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Best Independence Poems

Below are the all-time best Independence poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of independence poems written by PoetrySoup members

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New Independence Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Independence poems are below this new poems list.

My Declaration of Independence to Addiction and the Persons I Affected by Guccia, Anthony
Hub with a strong Attribute Of Independence by Makama, Funom
INDEPENDENCE DAY by Choi, Alfonce
The Little Independence by Oommen, Ancy
Independence Day by Raghava, Venkatesh
My independence by Thompson, Scott
Independence- by Pinet, Emile
American Flag Celebrate Independence Day by Roper, Eve
Independence day by Burton, Richard
On Your Independence Day by Kapoor, Ravindra K

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The Best Independence Poems

Details | Independence Poem | |

Gothic Love Grind

I find you alone
in your favorite room of sorrow and suspense,
the woman I cherish more than victory or divine sense,
long untouched, you stare into a sonnet of romantic sadness,
supple shadows dress you in stubborn, gothic passion, a quiet finesse,
they know that I am the speed of your tears and the lover in your trance,
as I see what your heart has wept for, tender acceptance
I understand why my soul seeks your emotional opulence, 
with my powerful hands I hug those lonely, sexy shoulders of tired independence, 
knowing by the ease of your neck's pining tilt, by the searching gap of your starving lips
no longer are you startled by our love, no more will you deny the lust righteous,
gliding the backs of my fingers up under your smooth chin skin, beauty so generous,
I find you passion thrown,

I undo your bodice and your soft feminine flesh opens onto me
radiating craving that glorifies yearning,
I entreat you to grab my hard affection, to feel the firm rush replete
to place the head of my love within you like a heavy heartbeat,
you obey with unquestioning need, eyes alight, thighs wide
I lunge in deeply, completely, pushing through you a pleasure tide
as you breathe in the handsome shock of your fulfillment
I kiss the soft space inbetween your sumptuous breasts and taste wild wonderment -

J.A.B.

Copyright © Justin Bordner | Year Posted 2015


Details | Independence Poem | |

Letting Go

Their lives begin, that special day
Your hardest job, is on the way.
Walking and pacing, all night long
Knowing that one day, they’ll be strong.

Watching them crawl, then walk and run
Treasure each moment, share their fun.
They grow so fast, enjoy each day
For sometime soon, they’ll move away.

Years of school, sometimes they will drag
We’re filled with pride, we parents brag.
Teaching our kids, always be kind
Lasting friendships, many will find.

Do as I say, not as I do
We all have said, our parents too.
The truth comes out, don’t cheat or lie
Don’t try and skimp, to just get by.

Take the right path, we try to guide
Sometimes they don’t, we let it slide.
Knowing they must, find their own way
Life is tough, on track they must stay.

Bumps in the road, many will hit
We as parents, just have to sit.
Learn from mistakes, it takes its’ toll
Their independence, that’s our goal.

The hardest part, is yet to come
When high school years, are said and done.
We’ve done our jobs, as best we could
We must let go, or so we should.

Give them their wings, and let them fly
As we sit back, and often cry.
Turning the page, is hard to do
Wondering if, they listened to you.

Reach for the stars, follow your dreams
It takes time, forever it seems.
Your heart will break, can’t let it show
It’s so difficult, letting go.

Copyright © Kelly Zakerski | Year Posted 2009


Details | Independence Poem | |

Wake Up Oh Africa

With the heavy load you suffer a substance not needed yet drags you cushioning your efforts and deterring your pace, forgetting that the Train is already moving with passengers determined for this journey. Why get so distracted by passers-by focused to catch up? Why are you tossed side to side, putting you each time, a step backwards? Can't you realize that the Train is already moving with passengers determined for this journey? It seems you are the only one left and this is solely your doing with no one to blame and the rest, definitely have no added advantage over you. So stop acting weak cos the Train is already moving with passengers determined for this journey. Wake up oh Africa! you get your independence just to become a volunteer slave. You live in a Mansion yet have no place to sleep. Stop acting like a bucket of Crabs killing each other just to get out and copy the ants united and networking for a common cause. You fight for just a coin underneath the Table. When on it is a box full of this same treasure. Despite knowing how to reach out to its top, you neglect such knowledge and accept conflicts, violence and wars. Settling for good enough is worst than being bad you blow your trumpet when you make a step out of a thousand more. You show unbelievable contentment to mediocrity and under-achievements, but remember this! Half a giant is no giant at all. You have the breast plate of protection and all the arsenals to battle yet you dine with the helms of poverty and embrace the ambassadors of all kinds of infirmities. You walk around naked and seem not to bother oh Africa! Do you exist to actualize all these negativity? An expert of imitation and a professional in copying no wonder no matter your trys you end up as number 2 at best. Because you've neglected the sweetness of your originality. You milk your cattle to nourish the west you harvest your crops to feed foreign stomachs you stand on abundant humus yet your leaves are yellow and dry. Exactly what will happen to the ants if their Queen puts their fate on the lizards is what will befall you not until you wake up oh Africa!

Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2013


Details | Independence Poem | |

Free Spirit

She is a free spirit rebellious and wild
She’s changing so quickly – no longer a child.
Determined, impulsive, she gets into fights
She wants independence and quotes me her rights. 

She is a free spirit now spreading her wings
In search of adventure and trying new things.
She sees the horizon that beckons from far;
Relies on the guidance of her lucky star.

But when the experience starts fading away
She finds disillusion obstructing her way
There’s home as an option to get her on track;
I will be there waiting to welcome her back.


---------------------------------------------------------
Written: 3/15/2014
Contest: Your Favourite Old Poem
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Placed 3rd

Author: Paul Callus
Contest: Any Poem Goes#14
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A
Placed 5th

Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2014


Details | Independence Poem | |

Echoes in the Stone

ECHOES IN THE STONE

No one can turn back the hands of time
Reliving the war,  TEXAS her independence
The tombs so deep, where real hero's fought and fell
A place so precious, sacred in every hold
A timeless journey, with no stop to heal
To find your eyes upon this treasure's glaze
Hearing stories not found in fairy-tale books
Finding GRACE in this AMAZING place
The legendary ALAMO, over freedom, a ghost town
Walking by the thousands, beyond this land
Outnumbered 
Echoes in the stones
A painful event, UN erased

Defenders of the ALAMO gathered to unite
With their life's they put up an honorable fight
Heroes who embraced a defeat in March 1836
A battle deeply wounded overnight
Bravery in their hearts
No time to be scared.
Where the wind now blows,
Echoes in our souls.

With one touch, embrace the south wall
Hearing whispers, sad echoes-I call
Chills traveled down my spine
Standing among all heroes who are still buried, 
In their home at the ALAMO
Echo's in the stone
Proud of the ALAMO.

Echoes in the stone 
Where a hero still stands tall
Heroes even beyond their last breath, 
Death being their only bail
Heroically fighting with their own will and liberty
In hopes, that justice would prevail
The ALAMO rebuilt, standing strong
Full of life, in the center of San Antone'

The voices, the scream, 
Piercing the stone
Fighting till their death
"Remember the Alamo!"
The echoes in the stone, a hero's home
Locked inside each stone of eyes
Heroes who died,
Cried their last words
"VIVA THE ALAMO!"

   SKAT

Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2010


Details | Independence Poem | |

MY POEM, MY CHILD


Conception and perception swell 
til my poem is born, squalls at its own thin skin.  
Happiness! This is how art begins, a verse 
to nurse, to rock, as wonderment slowly opens. 

Soon, a stanza toddles, uncertain of where to go.
See the twinkle, the peek-a-boo dimple, the stubborn 
try-try again?  Hear the burble, the wail, 
the fumbling whimper, the haunting murmur?

The imp is mothered, though not smothered 
with too much affection or too much pride. 
Love urges exploration, evolution, 
as the poem grows, dares to climb and reach,

and though wayward, I kiss its uplifted cheek, 
send it to school, where great numbers 
will teach it a thousand concepts, a thousand 
possibilities; it may squirm on its seat,

scrape its knees, stammer, develop a crush,
stand all alone while the well-meaning ridicule,
then laugh at its own absurdity, bravely change,
rearrange itself without my permission

as it matures, outthinks me and leaves.
I gift it independence, never overprotect.
It will pack its bags and find a lonely reader,
who will circle words, add question marks,

a ridiculous curlicue, where there was none,
and six odd words will woo a highlighter,
a last line might be underscored,
beside it, a grumble,  Why isn’t there more?

