The tree of liberty grows only when watered by the blood of tyrants.
quote by Bertrand Barere de Vieuzac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The tree of liberty needs to be watered from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants.
quote by Lyn Nofziger
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The tree of Liberty needs to be watered from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants.
quote by Thomas Jefferson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants.
quote by Thomas Jefferson
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Liberty is the condition of duty, the guardian of conscience. It grows as conscience grows. The domains of both grow together. Liberty is safety from all hindrances, even sin. So that Liberty ends by being Free Will.
quote by John Acton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Liberty
Theres a gentleness within
Theres a kindness that shell bring
Through her eyes of sadness lies
All her love for him
Imprisoned every day
A handsome price to pay
Even when shes done her time
Shell insist that lifes just fine
Someday soon shell make her move
Seize her chance to shine
Its all that she can do
To free herself from you
Its her liberty ( that she wants you to see )
Its her liberty ( that she wants you to see )
Where has all her life blood gone
Will you ever see
Even if she understood
Is it written that she should
Come and see him when shes gone
Hes surprised but knows hes wrong
A simple case of do or die
And now shes cut and run
Your vision let you down
You almost let her drown
Its her liberty ( that she wants you to see )
Its her liberty ( that she wants you to see )
Where has all her life blood gone
Will you ever see
Even if she understood
Is it written that she should
Where has all her life blood gone
Wil you ever see
Even if she understood
Is it written that she should
Its her liberty ( that she wants you to see )
Its her liberty ( that she wants you to see )
Where has all her life blood gone
Will you ever see
Even if she understood
Is it written that she should
Its her liberty ( that she wants you to see )
Its her liberty ( that she wants you to see )
Where has all her life blood gone
Will you ever see
Even if she understood
Is it written that she should
song performed by by Olive
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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False Hope
A tree was planted watered by the rain
watered through these hands
until it grew, then grew till grown
and still I see no fruit
I wait and no treet to have
I have been decieved
that's why I decided to cut down that tree
poem by Godfrey Morris
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The Flower of Liberty
WHAT flower is this that greets the morn,
Its hues from Heaven so freshly born?
With burning star and flaming band
It kindles all the sunset land:
Oh tell us what its name may be,--
Is this the Flower of Liberty?
It is the banner of the free,
The starry Flower of Liberty!
In savage Nature's far abode
Its tender seed our fathers sowed;
The storm-winds rocked its swelling bud,
Its opening leaves were streaked with blood,
Till lo! earth's tyrants shook to see
The full-blown Flower of Liberty!
Then hail the banner of the free,
The starry Flower of Liberty!
Behold its streaming rays unite,
One mingling flood of braided light,--
The red that fires the Southern rose,
With spotless white from Northern snows,
And, spangled o'er its azure, see
The sister Stars of Liberty!
Then hail the banner of the free,
The starry Flower of Liberty!
The blades of heroes fence it round,
Where'er it springs is holy ground;
From tower and dome its glories spread;
It waves where lonely sentries tread;
It makes the land as ocean free,
And plants an empire on the sea!
Then hail the banner of the free,
The starry Flower of Liberty!
Thy sacred leaves, fair Freedom's flower,
Shall ever float on dome and tower,
To all their heavenly colors true,
In blackening frost or crimson dew,--
And God love us as we love thee,
Thrice holy Flower of Liberty!
Then hail the banner of the free,
The starry FLOWER OF LIBERTY!
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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Sonnet – Don’t Be
Don't be the fallen leaves, so young and green;
Don't be the buds that never can flower;
Don't be the twigs that always remain lean;
Don't be the flow'rs that dropp with each shower.
Don't be the branches growing very long;
Don't be the tree that never blooms at all;
Don’t be the nests that disallow Bird-song;
Don't be the fruits that hit the Earth by Fall.
Don't be the trunk hollowed by Birds, white-Ants;
Don't be the crown that can't get Sun or Rain;
Don't be the tree that grows not straight but slants;
Don't be the roots that prop the tree in vain.
Don't be the tree that grows on marshy-land;
Just be a tree secure in Maker's Hand.
poem by John Celes
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On Liberty And Slavery
Alas! and am I born for this,
To wear this slavish chain?
Deprived of all created bliss,
Through hardship, toil and pain!
How long have I in bondage lain,
And languished to be free!
Alas! and must I still complain--
Deprived of liberty.
Oh, Heaven! and is there no relief
This side the silent grave--
To soothe the pain--to quell the grief
And anguish of a slave?
Come Liberty, thou cheerful sound,
Roll through my ravished ears!
Come, let my grief in joys be drowned,
And drive away my fears.
