Patriotism Poems (214)

A people shunned, a people hushed
Their freedom turned to sand
No right to speak, no right to be
The people of this land
Their children taken from their homes
And thrown into a cell
The families sit with no recourse
As they live out this hell
An evil man who rules them all
He sits atop a bloody throne
And all the while, his missiles fly
As he destroys his own
The world looked on, with blinded eyes
And tried to form a pact
But 9/11 came to pass
So now its time to act
The USA, and Britain too
Charged in, ideals held near
To oust the one, who for so long
Had ruled his land with fear
The bombs they fell, the rockets flew
The air-raid sirens blare
They sound of freedom coming home
From decades of despair
The mighty tanks, they rumbled on
From town to town they went
We had to be, so very sure
The message had been sent
The smoke has cleared, but people weep
From all the death they see
But they shall learn, just as we have
That freedom is not free
So we shall stay, as guardians
And never turn our back
For it can never be again
The prison of Iraq.

With the swiftly swaying thought of becoming a helpmate
He contemplated the general apocalypse, yet coming closer to his own apocalypse.
He vanished and no longer can expatiate,
For egocentric is in nature his soul on lips.

Dear faithful fighter do betray it.
Lose thy utopian reason to save thy own reason.
Tender thy heart that's utterly gelid.
Save the silence in the season.

The azure above, distracted of the graceful tribute shots
Prevailed before and after the raucous trumpets and heavy boots.
For is it the first or the second or the mere another in dots
That in the Roll of Honour grew his roots -

For they forgotten and you forgot and so might I forget.

The gloomy ghost of death wanders deceitfully and stilly,
What has been done, he only knows.
The mind knocks at doors aggrievedly
Looking for a place to stay covertly…
The wind of grief is repenting the sins,
Day is a slave of old deprival,
People drink tears with the palms affined
Tears of the old whip and a new history.
Losing again the mind by its own bite
And still amazed at the false delusions,
Flam hastily leaves the own mother
In the incomplete and feeble darkness.
And the children with the exceeding gladness
Leaving the fusion behind
Give their lives for the liberty
And disappear among the lightful stars…
It is a stage for joyance and cry
Who will echo to our mourn?
It will rain on this Earth,
Children dreams’re troubled.
Where should I hide these crazy beings
Not making them the slave of your blood ?
Don’t build a fire on the roots,
I can’t respond to Ararats…

As i grow older i see my life that has been
images stored in my head locked away not to be seen
for i am the only one with the key
should i open an image today with my speacial key

that image stored in my head for only me to see
clear as day lovinly created in my head family images of times gone by friends ,relatives some long since gone by lovingly stored in every detail locked secured inside my head

lots of images i foundly look back on my past locked away for i am the only one with the key
images that bring me joy some of saddness some of fear some images that will not go away of bad times that i wish would go away
family members locked away in my head that i see they are not forgotten my me

I have came back, to where I came
To tell you this, It's no the same
I missed it so every day,
folk would ask me,
Why do I stay,
So far away, fae ma ain kind
There's somethin missin in your mind,
I'm sure it was my heart they meant,
The ache, the love that was absent,
they never new or understood,
I can't explain, I never would!

By the dawns early light..
we meet Smoke..
Hell..
and.....Fire..

By the dawns early light..
Spirit battles Spirit..

By the dawns early light..
Courage shall not flinch..

By the dawns early light..
The sword of Independence
will crush the foe..

You do not want to meet us
at noon..

You do not want to meet us
at night..

You do not want to meet us..
By The Dawns Early Light!

So you really think I am weak
Got me outflanked and outnumbered
Surrounded by your exuburance
"Watch out", I say to your kind
For maybe the calvery isn't coming
But you know I won't be afraid
Just look into these country blue eyes
And know they don't make many of us
We're far from cowards, and you will see
We won't run away from our fights
I'm ready..are you?, for at the end of day
You will see my flag still lofted high
Those stars and stripes still flying
And waving over many fields of glory
To our Lord, our Country, our Breathern
***Happy Birthday -- USA!***

It is an old and faded flag, but it is always there
For visitors to see it freely waving in the air;
She says , "I always fly it every time I get the chance
Although I know it's strange to see it here on this ranch".

And when you'd ask her about it, her face would beam with joy
She'd tell how she went off to war alongside with the boys;
She said it changed her to a woman and changed her much too fast,
From scenes imprinted in her mind..but that is in the past.

She lost several comrades
But somehow her life was spared;
And pleases her so when folks would fly their flags,
To show that they too, cared.

Then said, "I hope you'll fly one, and never take it down
Even though you're in the country and a long, long way from town;
Because there's still a lot of good ones fighting hard to keep us free,
Although it maybe for a cause in which you disagree".

Now ever since that day when it was explained all to thee
We know just why she flies it when it's just for her to see;
It's to show appreciation for those who gave their best ,
And that flag is always flying on the ranch here in the West.

At the close of the day, an old cowboy sits
Kind of quiet on the old porch swing;
Now and then he'll softly whistle a song
Or perhaps he'll sing a tune.

Then he'll change his mind and waggle his head
And close his eyes in thought;
He'll think of WWII, the war over there,
And of the lessons that it taught.

When his gaze wanders over to the nearby hills
He recalls how they look when it snows;
He studies the flag that he raised this morning,
How it moves when the west wind blows.

If you look real close, you'll see a tear
Gives a hint of some inner strife;
His mind's eye seeing the faces of friends
Who long ago left this life.

The flag waves gently in the sunset sky
And the old man raises his chin;
In his mind he's hearing the sound of drums,
And he waits for the tune to begin.

When it does, his step is strong and brisk
As he marches out to the flag;
He stops and stands there watching it wave,
Wipes his eyes with a pocket rag.

He continues his march to the old corral
Where his Quarter Horse comes over to talk;
He saddles him up and climbs on top,
And heads him out for a walk.

On a hill he wonders if the whole blamed thing
Was worth all the friends he lost;
Heading home, he knows down deep in his heart,
He too, would have paid the cost.

Yes, he shared the peril but he returned
To his home in the sand and sage;
Then back at his flag, he thanks all his pards,
For letting him reach old age.

There is calmness in the early morn
That begins to make some sense
Before the daily grind will churn
Distracts us with offense
A time making a spirit reborn
When each new day commence
Like a gentle rain be born
When vapors of life condense
Make bold the dusty colors worn
On fields of faded pretense
Lift high the emblem we adorn
That stars and stripes propense
It’s our place to live freeborn
Behind this picket fence