The question will grow, far from the page.
The reader will awaken, pick up a pen,
and though I am dead, long forgotten,
my little poem might grow within him. 




Copyright © Cyndi MacMillan | Year Posted 2015


Details | Independence Poem | |

After the interim

She met him in the interim,
 that space between endings and beginnings;
                                 a summer fling; 
a sowing of her not so wild oats 
          was all that it was meant to be. 
But he was so much more.

She found herself languishing
 pool side on his patio 
                  as long June afternoons
 dripped    like    molasses  into    nights. 

Sometime in July, 
her illusion that she’d had of independence
burst              like pyrotechnics in the sky. 
And oh, those nights they imbibed! 
Her nights with him   ran 
                            like the blood-red wine 
in the goblets 
cupped 
by the trembling hands   of two inebriates. 
 But the stems of those goblets
 slipped quickly from their fingers, 
and love’s elixir 
spilled much too quickly
                              into tomorrow.

Along with the dry protracted days,  
she - like desert grasses - 
withered            as she waited. 
 always thirsting for the nights! 
But by the time August had arrived,
 she also had come to realize that,
 like the yellowed grasses, 
she needed more than passion at dusk. 
The nights, in fact, 
had brought her 
no less scorching    than the sun.
 And what she’d thought 
was more than she could want 
became              much less 
than he could ever give.

Some essential thing was lacking,
some need deep inside her
not being fulfilled.
In those long afternoons 
as she'd waited for him,
she'd come to realize what was missing.

By September - back in school -
she knew her ardor for him
had barely waned, 
yet still. . . 
she knew what she had to do.
And so, she looked to autumn's advent
for October's cooling winds
to sweep away 
            the remnants
                     of ashes in her soul.


For Frank's 
LOVE IN A FAR OFF PLACE Poetry Contest

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015


Details | Independence Poem | |

Tomorrow's Grace

When children are taught never to forget conflicts’ lessons, to love all humans, to honor those through history who, selfless, wrought liberty. . . Then will spangled dreams of world peace be fulfilled as God imparts tomorrow’s grace on all. Written on an Independence Day, maybe in 2004 when my husband was involved with a biker group, and it was so boring to me, i just sat by a tent and wrote this poem. For the Didactic poetry contest of Regina Riddle

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2012


Details | Independence Poem | |

PARALLEL AUTUMN SURPRISES



PARALLEL AUTUMN SURPRISES A ferris wheel of no return, she stood with rosy cheeks so fair; both day and night just wide rocky bridges of light and dark. All she needed was bulb of fresh start.. Three months pass after the love explosion happened, her pillar of strength taken for independence sake. Only candles of hope she has; slowly, slowly losing its glow. Her eyes were a train flood of crystal tears. Her heart jailed from loss but needed to be freed for the sake of a budding life. She opens her door day by day beaming a sunshine in her face. Her chest-buds bloom so graceful. Her tummy grows a robust breathing sphere. Parallel autumn surprises bring her to a sandwich salad showcase. A year passed, in a fragrant natural lair with the light bowing down on them, she planted a kiss on her baby's lips. Hush... to ... rush... Hush... to ... rush... Teardrops held long tumble thunder listless from her eyes of rest and quiet yet, her steady voice whispers a storm... Head... to ... toe Head... to ... toe Forlorn rose maiden exhaled- cyclic shudders: wells of regret like a ruined garden where blossoms frown, green leaves too, turned brown. Sun... to... rain... Sun... to... rain... Her life blossomed amidst earthquake break of failures, true love she finally receive-- it pardoned her wrongs. Sighs... to... groans... Sighs... to... groans... Bright twinkling stars tended safe the narrow path as silhouetted liquid moon cajoles her long bittersweet escape. Kiss... to ... freedom... Kiss... to ... freedom... Her heartstrings strum endless: her abounding joy! Upon hopeful eyes mirror, the sparkles of her infants tears... ______________________________________________________________________ ***Haibun Freestyle 08:34 pm, November 24, 2015

Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo | Year Posted 2015


Details | Independence Poem | |

His Love Gale

Do you know what brought the wind into the world my Love...
the wind is the speeding breath of God's heart
the very air of his soul that carries the desire of creation
through the universe to your lips
seeking expression in the fire of your freedom,
he wants to find his Goddess
the part of himself that he lost to the sea of chaos
when life insisted that independence would lead to grace,
God has been looking for his Queen
for longer than the stars have cried behind the blue of day,
he knows that she is alive somewhere
preparing her body for his solar entry
and providing asylum for the passion of their poetry
believing that he can reach her through the distance and sadness -

J.A.B.

