Battles poems from famous poets and best beautiful poems to feel good. Best battles poems ever written. Read all poems about battles.
And because love battles
not only in its burning agricultures
but also in the mouth of men and women,
That like a daisy opens its petals to the sun
So do you
Open your face to me as I turn the page.
Behold her, single in the field,
Yon solitary Highland Lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
Stop here, or gently pass!
Say to them,
say to the down-keepers,
All dreams may not come true
All credits due may not accrue
But with true reflection in mind
Ideas newer and newer may emerge and find
A born salesman,
my father made all his dough
by selling wool to Fieldcrest, Woolrich and Faribo.
Where are your monuments, your battles, martyrs?
Where is your tribal memory? Sirs,
in that gray vault. The sea. The sea
has locked them up. The sea is History.
Foil'd by our fellow-men, depress'd, outworn,
We leave the brutal world to take its way,
And, Patience! in another life, we say
The world shall be thrust down, and we up-borne.
Wielding a tool, mighty and spiky
Mightier than either the sword or rod
He reigns monarch in Fancy's domain
Sketching life in fanciful color and mode
THAT which eludes this verse and any verse,
Unheard by sharpest ear, unform'd in clearest eye or cunningest mind,
Nor lore nor fame, nor happiness nor wealth,
And yet the pulse of every heart and life throughout the world
War is never over
Thought the treaties may be signed
The memories of the battles
Are forever in our minds
My books I'd fain cast off, I cannot read,
'Twixt every page my thoughts go stray at large
Down in the meadow, where is richer feed,
And will not mind to hit their proper targe.
Lift up the veils that darken the delicate moon
of thy glory and grace,
(For the Rev. James J. Daly, S. J.)
Bright stars, yellow stars, flashing through the air,
Are you errant strands of Lady Mary's hair?
The deck of an ancient ship. At the right of the stage is the mast, with a large square sail hiding a great deal of the sky and sea on that side. The tiller is at the left of the stage; it is a long oar coming through an opening in the bulwark.
I'll tell of the Battle of Hastings,
As happened in days long gone by,
When Duke William became King of England,
And 'Arold got shot in the eye.
from Memories of President Lincoln
Come and see the old poet
Laying in his bed of ashes and dust,
His love in ruins
His mentality frozen by restless rust,
ADIEU, O soldier!
You of the rude campaigning, (which we shared,)
The rapid march, the life of the camp,
The walls are closing in on me, refusing to let me feel at ease
The air is getting stubborn, refusing to enter my lungs
My vision is getting blurry, refusing to let me properly see
My chest is rising higher, refusing to let me breathe
There is a simple solution for World Peace
A way that the whole world must know
When we Overcome our Ignorance and Realize the Truth
Then we will peacefully enjoy the show
I am fighting a million battles
Inside and out
I ll win each one of them
That's for sure, without a doubt
Sometimes deep down the heart a strong gush of wave battles to maroon away comes out
Sometimes deep down the heart a wish to shut down to comes out
Sometimes deep down the heart a will to die for your battles to comes out
tera khoobsoorat chehra
jaisay ghul bahar ki pankhDiaN
khul jaati hain sooraj ki roshni main
khul jaata hai tera chehra
My steps my hand,
My coldness my pain,
My battles my scars.
Those belated battles.
Created to relate to a past.
To have had but missed to reminisce them.
Those belated battles.
The spirit that brings one in a battlefield,
That spirit is immortal and is never broken,
Battles may be won, battles may be lost,
Wait for tomorrow, the stones will be shaken,
I know you love your girl,
And I know you love to hold her hand,
While she crosses the road,
You love to hold her tight,
Am astonished, by the writings in the books of James, John and Ephisians; that endorses us, the Christians as victors, yet we play the victim, like the girl who lives stressing to fit into her friends' way of parties and clubs like hands on a small pair of gloves, or the boy whose a prisoner in his own house and now the percepiant of the tears that roll down his mothers' cheeks at the hands of an abusive spouse, so he embarks on a quest in search of peace but there is not any sign of a Dove.
Excuse the preamble, but like those two divergent examples, we live our lives in concealment like the haystack that covers the needle but never will you hide, from the maker of the bionic eye of an eagle.
Its ironic how the field of battle adores the victor neglecting the fact that they are nothing without the villian, likewise, our prison of plight lacks reason to define us because by grace we are designed to conquer in all seasons.
Writing a poem is not about bringing some words together to create some charming sentences. It's so much deeper than that. Writing poetry is a bridge that allows people to express their feelings and make others live every single word they read. Poetry is to educate people, to lead them away from hate to love, from violence to mercy and pity. Writing poetry is to help this community better understand life and live it more passionately. PoemHunter.com contains an enormous number of famous poems from all over the world, by both classical and modern poets. You can read as many as you want, and also submit your own poems to share your writings with all our poets, members, and visitors.