General Joubert
(Died, South African War, March 27, 1900)
With those that bred, with those that loosed the strife,
He had no part whose hands were clear of gain;
But subtle, strong, and stubborn, gave his life
To a lost cause, and knew the gift was vain.
Later shall rise a people, sane and great,
Forged in strong fires, by equal war made one;
Telling old battles over without hate --
Not least his name shall pass from sire to son.
He may not meet the onsweep of our van
In the doomed city when we close the score;
Yet o'er his grave -- his grave that holds a man --
Our deep-tongued guns shall answer his once more!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Related quotes
Be Strong!
Be strong!
We are not here to play, to dream, to drift;
We have hard work to do and loads to lift;
Shun not the struggle, face it, ’tis God’s gift.
Be strong, be strong, be strong!
Be strong!
Say not the days are evil—who’s to blame?
And fold the hands and acquiesce—O shame!
Stand up, speak out, and bravely, in God’s Name.
Be strong, be strong, be strong!
Be strong!
It matters not how deep entrenched the wrong,
How hard the battle goes, the day, how long;
Faint not, fight on! Tomorrow comes the song.
Be strong, be strong, be strong!
poem by Maltbie Davenport Babcock
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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He Battles His Dogs Of Despair
The years have left him looking gray
And he has known a far better day
Around his balding head he has lost more hair
As he battles his dogs of despair.
Though from it's side effects weight he does gain
Medication it does keep him sane
And though all of his good days are gone
His fight is to keep keeping on.
And to live for as long as he can
For what use is a dead woman or man
So he will live till the reaper's call
The one who claims the life of all.
One who has contemplated suicide
When his will to live all but had died
But he is one who has hung in there
For to battle his dogs of despair.
In life 'tis not easy to win
But he never threw the towel in
He bravely faced life's road ahead
Fortune do favour the brave 'tis said.
Mental illness it has ruined his life
Robbed him of the chance of a wife
But to his great gift of life he says yes
As he battles with illness and stress.
poem by Francis Duggan
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To The Sons Of Labour
GRAVE this deep in your hearts,
Forget not the tale of the past!
Never, never believe
That any will help you, or can,
Saving only Yourselves!
What have the Gentlemen done,
Peerless haters of wrong,
Byrons and Shelleys, what?
They stand great famous Names,
Demi-gods to their own,
Shadows far off, alien
To us and ours for ever.
Those who love them and hate
The crime, the injustice they hated,
What can they do but shout,
Win a name from our woes,
And leave us just as we were?
No, but resolutely turned,
Our wants, our desires made clear,
And clear the means that shall win them,
Drill and drill and drill!
Then when the day is come,
When the royal battleflag's up,
When blood has been spilled in vain
In timid half-hearted war,
Then let the Cromwell rise,
The simple, the true-souled Man;
Then let Grant come forth,
The calm, the determined Comrade,
But deep in their hearts one hate,
Deep in their souls one thought,
To bring the Iniquity low,
To make the People free!
Ah, for such as these,
We with the same heart-hate,
We with the same soul-thought,
Will fall to our destined places
In the ranks of the Great New Model,
In the Army that sees ahead
Marston, Naseby, Whitehall, The Wilderness, Petersburg — yes,
But beyond the blood and the smoke,
Beyond the struggle and death,
The Union victorious safe,
The Commonwealth glorious free!
poem by Francis William Lauderdale Adams
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I shall not live in vain
If I can stop one Heart from breaking, shall not live in vain, If I can ease one Life the Aching, I shall not live in Vain. Life is too short, A flickering flame, a transient gleam, A flower doomed to swift decay, To bud and bloom and pass away. Between the cradle and the grave a frightened child with tears in his eyes looks at the light. Life is too short, But he who kisses with joy the life, lives in eternity’s sun rise.
poem by Alexis Karpouzos from An ocean of souls (7 March 2014), translated by Alexis karpouzos
Submitted by Jenny carras
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From the Grave
When the first sere leaves of the year were falling,
I heard, with a heart that was strangely thrilled,
Out of the grave of a dead Past calling,
A voice I fancied forever stilled.
All through winter and spring and summer,
Silence hung over that grave like a pall,
But, borne on the breath of the last sad comer,
I listen again to the old-time call.
It is only a love of a by-gone season,
A senseless folly that mocked at me
A reckless passion that lacked all reason,
So I killed it, and hid it where none could see.
I smothered it first to stop its crying,
Then stabbed it through with a good sharp blade,
And cold and pallid I saw it lying,
And deep—ah' deep was the grave I made.