Copyright © Justin Bordner | Year Posted 2016


Details | Independence Poem | |

Anxiety

This is what it feels like to have your heart racing 
and not knowing when or if it will ever slow down.
Your fatigued body can not keep up with its rapid thumping against your chest,
you’re winded after climbing a flight of steps. 
Just the thought of tomorrow leaves you gasping for air,
only its not refreshing like the first breath you take 
after being plunged under water.
It’s tight and sharp
as if your lungs are collapsing in their cage 
like two popped balloons hanging lifelessly in your chest.

This is feeling like your socks are filled with stones
and the world is zipping past you on roller skates. 
This is being a day ahead on your calendar,
never learning to live in the moment
and letting your life slip under your shaking feet. 

This is storing your past in the corner of your closet,
hoping the clutter won’t occupy the space for your self confidence,
but every now and then it likes to creep out to remind you it’s still there. 
This is remembering the time you fell off your bike in fourth grade,
or when you were tongue tied in front of your crush at age thirteen. 
You can piece events from your life together through flashbacks
that will come when you least expect it.
A flood of past emotions, still so vivid and alive,
rushes over you like a monstrous wave in the ocean
that sends you off your feet and spits you back out,
salty and heaving for air. 

This is living in a dream state,
one you wish you’d wake up from
so you can feel the ground beneath your feet. 
This is instability of the body, heart and mind.
This is learning to walk again,
carefully thinking through each step so you don’t send yourself falling.
This is questioning yourself constantly,
wondering if everything you’ve set your heart to is worthwhile,
because, afterall, your mind has been impaired by your drowsiness
of nights staring at a dark ceiling,
not knowing what is holding you from rest.

This is operating on fumes,
slowly disintegrating into just flesh and bone,
losing your focus and strength to your clouded head
and aching heart. 
This is worrying so much about what has yet to change,
that you don’t have the conscious to take a look at what is changing,
to see the nothingness that you are slowly evolving to.

This is trembling hands,
this is stuttered words,
this is the inability to unclench your tense fists.
This is independence.

This is holding yourself at gunpoint,
and not knowing which side to surrender.
This is being the enemy
and the survivor. 

This is telling yourself, “It’s going to be ok”,
but not believing in the words you use
to try to soothe your rigid body. 

You don’t know if you will be ok.
You have lost control over yourself 
before you had the chance to try and grab the wheel. 
You’ve become so attached to what is to come,
the thought of what has captured you may never cross your mind. 

Maybe one day you will learn that there is no use in trying to run from the beast,
for it will shadow your every move. 
And maybe one day you’ll learn that to stab it would be a mistake
because you will find yourself with bloody hands and a dying heart.

Copyright © Kaitlyn Fox | Year Posted 2015


Details | Independence Poem | |

ABC Love Poem

                            ~My Trip With Love~

A arrival from Montreal to San Francisco seeing my son and his children.
B beautiful red roses on my approach expressing their love towards me. 

C for caring to have an eye contact honoring my motherly devotion & fidelity.
D for dreams come true when i sleep at night in my own studio. 

E for enjoy having our breakfast first day while exchanging our life time stories.
F for faithfulness towards one another was so important since his childhood.

G good friends who invites me to their homes to meet their families.
H for happiness when I run to the restaurant help greett his customers at work.

I interfering with my sons life is a long forgotten issue, a perpetual respect . 
J for jokes we exchange together through evenings laughing endlessly.

K kissing me good night when the night is over for me to retire.
L for love that I get from both of them when I cook an oriental dish.

M morning ride on a tour with family & soft music while driving.
N for never do I complain about any subject when shared together. 

O older, but I don't let them feel my arthritis pains when I am visiting. 
P for pictures are taken as souvenirs from this fabulous journey once a year 

Q quite evenings when I leave my son and wife to have an intimate night.
R for roll up my sleeves to clean their home to amaze them out of love.

