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Red is the color of love
But; 4 me red
Is a color of stop
My red signal;my periods
We were once victims altogether
Once slaves in our homeland
The struggle, we fought together
Fought against the unjust systems
XII. On the same.
I did but prompt the age to quit their cloggs
By the known rules of antient libertie,
Love is not a wine
It's a fountain of joy
If your love story gives you headaches
It's not a true love but attachment
South Africa the rainbow nation
So beautiful it's God's creation
Madiba fought for our freedom
South Africa is our Kingdom
Because of my cross, I find this life a misery
Like every cast in this dramatic adventure
When a man starts out with nothing,
When a man starts out with his hands
Empty, but clean,
When a man starts to build a world,
IT is not to be thought of that the Flood
Of British freedom, which, to the open sea
Of the world's praise, from dark antiquity
Hath flowed, 'with pomp of waters, unwithstood,'
I remember the story of that great person
who fought for our freedom and was great,
who was against the partition
but not against the Muslim .
My death is an excuse,
Some sleepy sleeping people have to wake up.
Mother, do not think that the red will hang on you hanging on the hanging, you just see how many young people will bleed the cold by watching them hang on a hanging trap.
Even after my death, Iqbalab will speak every stroke of my blood's blood.
Who Am I?
I am no saint nor insane,
I am human only by name.
I weep, I laugh, I am humane,
I feel both pleasure and pain,
Before Our Freedom
In the dungeons of untrue liberty, we were laid,
Chains of inhumanness clustered our treasured feet,
Good tidings they preached, to us, roes we weet,
“Static efforts that puzzled fettered minds”, I said,
Loving Without Identification
When you love your neighbour
Even if he has not the same skin color with you
That how you call true happiness in your life
This loving attitude gives you entire freedom
Summer pleasures they are gone like to visions every one
And the cloudy days of autumn and of winter cometh on
I tried to call them back but unbidden they are gone
Far away from heart and eye and for ever far away
WHAT does it all mean anyway,
Noise of cannon and boom of gun,
Deafening, colorful fire display
Starting in with the rising sun?
Edgar Albert Guest
They are voicing out their freedom
Shamelessly shading crocodile tears in public.
Venus And Adonis
Even as the sun with purple-coloured face
Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn,
Rose-cheeked Adonis hied him to the chase;
Hunting he loved, but love he laughed to scorn.
I ask not that my bed of death
From bands of greedy heirs be free;
For these besiege the latest breath
Of fortune's favoured sons, not me.
The Soldier's Grave
Breathe not a whisper here;
The place where thou dost stand is hallowed ground;
In silence gather near this upheaved mound -
Around the soldier's bier.
To The Unknown Goddess
Will you conquer my heart with your beauty; my sould going out from afar?
Shall I fall to your hand as a victim of crafty and cautions shikar?
Have I met you and passed you already, unknowing, unthinking and blind?
The Secret People
Smile at us, pay us, pass us; but do not quite forget.
For we are the people of England, that never have spoken yet.
There is many a fat farmer that drinks less cheerfully,
There is many a free French peasant who is richer and sadder than we.
G. K. Chesterton
The Old Playhouse
You planned to tame a swallow, to hold her
In the long summer of your love so that she would forget
Not the raw seasons alone, and the homes left behind, but
Also her nature, the urge to fly, and the endless