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Rainbow colours, glorious, Melt into scenic views— Radiant through softened glow, Creating all things new. Freshness lingers past the rain, Embracing nature’s charm— God’s vibrant promises still proclaimed With tender hues of calm. Sunbeams gently stroke my face, And Heaven’s warmth abides— My spirit yearns for His embrace And peace His touch provides. He gently soothes a hurting heart, And wipes away each tear— With healing words, my grief departs And sorrows disappear.

THE MARINES WANT THIS TO ROLL ALL OVER THE U.S. Please don't delete this until you send it on, Let 's send it around the world. This is a poem being sent from a Marine to his Dad. For those who take the time to read it, you'll see a letter from him to his dad at the bottom. It makes you truly thankful for not only the Marines, but ALL of our troops. THE MARINE We all came together, Both young and old To fight for our freedom, To stand and be bold. In the midst of all evil,...

A "poem" purportedly written by a teenage Bob Dylan and up for auction at Christie's is actually a song written by the late Canadian country singer Hank Snow, the auction house said on Wednesday. Christie's announced on Tuesday the sale of the hand-written poem believed to have been written in 1957 when Dylan was 16 and away at Jewish camp. But Christie's failed to detect that the words, with a few minor variations, matched those of a song previously recorded by Snow, who died in 1999 at age 85.

Click to watch video poem. Once on a dark and gloomy day I thought I heard a knock I snarled at the intruder And quickly turned the lock "Good morning, sir. I've come to ask How much a minute's worth If I could take you back in time To any place on Earth." "Obnoxious kid, you see my door Says no soliciting So please respect my privacy I've more important things." "I promise not to waste your time. Just name an old regret. I'll take you back to set it right. And you'll be glad we met." "Boy, don't make...

Click to watch video poem. Gift wrapping paper's barely off. Toy plane's lost its appeal. The boy demands a rocket, now. His brother's he might steal. Struggling to fill my void With crap I'll never need. You won't enjoy what I can't have. More envy piled on greed. Video viewed a million times; Our Youtube star's arrived. She frowns at her subscriber count, And barely feels alive. Struggling to fill my void With crap I'll never need. You won't enjoy what I can't have. More envy piled on greed. Gold custom diamond insets for Discerning clientele. His five million dollar...

A tribute to the obnoxious bosses and teachers we've had in the past. Watch performance at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KnT7RVPTyHc Chorus: Sir, you poo like us, and you cry like us, and when you stub your toe you cuss. You catch colds like us,and you'll die like us. Peacock, you look ridiculous. 1. Don't roll your eyes and put on airs, pretend to dominate with stares. Stop actin' like you're royalty. See through that fog of vanity. (repeat chorus) 2. Don't think you're some Olympic god, whose spoiled servants deserve the rod. You're hardly more or less than them. Your strength will fade,...

Watch performance to music at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DxR0EGMp3Q0 If he were your hairbrush, hold your locks of hair. If he were your mirror, smile as you prepare. If he were your pillow, comfort when you cry. If he were your buaggage every time you fly. If he were your slippers, fight the frigid cold. If he were your photos, there as you grow old. He'd still never be what he ought to be.

Poem about perseverance. Click here to watch performance. "Hit me, kick me, throw me on the ground, Burn my house, lock me up. Things will turn around. Drag my name through the gutter, kick me out of town. I'll get back up. You won't keep me down. Bills piled sky high on our friend named Bob. Kids got sick, wife got worse. Next, his house got robbed. "No, I won't be a quitter, just lay here and sob. Family needs me.' Found an extra job. Prom date raped her, left her in the cold. Pregnancy soon arrived, prom date got...

Watch the performance.You look past mistakes I've made All the hands that I misplayed. Always have a friend to call. Lift my spirits when they fall. You turned 'round to lend a hand. "Here to help." "I understand." I was stranded on the road Fearing my car might explode. I was bedbound late in life Missing my departed wife You came by to share a meal, Lend an ear, ask how I feel. Thank you for the joy you bring You have given everything Don't deserve the gifts you share Thank God I have friends who care You look past...

This is a heartfelt poem written by one of our soldiers. It's worth your time reading it.