S surprise when home from work to a house clean & table set for dinner. 
T transport for me is the subway my independence not to bother him.

U unique love between a son and mother, he is my rock. Best friends.
V variable outings touring the city while discussing his children's future.

W wanting those happy days to last forever. But will return next year. 
X xylophone for enjoying the music of our last dinner together.

Y yearning from my depth to have wanted my stay to last longer.
Z zone when we said farewell at the end of the visitors area. Tears of joy.
Visiting my sons once a year is my dream come true forever. The love for my children has always been, "The Endless Love Of A Child".

Therese Bacha
. 28/5/2013

 An ABC poem :For Alfred Vassello

Copyright © Therese Bacha | Year Posted 2013


Details | Independence Poem | |

PIZZA AMERICA'S FAVORITE

Thick or thin, it is the Friday night order in special,
Supreme or meat lovers delight, whatever toppings
You like it, does not matter for it’s 
The all American favorite, Pizza!!
Roll out that dough, cover it with Italians specialty
Sauce, cheese me to please me, I’ll never get enough,
I’m simply addicted to this deep dish pan delicious stuff.
Cut me no single slice, for more, more, more,
Is the thunderous roar of my mighty hungering’s
Rumbling, within my tummy, for what Pizza!!!
Circled or squared, just roll that pizza cutter of 
Portions pleasure, pick up your slice and allow
That thick cheese to pull apart naturally,
Then bite into Nirvana, for this is heavens
Perfection guaranteed by the slice.
Now the frozen microwave style may work in a pinch,
Delivery or the hot and ready special can satisfy
My personal hunger glitch, for that tasty pizza pie,
As long as can get it, I’m satisfied.
Oh grant me one pleasures sinful command to break
Dearest lord above, to indulge myself, and stuff
Myself with pizza, pizza until I burst, for gluttony is
One distractions fault I have dear father, when it
Comes to this circle food, as it spins on the nightly
Commensals boob tube.
Is it not against the law to hide messages within
Certain text, because I swear these advertisers
Know our fragile human weaknesses, late at night
For  this delectable substance, called what
Pizza, if I haven’t mentioned it enough,
Yummy, yum, yum old chum.
It’s the party hardy mid-night special, on all
Channels of the United States of America,
There is no doubt of this, rock my world
In flavorful old time favorite, dude I’m
With you all the way, especially on a 
Friday night.
This is my declaration of independence
Declared in Italian sauces redden stainy ink,
Give me Pizza or give me death, just kidding
Folks, by the way do you want that last
Pizza slice, I’m not quite full yet, lol.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN


Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2015


Details | Independence Poem | |

Yoga in Poem - A novel Approach 01 of Many


Yoga in Poem - A novel attempt 01/ Many YOGA is a priceless gift given by great ancient Indian saints for every human being through Vedas. I am trying to bring one step each week before all my known and unknown friends of Poetry Soup and for other viewers for a glimpse of this treasure of India, which in fact is a gift of Good Health for the entire humanity. Ravindra Meditation Step 01 Meditation remains The essence of healthy living And the most precious Gift given to humans By the Almighty God. We think and think And puzzle our mind With ideas and emotions With worries and Irrelevant thoughts. This goes on in our minds Ever since we find that We have grown-up To know and understand And to behave with The world. But unfortunately From that very time We unknowingly start Worrying also and Sometimes Not only during daytime But even When we are in sleep. This never ending Row of worries and worries only Sometimes for reasons And often without a season Have become a habit To lament On what we have and More on, What we do not have. This constant Lamentation and pondering Brings and form shape A Free Gift for all of us In the form of slow poisoning Which we inhale and drink Every day and every moment When we breathe and talk When we love or walk When we behave and misbehave When we are in a haste and Even when We lie on a cot Or when we fight Without a cause. This constant thinking and Worrying Slowly destroy everything Good and great in our heart Given by the Almighty God. But meditation and Yoga Can restore What we often unknowingly Just throw away By our day and night worrying Which continues When we go to sleep or Are busy in accomplishing our tasks. Meditation and Yoga Can restore What we often unknowingly Have lost By our worries While sleeping and even while Accomplishing our tasks With a gift of better and healthy life. Ravindra Kanpur India 4rd /6th July 2013 To be continued …… NOTE: The series which I am starting today is also a gift for all American friends on their Great of Independence 4th July. My Greetings for all of you. With best wishes…Ravindra
Benefits of Meditation can be seen and noted on the following webpage. http://www.ineedmotivation.com/blog/2008/05/100-benefits-of-meditation/

