En.Citatepedia^®.ro

About The Past Revolutions

you take pride of our country's past revolutions
theirs was bloody and cost the lives of many
fighters,
ours was peaceful, and recent
still fresh on our minds is the flying of doves letting them loose
from their metal cages,
and the confetti of shred secrets from those tall buildings in the city
where you live
the marching against tanks is simply matched
with a white daisy from the hand of a child
and the rosary of the bespectacled nun
gotten out from the convent,
you remind me about the greatness of the revolution
which i have no power to object
as you are the victor

how many times shall i lie to you
that i was never there

and neither did i ever see you
or your shadow marching blindly under
the scorching sun?

is there any harm when we should have told the truth
even without its innate elegance?

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When The Saints Go Marchin' In (Live)

WHEN THE SAINT GO MARCHING IN
Louis Armstrong
I: We are trav'ling in the footsteps
Of those who've gone before
But we'll all be reunited (But if we stand reunited)
On a new and sunlit shore (Then a new world is in store)
D - - - / G - - - / D - - - / A - - - /
D - - - / G - - - / D - A - / D - - - //
V: O when the Saints go marching in
When the Saints go marching in
O Lord I want to be in that number
When the Saints go marching in
D - - - / / / A7 - - - / D - - - / G - - - / D - A - / D - - - //
And when the sun refuse (begins) to shine
And when the sun refuse (begins) to shine
O Lord I want to be in that number
When the Saints go marching in
When the moon turns red with blood
When the moon turns red with blood
O Lord I want to be in that number
When the Saints go marching in
On that hallelujah day
On that hallelujah day
O Lord I want to be in that number
When the Saints go marching in
O when the trumpet sounds the call
O when the trumpet sounds the call
O Lord I want to be in that number
When the Saints go marching in
B: Some say this world of trouble
Is the only one we need
But I'm waiting for that morning
When the new world is revealed
(As Intro)
V: When the revelation (revolution) comes
When the revelation (revolution) comes
O Lord I want to be in that number
When the Saints go marching in
When the rich go out and work
When the rich go out and work
O Lord I want to be in that number
When the Saints go marching in
When the air is pure and clean
When the air is pure and clean
O Lord I want to be in that number
When the Saints go marching in
When we all have food to eat
When we all have food to eat
O Lord I want to be in that number
When the Saints go marching in
When our leaders learn to cry
When our leaders learn to cry
O Lord I want to be in that number
When the Saints go marching in
Bo Peterson

song performed by by Louis Armstrong
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When The Saints Go Marching In

We are traveling in the footsteps
Of those whove gone before
But well all be reunited (but if we stand reunited)
On a new and sunlit shore (then a new world is in store)
Oh when the saints go marching in
When the saints go marching in
Oh lord I want to be in that number
When the saints go marching in
And when the sun refuse (begins) to shine
And when the sun refuse (begins) to shine
Oh lord I want to be in that number
When the saints go marching in
When the moon turns red with blood
When the moon turns red with blood
Oh lord I want to be in that number
When the saints go marching in
On that hallelujah day
On that hallelujah day
Oh lord I want to be in that number
When the saints go marching in
Oh when the trumpet sounds the call
Oh when the trumpet sounds the call
Oh lord I want to be in that number
When the saints go marching in
Some say this world of trouble
Is the only one we need
But Im waiting for that morning
When the new world is revealed
When the revelation (revolution) comes
When the revelation (revolution) comes
Oh lord I want to be in that number
When the saints go marching in
When the rich go out and work
When the rich go out and work
Oh lord I want to be in that number
When the saints go marching in
When the air is pure and clean
When the air is pure and clean
Oh lord I want to be in that number
When the saints go marching in
When we all have food to eat
When we all have food to eat
Oh lord I want to be in that number
When the saints go marching in
When our leaders learn to cry
When our leaders learn to cry
Oh lord I want to be in that number
When the saints go marching in

song performed by by Louis Armstrong
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Little Homes

We have heard the cheering, brothers,
We have heard the martial peal;
We have seen the soldiers marching
And the glint of sun and steel.
We have heard the songs, the shouting;
But, while forth the soldier roams,
Who has heard the weeping, brothers,
In the Little Homes?

We have seen the gay processions
And the careless, laughing crowds.;
We have seen the banners waving
Out against the peaceful clouds;
Yet, while colors proudly flutter
Over noble spires and domes,
Who has seen the mourning, brothers,
In the Little Homes?