A SOLDIER’S CHRISTMAS The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light, I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight. My wife was asleep, her head on my chest, My daughter beside me, angelic in rest. Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white, Transforming the yard to a winter delight; The sparkling lights in the tree, I believe, Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve. My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep, Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep In perfect contentment, or so it would seem. So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream...

Everybody has lost or will lose somebody during their lives... Maybe this poem can make the loss a little easier. Merry Christmas

THE HURRICANE I watch from the West, stunned and depressed at the Hurricane slamming America. The creators of this Storm, who laid its path, had planned to unleash its destructive wrath at a time most opportune for Revolution. To achieve their goal, they plotted course, using professors' theories to reinforce, while judges found loopholes in my Constitution. Then Bush went to war, and Hillary supported, Obama was born, Independents were thwarted. Now Circumstance had found them their Solution: Invent a false messiah, to proselytize the irreligious; Spark a real estate collapse, by lending to the unqualified; Break the banking system,...

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[IF] If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you But make allowance for their doubting too, If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don't deal in lies, Or being hated, don't give way to hating, And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise: If you can dream--and not make dreams your master, If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat...

(With apologies to Dr. Seuss) O and Joe Joe and O I will not vote for O and Joe

This came to me, earlier, and so, i decided to put it into words. See how you all like it. America, I miss you. Remember,the country we once Knew, With Landscapes just lovely, and Oceans, so blue, and people who were kind, and who's promises were true? America, oh,America,I miss you. As kids, we played in the woods, and in the park, From early in the morning, until well after dark. And our parents, they taught us right, and wrong, and how to stand on our own, to be steadfast and strong. From our earliest years, we were taught that...

A poem written by a 10-year old boy from Ness Ziona, in which he describes the life of a bomb-maker named Ahmed who specializes in killing Jews, was included in a booklet published by the city's municipality after it was accepted into a poetry competition. The poem offended the Israeli Arabs who saw it in the booklet, and following an appeal made by Ynet the municipality decided to remove it. The poem reads as follows: Ahmed's bunker has surprises galore: Grenades, rifles are hung on the wall. Ahmed is planning another bomb! What a bunker Ahmed has, who causes daily...

If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don't deal in lies, Or being hated, don't don't give way to hating, And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise: If you can dream - and not make dreams your master; If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with Triumph...

Ancient poem found on wood strip The Yomiuri Shimbun NARA--A wooden strip unearthed in fiscal 1997 from remains of the eighth-century Shigarakinomiya palace in Koka, Shiga Prefecture, was found to be inscribed with a pair of waka poems, one of which is included in "Manyoshu" (The Collection of Ten Thousand Leaves), Japan's oldest existing collection of poems, a board of education announced Thursday. It is the first time that a wooden strip inscribed with a poem from the collection has been found. On one side of the strip is a poem about Mt. Asaka, in present-day Fukushima Prefecture, while the...

The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light, I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight. My wife was asleep, her head on my chest, My daughter beside me, angelic in rest. Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white, Transforming the yard to a winter delight. The sparkling lights in the tree I believe, Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve. My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep, Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep. In perfect contentment, or so it would seem, So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream. The sound wasn’t...

"The Sailor's Christmas" Twas the night before Christmas, the ship was out steaming,Sailors stood watch while others were dreaming. They lived in a crowd with racks tight and small, In a 80-man berthing, cramped one and all. I had come down the stack with presents to give, And to see inside just who might perhaps live. I looked all about, a strange sight did I see, No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree. No stockings were hung, shined boots close at hand, On the bulkhead hung pictures of a far distant land. They had medals and badges and awards...

Happy Thanksgiving from Our Family to Yours - A Poem of Thanks On the American Thanksgiving last year I shared a touching poem which was memorized and recited by my son Joshua that had the effect of causing our family to reflect on and give thanks for all our blessings from the Lord.  Many readers appreciated it, and in case you missed it you can read it here:http://www.lifesite.net/ldn/2006/nov/06112303.htmlWith the Canadian Thanksgiving this Monday, I thought I'd share another poem which my daughter Hannah recently memorized and recited publicly.  The poem by Ethyl Lynn Beers was particularly special in our case...

