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A warrior is free to be a hero and pull off daring do and the soldier is irresponsible if he does it.

quote by C.J. Cherryh
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Beowulf

LO, praise of the prowess of people-kings
of spear-armed Danes, in days long sped,
we have heard, and what honor the athelings won!
Oft Scyld the Scefing from squadroned foes,
from many a tribe, the mead-bench tore,
awing the earls. Since erst he lay
friendless, a foundling, fate repaid him:
for he waxed under welkin, in wealth he throve,
till before him the folk, both far and near,
who house by the whale-path, heard his mandate,
gave him gifts: a good king he!
To him an heir was afterward born,
a son in his halls, whom heaven sent
to favor the folk, feeling their woe
that erst they had lacked an earl for leader
so long a while; the Lord endowed him,
the Wielder of Wonder, with world's renown.
Famed was this Beowulf: far flew the boast of him,
son of Scyld, in the Scandian lands.
So becomes it a youth to quit him well
with his father's friends, by fee and gift,
that to aid him, aged, in after days,
come warriors willing, should war draw nigh,
liegemen loyal: by lauded deeds
shall an earl have honor in every clan.
Forth he fared at the fated moment,
sturdy Scyld to the shelter of God.
Then they bore him over to ocean's billow,
loving clansmen, as late he charged them,
while wielded words the winsome Scyld,
the leader beloved who long had ruled….
In the roadstead rocked a ring-dight vessel,
ice-flecked, outbound, atheling's barge:
there laid they down their darling lord
on the breast of the boat, the breaker-of-rings,
by the mast the mighty one. Many a treasure
fetched from far was freighted with him.
No ship have I known so nobly dight
with weapons of war and weeds of battle,
with breastplate and blade: on his bosom lay
a heaped hoard that hence should go
far o'er the flood with him floating away.
No less these loaded the lordly gifts,
thanes' huge treasure, than those had done
who in former time forth had sent him
sole on the seas, a suckling child.
High o'er his head they hoist the standard,
a gold-wove banner; let billows take him,
gave him to ocean. Grave were their spirits,
mournful their mood. No man is able

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Baudelaire
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Superman My Hero

Superman my hero
Is just like my friend
It was just what I want him to be
Superman my hero
Is giving us hope
He is keeping us free
God's nation
Is in chaos
But there is one man that
Can save us all
Superman my Hero
He flied many times a day in the sky
He touches heaven
Just like the birds do
Superman my hero
I am so proud of him
Superman my hero
I pray for you every day
You have a job, I have one too
I will tell you what gets me through
Strenght, love, and peace
I pray for peace where I am going to be
For you and me
Kids at school
Sending Postcards to those who died overseas in the war
Superman my hero
Keeping busy is what I need to do
And keeping busy these days seems to be the tool
I want to make the hour go fast
So I have to keep myself busy
Superman my hero
Doesn't live in fear
But I do
Superman my hero
Makes sacrifices also
Like I do
Superman my hero
Is landing from the sky right now
He had a perfect landing
Superman my hero
I light a candle for you
May God always bless you
Superman my hero
To the world you gave so much love
Superman my hero
You are an hero
Superman my hero
What are we going to do when our time is up here on earth?
Superman my hero
Your spirit will always be alive in me

[...] Read more

poem by Aldo Kraas
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The Young British Soldier

When the 'arf-made recruity goes out to the East
'E acts like a babe an' 'e drinks like a beast,
An' 'e wonders because 'e is frequent deceased
Ere 'e's fit for to serve as a soldier.
Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
So-oldier ~OF~ the Queen!

Now all you recruities what's drafted to-day,
You shut up your rag-box an' 'ark to my lay,
An' I'll sing you a soldier as far as I may:
A soldier what's fit for a soldier.
Fit, fit, fit for a soldier . . .

First mind you steer clear o' the grog-sellers' huts,
For they sell you Fixed Bay'nets that rots out your guts --
Ay, drink that 'ud eat the live steel from your butts --
An' it's bad for the young British soldier.
Bad, bad, bad for the soldier . . .

