Martyred poems from famous poets and best beautiful poems to feel good. Best martyred poems ever written. Read all poems about martyred.
You have to be always drunk. That's all there is to it--it's the
only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks
your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually
This is a song to celebrate banks,
Because they are full of money and you go into them and all
you hear is clinks and clanks,
Or maybe a sound like the wind in the trees on the hills,
Always be drunk.
The great imperative!
In order not to feel
The Sacrificing Of The Poor Heroes For The Independence (Epic)
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Either they would be independent or martyred they told
Let them fight it out, friend! things have gone too far.
God must judge the couple: leave them as they are
---Whichever one's the guiltless, to his glory,
And whichever one the guilt's with, to my story!
October's bellowing anger breaks and cleaves
The bronzed battalions of the stricken wood
In whose lament I hear a voice that grieves
For battle’s fruitless harvest, and the feud
Now comes the evening of the mind.
Here are the fireflies twitching in the blood;
Here is the shadow moving down the page
Where you sit reading by the garden wall.
Heard ye the Gothic trumpet's blast?
The march of hosts as Alaric passed?
His steps have tracked that glorious clime,
Oh, may I join the choir invisible
Of those immortal dead who live again
In minds made better by their presence; live
In pulses stirred to generosity,
All night the flares go up; the Dragon sings
And beats upon the dark with furious wings;
And, stung to rage by his own darting fires,
Reaches with grappling coils from town to town;
I.Written March 29, 1864.1.
Oft have I seen at some cathedral door
A laborer, pausing in the dust and heat,
Friendless and faint, with martyred steps and slow,
Faint for the flesh, but for the spirit free,
Stung by the mob that came to see the show,
The Master toiled along to Calvary;
When Father Time swings round his scythe,
Entomb me 'neath the bounteous vine,
So that its juices, red and blithe,
May cheer these thirsty bones of mine.
A country where women were subdued and named
By the society as "abala' or weak, delicate, powerless;
Proved to be an amazing eye-opener for the entire nation,
As hundreds of women marched with gusto, style,
The ghost of Ninon would be sorry now
To laugh at them, were she to see them here,
So brave and so alert for learning how
To fence with reason for another year.
Why shall I mind, why?
Birds fled to the aquatic side,
The sphere is vertical,
The sphere is vertical-
`If you were mine, if you were mine,
The day would dawn, the stars would shine,
The sun would set, the moon arise,
I used to stroll along in the pedestrian way,
Most at night times for close of the day,
With an anticipation of being so relax and calm,
And also searching for something like balm.
I was a private detective, and I was deemed one of the best,
As the colorful tulip fields, are forever attracting guests.
My skills seemed often in demand, and indeed kept me moving,
(Paika Bidroh in Odisha (1817)
The brave, not scared of graves,
live beyond and awaken us
While good soul was busy in creating a charm though dirty,
The bad soul was not sitting idle, was busy in his own duty,
Bad soul filled in the vacuum of the vacant dormant beauty,
Thanks to the good soul but I feel smell of a scent and its whispers,
In summary a brief extract
from Syrian Orthodox Archbishop
Nikodimos Daoud in a July interview
with Russia Today.
Sitting back today in a New Year
Thinking of the news I did hear
Of some gentle souls who have departed
And others I held strong who to me were martyred
Is a long ago
Before the parturition of the harmful bayonets
Before the thought has thought itself.
In the mind of our beholder
An immediate spontaneity,
Encounters vast invasions
The below series of poems are comprised of 67 love letters the Captain wrote his Queen. Exactly which Queen is still in dispute. Some letters are from the Queen either answering or instructing the Captain, for it would appear he did most of his pirating in her name, as to which she received a lion's share of the treasure. The pen name for the Queen is Loquacious, as most of the Captain's letters start with the lines, Dear Lady, Loquacious in your speech, or Lady Loquacious, for short. The letters were written over a period of years and vacillate between love, anger, and rejection as the Queen was not always responsive to the Captain's attentions. To help the reader navigate the body of work contained below, may I take the liberty to suggest certain poems which are titled and numbered. Libelous Methods (1) and Lady Of Loquacious Speech (2) are a good start because they set the tone for the body of the work. Coconspirator Of Love (10) and Raw Malkin Woman (30) are both brash and bawdy writes. Enlightenment Of The New World (17) and Capturing All Your Love (18) comparing their arrangement to a game of chess. Love's Eye (34) a gladiatorial bloodletting and Regal Tigress Delighted Purrs (44) . Some of the Captain's more inspired poems, I Compose You Totally (51) , Guide Me Toward Your Foreign World (54) , Fornicating In The Bowels Of Unswerving Reason (60) , and Contenting Love Once Copiously Poured (66) . I would be remiss to not include two of the Captain's favorites, Black Rose Drips With Red (55) and Affectations Of My Wiles (57) . I thank the reader for allowing this small indulgence. All these poems have been previously published, but now are contained in one cohesive work.
Libelous Methods (1)
Last Words by Qiū Jǐn（1875～1907）
- the first female Chinese revolutionary martyred
towards the dying days of the Manchu Dynasty
- Translated by Frank C Yue
Funeral Couplet for Xu Xílín, Martyred Freedom-Fighter of the Pre-1911 Revolution in China
-by Dr. Sun Yat-Sen (1866 - 1925)
-Translated by Frank C Yue
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