Copyright © Ravindra K Kapoor | Year Posted 2013


Details | Independence Poem | |

Grandfather Speaks with Eagles

Irony cries out in Boulet’s rendering. Elderly Native American’s stern expression seems captured beneath eagle’s wings. Symbol of power and freedom, mighty bald eagle was chosen by European ancestors - United State’s national symbol. Yet independence for all was denied. Tribes seeking only to preserve their culture, their way of life, were undeservingly imprisoned on reservations. Stifled was freedom’s speech. Let the eagle’s voice be heard; toleration of injustice carries harsh consequences. Spread your wings, powerful bird, restore harmony to land seduced, neglected, compromised. Transmit tribal elders’ timely message. Human annihilation’s path is cruelly carved when animals and plants face extinction. Mounds of trash blister our land; parched prairies struggle to support life. Sorrowful cries of dying species echo through stripped land, causing songs of despair to resonate. Grandfather, speak with eagles; others appear deaf to your wisdom.
*Written October 15, 2014 and dedicated to late artist Susan Seddon Boulet, whose 2003 painting “Grandfather Speaks with Eagles” is but one of many pieces that evoke emotional response.

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2014


Details | Independence Poem | |

INDEPENDENCE

I    In the rich brown earth, a deeper pain conceals
N   Not just the myth, of war on foreign fields
D   Death's toll and the greater cost reveals
E   Each life, each loss, that paves our freedom trail
P   Pride reminds us of the sacrifice
E   Each mother's  tears should not be theirs alone 
N   Nations  rich in history's reward 
D   Demand that freedom is the final word !
E   Every heart  must keep the names alive
N   Never let the guard down or the pride
C   Choose to honor all who fought and died
E   Exercising freedom is a gift, and Godly right !



_________________________________________
7/17/15  Acrostic Contest "Celebrate Independence"  Sponsored By Kim Merryman

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2015


Details | Independence Poem | |

ELEMENT OF WATER-BEARER


Unorthodox, this water- bearer rules,
an Aquarian god moody yet calm in the
face of persistent winds…his pail of wine
gushing on mouths of February streams,
like an outpour into first night’s cycle
of unpredictable moves, reigning for thirty
days to unfold like a river-in-waiting,
this heir of brazen stars: a cool dip 
born from rose-yellow...red, maybe for
hearts to quiver upon Cupid’s aim.

Oh, his vision is light years ahead of time;
breaking from clasps of tradition,
his maverick streaks defy life's norms
and ignites a Uranus heart to signal 
the rise of new dawning…and while he
dives into a crest of independence,
fool he is for needing warmth and affection.
Yet,a blend of hermit's pride and gentleness
dares the element of air to brew a storm,
then romances the lusty sea of love in a flash...
pray tell, how can one define a mystery?



Though I'm Capricorn, this poem is for my
dear brother, my former boss, Sir Tory, 
a special guy mate, and close buddy, Arno.
------------
Leonora Galinta's Poem With A Theme,
Zodiac Sign Contest
by nette onclaud  7/09/2014 

Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2014


Details | Independence Poem | |

Moving On

When I confront my loneliness
And look it in the eye
My independence seems like
Such a waste of time

My joys and my sorrows
Are shared by only me
And I question the purpose 
Of my struggle to be free

I'm not sure I've defined
The web that's been protecting me
There's just something about
All those fears that are affecting me

Now here I stand
The cold wind around me
Stripped to my soul
No walls to surround me

Thrown caution to the wind? 
No, not really, not quite 
Still gathering courage
As well I might

To risk and be vulnerable 
To whatever's waiting to start
To allow hope once again
To rest gently in my heart


Copyright © Linda Witt-King | Year Posted 2010


Details | Independence Poem | |

Lifting of My Veil

I been seeing my life through a cloudy veil.
Although it was my fault, my own sight I did curtail.
I believed in going with the flow, how could I fail?
Until my soul I taxed with a enormous bill of sale.