When the cholera comes -- as it will past a doubt --
Keep out of the wet and don't go on the shout,
For the sickness gets in as the liquor dies out,
An' it crumples the young British soldier.
Crum-, crum-, crumples the soldier . . .

But the worst o' your foes is the sun over'ead:
You ~must~ wear your 'elmet for all that is said:
If 'e finds you uncovered 'e'll knock you down dead,
An' you'll die like a fool of a soldier.
Fool, fool, fool of a soldier . . .

If you're cast for fatigue by a sergeant unkind,
Don't grouse like a woman nor crack on nor blind;
Be handy and civil, and then you will find
That it's beer for the young British soldier.
Beer, beer, beer for the soldier . . .

Now, if you must marry, take care she is old --
A troop-sergeant's widow's the nicest I'm told,
For beauty won't help if your rations is cold,
Nor love ain't enough for a soldier.
'Nough, 'nough, 'nough for a soldier . . .

If the wife should go wrong with a comrade, be loath
To shoot when you catch 'em -- you'll swing, on my oath! --
Make 'im take 'er and keep 'er: that's Hell for them both,
An' you're shut o' the curse of a soldier.
Curse, curse, curse of a soldier . . .

[...] Read more

poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Mother’s Cry of Late

Where for art thou, soldier?
Out East? West? –
And when? –
What part your rabid history?
And why? –
What wrought your destiny? –
For whom
You’d wreak your enmity –
I crave your fate to pen!

What comprehension of the
Order? –
‘Listen up! you men!
Raze to ground the taken land!
See they die and e’er you’ll stand, for
Death is but a grain of sand –
The mighty triumph, medal grand!

Now go you well!
Amen! ’

What sight upon the bloody lie
Of war? – your doubtful fate.

‘Where for art thou, soldier? ’ –
Your mother’s cry of late.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Soldier's Ghost

I bled for you - would you for me?

I blessed a skin in blazing fuel
Then took a bullet in a duel of
‘He or I to Die.'

I often question ‘Why? '
Do you?

My country was my life to give -
Would you for country cease to live?
Sinking in a mire of death,
You have no choice -
So while you're still alive,
Rejoice!

I cried in failure - did you care?
And as I waned, were you aware of
What I did -?
Fighting for my country while you hid
Behind your comfort back at home?

Still relaxed?
My wife and child are fading at the tomb.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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A Hero?

Her hero is pretty and thin
Her hero is a hero to many
A hero of fame and a hero of fortune
A role model, a hero of glamour
Her hero is a hero to many

His hero is fit and fast
His hero is a hero to many
A hero of sport, a hero of games
A role model, a hero of victory
His hero is a hero to many

Her hero is clever yet plane
Her hero is a hero to few
A hero of science, a hero of logic
A role model, a hero of knowledge
Her hero is a hero to few

His hero is a hero of art but he is poor
His hero is a hero to few
A hero of word a hero of writings
A role model, a hero of language
His hero is a hero to few

But that’s the thing with your heros....
Hero worship is only skin deep.

poem by Timothy Venard
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Hero?

Hail great hero!
Hero brave!
We praise you hero!
I your slave
Now duly fall
On giving knee
In hero worship
Unto thee!

Now did you hero save our globe
When draped in classic hero’s robe?
And did it flow as reddened blood
As battles raged in fields of mud?

Oh hero tell me of your fame:
Were writhing serpents fair your game?
Did you pierce the dragon’s heart
Intrepid hero; play the part

When Tyrant slain in hero’s fight
On quaking ground thro’ battle’s might?
And did you hero conquer evil -
Waste the minions of the devil?

Oh valiant hero, does your armour
Gleam from ventures steeped in valour?
Your sword oh hero, sparks a glint
From charging steel to give the hint

Of what great chapters Hero's Tome
Might tell to us when heroes roam
Through lands of yore when goblins vile
Sought a chance to kill for bile.

