Sonnet XLVII: Read In My Face
Read in my face a volume of despairs,
The wailing Iliads of my tragic woe,
Drawn with my blood and printed with my cares
Wrought by her hand, that I have honor'd so.
Who, whilst I burn, she sings at my soul's wrack,
Looking aloft from turret of her pride;
There my soul's tyrant joys her in the sack
Of her own seat, whereof I made her guide.
There do these smokes that from affliction rise,
Serve as an incense to a cruel Dame;
A sacrifice thrice grateful to her eyes,
Because their power serve to exact the same.
Thus ruins she, to satisfy her will,
The Temple where her name was honor'd still.
poem by Samuel Daniel
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For those who have made the ultimate sacrifice, we are grateful that such men and women were among us. For those who continue to serve, we honor their commitment. For those who return to civilian life, we honor their service.
quote by Steve Buyer
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We treat our people like royalty. If you honor and serve the people who work for you, they will honor and serve you.
quote by Mary Kay Ash
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Psalm 7
God's care of his people.
My trust is in my heav'nly Friend,
My hope in thee, my God;
Rise, and my helpless life defend
From those that seek my blood.
With insolence and fury they
My soul in pieces tear,
As hungry lions rend the prey,
When no deliverer's near.
If I had e'er provoked them first,
Or once abused my foe,
Then let him tread my life to dust,
And lay mine honor low.
If there be malice found in me,
I know thy piercing eyes;
I should not dare appeal to thee,
Nor ask my God to rise.
Arise, my God, lift up thy hand,
Their pride and power control;
Awake to judgment, and command
Deliverance for my soul.
PAUSE.
[Let sinners, and their wicked rage,
Be humbled to the dust;
Shall not the God of truth engage
To vindicate the just?
He knows the heart, he tries the reins,
He will defend th' upright
His sharpest arrows he ordains
Against the sons of spite.
For me their malice digged a pit,
But there themselves are cast;
My God makes all their mischief light
On their own heads at last.]
That cruel, persecuting race
Must feel his dreadful sword:
Awake, my soul, and praise the grace
And justice of the Lord.
poem by Isaac Watts
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The Power Of Thy Sword
Lord of battle I pray on bended knee conquest by the rising sun
I'll wait for thy command with flame and blood at hand
glory and a broken sword.
I'm the master of the world I have no fear of man or beast
Born inside the soul of the world
Riding hard breaking bone with steel and stone
Eternal might I was born to wield.
Let us drink to the battles we've lived and we've fought
Celebrate the pain and havoc we have wrought
Great heroes charge into the fight
From the north to the south in the black of night
The clash of honor calls to stand when others fall
Gods of war feel the power of my sword
Drink to the battles we've lived and we've fought
Celebrate the pain and havoc we have wrought
Great heroes charge into the fight
From the north to the south in the black of night
Fierce is my blade fierce is my hate born to die in battle
I laugh at my fate
Now pay in blood when your blood has been spilled
You're never forgiven death is fulfilled !
The clash of honor calls to stand when others fall
Gods of war feel the power of my sword
The clash of honor calls
I will stand when others fall
Open magic doors
The will know the power of my sword
There is blood in my hands there is blood in my eyes
With blood in my voice I scream as you die
Thirsting for vengeance and mounds of the slain
Shaking the forest onto the plain
Fierce is my blade fierce is my hate born to die in battle
I laugh at my fate
Now pay in blood when your blood has been spilled
You're never forgiven death is fulfilled !
The clash of honor calls to stand when others fall
Gods of war feel the power of my sword
Know the power of my sword
Know the power of my sword
Know the power of my sword
Know the power of my sword
They will know the power of my sword
song performed by by Manowar from The Triumph Of Steel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Proud Old Glory
I am the blood, I am the soul
I am the essence of liberty, so bold
I am the heart, I am the life
I am the dream and the vision, all that's right
I am the hope, I am the truth
I am the faith and the spirit of the aged and the youth
I am the warmth, I am the breath
I am the peace and the honor, life and death
I am justice, I am love
I stand for freedom, and salute our brave
I serve my country with pride
Old Glory is my name, God made this land my home
I am the proud flag of America
I am the proud flag of America.
