Elegy Patriotic Poems | Elegy Poems About Patriotic

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A Service Member's Prayer

A Service Member's Prayer

Oh, God, I feel that I have cause
To know my life might give You pause,
But fair as You are sure to be,
I seek Your way on bended knee.
I wish neither to kill nor die,
Though from engagement I'll not shy.
For if my duty calls me there,
I'll do whatever I must dare.

I seek not courage for the fight.
I seek not comfort from the night.
I ask not pardon for my deeds,
Nor any salve for any needs.
I only ask to know what's right,
To do my best to check my might,
To render mercy where I should,
To know I serve the greater good.

Oh, God, if You will hear my plea,
I ask so very much of thee.
I fear not men, I fear not death,
Yet bow my head and still my breath
To ask You, please, to do Your best,
To keep me from eternal rest,
Until the hour my duty sends
Me home to family and friends.

And if You grant my humble prayer,
Oh, God, I ask You, keep from care
Those people whom I hold most dear.
I wish them not to shed a tear
In anguish over days now done,
Where my dawn was their setting sun.
For then, if You will grant my plea,
I'll soon be nearer them and Thee.

Copyright Shawn H. Hall 2014

Copyright © Shawn Hall | Year Posted 2014

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I've trained for this. 
Lungs burning, muscles twitching
as I close in
on the line-
I see them clearly now-
My wife, my child-
smiling, cheering
as they urge me
through the echoes
of feet smacking
through my 
tunneled view of
the victory line,
through my exhaustion,
through my pain.

I've trained for this.
Lungs burning, muscles twitching
as I close in on my targets.
Thousands! There are many!
I can see them clearly now-
a woman, a child-
smiling, cheering
as I slip past
and drop my bags.
And now I am
through the 
smoke and through the
screams as runners push
toward the finish line
without legs.

I've trained for this.
Lungs burning, muscles twitching
as I close in
on the scene.
175, 176...
I see them clearly now-
the woman, the child-
lifeless, bleeding
as they urge me
through echoes 
of feet smacking
through my
tunneled view of 
torment and death and
I can do nothing but
hold their hand.

Copyright © Rachel Kovacs | Year Posted 2013

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Hostages, Translation of Pierre Emmanuel's Otages by T Wignesan

Hostages, Translation of Pierre Emmanuel’s Otages* by T. Wignesan

This blood will never dry up on our land
and those felled will lie there exposed.
We’ll keep grinding our teeth for fear of blurting out
we’ll not cry over these crosses upturned.

But we’ll remember these laid low devoid of memory
we’ll keep count of our dead as hours were numbered.
They who weigh heavy as a scourge upon history
tomorrow one’ll spurn them low will they be surprised.

And those who kept quiet for fear of being caught
their silence too will not be pardoned.
Those who stood up to argue and to pretend
even the less pious will have them condemned.

These deaths these wanton deaths are all our heritage
their poor bleeding bodies will not be separated.
We will not let our recall of their faces lie fallow
orchards will bloom on meadows lush green covered.

May they lie exposed naked under the sky like our land
and may their blood be mixed with our origins cherishcd.
The wild rose bush will cover them with the roses of ire
with their blood fierce spring seasons will be enlivened.

May these spring seasons be so cool beyond all words
songs of birds and children trundling paths be they filled.
And like a forest surrounding them heaves a sigh
a great people pray in subdued tones with arms raised.

Rhyme scheme of the original quatrains : abab, cbcb, dbdb, ebeb, abab, fgfg

( La liberté guide nos pas, O.C., t. I, p. 420) 

*First published in the review Traits, in January 1942, and again in L’Honneur des poètes, in 1943. According to Anne-Sophie CONSTANT, the editor of Anthologie Poétique, « Hostages » evokes the execution of hostages in the Chateaubriant Camp on October 22, 1941.

© T. Wignesan – Paris, October 18, 2014

Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2014

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Arlington National Cemetery Sketch

—Memorial Day Elegy—

The grave site
where the men and women of patriotic spirit fought bravely 
in the battlefield and fell for glory of the nation, 
abandoned everything that they have, buried 
at an age that is too young to die lie as headstones.

No matter with how many brilliantly shining medals
to decorate these warriors 
and to honor them with all kinds of eulogies,

alas! sad as ever, they just stand there without a word 
as the tombstones identical in size and shape.

The warriors were, though, not that strict
that evil must be paid with evil and good must treat with good,
held arms because the nation was attacked by the enemy,
and security was at stake;

to them, it doesn’t matter whether it is good or evil,
they have to restore this national emergency 
with whatever means available.

The warriors, therefore, without the slightest hesitation, 
dashed in the middle of the gun smoke and bullets,
into the battlefield where the cannonade tears the ears,
and blasting fires pierce the eyes.

The warriors, 
who fought with every means to protect nation,
even traded their lives for nation’s security,
now stand there as the tombstones
with relief and great pride,
looking proudly at the fluttering nation’s flag,
that they protected with all that they have;

during the day
beckoning the passing clouds,
at the night 
calling twinkling stars,
telling the stories of how gruesome was the battle
and how hard it was to fight.

Copyright © Su Ben | Year Posted 2015

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There's a man I love

 "There’s a man I love"

There’s a man who possessed in him
An ocean that showed millions of people
A sun for which all were ready to die
All men wanted to sacrifice their dreams
Because of the dream the man had
In his mind being all men’s dream

All the rivers flowing to the heart
Of the Bay of Bengal sang one song,
Here’s my blood ready for you
Birds learnt the only word red
Farmers forgot to earn their bread
Every heart then fighting for green
For Bengal the mother ever green

Then everyone knew the appearance
Of a giant figure having a roaring voice
Enchanting millions of people to make
Them forget their life own for their mother

Heavily all the long days of 71 went by
There’s no water around as the rivers
Died out of the thirst for a new sun
To rise with the new colour green

Then the long awaited sun rose
In the east of Bengal all could see
But the three millions who did want
The sun to rise but had no dream to see!

Subash Roy
Lecturer in English
UttarBangla College
Kakina, Lalmonirhat
whatsapp: +08801715773226

Copyright © Subash Roy | Year Posted 2016