Oh hail thy hero,
Hero tall!
Bless you hero,
As I fall
In blushing shame,
I speak to me…

This mirror aids to fantasise
That I be hero worldly wise,
But meek and mild is all I am:
Hero naught; unbridled scam.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Vision Of Columbus - Book 5

Columbus hail'd them with a father's smile,
Fruits of his cares and children of his toil;
With tears of joy, while still his eyes descried
Their course adventurous o'er the distant tide.
Thus, when o'er deluged earth her Seraph stood,
The tost ark bounding on the shoreless flood,
The sacred treasure claim'd his guardian view,
While climes unnoticed in the wave withdrew.
He saw the squadrons reach the rising strand,
Leap from the wave and share the joyous land;
Receding forests yield the heroes room,
And opening wilds with fields and gardens bloom.
Fill'd with the glance extatic, all his soul
Now seems unbounded with the scene to roll,
And now, impatient, with retorted eye,
Perceives his station in another sky.
Waft me, O winged Angel, waft me o'er,
With those blest heroes, to the happy shore;
There let me live and die–but all appears
A fleeting vision; these are future years.
Yet grant in nearer view the climes may spread,
And my glad steps may seem their walks to tread;
While eastern coasts and kingdoms, wrapp'd in night,
Arise no more to intercept the sight.
The hero spoke; the Angel's powerful hand
Moves brightening o'er the visionary land;
The height, that bore them, still sublimer grew,
And earth's whole circuit settled from their view:
A dusky Deep, serene as breathless even,
Seem'd vaulting downward, like another heaven;
The sun, rejoicing on his western way,
Stamp'd his fair image in the inverted day:
Sudden, the northern shores again drew nigh,
And life and action fill'd the hero's eye.
Where the dread Laurence breaks his passage wide,
Where Missisippi's milder currents glide,
Where midland realms their swelling mountainsheave,
And slope their champaigns to the distant wave,
On the green banks, and o'er the extended plain,
Rise into sight the happiest walks of man.
The placid ports, that break the billowing gales,
Rear their tall masts and stretch their whitening sails;
The harvests wave, the groves with fruitage bend,
And bulwarks heave, and spiry domes ascend;
Fair works of peace in growing splendor rise,
And grateful earth repays the bounteous skies.
Till war invades; when opening vales disclose,
In moving crouds, the savage tribes of foes;
High tufted quills their painted foreheads press,
Dark spoils of beasts their shaggy shoulders dress,

[...] Read more

poem by Joel Barlow
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Daring Night

In the daring night when all the
Stars are shining bright
Squeeze me dont leave me
In the daring night
Galactic swirl in the firmament tonight
Oh with the lord of the dance
With the lord of the dance
In the daring night
I see orion and the hunters
Standing by the light of the moon
In the daring night
In the daring night
And the heart and the soul
As we look up in awe and wonder at the heavens
Oh and we go with the lord of the dance
With the lord of the dance, the lord of the dance
In the daring night
In the daring night when all the stars are
Shining bright
Oh baby squeeze me dont leave me in the daring night
In the firmament we move, we move and we live
And we have our being
Squeeze me dont leave, leave me in the daring night
In the firmament we move and galactic swirl
And we live and we breathe and have our being
Baby in the daring light
Darling squeeze me squeeze me
Dont ever leave me in the daring night
When all the stars are shining bright
And dont let go, and dont let go
Dont let go dont let go in the daring night
And we move and we move, and we move and we move
Baby dont let go in the daring night
In the daring night when all the stars are
Shining bright
Baby squeeze me dont leave me in the daring night
Capture it all oh with the lord of the dance
Oh with the lord of the dance in the daring night
With the lord of the dance in the daring night
With the lord of the dance and the great goddess
Of the eternal wisdom
Standing by the light of the moon in the daring night
And the bodies move and we sweat
And have our being
Dont leave me in the daring night
In the daring night when all the stars are
Shining bright
Squeeze me dont leave me
Baby in the daring night
Squeeze me dont leave me etc.

song performed by Van Morrison
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Pull Away