poem by Trade Martin
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I am a human being
If I say I am handsome with charm and grace
Tall and dark with the most brilliant eyes and face
You will not believe
If I say I am the ugly of the ugliest
You may believe in
If I say I have an unbelievable potentiality
I can do a havoc in the field of poetry
You will not believe
If I say I am the dull of the dullest
You may believe in
If I say I have a strong character of honesty
I have a heart full of kindness and mercy
You will not believe
But if I say I am the cruel of the cruelest
You may believe in
If I say I have a fair mind unbiased clean
A soul as white as a paper unwritten
You will not believe
If I say I am the lousy crook of the crook est
You may believe in.
If I say I am the most marginalized
The most deprived, the most victimized
You will not believe
If I say I am a servant, a slave, born to serve
You may believe in.
If I say I am different, uncommon
I have different attitude and opinion
You will not believe
If I say I am the dissident of the most dissident
You may believe in.
If I say I am a human being
I have a wish and a desire,
To roam to fly to rise higher,
Need equality, justice and honor,
Some one to love and some one to care
Do you believe me?
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Licia Sonnets 15
I stood amazed, and saw my Licia shine,
Fairer than Phoeligbus, in his brightest pride,
Set forth in colors by a hand divine,
Where naught was wanting but a soul to guide.
It was a picture, that I could descry,
Yet made with art so as it seemed to live,
Surpassing fair, and yet it had no eye,
Whereof my senses could no reason give.
With that the painter bid me not to muse;
"Her eyes are shut, but I deserve no blame;
For if she saw, in faith, it could not choose
But that the work had wholly been a flame,
"Then burn me, sweet, with brightness of your eyes,
That phoelignix-like from thence I may arise.
poem by Giles Fletcher The Elder
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To Missionary Skrefsrud In Santalistan
I honor you, who, though refused, affronted,
Have heard the voice, and victory have won;
I honor you, who still by malice hunted,
Show miracles of faith and power done.
I honor you, God-thirsting soul so driven,
'Mid scorn and need the spirit's war to wage;
I honor you, by Gudbrand's valley given,
And of her sons the foremost in this age.
I do not share your faith, your daring dreaming;
This parts us not, the spirit's paths are broad.
For, all things great and noble round us streaming,
I worship them, because I worship God.
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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One Small Act
There was a lady whose face was drawn
and everyone she came upon
looked at her and wondered why
she never smiled at them as they passed by?
But none would question this poor soul.
They turned their face on their daily stroll.
A child went up and touched her hand
and the lady's face lit up the land.
A gesture of kindness was all it took
to change the sadness, to change her look.
She seemed to come alive once more
and her face was not drawn like it was before.
It took the innocence of a child to see
that a face that's drawn needs to be
uplifted by love from one who cares.
There's nothing like a touch that compares.
The lady's face that was drawn every day
is filled with peace as she goes on her way.
And the one small child will never know
how he changed a face and made it glow.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Trust
As Man looks into this world of ours
And Man try's to understand what is a must
Is it our looks or is it or smarts, as he thinks
Or is it only our honor, and also our trust.
As a poor man has not much possession at all
All he owns his trust and also his pride
And on Judgment day when he meets the Lord,
He will say I have nothing, but trust he will cry.
A rich man though on the other hand
Has everything he wants or might even need
But most are without honor and or feelings
And their souls and words we could never believe
When a soul throws away a love so true,
For temptation and a moment of lust
Their dignity is gone, along with their pride
And also that need of want and trust.
Stupid person do you know what you have done
To yourself and your family and friends about
They will look at you in a different way now
In the way you, they try to figure you out.
Oh trust it is the hardest thing to gain,
Something that is given to us upon our birth
But when we don't want it to live, we let it die
And we bury it, or should I say hide it in the dirt.
Oh soul can you count the fingers upon your hand,
Of the number of people that you can trust
And can you also be counted among them too
Or are you just washed away, in the dust.