But now I know that there is no killing
A thing like Love, for it laughs at Death.
There is no hushing, there is no stilling
That which is part of your life and breath.
You may bury it deep, and leave behind you
The land, the people, that knew your slain;
It will push the sods from its grave, and find you
On wastes of water or desert plain.
You may hear but tongues of a foreign people,
You may list to sounds that are strange and new;
But, clear as a silver bell in a steeple,
That voice from the grave shall call to you.
You may rouse your pride, you may use your reason.
And seem for a space to slay Love so;
But, all in its own good time and season,
It will rise and follow wherever you go.
You shall sit sometimes, when the leaves are falling,
Alone with your heart, as I sit to-day,
And hear that voice from your dead Past calling
Out of the graves that you hid away.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Broken..... But Not Tearing Apart
many times in my life..... i've been broken
yet! i persist and stand strong picking up
those scattered broken parts, wishing to hold it
back in my hands
I have to be strong..... though at time i knew
iam weak to hold on, where i always i've stand
making the best stronghold to defend, of what
has been broken
my quest leads me..... to pursue what is beyond
the miles i step, for i know iam broken, deeping
and soaking my tears in your memories,
bubbling like a fountain of tears in the valley of
no return
my heart callous me to close every moment i
stumble, awakening my soul pushing me to be
strong and hold me to cool myself.... where i may
loose everything i cherish
be strong dear life..... life has to go on.....its not
anything else that lose your whole being, nor your
tears leads you to your grave..... your broken
heart is not all the way long to tear you apart
.....but it is just a beginning that you are strong...
to be broken again
poem by Antonio Liao
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I Hate You!
I hate those dimples in your cheek
Deep, hidden and dark
I hate your eyes that glaze frost blue
Ardent but rank atop of many lies
I hate your soft, subtle hands
Slipping away every moment
I hate your thoughts and notions
Crammed with terrible weird concepts
I hate the way you get mad
For every trivial, feeble reason
I hate you in everyway now…
The way you hate everyone…
Your smile, your depth, your eyes!
Not sure, but I am good at telling lies!
I hate you…I do…
‘Cause you hate me…
And you have hurt me...
(written for DJ....i hate you now as much as you hate me! ....you are at loss....coz you just lost someone who likes you....and all i lost is someone who hates me!)
poem by Sania Harris
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Wish You Were Here
Funny how the years
They just pass us by
Seems like yesterday
You were in my life
You always wanted
To start a family
I was way too young
I was runnin' free
If you could only see me now
You'd realize
I'm not the boy who
Made you cry
You gave yourself
I didn't see it
You died in me
I should've saved you
Oh
Wish you were here with me
I thought I knew it all
How stupid could I be?
I think of all I had
And it makes me weak
If you could only see me now
You'd realize
I'm not the boy who
Made you cry
You gave yourself
I didn't see it
You died in me
I should've saved you
Oh
Wish you were here with me
Sometimes
You hurt the ones who love you most
And sometimes
You hold the ones who leave you lost
And sometimes
You learn but it's too late
It's too late
You gave yourself
I didn't see it
You died in me
I should've saved you
You gave yourself
Why did you give yourself to me?
You died in me
Why was I too blind to see?
Oh
Oh
Oh
Wish you were here with me
Funny how the years
Just pass us by
song performed by by Enrique Iglesias
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Strong Black Woman
Baby, such a long life, my child
So many stories I have to tell you
Of slavery and of tragedy
Sit down and listen to my tales
Everybody thinks that the strong black woman died
No, she only stood back because she had not cried
She took a minute to rest. She cried. Her heart so heavy
But she’s back, baby. And child, she’s so pretty
I’m a strong black woman, and I am fighting
Don’t mess with me; I’ll leave your eyes shining
I give these children all the love they crave
I’ll beat away any energy that makes life grave
Hallelujah, the strong black woman still lives
Hallelujah, the strong black woman still gives
Hallelujah, can you feel the strength of her?
