100 Best Poems about Freedom to Inspire You

Freedom is a fundamental human right that has been fought for throughout history.

It is a concept that inspires poets to capture the essence of liberation and to remind us of the power of human agency.

Poems about freedom can be powerful and inspiring, encouraging us to embrace our own autonomy and fight for the freedom of others.

Whether it’s a classic piece of literature or a modern verse, freedom poems remind us of the struggles that have been faced and the progress that has been made.

You May Also Be Interested In:

• poems about courage
• poems about money
• poems about art

Inspirational Poems about Freedom

These inspirational freedom poems inspire us to fight for freedom, both for ourselves and for others. They remind us of the power of human agency and the importance of standing up for what we believe in.

1. Democracy Poem

       by Langston Hughes

Democracy will not come
Today, this year
Nor ever
Through compromise and fear.

I have as much right
As the other fellow has
To stand
On my two feet
And own the land.

I tire so of hearing people say,
Let things take their course.
Tomorrow is another day.
I do not need my freedom when I’m dead.
I cannot live on tomorrow’s bread.

Freedom
Is a strong seed
Planted
In a great need.

I live here, too.
I want freedom
Just as you.

2. The Freedom of The Moon

       by Robert Frost

I’ve tried the new moon tilted in the air
Above a hazy tree-and-farmhouse cluster
As you might try a jewel in your hair.
I’ve tried it fine with little breadth of luster,
Alone, or in one ornament combining
With one first-water start almost shining.

I put it shining anywhere I please.
By walking slowly on some evening later,
I’ve pulled it from a crate of crooked trees,
And brought it over glossy water, greater,
And dropped it in, and seen the image wallow,
The color run, all sorts of wonder follow.

3. ‘Ode to Liberty’.

       By Percy Shelley

Come thou, but lead out of the inmost cave
Of man’s deep spirit, as the morning-star
Beckons the Sun from the Eoan wave,
Wisdom. I hear the pennons of her car
Self-moving, like cloud charioted by flame;
Comes she not, and come ye not,
Rulers of eternal thought,
To judge, with solemn truth, life’s ill-apportioned lot?
Blind Love, and equal Justice, and the Fame
Of what has been, the Hope of what will be?
O Liberty! if such could be thy name
Wert thou disjoined from these, or they from thee:
If thine or theirs were treasures to be bought
By blood or tears, have not the wise and free
Wept tears, and blood like tears?

4. Freedom

       By Helen Hunt Jackson

What freeman knoweth freedom? Never he
Whose father’s father through long lives have reigned
O’er kingdoms which mere heritage attained.
Though from his youth to age he roam as free
As winds, he dreams not freedom’s ecstasy.
But he whose birth was in a nation chained
For centuries; where every breath was drained
From breasts of slaves which knew not there could be
Such thing as freedom, – he beholds the light
Burst, dazzling; though the glory blind his sight
He knows the joy. Fools laugh because he reels
And wields confusedly his infant will;
The wise man watching with a heart that feels
Says: ‘Cure for freedom’s harms is freedom still.’

Short Poems about Freedom

These short poems on freedom fighters and patriotism pack a powerful punch in just a few words, capturing the essence of freedom and inspiring us to embrace our own autonomy.

1. Freedom in Dress

       by Ben Jonson

Still to be neat, still to be drest,
As you were going to a feast;
Still to be powdered, still perfumed,
Lady, it is to be presumed,
Though art’s hid causes are not found,
All is not sweet, all is not sound.

Give me a look, give me a face,
That makes simplicity a grace;
Robes loosely flowing, hair as free,—
Such sweet neglect more taketh me
Than all the adulteries of art:
They strike mine eyes, but not my heart.

2. The Conflict

       by John Gould Fletcher

I have fled away into deserts,
I have hidden myself from you,
Lo, you always at my side!
I cannot shake myself free.

In the evening stillness
With your cold eyes you sit watching,
Longing, hungering still for me;
I will open my heart and give you
All my blood, at last.