From the Little Homes that nestle
Where the smiling fields sweep wide,
From the Little Homes that huddle
In the city, side by side,
They have called the eager fighters
Men who went with smiles and cheers;
Pride of wives and pride of mothers,
Choking back the tears!

Women of the little homesteads,
Women of the city slums,
They are waiting, ever waiting;
And the sound of muffled drums
In some stricken Home is echoed,
Where grey Grief is guest to-day.
And to-morrow? Nay, the others
Still must wait - and pray.

What the Little Homes shall suffer,
What the Little Homes shall pay
Must be more than sturdy fighters,
More than women's grief to-day.
In the years that follow after,
Be our battles won or lost,
In the Little Homes, my brothers,
They shall pay the cost.

They shall pay the cost of glory,
They shall pay the price of peace,
Years and many long years after
All the sounds of battle cease.
When the sword is sheathed - or broken
When the battle flag is furled,
Still the Little Homes must suffer
Over all the World.

Have you seen the old grey mothers
Smiling to the ringing cheers?
Have you seen the young wives striving
Bravely to hold back the tears?
Have you seen the young girl marching
By her soldier-lover's side?
Have you, seen our country's women
All aglow with pride?

Then, shall we think shame, my brothers,
To give thanks upon our knees
That the land we love should hold them
Wives and mothers such as these?
Women who still hide their sorrow
As their soldiers march away,
Turning brave and steadfast faces
To the light of day?

Oh, the Little Homes are Cheerful
Little Homes that know no pride
But the pride of sacrificing
Loved ones to the battle tide!
They are many, many brothers,
And their sacrifice is great.
Shrines are they and sacred places,
Where the women wait.

Aye, the Little Homes are holy
At the closing of the day,
When young wives must face their sorrow,
When grey mothers kneel to pray,
Facing, all alone, dread visions
Of the land the soldier roams,
Then God heed the sobbing, brothers,
In the Little Homes.

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Workmen's March

Left foot! Right foot! Lines unbroken!
Keeping time is power's token.
That makes
one
of many, many,
That makes bold, if fear daunts any,
That makes small the load and lighter,
That makes near the goal and brighter,
Till it greets us gained with laughter,
And we seek the next one after.

Left foot! Right foot! Lines unbroken!
Keeping time is power's token.
Marching, marching of few hundreds,
No one heeds it, never one dreads;
Marching, marching of few thousands,
Here and there wakes some to hearing;
Marching, marching hundred thousands,-
All will mark that thunder nearing.

Left foot! Right foot! Lines unbroken!
Keeping time is power's token.
Let us march all, never weaken
Time from Vardö down to Viken,
Vinger up to Bergen's region,-
Let us make
one
marching legion,
Then we'll rout some wrong from Norway,
Open wide to right the doorway.

poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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Marching To Zion

Come ye that love the Lord
And let your joys be known
Join in a song with sweet accord
Join in a song with sweet accord
And thus surround the throne
And thus surround the throne
We're marching to Zion
Beautiful beautiful Zion
We're marching upward to Zion
The beautiful city of God
Then let our songs abound,And ev'ry tear
be dry
We're marching through Immanuel's ground
We're marching through Immanuel's ground
To fairer worlds on high
To fairer worlds on high
We're marching to Zion
Beautiful beautiful Zion
We're marching upward to Zion
The beautiful city of God
We're marching to Zion
Beautiful beautiful Zion
We're marching upward to Zion
The beautiful city of God

song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Past the Almighty Commander

I hear soldier’s boots
marching rhythmic
and they past in rows.

There’s no marching band
that accompanies the slow march,
just a bugle
that sounds melancholic.

The minister says his words
and I hear: “he’s now with God, ”
and something of dust to dust

The last trumpet’s notes
catches my ear
and there are some rifle shots
that I hear reporting.

An Orange, white and blue flag
is folded around the chest
that slowly disappears into the grave,
while tears stream down the cheeks
of a woman and some children.

The wind starts blowing
and some doves fly past
and I wonder what God does
with brave heroes?

Are there legions of angels
of the Lord
that return with flaming swords
from battles
with the darkness?