Ohhhh
Pull
Pull away
Away from everyone
Is there some way out?
Somewhere you can go?
Oh no no no
We dont have the answers, sailed a thousand years, thats on your own
Is there one thin resolution?
Are you cold?
Is there everything
I said, is everything they push upon you?
Still I watch you pull away
Away
Away
Away from everything, you pull away
Wont you come on, pull
Pull away
Away from everyone
Is there no way out?
No where left to roam?
Oh no no no
We dont have your answers
Youre a thousand years, still on your own
But theres one thin resolution
Are you cold?
Is there everything?
I said, is everything they push upon you?
Still I watch you pull away
You pull away
You pull away
Away from everyone
You pull
Pull away
You pull away
Oh wont you heal my broken hands, they lay upon you
Wrap my soul around
Still I watch you pull away
Heal my broken hands, they lay upon you
Wrap my soul around you
Still I watch you pull away
Drain your tears
Oh no, drain your tears
But you pull, pull away
Away from everyone
Pull, pull away
Away from everyone
Is there somewhere, somewhere you can go?
No, theres no nowhere
Nowhere left to run

[...] Read more

song performed by Candlebox
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Oh! He's Nothing But A Soldier

'Oh! he's nothing but a soldier,'
But he's coming here tonight,
For I saw him pass this morning,
With his uniform so bright.
He was coming in from picket,
Whilst he sung a sweet refrain,
And he kissed his hand at some one
Peeping through the window pane.
Ah! he rode no dashing charger
'With a black and flowing mane,'
But his bayonet glistened brightly,
As the sun lit up the plain.
No waving plume or feather
Flashed its crimson in the light -
He belonged to the Light Infantry,
And he came to war- to fight.
'Oh! he's nothing but a soldier,'
His trust is in his sword -
To carve his way to glory,
Through the servile Yankee horde.
No pompous pageant heralds him,
No sycophants attend,
In his belt you see his body guard -
His tried and trusty friend.
'Oh! he's nothing but a soldier,'
And a stranger in our land;
His home is in the sunny South,
By the blue Gulf's golden strand.
But I wish I knew his people,
Some little of his past,
For father's always telling me
About our 'social caste'.
'Oh! he's nothing but a soldier,'
But his eyes are very fine,
And I sometimes think, when passing,
They are piercing into mine.
Pshaw! 'He's nothing but a soldier,'
Come, let me be discreet;
But really, for a soldier,
His toilet's very neat.
'Oh! he's nothing but a soldier,'
But last night he came to tea -
What an interesting soldier -
But then, he's rather free.
'Twas two o'clock this morning,
Before he took his leave;
He has my ring - the fellow!
But what's the use to grieve?
He has been again to see us,
The 'gentleman' in grey;

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poem by Anonymous Americas
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In A Soldier...You Will Find...

In a soldier...
Loyalty and strength you see.
In a soldier...
Discipline, bravery.
In a soldier...
A world that is free.
In a soldier..
Sacrifice, so the world can be free.
In a soldier...
No compromise.
In a soldier...
Courage in his eyes.
In a soldier...
A special bond.
In a soldier...
Iraq, Viet-Nam.
In a soldier...
Sad, drooped eyes.
In a soldier...
Pain, when a buddy dies.
In a soldier...
Terrible places.
In a soldier...
Tough, grim faces.
In a soldier...
Stories untold.
In a soldier...
Action makes him old.
In a soldier...
Dark, frightening nights.
In a soldier...
Missing his lovely wife.
In a soldier...
Memories of a decent life.
In a soldier...
Scars deep in the mind.
In a soldier...
An exploding mine.
In a soldier...
The thrill of leaving war.
In a soldier...
No more pains anymore.
In a soldier...
No more tears.
In a soldier...
Leaving war, after a long, trying year.

poem by Philip Lore
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Custer

BOOK FIRST.

I.

ALL valor died not on the plains of Troy.
Awake, my Muse, awake! be thine the joy
To sing of deeds as dauntless and as brave
As e'er lent luster to a warrior's grave.
Sing of that noble soldier, nobler man,
Dear to the heart of each American.
Sound forth his praise from sea to listening sea-
Greece her Achilles claimed, immortal Custer, we.