Time will come when bodies will decay
And trees will rot, and metal will turn to rust
Who knows what else will be blown in the wind
I wander though, could it be or will it be your trust.
poem by Randy McClave
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The Sacrifice They Made
While you are in the midst of revelry,
Take pause, to pay tribute to the bravery
And honor possessed, by those, for whom this day is set aside;
Do this not out of coerced obligation, but out of pride,
In the knowledge that it is the sacrifice they made
That allows you to lay the plans you have laid-
For cookouts, pool parties, and gatherings with friends;
It is people like them today, whose courage defends
The liberties we have, which most take for granted.
Men and women of honor, who ensure we still reap the freedom He planted-
His gift for His children, where allegiance is assumed,
Where defense of same ensures its presence is never presumed.
I implore you, each and all, remember always the sacrifice they made,
So that we may live a life of freedom, ever-obliged, yet unafraid!
poem by Maurice Harris
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Red, White And Blue
Red, White and Blue-these hues shall ne'er fleet,
Nor shall they who fiercely defend it, e'er retreat;
They champion Freedom, at any and all cost,
But for this precept, all hope would be lost!
Our Supreme Law, they swear to support and defend,
Against all, whether here or afar-upon this, we all depend;
Serve do they, with Honor, exhibiting Loyalty and Respect-
A lesson for all, ideas are these, which all should expect!
In any one generation,1 of 100 is their humble divide,
Yet, it is they who are the source of our extraordinary pride!
Honor them, with your heartfelt gratitude, whence ever
Acquaintance is made, in return, your defense, ever!
Consider them not upon celebration but for only a day,
Keep them always in your thoughts, allow not its sway!
Maurice Harris,20 October 2009
poem by Maurice Harris
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Money not all that Matters
every fighter live out of its strength and honor,
worth comes within in the power of the will
that shows, any prize leaves nothing but a
pride that conquers the most prestigious line of
freedom
lean the Laurel of my soul and the time lead
no mercy to lift the stadium of cheer and yield
of my spirited world of power, learn not the
prayer of the loser, but a fate to know the
conquering warrior of the Knight’s and the
Conan of the Viking
here you are, facing the battle of no respect
to the opponent, for losing is not the option, but
a vision to capture the sky into the world of
greatness, guide every aim, to finish the
game with “Valor”
the direction is focus on the enemy of the
heart and grip the power to accept the truth that
sacrifice of hope wash, into what the bird
zoom to fly the sky
hate me not to lose and train me to sacrifice my
hope, to the freedom to fight ……
'a poem dedicated to Manny Pacquio - Pambansang
Kamao '
poem by Antonio Liao
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Power To Change
The power God used to save me, is the power that will change me,
The power of the Savior’s blood, and His grace He gives with love.
He is my friend and my Savior, my Sovereign God and my Creator,
And He, who saved my dark soul, can make a heart pure and whole.
The power of His awesome Grace, truly helps me as I seek His face,
To allow His Spirit to take control, as God changes this wicked soul.
The precious blood of God’s Son, has the power to change anyone,
Who comes to The Cross of Christ, to receive from God a New Life.
By Christ’s blood we were bought, so that change could be wrought,
In the body that belongs to Him, Christ who was crucified for our sin,
This body Christ called the Church; He did not leave here in the lurch,
But sent His Spirit, with His Light, to guide us safely out of the night.
The changes are the Father’s will, for this Church that Christ shall fill,
Filled with sinners from every nation, saved by The Lord’s Salvation,
Sanctified by the power of God, throughout the many lands we trod,
As a witness for those still lost, pointing them to our Savior’s Cross.
The changes shall continue in us, as in our Savior we place our trust,
To be all that we can be, through His blood, that flows from Calvary,
As His Grace gives us the power, for our needs, every day and hour,
Until that day, when by God’s Grace, we see our Savior face to face.
(Copyright ©06/2008)
Approval of Men
Praise from men, one may desire, but, honoring God is much higher,
As we honor God in all our ways, while lifting up to Him all our praise,
The praise of men can be a snare, so as believers we must be aware,
Of Satan’s dark deceptive ploy, in diverting our focus to rob our joy.
As true believers serving our Lord, we must serve Him in one accord,
With all honor and praise due to Him, Who freed us from a life of sin.
For all we are and all that we’ll be, is a praise to Him, who set us free,
As God has given to us a New Life, to praise and honor Jesus Christ.