Do they also march in rank and row,
past the Almighty Commander?

poem by Gert Strydom
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Leave It Open

With my ego in my gut,
My babbling mouth would wash it up.
(but now Ive started learning how,)
I keep it shut.
My door was never locked,
Until one day a trigger come cocking.
(but now Ive started learning how,)
I keep it shut.
Wide eyes would clean and dust
Things that decay, things that rust.
(but now Ive started learning how,)
I keep em shut.
I keep em shut.
Harm is in us.
Harm is in us, but power to arm.
Harm is in us.
Harm in us, but power to arm.
Harm is in us.
(leave it open!)
Harm is in us, but power to arm.
Narrow mind would persecute it,
Die a little to get to it.
(but now Ive started learning how.)
I leave it open.
I kept it in a cage,
Watched it weeping, but I made it stay.
(but now Ive started learning how.)
I leave it open.
I leave it open.
Harm is in us.
Harm in us, but power to arm.
Harm is in us.
Harm in us, but power to arm.
Harm is in us.
(leave it open!)
Harm in us, but power to arm.
Harm is in us.
Harm in us, but power to arm.
Harm is in us.
(leave it open!)
Harm in us, but power to arm.
Harm is in us.
Harm in us, but power to arm.
Harm is in us.
Har in us, but power to arm.
Harm is in us!
Harm is in us!
Harm is in us!
Harm is in us!
Harm is in us!
Harm is in us--
Harm in you and in me!
What you letting in?
Tell me what youre letting in.
Say what were gonna let in!
We let the weirdness in.
We let the weirdness in.
We let the weirdness in.
We let the weirdness in.
We let the weirdness in.

song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When Scarborough Had Land

I remember Scarborough proud Protestant and blue,
With portraits of a Queen near every pew.
No Sunday shops, no music hops, no liquor on display,
Where the Lodges and the Legions marched each Victoria Day.

Where ensigns flew, Union Jacks too, unique uniforms on parade.
A raucous rush of pompous pride by pals from every trade,
As they beat the drum down Danforth Road on the twenty fourth of May,
Out to the country and back by Byng, again on Dominion Day.

Those were loyal times before the war for king and queen and all,
For more than a few, this love did cause, their ultimate downfall.
It did at Dieppe and D-day too like their seniors at the Somme,
They died for king and country; they did it for a song.

And soon they were forgotten, those who fought for king and crown,
Though those lucky to return had saved the country and the town.
They would walk again forever with their flags flying high,
Marching medals of the heroes that no one could deny.

Except the town of Scarborough was down on the drawing board,
And those fields and sheep and meadows didn't fit the grand accord.
No newcomers paid attention as the veterans vied for space,
And their parades of marching medals only had an old-time grace.

And Scarborough changed by day and night from a township to a city,
Old soldiers faded fast and few and no one had much pity.
And the immigrants came in wave after wave from places far and wide,
As the soldiers went to grave after grave with their flags and faded pride.

But still a few survive today and I'm sure they are not pleased.
'bout the changes to the town and how Scarborough had been squeezed,
From a township to a city where no one cared for esprit de corps,
So they amalgamated with Toronto and Scarborough was no more.

And culture clash and bureaucrat and ever changing rules,
Of mandarin and moguls and Tamils dressed in jewels,
While traffic roared and the buildings soared sometimes to sixty stories,
Where women wrapped in saris sashayed in all their glories.

They had lost the town without a fight, those men from long ago.
And everything was centralized; they said to save some dough,
But the authorities had lied again; it was all politically correct,
And no one marched, no flags did fly and no one did protest.

There are sometimes you still can hear it, the distant drone of pipes,
And men in kilts still carry on, just watched by boys on bikes.
They're just a faint reminder now of the many marching bands,
When those with flags and medals marched and Scarborough had some land.

DEC 1ST 2010

poem by James Bredin
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Armistice day

I rewrote a previous poem of mine......

Brave buildings built in honour of
The ones they left behind
With thoughts still whole unspoken
Of a sentimental kind
Of the men who go to war without
Any question of deceit
The ones that die on battlefields
And of serious disease.

For though some wars are over
And many battles lost
These buildings tower over us
So we can count the cost
Lest we forget our fallen men
So shall we every night
Remember those who held their flag
And thought their fight was right.

There's a strangeness now about the world
That’s making this all seem
Like so many leaden soldiers
Just a'marching in our dreams
But though this now is commonplace
And although we hate all war
Those human boyhood soldiers
Are still dying as before.

Why do we all go through this
Time and time again
Why do we fight our politics
With the bodies of brave men
For there's a truth that lies amongst the dead
Both infidel and blessed
And they are clearly asking us
Why we can't put war to rest.

