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My beloved was anger
So the sun went after
The big waves of the ocean

They said in anger
What a matter!
I will discover

Her smart was shiny
Her face looked sadly
Shame! The sin converted directly
To that spot of ready
That has red clearly
They wanted to send them in a hurry
The Arab is neglected completely
The danger was surrounded without lately

To keep your throne, sell that land widely
Its people is the worst at sight
Their sight which carries hope
And democracy also
Not killing, ruin or shot
the advanced land expressed

Liar, they will deal with them actually
As they make with red Indian
Taste their blood with cool
**** their woman almost all
And said they look like an animal

Palestinian ask God
As they have no justice at the land
The hate was planted
The terror born in fact
Defeat all occupy person

He stood beside her
Give his heart to her
She was her motherland
If your mother was rapped
You will lift up a white flag
Asking for love and mercy
Or you carry every weapon
Killing every worst one
The hate at one was growing
The fire was increasing
The one who seems stupid
Or wise wanted to get problem dissolved
The occupied has terror fact
everyone loves his laned. when he saw it occupied, rapped.
Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 11/3/2019

My homeland - dear land,
where for the first time I saw the sun  
and where I came to know God;
Where my father, brothers and mother kind
taught me prayers in my maternal tongue.

My homeland - villages and cities,
planted from the times of Piasts among Lechic fields;
Rivers, forests, flowery leas and meadows,
where larks sing their sweet songs of hope.

My homeland - our forefathers' glory,
Chrobry's Notched Sword and Cecora Mace,
Knightly Spirit, noble and brave,
bitter defeats and victories great.

My homeland - quiet green fields
for centuries trampled by hostile armies,
burial mounds and sad graves
that have covered our freedom defenders.

My homeland - heroic spirit of the Polish people,
that by miracle lives amid hunger and cold;
- hope that always blooms in hearts,
with work for the fathers, and song for the young!

Maria Konopnicka (1842-1910)
The Piast dynasty was the first historical ruling dynasty of Poland.

Szczerbiec is the coronation sword that was used in crowning ceremonies of most kings of Poland from 1320 to 1764; its name, derived from the Polish word szczerba meaning a gap, notch or chip, is sometimes rendered into English as "the Notched Sword" or "the Jagged Sword", although its blade has straight and smooth edges.
Äŧül May 2019
I am a voluntary propagandist.
Run I did a strong campaign.
An enduring campaign for NaMo.
My Facebook pages are successful.
And I feel like a shadow warrior.
I don't need any prize for my efforts.
Mōđī Jī remaining in charge of India's golden future.
My HP Poem #1741
©Atul Kaushal
laurynas-dyma Mar 2019
sparrows singing outside my flat,
sipping my morning coffee
and balancing myself
on a broken balcony chair.

getting the old soviet bus
to my friends house
to surprise her
with my presence.

smoking a cigarette
in the woods
that I stole from
my stepdads pocket.

absorbing the sun
and my friends laughs
whilst laying in
Salduvė.

missing my birthplace,
more and more
day by day.
Pasiilgau.
Teary eyes with heavy heart,
Moving towards a new land
A place where I will be called refugee
Which is far away from my home
For which my heart beat forever.

Other's can feel the same
But cannot match the pain
I am the one who is alien
Why this is happening
Greed for money and power
Change my heaven into fire

Leaving my motherland to other's land,
Do they accept me as their own
I dont know what will happen
But will keep praying, one day I will
be at my motherland
And the tag will become only a word.
It try to describe the pain, dificulty and thinking of a refugee.
Mystic Ink Plus Mar 2019
सोइ नही हे आँख क्यू तेरी
आँसु गिर रहा हे , क्या कही —२

व तेरा य मेरा फिरसे कौन कहेगा
मीट्टीको कैसे, कहाँ कोइ इन्सान छोडेगा
व पहेली बक्तपे, किसने क्या ले आएँ
मीट्टीही  एक थी जो ए सोच  रहीथी —२
व पीछली बक्तपे किसने सँग क्या ले गएँ
मीट्टीही एक थी जो ए देख रहीथी

सोइ नही  हे आँख क्यू तेरी
आँसु गिर रहा हे क्याँ कही
फूलका वासमे भमरे क्यू डूले
रोसनी वाद ही चाँद फिर क्यू डुले
दर्दसेही आखोँमे आँसुव क्यू  गीरे

सोइ नहीहे आँख क्यू तेरी    
आँसु गिर रहा हे, क्याँ कही
फूलका  वासमे भमरे क्यू भूले
रोशनी बादही चाँद फिर क्यू  डुले
दर्दसेही  आँखमे आँसुव क्यू गिरे

सोइ नही हे आँख क्यू तेरी
आँसु गिर रहा हे क्याँ कही
व तेरा ए मेरा फिरसे कौन कहेगा
लहुके , रंगमे होली फिरसे कौन खेलेगा
दर्देदिल देखकर लोग फिर  क्यू  हसँे

सोइ नही हे आँख क्यू तेरी
सोइ नही हे आँख क्यू तेरी
आँसु गिर  रहा  हे, क्या कही—२
Genre: Observational
Theme: Motherland || Mud || Nature
laurynas-dyma Feb 2019
I miss you, Lithuania, my dear.
The green grass of yours.
The blue sky, so magical.
Kindness of your people.
The beautiful language,
the one I can express myself the best with.
You've been through so much,
the tough times of war,
the happy times of independence.
From the Baltic to the Black,
you travelled so far.
Hope your future will be bright,
like the summer's sun in your land.
I will always call you home,
wherever I am.

Mano mieloji Lietuva.
Batool May 2018
Standing in the doorway
she saw the boot clad feet
moving away
it took all of her courage
to not let her tears
cross the threshold of her amber eyes
she knew he won't stop
as his love for motherland
knows no boundaries
she knew this too
that she has to be a better
person for him
so in his heart he'd know
that he has someone to return to
always ...
waiting for him in the door way
who's love for him too
knows no boundaries
sarthak vadalkar Mar 2018
The he who rose above all the pain
The he who fought against all the odds,
When found himself amidst the inevitable
To salute him, bowed down a hundred gods.

For whom the nation was always first
Stood determined under the starless sky,
Rains of bullets couldn't **** his soul
He became immortal, as death felt shy.

Death of flesh that came with pride
Upon the red ocean his body lied,
To protect her, fought till his last breath
Seeing this sight, the motherland cried.
A little attempt of tribute to all the soldiers and real heroes, who always put their national duty above all.
Ilunga Mutombo Sep 2017
African soul child
Eating dust for dinner
Drinking ***** water
Poverty is your richness
Survival is your blessing
Too many deaths you witnessed
Torn between dying and living
Yet you still choose living
Breath air polluted with gas fumes
Big diamond digging machines
Repping your grounds for more minarals
Witnessed less births and more funerals
Oh African soul child
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