II.

Intrepid are earth's heroes now as when
The gods came down to measure strength with men.
Let danger threaten or let duty call,
And self surrenders to the needs of all;
Incurs vast perils, or, to save those dear,
Embraces death without one sigh or tear.
Life's martyrs still the endless drama play
Though no great Homer lives to chant their worth to-day.

III.

And if he chanted, who would list his songs,
So hurried now the world's gold-seeking throngs?
And yet shall silence mantle mighty deeds?
Awake, dear Muse, and sing though no ear heeds!
Extol the triumphs, and bemoan the end
Of that true hero, lover, son and friend
Whose faithful heart in his last choice was shown-
Death with the comrades dear, refusing flight alone.

IV.

He who was born for battle and for strife
Like some caged eagle frets in peaceful life;
So Custer fretted when detained afar
From scenes of stirring action and of war.
And as the captive eagle in delight,
When freedom offers, plumes himself for flight
And soars away to thunder clouds on high,
With palpitating wings and wild exultant cry,

V.

So lion-hearted Custer sprang to arms,
And gloried in the conflict's loud alarms.

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poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Warrior

Wasnt there a time
When no one lived in pain
Zero down to zero
But a warrior
The innocence of birth
The power of the earth
Out of all thats good
Comes a warrior
Time - is it you who changes minds
Suing us - for something weve not done
Stealing the heroes - all the guiding lights, to find the way
Justice has been gone
To pieces for so long
Some killers call themselves
A warrior
Warriors with no pride
Committing suicide
The picture of a man
Thats your warrior
cause hes a warrior
Yes, hes a warrior
He fights for peace and freedom
cause hes a warrior
Yes, hes a warrior
He fights for peace and freedom
Think about the time
Where manhood promised pride
And history was made
Just by warriors
We have to face the world
And hope that someones heard
Who could replace a man
Like the warrior
cause hes a warrior
Yes, hes a warrior
He fights for peace and freedom
cause hes a warrior
Yes, hes a warrior
He fights for peace and freedom
Time - is it you who changes minds
Suing us - for something weve not done
Stealing the heroes - all the guiding lights, to find the way
cause hes a warrior
Yes, hes a warrior
He fights for peace and freedom
cause hes a warrior
Yes, hes a warrior
He fights for peace and freedom
cause hes a warrior..........

song performed by U. D. O.
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Orlando Furioso Canto 1

CANTO 1

ARGUMENT
Angelica, whom pressing danger frights,
Flies in disorder through the greenwood shade.
Rinaldo's horse escapes: he, following, fights
Ferrau, the Spaniard, in a forest glade.
A second oath the haughty paynim plights,
And keeps it better than the first he made.
King Sacripant regains his long-lost treasure;
But good Rinaldo mars his promised pleasure.

I
OF LOVES and LADIES, KNIGHTS and ARMS, I sing,
Of COURTESIES, and many a DARING FEAT;
And from those ancient days my story bring,
When Moors from Afric passed in hostile fleet,
And ravaged France, with Agramant their king,
Flushed with his youthful rage and furious heat,
Who on king Charles', the Roman emperor's head
Had vowed due vengeance for Troyano dead.

II
In the same strain of Roland will I tell
Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme,
On whom strange madness and rank fury fell,
A man esteemed so wise in former time;
If she, who to like cruel pass has well
Nigh brought my feeble wit which fain would climb
And hourly wastes my sense, concede me skill
And strength my daring promise to fulfil.

III
Good seed of Hercules, give ear and deign,
Thou that this age's grace and splendour art,
Hippolitus, to smile upon his pain
Who tenders what he has with humble heart.
For though all hope to quit the score were vain,
My pen and pages may pay the debt in part;
Then, with no jealous eye my offering scan,
Nor scorn my gifts who give thee all I can.