Hallelujah, this woman is one you can’t deter
Praise the lord’s name and speak in tongues
May all the strong black women live so long
I am a strong black woman, I am here
A strong black woman lives in my heart
Hallelujah, the black woman is so strong
Hallelujah, this has become my favorite song
Hallelujah, the strong black woman prospers
Hallelujah, she is no different than her brothers
The strong black woman never died, she lives
See, no matter what happens she always survives
I am here, I am a strong black woman, in disguise
And this newly strong black woman never dies
Praise the lord’s name the black woman is back
Now the world knows that we survive any attack
Give her all the suffering children or people in despair
Because the strong black woman will return them to air
The strong black woman was not lynched or killed
She gave herself a proud face and lived on so skilled
Praise the lord’s name and know that she lives on
Hallelujah, the strong black woman will never be gone
poem by German Alcala
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Learning How To Get Back Up
when you look into my eyes,
you will see,
i'm not the same girl,
you thought you knew,
oh no,
take a second,
and realize i'm stronger,
than the first time you seen me,
i'm a girl who grew up,
i realized that being stubborn,
was okay, just as long as you,
wasn't dealing with me,
people hate people who know,
what they want out of life,
i use to think it was a bad thing,
because you made me seem,
like i was close minded,
but, now i only see,
i knew my path in life,
i could see where i wanted to be,
in a way that scared you,
i was younger than you,
with more options of where i wanted to go,
i knew how to speak up for what i wanted,
i never let what people say be right,
because in the back of my mind,
i knew what needed to be done,
if i failed, i know it was my fault,
only to get back up and try again,
but, letting somebody else tell me what i should do,
was where i lost myself,
i fell but, lost sight on,
how to pick myself up,
but, after so many failures,
i've learned something,
the best thing you can do,
is go the way your heart tells you to go.
Copyright © 2009
7-26-09
poem by Mona Martinez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Only The Strong Survive (Take 22)
I remember my first love affair
Somehow or another the whole darn thing went wrong
My mamma had some great advice
So I thought I'd put it into words of this song
I can still hear her sayin' it
Boy, Oh, I see you're sittin' out there all alone
Cryin' your eyes out 'cos the woman that you love has gone
Oh, there's gonna be, there's gonna be a whole lot of trouble in your life
Oh, so listen to me get up off your knees 'cos only the strong survive
That's what she said, only the strong survive
Only the strong survive,
Oh you've got to be strong, you'd better hold on
Don't go all around with your head hung down
Well I wouldn't let that little girl
No, I wouldn't let her know that she made me feel like a clown
There's a whole lot a girls lookin' for a good man like you
Oh but you'll never meet 'em if you give up now and say that your life is through
Yes she said: Only the strong survive, only the strong survive,
You've got to be a man, you've got to take a stand
Only the strong survive, only the strong survive,
Oh, you've got to be strong, you'd better hold on
'Cos only the strong survive
Only the strong survive, only the strong survive,
Well, you've got to be a man, you've got to take a stand
Only the strong survive, only the strong survive
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Only A Soldier's Grave
Only a soldier's grave! Pass by,
For soldiers, like other mortals, die.
Parents had he - they are far away;
No sister weeps o'er the soldier's clay;
No brother comes, with tearful eye;
It's only a soldier's grave - pass by.
True, he was loving, and young, and brave,
Though no glowing epitaph honors his grave;
No proud recital of virtues known,
Of griefs endured, or triumphs won;
No tablet of marble, or obelisk high; -
Only a soldier's grave: - pass by.
Yet bravely he wielded his sword in fight,
And he gave his life in the cause of right!
When his hope was high, and his youthful dream
As warm as the sunlight on yonder stream;
His heart unvexed by sorrow or sigh; -
Yet, 'tis only a soldier's grave: - pass by.
Yet, we should mark it - the soldier's grave,
Some one may seek him in hope to save!
Some of the dear ones, far away,
Would bear him home to his native clay:
'Twere sad, indeed, should they wander nigh,
Find not the hillock, and pass him by.
poem by S.A. Jones
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Andrew Jackson
On the life of Andrew Jackson,
Now dear people I will write,
And in sketches, I will tell you
His career with great delight.
His career on earth is ended;
But his name is ever bright,
And his memory is cherished
As a great glorious knight.
The early life of Andrew Jackson,
Its marked in high renown,
As a lover of his country
He proved steadfastly profound,
Through kind teaching of his mother,
That patriot lady brave;
His mind strengthened by her wisdom,
Ere she sank into her grave.
Ah, in manhood, Andrew Jackson,
Was a daring fearless man;
With a strong iron will commanding,
He was loved throughout our land.
He was kind and generous hearted
In his military acts,
Yet was stubborn, while commanding,
And no courage did he lack.
At middle age, Andrew Jackson
Was a noble warlike man,
And was capable of handling
The army at his command.
You can see it by the battles
Of his Indian campaign,
Or the battle of New Orleans,
Where so many men were slain.