OK, maybe a little more pertinent to last year and Christmas, but the subject is still very relevant today, IMHO. Who Stole Christmas? Twas the month before Christmas When all through our land, Not a Christian was praying Nor taking a stand. See the PC Police had taken away, The reason for Christmas - no one could say. The children were told by their schools not to sing, About Shepherds and Wise Men and Angels and things. It might hurt people's feelings, the teachers would say December 25th is just a " Holiday ". Yet the shoppers were ready with...

A Different Christmas Poem The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light, I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight. My wife was asleep, her head on my chest, My daughter beside me, angelic in rest. Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white, Transforming the yard to a winter delight. The sparkling lights in the tree I believe, Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve. My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep, Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep. In perfect contentment, or so it would seem, So I slumbered, perhaps I started to...

We Watched... By Aimee We watched as people suffered and died, as orphans and widows prayed and cried, as the planes hit the towers the world held its breath, as everyone saw the destruction and death, the workers stopped working the teachers stopped teaching, all the alarms sounded and the preachers kept preaching, we could all feel the pain of the people stuck up there burning, and when another person jumped our stomachs started churning, everyone was on their knee's praying for the souls, that were going up to heaven and had lost their dreams and goals, we were losing...

9/11/73 was one of the happiest and most frightening days of my life. My second son was born that day, but soon developed a life-threatening condition with a 25% chance of being fatal. Now, each 9/11 I have to remind him he made that day one of the two happiest of my life. Subsequently, he married a fine young woman from Puerto Rico. Thinking about all the lives that were snuffed out on that horrific day, and noting the deep concerns of many here at Free Republic about both legal and illegal immigration, I decided to research how many Latino/Hispanics...

I thought. I thought about this today, I thought about what we all would be feeling if today’s planned attack had come to fruition. I thought about seeing yet another day as the news comes in of men, women and children that are gone forever. I thought about the distraught mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers inconsolable with the realization of what had been lost, taken. I thought about people on two continents, our brothers "Across the Pond", hurting for one another. I thought about the anger, the hatred, denial, helplessness, loss, and the feeling of utter pain that I felt...

The story, if I remember correctly was written by a young man who actually died shortly after it was penned. It talks about going to heaven and finding a large card catalogue shelf with a drawer with his name on it. Upon opening he sees all the sins of his life... thousands of them. In his shame he thumbs through them and at the deepest depth of dispair he is approched by Jesus. He begs Jesus not to read the cards but he begins anyway. As Jesus begins to pull cards out of the deck they are blank. one by...

I died because I'm poor. I'm floating in the water. My Mom is accross from me. Mosquitos swarm around us. They're our only friends. I'm in the United States. Of, America. Not Vietnam. I'm not on T.V. It's really me. I'm dying 'cause I'm poor. Mama's eyes are fluttering. Like a butterfly. This is real. Please, people. Not a photo op. I'm dying 'cause I'm poor. I spit on Mama's lips, to give her moisture. Her face turns cold. I'm crying 'cause I'm poor. Oh, Mama! Dear sweet Mama. I wail into the sky. Where's that promising Bush? Mama didn't...

Blessed Creator, Thou hast promised thy beloved sleep; Give me restoring rest needful for tomorrow’s toil; If dreams be mine, let them not be tinged with evil. Let thy Spirit make my time of repose a blessed temple of his holy presence. May my frequent lying down make me familiar with death, the bed I approach remind me of the grave, the eyes I now close picture to me their final closing. Keep me always ready, waiting for admittance to thy presence. Weaken my attachment to earthly things. May I hold life loosely in my hand, knowing that I receive...

I am thankful Paul Revere's partners that night were equally brave, equally (or more resourceful) and much more successful than Paul himself, but the country should recognize all these early patriots today and tommorrow. Given that, did you realize that the Brit's actually were going to Lexington and Concord to SIEZE the colonists' guns and gunpowder from the local armory? First battle of the Revolution, discounting earlier riots and armed protests down in Williamsburg (also over seizing local arms!) was over gun control.

"AMERICA!" Osama Bin Laden, your time is short; We'd rather you die, than come to court. Why are you hiding if it was in God's name? You're just a punk with a turban; a pathetic shame. I have a question, about your theory and laws; "How come you never die for the cause?" Is it because you're a coward who counts on others? Well, here in America, we stand by our brothers. As is usual, you failed in your mission; If you expected pure chaos, you can keep on wishing Americans are now focused and stronger than ever; Your death...