Say unto foul oppression, Cease:
Ye tyrants rage no more,
And let the joyful trump of peace,
Now bid the vassal soar.
Soar on the pinions of that dove
Which long has cooed for thee,
And breathed her notes from Afric's grove,
The sound of Liberty.
Oh, Liberty! thou golden prize,
So often sought by blood--
We crave thy sacred sun to rise,
The gift of nature's God:
Bid Slavery hide her haggard face,
And barbarism fly:
I scorn to see the sad disgrace
In which enslaved I lie.
Dear Liberty! upon thy breast,
I languish to respire;
And like the Swan unto her nest,
I'd to thy smiles retire.
Oh, blest asylum--heavenly balm!
Unto thy boughs I flee--
And in thy shades the storm shall calm,
With songs of Liberty!
poem by George Moses Horton
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Song For The Luddites
I.
As the Liberty lads o'er the sea
Bought their freedom, and cheaply, with blood,
So we, boys, we
Will die fighting, or live free,
And down with all kings but King Ludd!
II.
When the web that we weave is complete,
And the shuttle exchanged for the sword,
We will fling the winding sheet
O'er the despot at our feet,
And dye it deep in the gore he has pour'd.
III.
Though black as his heart its hue,
Since his veins are corrupted to mud,
Yet this is the dew
Which the tree shall renew
Of Liberty, planted by Ludd!
Fatso & His Lady!
That mango tree was no normal
It got immense love so mortal
From dawn to dusk he watered
Hoping it is never left shattered
Plucking the fruits in noon
He sat by it with all bloom.
That mango tree is no normal
It got immense love so mortal
What is it that brings that bloom
In this man so fat & hair so white
Was the thought that always rung
When I usually see him sing.
That mango tree is no normal
It got immense love so mortal
My lady love sowed this seed
& fed to it her life
I cried cried & I cried
And one day she grew up
Through ground & this is it
He told with a whisper.
That mango tree is no normal
It got immense love so immortal
Telling his tale of love
He had the last mango from it
He bore a smile on face
A tear in each eye
The seed in his palm.
That mango tree is no normal
It got immense love so mortal
Inspite of it being watered
Although I gave utmost care
In no time it became dry
And in air remained only their love……..
poem by BhanuPrakash Singh
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Many Voices
romantics sing of justice
cynic cry it's only a tool
for rulers and designers
the tree of justice has many branches
grows and bloooms if watered by tolerance
in days of social drought is stunted
withers falling into decay
the lady in marble dressed in a toga
holding the scales of justice
is a harlot in disquise
prostrating herself
before each new ruler
poem by Shimon Weinroth
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Reservation For One
This is my tree, my tree, my tree,
My one lone tree, pear tree,
It grows, overflows, it grows it’s fruit,
Alone, only for me.
If I could go to a far-away place,
With just me and my tree, pear tree,
I’d pack my bags, my bags I’d pack,
I’d pick up my bags and flee.
There’s nothing at all, no nothing,
At all, that films me more with glee,
Than those globes, those globes,
Of precious fruit in my tree, pear tree.
I sit beneath, beneath I sit,
Its laden canopy, I polish it’s leafs then,
Set a table of fruits,
Of wine, and bread and brie.
This tree, my tree, could feed the world,
Find me a wife and camaraderie,
It’s powers, it’s powers are vast but I
Can’t pass on its secret sadly.
I’d tell the world, the world I’d tell,
If they weren’t all so hungry, you see.
But my fruit, my fruits, my laboured.
Fruits, I grew only for me, for me,
No none are as hungry as me.
poem by Suzanne Louise Bishop
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A Tree To Me
A Tree to Me
Once there was tree
It looks so strange to me
Wondering how it become a tree
A small sprout from a seed in my hand
Now, it's bigger than me.
Unfortunately, tree stood alone
Grows without heart and soul
No friend, no companion
But still stand strong
For you to help on
A tree is a friend to me
That set you free from calamity
From floods and erosion you are free
As you rest under the tree,
Think how lucky you are with a tree.
poem by Cristina Delos Santos
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The Rose Tree
'O WORDS are lightly spoken,'
Said Pearse to Connolly,
'Maybe a breath of politic words
Has withered our Rose Tree;
Or maybe but a wind that blows
Across the bitter sea.'
'It needs to be but watered,'
James Connolly replied,
'To make the green come out again
And spread on every side,
And shake the blossom from the bud
To be the garden's pride.'
'But where can we draw water,'
Said Pearse to Connolly,
'When all the wells are parched away?