All of our service is for God’s Son, Who alone gives life to everyone,
Christ alone dispenses every gift, which Satan himself desires to sift,
Wanting to sift believers like wheat, as the devil plans for their defeat,
As The Body he attempts to destroy, with the individual believer’s joy.
Satan gets us to put humility aside, as he begins to stroke your pride,
As he twists our innermost thought, temptation in our mind is wrought,
Wanting us to heed temptation’s call, so that he can see believers fall,
Hoping that you will fall from grace, while for Christ, you’re in the race.
It is not man, but, Jesus Christ alone, Who sits upon Heaven’s Throne,
And it’s to Christ that we must raise, all of our honor and all our praise,
Recognizing that we’re all the same, simple sinners saved in His name,
As it’s Christ alone in whom we trust, while all others will return to dust.
(Copyright ©04/2010)
For God’s Service
For God’s Service, we are fit, when filled with God’s Holy Spirit,
Given power directly from Christ, as God works through our life,
Controlling all we do and say, when we abide in Him day to day,
Serving Christ, our Glorious King, the one controlling everything.
With Christ in complete control, He leads in tasks, big and small,
Tasks that we wouldn’t have done, if we did not know God’s Son,
But He leads us each day and hour, guided by His Spirit’s power,
To faithfully serve Christ above, sharing His Goodness and Love.
Witnesses for the One we serve, with blessings we don’t deserve,
As God saved us from a former life, to walk anew, in Jesus Christ,
We serve and love Christ Jesus, because God first loved all of us,
Even before we thought of Him, God’s Love saved us from all sin.
Serving Christ is an honor friend, service for The King with no end,
Service for Christ for all eternity, since God first loved you and me,
It is an honor, but it’s an obligation, to reach for Christ every nation,
With His Salvation, that all men need, whether or not, they do heed.
It is God’s Spirit that leads the way, bearing our witness day to day,
Opening up doors and other ways, to share Christ, to God’s Praise,
Using all us through various means, as seeds, He sows and gleans,
As The Holy Spirit continues to use, all of us to spread Good News.
Flags & Tears & Heros
' For every flag, for every tear, for every Soldier loss.
A pride for One's Country and Freedom rings in Honor and Glory.
To die for Our Country is the most Distinguished Honor.
To all the fallen Soldiers and their Families,
There is never enough Thanks and Salutes for the Honor You gave to this Country.
Your Life is precious to all and you will be missed and remembered.
Watch over us in your new Mission from above.
The Sun will always remind us for the scarify you gave, to make it shine so bright.
The wind is your soul to touch our lives. TY for All you did My Fellow HEROS! ! ! ! '
poem by Michael Peterson
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Everybody can be great... because anybody can serve. You don't have to have a college degree to serve. You don't have to make your subject and verb agree to serve. you only need a heart full of grace. a soul generated by love.
quote by Martin Luther King
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet V: It Is Most True
It is most true, that eyes are form'd to serve
The inward light; and that the heavenly part
Ought to be king, from whose rules who do swerve,
Rebles to Nature, strive for their own smart.
It is most true, what we call Cupid's dart,
An image is, which for ourselves we carve:
And, fools, adore in temple of hour heart,
Till that good God make Church and churchman starve.
True, that ture beauty virtue is indeed,
Whereof this beauty can be but a shade,
Which elements with mortal mixture breed:
True, that on earth we are but pilgrims made,
And should in soul up to our country move:
True, and yet true that I must Stella love.
poem by Philip Sidney
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Sonnet 5: It Is Most True
It is most true, that eyes are form'd to serve
The inward light; and that the heavenly part
Ought to be king, from whose rules who do swerve,
Rebles to Nature, strive for their own smart.
It is most true, what we call Cupid's dart,
An image is, which for ourselves we carve:
And, fools, adore in temple of hour heart,
Till that good God make Church and churchman starve.
True, that ture beauty virtue is indeed,
Whereof this beauty can be but a shade,
Which elements with mortal mixture breed:
True, that on earth we are but pilgrims made,
And should in soul up to our country move:
True, and yet true that I must Stella love.
poem by Philip Sidney
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