell it all
whatever, perhaps just to myself alone
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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