Hesitation became a crutch that I demurely hid behind.
Disillusionment concealed from my unconscious mind.
Instincts I ignored, to my ego, that was unjustly unkind. 
Creating a hazy web of sorts internally, once all combined.

I lifted the veil and my vision is suddenly crystal clear.
Insight of self, promises an astronomical year.
Finally squelching the doubts whispering in my ear.
Thinking positively, I make a leap in my career.

Independence is now something I truly embrace.
Confidence is stronger, my fears I do solemnly face.
Life is now full of possibilities, no longer an enclosed space.
Lifting that veil, I can now contentedly say, I found my place!

Cecilia Macfarlane
 

Copyright © Cecilia Macfarlane | Year Posted 2012


Details | Independence Poem | |

Quest for Tolerance

new nation to craft founding fathers sought to draft a declaration of independence document that made sense Thomas Jefferson sought to free slaves but was warned not to make waves five of thirteen colonies he had to appease breaking from British rule ignited a duel with each colonial delegate expressing their regret they could not sign they would not find all men of equal value heated debate ensued withdrawn from the declaration with misgivings and trepidation eighty-six more years would pass until the slaves were freed at last Lincoln paid a high price when he acted against advice signing an emancipation proclamation brought civil war to a nation twenty percent of our population lay dead, a chilling affirmation we failed to see what was right every color worth as much as white though the war is formally over now discrimination we still allow Talmadge Branch was just one case * where service was denied by race Ku Klux Klan remains active too wounds once healed open anew and the battle for human rights fear and hatred still ignites
* In 2008, Florida Attorney General Bob Butterworth had to take action against a bar in Perry, FL, when they refused to serve African-American Talmadge Branch unless he took a seat in a “back room.” http://cnsnews.com/news/article/florida-bar-owners-could-lose-license-over-racism-complaint

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2014


Details | Independence Poem | |

" Bahama Nation"

A nation of peace,a nation of pride
A nation that's spread far and wide.
A nation of hope,a nation of joy,
Thats free for all, man,women ,girl and boy.

A nation to give,a nation to take
A nation filled with reggae,socca,calypso and rake and scrape.
A nation of colors; black,gold,aqua....sometimes called blue
can be seen everywhere above land and under sea too.

A nation of democracy and old english style,but things  sure have changed if you
look up our file.
From outside rock stoves,to TV,radio,computers and wi-fi connectivity.........
I'd say that a long way from July 10 1973.

An nation filled with hospitality,love and history,
Arawaks,Caribs and American Indians are the basis of our nationality.
A nation where Tourism is number one, because of the Bounty of sand sea and sun.

Yes,a nation of Youth,sports ,culture,uniqueness and island fashion trends,
Like native Androsia our own local blend......and straw work and junkanoo,the list has no end.
This nation of beauty,splendor and self defense ;yes its celebarting its own INDEPENDENCE.

Copyright © Quentin Sands | Year Posted 2008


Details | Independence Poem | |

Independence

In many ways Canadians are very different
Not in the ways that matter the most
Disappointments won't keep us down
Easy is not a part of our vocabulary 
Pitching in we often help each other
Early in our History we became companions
Now and again, sure there have been disagreements
Doing what needed to be done, being true to who we are
Every country must find their own identity
Never wavering from the path they are meant to take
Coming out independent yet never standing alone
Everyone knows they can count on a friend


Happy Fourth of July to our Neighbour and friend.
A truly great country, may your flag fly high in celebration.
Independance is strengthened through relationships.

For Kim's  Celebrate Independence Contest.
Written July 1st 2015.

Resubmitted because I missed a letter.

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015


Details | Independence Poem | |

Patradoot or The Messenger 29 /Many


Patradoot or The Messenger29 /Many 
  
English version by  Ravindra K Kapoor 
Originally written in Hindi by my 
Late father Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor


These young boys and girls,  were brought up,  
By their parents, with great love and affection, 
Now they are mad, in love for their motherland,
To show the splendors of their youthful energy.

They are ready even to sacrifice their heads,
What to say of body pains and tortures inflicted on them, 
By seeing such fearlessness and energy of their youth,
Even the enemy gets ashamed of, dear letter.

Triloki was one of these young boys, 
Who happily took bullets on his chest, dear letter,
And kept on moving ahead without withdrawing,
Keeping the dignity of our nation and Satyagraha.