3. Wild Swans

       by Edna St. Vincent Millay

I looked in my heart while the wild swans went over.
And what did I see I had not seen before?
Only a question less or a question more;
Nothing to match the flight of wild birds flying.
Tiresome heart, forever living and dying,
House without air, I leave you and lock your door.
Wild swans, come over the town, come over
The town again, trailing your legs and crying!

4. Freedom

       by Olive Runner

Give me the long, straight road before me,
A clear, cold day with a nipping air,
Tall, bare trees to run on beside me,
A heart that is light and free from care.
Then let me go!—I care not whither
My feet may lead, for my spirit shall be
Free as the brook that flows to the river,
Free as the river that flows to the sea.

5. The Old Stoic

       by Emily Brontë

Riches I hold in light esteem,
And Love I laugh to scorn;
And lust of fame was but a dream,
That vanished with the morn:

And if I pray, the only prayer
That moves my lips for me
Is, “Leave the heart that now I bear,
And give me liberty!”

Yes, as my swift days near their goal:
’Tis all that I implore;
In life and death a chainless soul,
With courage to endure.

6. Do Not Believe

       by Aleksey Konstantinovich Tolstoy

Do not believe, my dearest, when I say
That I no longer love you.
When the tide ebbs do not believe the sea –
It will return anew.

Already I long for you, and passion fills me,
I yield my freedom thus to you once more.
Already the waves return with shouts and glee
To fill again that same belovèd shore.

7. Love-Free

       by Sara Teasdale

I am free of love as a bird flying south in the autumn,
Swift and intent, asking no joy from another,
Glad to forget all of the passion of April
Ere it was love-free.

I am free of love, and I listen to music lightly,
But if he returned, if he should look at me deeply,
I should awake, I should awake and remember
I am my lover’s.

8. A Book

       by Emily Dickinson

There is no frigate like a book
To take us lands away,
Nor any coursers like a page
Of prancing poetry.
This traverse may the poorest take
Without oppress of toll;
How frugal is the chariot
That bears a human soul!

Famous Poems about Freedom

These freedom poems by famous poets are classics that have stood the test of time, inspiring generations of readers with their powerful messages of liberation.

1. Opportunity

       by Raymond Garfield Dandridge

The shackles rend, your hands are free,
You need no longer humb’ly bow
Beneath the lash of tyranny;
Go shape the molten metal now.
Behold! “The Door of Hope,” ajar,
And Freedom freely beckoning;
She bids you gaze upon a star,
And veer not from your reckoning!

2. No Bondage for Me

       by William Francis Barnard

Chains are not other than chains,
Though fashioned of gold, I cry;
Nor is liberty less than a boon,
Though I have but a cup and a crust.
Better a bed in the fields,
And a man’s heart, at dawn in the sky,
Than a luxury great as a king’s,
Where a voice ever utters “Thou must!”

3. The Divine Source of Liberty

       by John Singleton Copley

All temporal power is of God,
And the magistratal, His institution, laud,
To but advance creaturely happiness aubaud:
Let us then affirm the Source of Liberty.

Ever agreeable to the nature and will,
Of the Supreme and Guardian of all yet still
Employed for our rights and freedom’s thrill:
Thus proves the only Source of Liberty.

Though our civil joy is surely expressed
Through hearth, and home, and church manifest,
Yet this too shall be a nation’s true test:
To acknowledge the divine Source of Liberty.

4. Law and Liberty

       by E. J. Cutler

O Liberty, thou child of Law,
God’s seal is on thy brow!
O Law, her Mother first and last,
God’s very self art thou!
Two flowers alike, yet not alike,
On the same stem that grow,
Two friends who cannot live apart,
Yet seem each other’s foe.
One, the smooth river’s mirrored flow
Which decks the world with green;
And one, the bank of sturdy rock
Which hems the river in.
O Daughter of the timeless Past,
O Hope the Prophets saw,
God give us Law in Liberty
And Liberty in Law!