Lest we forget war's horrors
And lest we forget the pain
Then every single bloody war
Will be repeated once again.

poem by David Keig
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A freedom is not in a day

Freedom is not attained in single day
It has proved difficult and in tortuous way
How many precious lives are lost in process?
Do we have any words for criticism to face?

Whoever has laid down life may not go in waste
It requires sacrifice and untiring efforts to stand test
We may be able to core it out right or gain the freedom
If the path so chose is non-violence then it is really wisdom

No wars have been won with continued hostility and bloodshed
The revolution may be written as history of shame with no watershed
There may be holocaust and human misery to be swallowed later
The result may have been there but many may come to be known as traitor

Freedom fighters are termed as dacoits or law breakers
They will make enough propaganda for ready takers
It may help them for little times to come and regroup
This can be called as popular uprising and not as military coup

The mighty power has witness sudden downfall
They have bow under tremendous pressure and international call
They have fear of losing the out side support
No out side help can come through the busy ports

Freedom can be won through non-violence means too
It may minimize human loss and this is equally true
We have witnessed many prolonged and bloody revolutions
It has not helped to prove misery but only lead to power devolution

What even if freedom is gained in total sense?
Has that got any relevance in its presence?
Have we attained whatever was desired or expected from?
The truth is bitter but to be explained to whom?

Who will never accept our own theory of deception?
How we remained under subjugation from inception?
Why did we not rise in revolt and tried for solution?
Did we try for it honestly and went for its dissolution?

Will story be rewritten when brought facts in open?
If so when it will find the light of the day and reopen?
Who will shed the light and appreciate the sacrifice?
The fact will be forgotten when people occupy the office

It is hard won struggle and must be preserved at all cost
The power should be shared and utilized for the most
Who knows it may prove acid test for days to come?
Why not celebrate it with fun fare and welcome?

It is unforgettable that freedom has cost us so much
We can’t afford to loose it again in a manner as such
Who will pardon us if we fail to cherish and protect
It has to be defended at all costs in fact

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Bastille Day

Words and music by geddy lee, alex lifeson, and neil peart
Theres no bread, let them eat cake
Theres no end to what theyll take
Flaunt the fruits of noble birth
Wash the salt into the earth
But theyre marching to bastille day la guillotine will claim
Her bloody prize free the dungeons of the innocent the king
Will kneel, and let his kingdom rise
Bloodstained velvet, dirty lace
Naked fear on every face
See them bow their heads to die
As we would bow as they rode by
And were marching to bastille day la guillotine will claim
Her bloody prize sing, o choirs of cacophony the king has
Kneeled, to let his kingdom rise
Lessons taught but never learned
All around us anger burns
Guide the future by the past
Long ago the mould was cast
For they marched up to bastille day la guillotine -- claimed
Her bloody prize hear the echoes of the centuries power isnt
All that money buys

song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Confetti party

Confetti party
Drop
Confetti party
Pop
Little fingers snap
Littlest hands will clap
Confetti take a nap

Confetti party
Yellow
Confetti party
Blue
Confetti party
Hello
Confetti party
Happy to you

Confetti party
Red
Confetti party
White
Confetti whispers
Spread
Confetti littlest
Good night

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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American Trilogy

Oh I wish I was in the land of cotton
Old things they are not forgotten
Look away, look away, look away Dixieland
Oh I wish I was in Dixie, away, away
In Dixieland I take my stand to live and die in Dixie
Cause Dixieland, that's where I was born
Early Lord one frosty morning
Look away, look away, look away Dixieland
Glory, glory hallelujah
Glory, glory hallelujah
Glory, glory hallelujah
His truth is marching on
So hush little baby
Don't you cry
You know your daddy's bound to die
But all my trials, Lord will soon be over
Glory, glory hallelujah
Glory, glory hallelujah
Glory, glory hallelujah
His truth is marching on
His truth is marching on

song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Freedom Fighters

Tucked away in the darkest cupboard of your heart
Theres a feeling you cant let out
In a way you are just a soldier of the mind
You are marching, what are you marching about?
On your mark, now get set
Get back on your feet
We aint down yet
You know we will get it
So dont you forget
That the world rolls on.
Your reward will come
Its just a question of how and when
Look around, everyone is wondering where its at
Do you wonder, or do you know?
Clap your hands! raise your voice
Some people will hide
They cant stand the noise
But were freedom fighters
And weve got no choice.
In a way you are just a soldier of the mind
But the world rolls on.
Your reward will come
And the truth will come and the change will come
Its just a question of how and when
I cant believe my eyes.