IV
And me, amid the worthiest shalt thou hear,
Whom I with fitting praise prepare to grace,
Record the good Rogero, valiant peer,
The ancient root of thine illustrious race.
Of him, if thou wilt lend a willing ear,
The worth and warlike feats I shall retrace;

[...] Read more

poem by Ludovico Ariosto
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Hero And Leander. The Third Sestiad

New light gives new directions, fortunes new,
To fashion our endeavours that ensue.
More harsh, at least more hard, more grave and high
Our subject runs, and our stern Muse must fly.
Love's edge is taken off, and that light flame,
Those thoughts, joys, longings, that before became
High unexperienc'd blood, and maids' sharp plights,
Must now grow staid, and censure the delights,
That, being enjoy'd, ask judgment; now we praise,
As having parted: evenings crown the days.
And now, ye wanton Loves, and young Desires,
Pied Vanity, the mint of strange attires,
Ye lisping Flatteries, and obsequious Glances,
Relentful Musics, and attractive Dances,
And you detested Charms constraining love!
Shun love's stoln sports by that these lovers prove.
By this, the sovereign of heaven's golden fires,
And young Leander, lord of his desires,
Together from their lovers' arms arose:
Leander into Hellespontus throws
His Hero-handled body, whose delight
Made him disdain each other epithite.
And as amidst th' enamour'd waves he swims,
The god of gold of purpose gilt his limbs,
That, this word _gilt_ including double sense,
The double guilt of his incontinence
Might be express'd, that had no stay t' employ
The treasure which the love-god let him joy
In his dear Hero, with such sacred thrift
As had beseem'd so sanctified a gift;
But, like a greedy vulgar prodigal,
Would on the stock dispend, and rudely fall,
Before his time, to that unblessed blessing
Which, for lust's plague, doth perish with possessing:
Joy graven in sense, like snow in water, wasts:
Without preserve of virtue, nothing lasts.
What man is he, that with a wealthy eye
Enjoys a beauty richer than the sky,
Through whose white skin, softer than soundest sleep,
With damask eyes the ruby blood doth peep,
And runs in branches through her azure veins,
Whose mixture and first fire his love attains;
Whose both hands limit both love's deities,
And sweeten human thoughts like Paradise;
Whose disposition silken is and kind,
Directed with an earth-exempted mind;--
Who thinks not heaven with such a love is given?
And who, like earth, would spend that dower of heaven,
With rank desire to joy it all at first?
What simply kills our hunger, quencheth thirst,

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poem by George Chapman
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Brave Little Soldier

Im a brave little soldier
I must be bold and strong
A brave little soldier
And I must carry on
Im a brave little soldier
A brave little soldier
Im a brave little soldier
I must fight, I must win
Im a brave little soldier
Through hell and back again
Im a brave little soldier
A brave little soldier
Per rum, pum, pum
Per rum, pum, pum
Per rum, pum, pum, pum, pum
Ye though I am marching through the valley filled with fear
My steps are sure and sturdy and my aim is straight and clear
The enemy is stalking me just waiting for the kill
Like david slewed galiath
I will claim this battle field
Im a brave little soldier
I must do what I can
Im a brave little soldier
And I must take a stand
Im a brave little soldier
A brave little soldier
Marching, marching onward
Searching out the light of truth
I did not start the war
But its a battle I cant lose
Faith will be my armor
And love my sword and shield
I must defeat the enemy
I will, I will, I will
A brave little soldier
I must be bold and strong
A brave little soldier
And I must carry on
A brave little soldier
A brave little soldier
Im a brave little soldier
A brave little soldier
Brave, little soldier

song performed by Dolly Parton
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Hero And Leander. The Fourth Sestiad

