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Ode Patriotic Poems | Ode Poems About Patriotic

These Ode Patriotic poems are examples of Ode poems about Patriotic. These are the best examples of Ode Patriotic poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Ode | |

Love is a Sacrifice

You have my soul, but you have your fate Whatever your words, I’m willing to take You have my word; I’ll give you my breath It’s like a chain that would never be break You are my love with all my heart, I’ll fight for you with all my might. And in the way, you admire your goals, You hold my hands, but not so close. As you go to your chosen path, I’ll accept the fact that we will be apart. In the dark side, I leave behind Within my faith, that you’ll arise Please don’t look back, coz I’m fighting still I’m hurting so much! Don’t want to have you near I accept my fate for what it does, I’m bleeding so much, do you know for whom it was? You reach your goals, as you want to have, Would you remind the man that gave what he had? As you reach the stars, and be the one Be a sun that shines its own. After the rain, the rainbow comes, Like dark in the moon, when the light flash A glimpse from you at least a short For then I knew my pain is worth.

Copyright © Emmanuel Fajutagana

Details | Rhyme | |


Our first image of a gorgeous black Aphrodite
To inhabit the halls of power with charm,
Mrs. Obama moves over the sacred fields deftly
Reclaiming the realm with femininine form.
Sensuously challenging those who dare deny
Her right to bare her bronze sun-kissed skin
As the queen in a staid pallid white world,
She assumes her role with no hint of giving in.

A worthy image of beauty to accompany a giant of a man,
Mrs. Obama came riding eastward her sword at her side.
She planned for an agenda about change most would scorn,
As a product of northern honing oil and heartland pride.
And she feared not the hard and awful destiny ahead
For a beautiful black woman in a loveless town;
As she brought her fashion for elegance and flair,
Allowing a gawking world to see her face was brown.

As a Capricorn, Mrs. O keeps her keen focus on success,
Never surrendering to impatience, doubt or hesitation.
Her aim is narrow and exact, skillfully chosen
And moored on a carefully thought out foundation.
So doing she has inspired black women to reach higher
And see themselves as lovely creatures of great worth,
Endowed by God to motivate, teach, feed and entertain,  
With her nurturing, an emerging color diverse earth.

Copyright © Albert Price

Details | Ode | |

This Feeling of Indian

We lie
We shy,
We fight
We cry,
We vary
We envy,
We love
We sacrify,
Innumerous ways to unite.
A spirit which dignifies
Above all highs,

Lies an INDIAN inside.

Copyright © Rajat Kumar

Details | Ode | |

Ode to Spain, Translation of Carlos Bousono's poem: Oda a Espana

Ode to Spain, Translation of Carlos Bousono’s poem : Oda a Espana

					(before the Civil War)

(Alejandro Duque Amusco draws attention - in his selection of Carlos Bousono’s poems – to 
the fact that José Luis Cano considers Bousono to be the poet who re-introduced the theme of 
« patriotism » in the poetry of the post-Civil War (1936-39) era. T. Wignesan)

Oh ! Spain ! the land where
while one fighting bull assailed, another kills.
Drunks flying without direction in the stars
seek to ascend shirt-sleeves at the cuffs.

At the meeting points of unfortunate demise
and of living it up, the merrymaking
goes on until midnight. Accordeons.
More wine. Applause. Uproars. Whistlings. Nausea.

In the midst of this wild revelry, a priest militarily surges up.
Imposes benedictions and awards medals.
He climbs up upon a chair. Harangues the crowd.
A general rising up in the thick of battle. 

In the hardened and deserted arenas
on the route of bitter thirst,
multitudes of drunks bracing themselves against the wind,
staggered at the rising of the sun.

One of them was dressed as a bull-fighter.
Another laughed to himself. All were dancing.
In the treeless plain swept by wind : persistent hunger,
Spain stammered and choked.

© T. Wignesan – Paris,  2013

Copyright © T Wignesan

Details | Ode | |

just a vet'ran - cobwebs turning into dust

     Just a vet'ran - Cobwebs turning into dust

       He's a teen out of the 60's - now wrinkled on his brow.
 Did not need to be drafted --  woulda' signed up anyhow
  'Cause He grew up with Kennedy and this county is his pride.
 When John was killed in 63, his whole classroom cried.
 Did Oswald have inside help? He ponders who and why.
 Thought back when a young soldier it was a small sacrifice
 for Viet Nam to live free - 'twas worth the threat to life.
 As he aged into a man and those around him died,
 what kept him going was his world and he would be their prize.
  back home there was no parade and few could see his side.

 He's just a vet'ran and there's not much he can do
  He has buried some old mem'ries 'cause he's tired of feelin' blue
  Just a vet'ran. Now Politicians he don't trust
  and the plaque and the ribbons are just cobwebs turning into dust.

 Once little sleep for nightmares that played over and over 
  if one whispered,     "incoming",   he'd awake and dive for cover.
  Most dreams have slowly faded, ----- thanks to the hands of time
 yet he still thinks of his buddies and the ways thay had to die.
  now he's hurtin' from old war wounds and hasn't worked for some time.
 He's a vet'ran that's been swallowing his pride.
  Never thought he'd need a handout, now that cannot be denied.
  Just a vet'ran and the VA he must use
 as a means for survival - there are few ways left for him to choose. 

 He watched the tube in the 90s of Iraq's "Desert Storm",
  with its threats of poison gas and stench of burning oil
  And he's hoping for those soldiers, it would not be like before.
  But as it was with Viet Nam, some got sick and died
 and like it was with Agent Orange - the war's causes were denied.

 Now, almost half a century since he had to do his tour
  he's Recalling fiery suicides that caused this Afghan war.
  Pious men of influence want power and much more.
  had peers with conscience stood up to them -  there'd be less cause for war.
 He blames extreme religion promoting hatred for all the horror.
 He's just a vet'ran and there's not much he can do
 He has buried some old mem'ries 'cause he's tired of feelin' blue
 Just a vet'ran. Some pious people he lost his trust
 and the plaque and the ribbons are just cobwebs turning into dust. 

 Yes, the mem'ries are fading -  now they're cobwebs turning into dust.

Copyright © ken hayden