song performed by by Utopia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Don't Sit Under The Apple Tree

Don't sit under the apple tree
With anyone else but me
Anyone else but me
Anyone else but me
No no no
Don't sit under the apple tree
With anyone else but me
'til I come marching home
Don't go walking down lovers lane
With anyone else but me
Anyone else but me
Anyone else but me
No no no
Don't go walking down lovers lane
With anyone else but me
'til I come marching home
I just got word from a guy who heard
From the guy next door to me
The girl he met just loved to pet
And fits you to a "T"
So don't sit under the apple tree
With anyone else but me
'til I come marching home
Don't give out with those lips of yours
To anyone else but me
Anyone else but me
Anyone else but me
No no no
Watch the girls on the foreign shores
You'll have to report to me
When you come marching home
You're on your own
When there is no phone and I can't keep tab on you
Be fair to me I'll garuantee
This is one thing that I'll do
I won't sit under the apple tree
With anyone else but you
'til you come marching home
Don't sit under the apple tree
With anyone else but me
I know the apple tree
Is reserved for you and me
And I'll be true
'til you come marching home

song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Show Me The Way

Flying so high
Feeling so low
Fill my empty heart
Dont say no
Can I get through this night, with some lovin to show
Wont you show me the way to go--i dont know
Wont you open your eyes
I know you really care
You see these games you play
Theyre just not fair
After all the good times and secrets weve shared
Wont you show me the way to go--i dont know
I wanna take my place
I wanna take my place
I wanna take my place with the loved ones
Well I still cant see how things were meant to be
Love me even for one day Ill treat you like a lady
In my heart youll stay forever you know
Wont you show me the way to go--i dont know
Marching into your heart
Marching into your heart

song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bread & Roses

This song appears on three albums, and was first released on the higher ground album, and has also been released on the gift you are and the john denver collection - rocky mountain high albums.
As we go marching, marching
In the beauty of the day
A million darkened kitchens
A thousand mill lofts grey
Are touched with all the radiance
That a sudden sun discloses
For the people hear us singing
Bread and roses, bread and roses
As we go marching, marching
We battle too for men
For they are womens children
And we mother them again
Our lives shall not be sweetened
From birth until life closes
Hearts starve as well as bodies
Give us bread, but give us roses
As we go marching, marching
We bring the greater days
For the rising of the women
Means the rising of the race
No more the drudge and idler
Ten that toil where one reposes
But the sharing of lifes glories
Bread and roses, bread and roses
Words by james oppenheim (1912), music by john denver

song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As for the Pope, I am too old to be frightened by his shadow, and am quite sure his shadow or Substance will do less harm to the liberties of my country than will a party, who seek to acquire political power by exciting religious bigotry in the minds of their duped followers.

quote by Ezra Cornell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nearly Famous Hıppıes in Hıstory

The hippy lifestyle may be a thing of the past,
But many stinky hippies made the White house,
A better place in which to live, work and sing.

Here’s a look at the few of those dragonflies of the 60’s;

Barefoot Ray was an absentminded songwriter who wrote
About love and nincompoops’.
His stupid music inspired millions of nimrods everywhere.

Crazy Daisy Eva was known for weaving beautiful lamps into her hair.
This woodland flower child also painted blue murals,
Depicting bugs living in peace in an old piano.

Grandma Groovy Pants “Neferkitti” was an anti-war activist who,
Championed equality for all the nerds in our society and,
Supported smart beliefs by marching for justice and “Whirled peas”.

poem by Ray Lucero
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Slow Marching Band

Would you join a slow marching band?
And take pleasure in your leaving
As the ferry sails and tears are dried
And cows come home at evening.
Could you get behind a slow marching band?
And join together in the passing
Of all we shared through yesterdays
In sorrows neverlasting.
Take a hand and take a bow.
You played for me; thats all for now, oh, and never
Mind the words just hum along and keep on going.
Walk on slowly --- dont look behind you.
Dont say goodbye, love. I wont remind you.
Dream of me as the nights draw cold
Still marking time through winter.
You paid the piper and called the tune
And you marched the band away.
Take a hand and take a bow.
You played for me; thats all for now, oh, and never
Mind the words just hum along and keep on going.
Walk on slowly --- dont look behind you.
Dont say goodbye, love. I wont remind you.

song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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