The dauntless energy of Jackson,
Oh, should never be forgot,
Or the battle of New Orleans,
Where he diligently fought.
Where he fought to save his country,
From the British fleets of fame;
Through coolness and courage
The victory he did gain.
As commander, Andrew Jackson
Was a soldier of great skill,
And he nobly done his duty
To his country, with good will.
Yet in life his acts were censured,
Ah, by men both great and small.
One the acts that made him trouble
Was the arresting of Judge Hall.
Oh, that act cost Andrew Jackson
Many heart pang in after life,
For he thought it was his duty
In that hard cruel strife
That his soldiers should obey him
And fulfill every command,
As he knew no other method,
He could save his native land.
The people loved Andrew Jackson,
"Old Hickory" was their friend.
As a President o'er our country
He proved faithful to the end.
His career on earth was ended
Eighteen Forty Five; is seen
As a star his name is shining
The "hero" of "New Orleans."
poem by Julia A Moore
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On the Death of Anne Brontë
There's little joy in life for me,
And little terror in the grave;
I've lived the parting hour to see
Of one I would have died to save.
Calmly to watch the failing breath,
Wishing each sigh might be the last;
Longing to see the shade of death
O'er those beloved features cast.
The cloud, the stillness that must part
The darling of my life from me;
And then to thank God from my heart,
To thank Him well and fervently;
Although I knew that we had lost
The hope and glory of our life;
And now, benighted, tempest-tossed,
Must bear alone the weary strife.
poem by Charlotte Bronte (1849)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Only A Soldier's Grave
Only a soldier's grave! Pass by,
For soldiers, like other mortals, die.
Parents he had--they are far away;
No sister weeps o'er the soldier's clay;
No brother comes, with a tearful eye:
It's only a soldier's grave--pass by.
True, he was loving, and young, and brave,
Though no glowing epitaph honors his grave;
No proud recital of virtues known,
Of griefs endured, or of triumphs won;
No tablet of marble, or obelisk high;--
Only a soldier's grave--pass by.
Yet bravely he wielded his sword in fight,
And he gave his life in the cause of right!
When his hope was high, and his youthful dream
As warm as the sunlight on yonder stream;
His heart unvexed by sorrow or sigh;--
Yet,'tis only a soldier's grave:--pass by.
Yet, should we mark it--the soldier's grave,
Some one may seek him in hope to save!
Some of the dear ones, far away,
Would bear him home to his native clay:
'Twere sad, indeed, should they wander nigh,
Find not the hillock, and pass him by.
poem by Sidney Alroy Jonas
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The Twin Towers
September 11,2001
The Twin Towers©
I was built of steel, I was built of stone,
I was built by men of flesh and bone.
They built me strong they built me tall,
A symbol of strength for one and all.
And from my ramparts you could see,
The city of modernity.
Thousands came and gazed in awe,
All marveled at what they saw.
Commerce was my bailiwick,
I helped the world when it was sick.
My congregations came from afar,
They made their fortunes and were my star.
All races, creeds, and religions were,
Under my roof all equal without a slur.
But things are not always as simple as they seem,
For sometimes men, can be obscene.
Then one fine day when the sun shone strong,
Something came that did not belong.
Some men of flesh and blood and bone,
Sent planes with fuel and speed alone.
They hit me once, they hit me twice,
Fires burned and I was filled with strife.
I tried to stand I tried to mend,
But it all was futile in the end.
I once was strong I once was tall,
Till one day I became nothing at all.
poem by Everett Lautin
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William Upson
Air -- "The Major's Only Son"
Come all good people, far and near,
Oh, come and see what you can hear,
It's of a young man, true and brave,
Who is now sleeping in his grave.
Now, William Upson was his name --
If it's not that it's all the same --
He did enlist in the cruel strife,
And it caused him to lose his life.
He was Jesse Upson's eldest son,
His father loved his noble son;
This son was nineteen years of age,
In the rebellion he engaged.
His father said that he might go,
But his dear mother she said no.
"Stay at home, dear Billy," she said,
But oh, she could not turn his head.
For go he would, and go he did --
He would not do as his mother bid,
For he went away down South, there
Where he could not have his mother's care.
He went to Nashville, Tennessee,
There his kind friends he could not see;
He died among strangers, far away,
They knew not where his body lay.
He was taken sick and lived four weeks,
And oh, how his parents weep,
But now they must in sorrow mourn,
Billy has gone to his heaven home.
If his mother could have seen her son,
For she loved him, her darling one,
If she could heard his dying prayer,
It would ease her heart till she met him there.