[IF] If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you But make allowance for their doubting too, If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don't deal in lies, Or being hated, don't give way to hating, And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise: If you can dream--and not make dreams your master, If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat...

'Twas the night before Christmas, at the ACLU, Twelve lawyers were sitting with nothing to do; Their court briefs were piled on the table with care, In hopes they could find a judge still working somewhere. The plaintiffs were busy rehearsing their lines, With visions of jury awards filling their minds; And Heather in her Halston and Leo in his Armani, Were working the phones like Patton’s 3rd Army. When out in the lobby arose such a clatter, I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter. Away to the door I flew like a jet, Ran right...

Patient and steady with all he must bear, Ready to meet every challenge with care, Easy in manner, yet solid as steel, Strong in his faith, refreshingly real. Isn't afraid to propose what is bold, Doesn't conform to the usual mould, Eyes that have foresight, for hindsight won't do, Never backs down when he sees what is true, Tells it all straight, and means it all too. Going forward and knowing he's right, Even when doubted for why he would fight, Over and over he makes his case clear, Reaching to touch the ones who won't hear. Growing in strength...

Pakistan deletes 'pro-Bush' poem Mr Bush (left) is a key backer of President Musharraf Pakistan's government is to remove a poem from a school textbook after it emerged the first letters of each line spelt out "President George W Bush".The anonymous poem, called The Leader, appeared in a recent English-language course book for 16 year-olds.Critics say it praises Mr Bush. Its rhyming couplets describe someone "solid as steel, strong in his faith".Officials cannot explain how the poem entered the curriculum. Pupils are to ignore it ahead of a reprint next year.Not deliberate'The BBC's Zaffar Abbas in Islamabad says it...

The poem states 'I am Adolf Hitler' and it recounts a historical fact, something Young Writers and Forward Press say they will not censor. Jewish leaders are protesting poem’s inclusion in book they said could be influential on youngsters' views of Jewish people Jeremy Last, EJPress A poem that praises the murder of Jews by the Nazis has been included in a book of children’s poetry to be distributed to schools in the U.K. The publication, entitled "Great Minds," features the work of schoolchildren aged 11-18 who won a nationwide literary competition. But one poem has generated outrage amongst Jewish...

Anti-Semitic poem in children’s school book By Jeremy Last Updated: 16/Oct/2005 A poem which praises the murder of Jews by the Nazis has been included in a book of children’s poetry to be distributed amongst schools in the UK. The publication, entitled Great Minds, features the work of school children aged 11 to 18 who won a nationwide literary competition. But one poem has generated outrage amongst Jewish groups, politicians and Holocaust charities for its anti-Semitic content. The entry by the 14-year-old Gideon Taylor is apparently written from the viewpoint of Nazi leader Adolf Hitler. It includes the lines "Jews...

Wake! For the Sun, who scatter'd into flight The Stars before him from the Field of Night, Drives Night along with them from Heav'n, and strikes The Sultan's Turret with a Shaft of Light Portland, Oregon -- So begins The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, one of the best-known poems in the world and perhaps the most famous piece of Persian literature. The several hundred quatrains that make up this enduring 11th century work have been translated into dozens of languages and inspired countless readers and scholars with their beauty. At least nine editions of The Rubaiyat are currently in print...

LEGACY Oh say do you recall his shining city on the hill Though strained and scarred by wickedness, that city stands here still A proud and grateful people watched his strength illuminate her That beautiful, bright city of the Great Communicator

After 2,600 years, the world gains a fourth poem by Sappho John Ezard Friday June 24, 2005 The Guardian (UK) Plato believed Sappho should be honoured not merely as a poet but as a Muse. Photo: Getty A newly found poem by Sappho, acknowledged as one of the greatest poets of Greek classical antiquity and seen by some as the finest of any era, is published for the first time today. Written more than 2,600 years ago, the 101 words of verse deal with a theme timeless in both art and soap operas; the stirrings of an ageing body towards...