O plain as plain can be
There's nothing but our own red blood
Can make a right Rose Tree.'
poem by William Butler Yeats
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I Bled For You
You may not understand why I would leave my family,
to fight in some exotic land, somewhere beyond the sea.
You may not comprehend just why I would do the things I do,
But today I fought for what was right…today I bled for you.
Some call me a hero, but few call me by name
I don't do it for the money and it sure aint for the fame.
I've seen the tree of liberty, and when the day is through,
I can say it was watered with my blood…that day I bled for you.
We soldiers serve with honor, like all those that served before.
Who stood upon the wall and kept the wolves from your front door.
Some sacrificed completely; give them the respect they're due.
Remember that they gave it all, the day they bled for you.
There are some that are not able, or don't want to understand,
Why we risk our very lives to defend this sacred, holy land.
They'll never feel the pride inside when we see red white and blue,
Waving over these free lands, because someone bled for you.
So take the time to think of those of us who still are over there,
Or those of us recovering, please lift us up in prayer.
And send it to the Savior…the only other person who,
Besides the soldier, paid the price, and chose to bleed for you.
Perry Biggerstaff
poem by Perry Biggerstaff
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Of Hope (a fourteener)
Hope flourishes as flower which, when watered, nurtured, sprouts -
but first seed must take root in garden free from shady doubts.
mind's probing fingers, working, plucking weeds that stunt, consume;
strip hazards from environment so seed of Hope can bloom.
while some say Hope's perpetual and grows e'en without seed,
won't falter - feast or famine - and can withstand dirty deed.
I think more so Hope grows where effort made has clearly shown
that Faith was planted justly and then - Hope - the harvest grown.
Hope feeds upon a memory of expectations met,
where struggles as a seedling then grows larger, stronger yet.
And bow-tied with a ribbon, Hope becomes a gift still more -
for Hope as gift soon shape-shifts until Faith stands at the door.
yet caution wise to realize that Hope, when falsly gained
as dissapointment underlies; Faith/Hope fails - none retained.
let application/ action then help Hope become a tree,
the end result - a gift to self - instilled in me by me.
111909
poem by Terri Turrell
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Proof positive 2011
Proof positive 2011
This tree is where no tree should be.
It clings to life precariously.
From whence it cam nobody knows.
All that we know is that it grows.
Although it’s stunted gnarled and bent.
It has survived that’s evident.
Perchance it’s where it should not be.
It does not matter to the tree.
This is the only place it knows
and so it very slowly grows.
Defying rules conceived by men
It forces them to think again.
Although the experts all agree.
It’s an impossibility
The tree discounts the experts view
A seed took root and simply grew.
That’s all seeds know how to do.
Its mere existence proves it’s true.
Tuesday,27 December 2011 http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Bondman
Feebly the bondman toiled,
Sadly he wept-
Then to his wretched cot
Mournfully crept;
How doth his free-born soul
Pine 'neath his chain!
Slavery! Slavery!
Dark is thy reign.
Long ere the break of day,
Roused from repose,
Wearily toiling
Till after its close-
Praying for freedom,
He spends his last breath:
Liberty! Liberty!
Give me or death.
When, when, O Lord! will right
Triumph o'er wrong?
Tyrants oppress the weak,
O Lord! how long?
Hark! hark! a peal resounds
From shore to shore-
Tyranny! Tyranny!
Thy reign is o'er.
E'en now the morning
Gleams from the East-
Despots are feeling
Their triumph is past-
Strong hearts are answering
To freedom's loud call-
Liberty! Liberty!
Full and for all.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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Ode to Rheynette
My friend who was slain by those who oppose peace in our coutry
Under the shade of the Water mount, stood
A tree that was planted and watered of God
It grew to a size that Cedars would envy
And more so in beauty and splendor strength
The tree in the wind would stand as a rock
Even in water and flood
And in it and on it and round it would flock
The weary the burdened and sick and the restless
The ones in need of the work of The Blood
The tree would give comfort
The tree did give peace
For the tree was a planting, a working of Him
It often was seen waving and smiling
Inspired by the Breeze
Moving the branches with the greatest of ease
The village and townsmen and leaders oft choose
To sit in the shade and let hair loose
A drink or a biscuit a cake or a meal
Seemed sweeter and warmer and pleasant by the bark
Which also kept carved secrets safe in the dark
Selah
Now rejoicing and singing and crying they came
To witness the Keeper of forest and plain
Put ax to the tree and bring it down low
And form from this gentle, choicest off wood
A living and shining more glorious tree
Eternal in garden
By Her dear Forrester there she then stood
Soli Deo Gloria
poem by Werner Horne
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