Now from Leander's place she rose, and found
Her hair and rent robe scatter'd on the ground;
Which taking up, she every piece did lay
Upon an altar, where in youth of day
She us'd t' exhibit private sacrifice:
Those would she offer to the deities
Of her fair goddess and her powerful son,
As relics of her late-felt passion;
And in that holy sort she vow'd to end them,
In hope her violent fancies, that did rend them,
Would as quite fade in her love's holy fire,
As they should in the flames she meant t' inspire.
Then put she on all her religious weeds,
That decked her in her secret sacred deeds;
A crown of icicles, that sun nor fire
Could ever melt, and figur'd chaste desire;
A golden star shined in her naked breast,
In honour of the queen-light of the east.
In her right hand she held a silver wand,
On whose bright top Peristera did stand.
Who was a nymph, but now transformed a dove,
And in her life was dear in Venus' love;
And for her sake she ever since that time
Choosed doves to draw her coach through heaven's blue clime.
Her plenteous hair in curled billows swims
On her bright shoulder: her harmonious limbs
Sustained no more but a most subtile veil,
That hung on them, as it durst not assail
Their different concord; for the weakest air
Could raise it swelling from her beauties fair;
Nor did it cover, but adumbrate only
Her most heart-piercing parts, that a blest eye
Might see, as it did shadow, fearfully,
All that all-love-deserving paradise:
It was as blue as the most freezing skies;
Near the sea's hue, for thence her goddess came:
On it a scarf she wore of wondrous frame;
In midst whereof she wrought a virgin's face,
From whose each cheek a fiery blush did chase
Two crimson flames, that did two ways extend,
Spreading the ample scarf to either end;
Which figur'd the division of her mind,
Whiles yet she rested bashfully inclin'd,
And stood not resolute to wed Leander;
This serv'd her white neck for a purple sphere,
And cast itself at full breadth down her back:
There, since the first breath that begun the wrack
Of her free quiet from Leander's lips,
She wrought a sea, in one flame, full of ships;
But that one ship where all her wealth did pass,

[...] Read more

poem by George Chapman
Added by Poetry Lover
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Freedom Now

They throwed him in jail
And they kept him there
Hoping soo hed die
That his body and spirit would waste away
And soon after that his mind
But every day is born a fool
One who thinks that he can rule
One who says tomorrows mine
One who wakes one day to find
The prison doors open the shackles broken
And chaos in the street
Everybody sing were free free free free
Everybody sing were free free free free
Everybody sing were free free free free
They throwed him in jail
And they kept him there
Hoping his memoryd die
That the people forget how he once led
And fought for justice in their lives
But every day is born a man
Who hates what he cant understand
Who thinks the answer is to kill
Who thinks his actions are gods will
And he thinks hes free free free free
Yes he thinks hes free free free free
He thinks hes free free free free
Soon must come the day
Whe the righteous have their way
Unjustly tried are free
And people live in peace I say
Give the man release
Go on and set your conscience free
Right the wrongs you made
Even a fool can have his day
Let us all be free free free free
Let us all be free free free free
Let us all be free free free free
Free our bodies free our minds
Free our hearts
Freedom for everyone
And freedom now
Freedom now
Freedom now
Freedom now
Let us all be free free free free
Let us all be free free free free
Let us all be free free free free

song performed by Tracy Chapman
Added by Lucian Velea
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A Soldier- Dedicated to Nicholas Shelton

There is discipline in A Soldier you can see it when he walks,
There is honor in A Soldier you hear it when he talks.
There is courage in A Soldier you can see it in his eyes,
There is loyalty in A Soldier that he will not compromise.
There is something in A Soldier that makes him stand apart,
There is strength in A Soldier that beats from his heart.
A Soldier isn't a title any man can be hired to do,
A Soldier is the soul of that man buried deep inside of you.
A Soldier's job isn't finished after an 8 hour day or a 40 hour week,
A Soldier is always A Soldier even while he sleeps.
A Soldier serves his country first and his life is left behind,
A Soldier has to sacrifice what comes first in a civilian's mind.
If you are civilian - I am saying this to you..... next time you see A Soldier remember what they do.
A Soldier is the reason our land is 'Home of the free',
A Soldier is the one that is brave protecting you and me.
If you are A Soldier - I am saying this to you.....
Thank God for EVERY SOLDIER Thank God for what YOU do!

I thought about you Mr. Shelton, I figured this is the least I could do to thank you my friend.

poem by Caleb Jones
Added by Poetry Lover
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