DESCRIPTION OF MY CITY ALLAHABAD

You will find my beautiful city Allahabad,* 
In an ecstasy and full of rapture, flowing in it’s air,
When you will move on its roads and streets,
Along with the Postman, dear letter.

Ravindra

Kanpur India 12th August 2010                        to continue in 30

Clarifications:

* Allahabad		Also know as Prayag or Triveni is the most ancient city
                                    of India, where river Ganga and Yamuna now meets at
                                    the holy place called Sangam.


Protected as per Poetry Soup’s copy write protections 

Note:
If any reader who is not a member of Poetry soup
Has any question or queries, they can 
Send me an email on kapoor_skk@yahoo.com

Patradoot in Hindi was originally written by my late father 
Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor around  1932, who was a freedom fighter.

He wrote Patradoot in Hindi, when he was kept in Faizabad Jail for quite
a long time. The Epic was written as a gift for my mother and it was
sent to her secretly from Faizabad Jail. He was imprisoned
by the British, as he was fighting for India's freedom 
under the leadership of Mahatma Gandhi. He was imprisoned 
many times during 1920 to 1947. After India’s
independence as a true follower of Gandhi Dr. Amar Nath 
Kapoor left active politics and devoted rest of his life in 
writing easy mass literature and wrote many Dramas, 
Poetry books, epics. All his other literary 
works were mainly written from 1955 to 1990. 
He left this mortal world in 1994. 















  



Copyright © Ravindra K Kapoor | Year Posted 2010


Details | Independence Poem | |

BOUNDLESS

The bouquet of opulent, red roses 
is royalty visiting squalor, 
kept in a pickle jar that allows 
stems to spread,
One finger touches one petal 
with pride of ownership, 
as though the blooms brighten 
a parlour, are housed in crystal.  
My first place is a furnished room 
with wood paneling,

a basement apartment 
with a TV that hums 
like a school janitor. I pull things 
from a bar fridge that barely holds 
a carton of milk, scramble eggs 
using a dented hotplate I bought 
from the Sally Ann.  The couch 
has a mangy scent that reminds me 
of wet puppy.  I glance at the phone, 
try not to think of her.  I do. 

Guilt has me tossing away 
my planned dinner after a bite.  
I wonder if my mother is okay
or is rocking in the silence 
of regret. The words she’d said 
replay and I agonize 
over my decision.  An albatross, 
she’d called me, why couldn’t 
I just grow up and move out?
Her venting embossed itself 

on walls that had already 
heard too much and within hours 
I'd found a place to rent, 
packed my clothes. Stay, 
she’d pled, swung into depression,
blue pendulum. I sit in dimly lit 
independence, tasting freedom 
and uncertainty, worrying about 
the one who left lash marks 
on the thinnest of wings.

I cave and call her, 
promise to visit Sunday, but stay 
my new ground. Alone, I go 
to bed in clean sheets,
so old they rasp skin,
My boyfriend will visit, 
perhaps tomorrow, his sweat 
will singe cotton.  I stretch 
and discover that there are 
no boundaries here, 

as though toes could wander 
all the way to some
annex in  Paris.  I change my mind,
move the flowers closer, so 
their perfume can weave 
through dreams that will hover 
between happiness and hell.  
There in the dark, I make out 
the outline of my future; it wavers.
It’s then that I realize 

I’ve left the nest at eighteen 
                              with tight bits of shell.



By Cyndi MacMillan, For Frank's Coming of Age Contest

Copyright © Cyndi MacMillan | Year Posted 2012


Details | Independence Poem | |

MIGHTY BANNER RIDES HIGH


A drapery flutters of sunlit glory With lustrous stars gleaming near; Hovering around the ‘ Pearl of Orient ‘ Where seven thousand islands adorn Tints of liberty, peace, and independence; Radiant in hues… crimson, blue, white Flaming the hearts of a race blessed By lush rice terrains and summer winds. O, a banner of smiles freely glimmers Through a homeland destined to imbue Love for all brethrens as it stands proud, As the harbinger of native warmth Offering comfort to voyagers , but Fiercely defending a birthplace’s right… Where one mighty streamer rides high, Guarding folk and children…Philippines! Judy Konos' Your Country State City Flag Country: Philippines by nette onclaud...7/29/2015

Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2015