FREEDOM IS NOT FREE I watched the flag pass by one day,It fluttered in the breeze;A young Marine saluted it,And then he stood at ease. I looked at him in uniform, So young, so tall, so proud; With hair cut square and eyes alert, He'd stand out in any crowd. I thought. how many men like him That served as soldiers graves? No . Freedom is not Free. I heard the sound of Taps one night, When everything was still; I listened to the bugler play, And felt a sudden chill; I wondered just how many times That Taps had...

BATTLE CRY By Kay Day for W. Thomas Smith, Jr. He thought he heard it first in the oak trees, within boughs he chose for lookouts, sturdy perches where he spotted enemy encroaching fields of peanuts or cotton: fierce Hessians with scraggly beards and beefy arms, earnest Yankees in blue, Braves in feathers and paint, his enemy shaped in tales he’d heard or read. He heard it again in the water, pulling him along the rivulets where he dodged arrows and musket balls, a call urging attack, defend. The sound was the sweetest he’d known since he was an infant...

BookBeat with Kay Day Gifting a poem I’ve written poems about people, to people, for people. But yesterday, I not only wrote a poem about, to, and for a person, I literally gave him the poem. It all started when I read a column by W. Thomas Smith, Jr. in Military Week. Thomas wrote a beautiful tribute to Colonel David Hackworth who died last week. After reading the column, I visited various Net sites, including Colonel Hackworth’s, and came away impressed by a man who was truly a hero, who both praised his Army and objectively criticized it. I wrote...

When I die don't fly the flag half mast, don't let my pasing be something done in vain, its ok to cry but don't live your life in the past,Just remember, I'm an American Soldier, pure red, white, and blue. I may have died but I did it for you, so stand tall for me hold your head high, with a smile on your face and a tear in your eye, make sure the flag flies high. Thats all I ask when I die... Just make sure Old Glory Flies High!

Christmas Poem TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS, HE LIVED ALL ALONE, IN A ONE BEDROOM HOUSE MADE OF PLASTER AND STONE. I HAD COME DOWN THE CHIMNEY WITH PRESENTS TO GIVE, AND TO SEE JUST WHO IN THIS HOME DID LIVE. I LOOKED ALL ABOUT, A STRANGE SIGHT I DID SEE, NO TINSEL, NO PRESENTS, NOT EVEN A TREE. NO STOCKING BY MANTLE, JUST BOOTS FILLED WITH SAND, ON THE WALL HUNG PICTURES OF FAR DISTANT LANDS. WITH MEDALS AND BADGES, AWARDS OF ALL KINDS, A SOBER THOUGHT CAME THROUGH MY MIND. FOR THIS HOUSE WAS DIFFERENT, IT WAS DARK...

Now I sit me down in school/ Where praying is against the rule./ For this great nation under God/ Finds mention of Him very odd/ If Scripture now the class recites,/ It violates the Bill of Rights/ And anytime my head I bow/ Becomes a Federal matter now/ Our hair can be purple, orange, or green/ That's no offense, it's a freedom scene/ The law is specific/ The law is precise/ Prayers spoken aloud are a serious vice/ For praying in a public hall/ Might offend someone with no faith at all/ In silence alone we must meditate/ God's name...

The Last Battle of Vietnam It never occurred to me, ever before, That our Navy would win the Vietnam War. When they took to their boats in this year of elections, With the mission of making some major corrections I shared their belief, John should not be elected, And their view overdue, truth should be resurrected. Yet I questioned the course they’d set themselves for, Knowing how John was loved by the media whore. Ignored and dismissed by the media queens Being shrewd, savvy sailors they still found the means To reach out to the people, to open their eyes...

It was the best of times; It is the worst of times/ John Democrat, Canidate He makes big promises Flipping, Flopping, Talking, Racing Kerry George President, Rebuplican Talking, Helping, Supporting He has already won Bush John Proud Democrat Relaxing, Watching, Convincing He has won the West Coast and Northeast Kerry George Scared Republican He is afraid Kerry could be President Watching, Trying to stay calm Bush John Scared Dmocrat Watching, Hoping, Panikking I will not win Was flip flopping right for me Kerry George Proud Republican Winning the South Watching, Looking, Calling Bush John Nervous Democrat I may not win...