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Budding Prime
A country is like a unit from deserts to mountains
All people are in a chain of love to celebrate
Their happiness and pain like whispering fountains
Patriotic spirits take all being real associate

A soldier at guard is always ready to sacrifice his life
He is always there to embrace martyrdom
To save every inch of his motherland to bear the knife
He goes through life even if troublesome

His blood is for his people and for his motherland
His duty comes first always and every time
He comes back in coffin covered by flowery garland
He knows the price of his budding prime

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Wake up Nigeria whilst it is still day.
Your darkness thickens in the hot summer sun.
Wake up Nigeria from your spectators' fun.
Like a titan to the slaughter, your way
to financial hades might be certain.
Awake, or your future is uncertain.
Your teeming youth population languish
in persistent erosive social crimes.
Awake Nigeria from pain and anguish.
Your tragedies exceed your countless births.
Awake Nigeria, for these many deaths
reveal a corrupt weakened armed forces.
Awake Nigeria from your great slumber.
Your rank in the black world has been usurped.
Awake Nigeria, reclaim your number
one position by treading those courses
once trod, and never again to be stopped.
Awake Nigeria and discern the times.
Cease for good to be black gold dependent.
A poem about the deteriorating state of my beloved country
Äŧül May 25
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
I have come of age to vote,
Yet missed the day to register.
I have come of age to be wise,
Yet missed the day to remember.

I love my country dearly,
I live in it and am bound to it!
Yet a finger I couldn’t raise,
To those who deserve disgrace!

If not for my wicked heart,
Struck by apathy and antipathy,
I would have remembered,
The cries of my own country.

I lament the fact that I’m AWOL,
During the day of difference.
What can I do to redeem myself?
If my heart knows not itself?

My heart and head stand neutral!
With right or wrong just equal!
And there is no greater evil than me,
Who watches hearts bleed out.

There is no greater evil than I,
That see blue, red, yellow, and white,
Become pure in their sad colors.
A non-voter who laments to himself!

Become pure blue due to suffocation.
Become pure red due to old wounds.
Become pure yellow due to disease.
Become pure white as death visits.

Oh, dear Philippines my motherland.
I see, speak, and do evil on your body.
I ask the Lord for forgiveness and grace,
As the church rot from inside the gates.

My love for you is conditional!
I was born in your womb, motherland!
I serve you as I live on shame!
Yet my heart is grasped by ignorance!

Let my coming of age speak,
Let youth cry out in agony.
As I wait for my next chance,
To rid myself of this apathy.
I missed my chance to register and vote. I know not of the political affairs of my country and I am ignorant of politics as I hate it and want no part of it. Voting seems like an adult thing to do, and I am just nineteen. But as a citizen I must do my part and redeem my ignorance.
Vaibhav Jan 6
To protect us from north, south, east and west,
For our safety, who are never at rest.
They stand straight, against  the sun's heat,
Whether there's rain, dew or sleet.

For the whole country, they brush aside their own pain,
And participate in a war, where there's nothing to gain.
With incomparable courage they set out each day,
Without the fear of becoming Death's prey.

On their bodies and hearts lie many-a-scar,
With none to heal them as loved ones are too far.
But on the battlefield, they're filled with rage,
Their bravery and strength never die with age.

They stay far away from too many
a friend,
Never knowing when their strife will end.
Continuing to smile without any blemish  of sorrow,
They know that their life can end the next morrow.

The embodiment of vigour is a soldier,
With strong willpower and a heart much bolder.
They're quite familiar with death and blood,
With endurance and responsibility their hearts flood.

Even at the last moment, they
choose to be brave,
And continue their fight to the grave.
To them, their toys are the guns,
For the time they're away from their daughters  and sons.

They stand still even in the winds and the dust,
For the time they're alive and the time till they rust.
Their heads up high will never bend,
Their bravery and patriotism will never descend.

But we civilians never appreciate their efforts,
Not knowing how much the pain of separation hurts.
We hardly know how it feels when a close one dies,
Sorrows all around, homes filled with cries.

For us, they readily lay down their life,
And sacrifice their love for children and their wife.
Where we sleep without a sound at night,
They struggle on with the fight.

They keep fighting till their last breath,
Serve the nation till their death.
And when they come back in a tricoloured coffin,
We forget to salute their valor ever so often
Sher Shah Suri Oct 2018
We are bequeathed on the nation,
And the nation bequeathed to us.
Have pride they said,
For it is the only one in the universe.

Culture! Culture! Cried the painter,
Oldest of the old.
A single stroke, a blazing hue,
He drew as he was told.

The nation in all its feminine divinity,
A trident and a halo.
He drew as he had drawn before,
With a saffron brush.

The mural stood in all its glory,
Under the warrior’s watch.
Till a bullet pierced his spine,
And he died while yet on his watch.

Again the painter with his saffron brush was called,
To paint over the blood stained wall.
As the warrior looked on,
Remembering his fallen comrade,
Humming the age old serenade.

We are bequeathed on the nation,
And the nation bequeathed to us.
Have pride they said,
For it is the only one in the universe.
ATILA Oct 2018
My country is aesthetic
Shown by elegant hibiscus
Glittering by its own
Growing with majestic delight of cliffs
Due to country's ups - downs
Yet still resting faith on this land
To be the best place for future hibiscus
So that Malaysia will forever unique
This is solely what I cherish.
Happy labor day
family, friends and picnics.
childhood memories
Brian McDonagh Aug 2018
The people,
The land,
The waters,
The opportunity,
The selflessness,
The confidence,
The change,
The error,
The sights,
The air
Can form any terrain's person and pride
Into something magnificent county-wide!
From my poetry journal.
Falguni Sudan Jul 2018
Be patriotic,
Patriotic be
You and me.
Heigh **.! Shout thou.!
For thy land's song, for thy land's fair renown.

That man shall be as dark as Erebus,
whose ***** ne'er growled to return,
'That was my land, my dear native it was'
the one: ne'er hath this said, ne'er hath this sung

Such a man, through angel's marks,
would go down and deeper at the eventual phase;
Regardless of what he receives o'er there;
A tainted metal and deservedly disgrace

Be patriotic,
Patriotic be
You and me.
Heigh **.! Shout thou.!
For thy land's song, for thy land's fair renown.

He'll hath high titles and seamless wealth,
selfish wishes shall ask;
Despite those medals, rewards and honours he will trip,
faltering and facing the blast

Thou don't be the one,
work for thy fair mother's renown,
incessant be,
or doubly die, with a fading pronoun

To the vile dust from whence thee sprung,
Unnamed, unhonour'd and unsung
You'll receive what you doth give,
To your mother, nature and kin

Be patriotic,
Patriotic be
You and me.
Heigh **.! Shout thou.!
For thy land's song, for thy land's fair renown.
I love my country, you should too.
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