It would relieved his mother's heart,
To have seen her son from this world depart,
And hear his noble words of love,
As he left this world for that above.
It will relieve his mother's heart,
That her son is laid in our grave yard;
Now she knows that his grave is near,
She will not shed so many tears.
She knows not that it was her son,
His coffin could not be opened --
It might be some one in his place,
For she could not see his noble face.
He enrolled in eighteen sixty-three,
The next day after Christmas eve;
He died in eighteen sixty-four,
Twenty-third of March, as I was told.
poem by Julia A Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Id Rather Be Strong
(myles goodwyn)
Published by slalom publishing co. - bmi
Its a sad situation
Alot of hopeless information
On the news
Nothins gonna please you
And nothins gonna change
Well thats your view
So many hungry people
Its a shame and is it legal?
Well its a sight
Theres something goin on
Somethin we can change
And its our right
So Id rather be strong
In a hopeless situation, yes
I would rather be strong
In a hopeless situation, yes
I would rather be strong
In a hopeless situation
Yes I would, yes I would
Well you can say its a shame
And things remain the same
And so it goes
But no ones gonna hear you
And no ones gonna see
What doesnt show
Itd be cause for celebration
If only every nation understood
And helping one another
And doing for the other, what they could
And Id rather be strong
In a hopeless situation, yes
I would rather be strong
And to show determination, yes
I would rather be strong
In a hopeless situation
Yes I would, yes I would
Id be a lot better off if I could
Be part of the love
Thats seemingly lost from above
A delicate situation (situation)
Requires contemplation, everyone (everyone)
And someone has to care (someone to care)
When people live in fear of each mans son (each mans son)
So Id rather be strong
In a hopeless situation
Yes, I would rather be strong
In a hopeless situation
Yes, I would rather be strong
In a hopeless situation
Yes, I would, yes, I would
Id be a lot better off if I could
Be part of the love
Thats seemingly lost from above
Id rather be strong, ooh yes, I would
Well, Id rather be strong, yes I would, yes I would, yes I would
Well, Id rather be strong, ooh yes I would
Well, Id rather be strong, be strong, yes I would, yes I would
Well, Id rather be strong, yes I would
Well Id rather be strong, be strong, yes I would
In a hopeless situation
Yes, I would rather be strong
In a hopeless situation, yes
I would rather be strong
In a hopeless situation
Yes, I would rather be strong
In a hopeless situation, yes
I would rather be strong
song performed by by April Wine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cavalier Tunes: Marching Along
Kentish Sir Byng stood for his King,
Bidding the crop-headed Parliament swing:
And, pressing a troop unable to stoop
And see the rogues flourish and honest folk droop,
Marched them along, fifty score strong,
Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song.
God for King Charles! Pym and such carles
To the Devil that prompts 'em their treasonous parles!
Cavaliers, up! Lips from the cup,
Hands from the pasty, nor bite take nor sup
Till you're--
(Chorus)
Marching along, fifty-score strong,
Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song.
Hampden to hell, and his obsequies' knell.
Serve Hazelrig, Fiennes, and young Harry as well!
England, good cheer! Rupert is near!
Kentish and loyalists, keep we not here
(Chorus)
Marching along, fifty-score strong,
Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song?
Then, God for King Charles! Pym and his snarls
To the Devil that pricks on such pestilent carles!
Hold by the right, you double your might;
So, onward to Nottingham, fresh for the fight,
(Chorus)
March we along, fifty-score strong,
Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song!
poem by Robert Browning
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Cavalier Song
Kentish Sir Byng stood for his King,
Bidding the crop-headed Parliament swing:
And, pressing a troop unable to stoop
And see the rogues flourish and honest folk droop,
Marched them along, fifty score strong,
Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song.
God for King Charles! Pym and such carles
To the Devil that prompts 'em their treasonous parles!
Cavaliers, up! Lips from the cup,
Hands from the pasty, nor bite take nor sup
Till you're-
(Chorus)
Marching along, fifty-score strong,
Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song.
Hampden to hell, and his obsequies' knell.
Serve Hazelrig, Fiennes, and young Harry as well!
England, good cheer! Rupert is near!
Kentish and loyalists, keep we not here
(Chorus)
Marching along, fifty-score strong,
Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song?
Then, God for King Charles! Pym and his snarls
To the Devil that pricks on such pestilent carles!
Hold by the right, you double your might;
So, onward to Nottingham, fresh for the fight,
(Chorus)
March we along, fifty-score strong,
Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song!
poem by Robert Browning
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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