5. Song of the American Eagle

       by Anonymous

I build my nest on the mountain’s crest,
Where the wild winds rock my eaglets to rest,
Where the lightnings flash, and the thunders crash,
And the roaring torrents foam and dash;
For my spirit free henceforth shall be
A type of the sons of Liberty.
Aloft I fly from my aërie high,
Through the vaulted dome of the azure sky;
On a sunbeam bright take my airy flight,
And float in a flood of liquid light;
For I love to play in the noontide ray,
And bask in a blaze from the throne of day.
Away I spring with a tireless wing,
On a feathery cloud I poise and swing;
I dart down the steep where the lightnings leap,
And the clear blue canopy swiftly sweep;
For, dear to me is the revelry
Of a free and fearless Liberty.
I love the land where the mountains stand,
Like the watch-towers high of a Patriot band;
For I may not bide in my glory and pride,
Though the land be never so fair and wide,
Where Luxury reigns o’er voluptuous plains,
And fetters the free-born soul in chains.
Then give to me in my flights to see
The land of the pilgrims ever free!
And I never will rove from the haunts I love
But watch, from my sentinel-track above,
Your banner free, o’er land and sea,
And exult in your glorious Liberty.
O, guard ye well the land where I dwell,
Lest to future times the tale I tell,
When slow expires in smoldering fires
The goodly heritage of your sires,
How Freedom’s light rose clear and bright
O’er fair Columbia’s beacon-hight,
Till ye quenched the flame in a starless night.
Then will I tear from your pennon fair
The stars ye have set in triumph there;
My olive-branch on the blast I’ll launch,
The fluttering stripes from the flagstaff wrench,
And away I’ll flee; for I scorn to see
A craven race in the land of the free!

6. The Brave at Home

       by Thomas Buchanan Read

The maid who binds her warrior’s sash,
And, smiling, all her pain dissembles,
The while beneath the drooping lash,
One starry tear-drop hangs and trembles;
Though Heaven alone records the tear,
And fame shall never know her story,
Her heart has shed a drop as dear
As ever dewed the field of glory!
The wife who girds her husband’s sword,
‘Mid little ones who weep and wonder,
And bravely speaks the cheering word,
What though her heart be rent asunder;—
Doomed nightly in her dreams to hear
The bolts of war around him rattle,—
Has shed as sacred blood as e’er
Was poured upon the field of battle!
The mother who conceals her grief,
While to her breast her son she presses,
Then breathes a few brave words and brief,
Kissing the patriot brow she blesses;
With no one but her loving God,
To know the pain that weighs upon her,
Sheds holy blood as e’er the sod
Received on Freedom’s field of honor!

7. Facts

       by Raymond Garfield Dandridge

Triumphant Sable Heroes homeward turning,
Arrayed in medals, bright, and half-healed scars,
Has service, life, and limb been given earning
Trophies, issued at the hand of Mars?
If your sole gain has been these “marks of battle,”
If valient deeds insure no greater claim,
If you are still to be the herder’s cattle,
Then ill spilt blood fell short of Freedom’s aim.
Democracy means more than empty letters,
And Liberty far more than partly free;
Yet, both are void as long as men, in fetters,
Are at eclipse with Opportunity.

8. Emancipation

       by Emily Dickinson

No rack can torture me,
My soul’s at liberty
Behind this mortal bone
There knits a bolder one

You cannot prick with saw,
Nor rend with scymitar.
Two bodies therefore be;
Bind one, and one will flee.

The eagle of his nest
No easier divest
And gain the sky,
Than mayest thou,

Except thyself may be
Thine enemy;
Captivity is consciousness,
So’s liberty.

9. A Book

       by Emily Dickinson

He ate and drank the precious words,
His spirit grew robust;
He knew no more that he was poor,
Nor that his frame was dust.
He danced along the dingy days,
And this bequest of wings
Was but a book. What liberty
A loosened spirit brings!

10. Peace

       by Bliss Carman

The sleeping tarn is dark
Below the wooded hill.
Save for its homing sounds,
The twilit world grows still.
And I am left to muse
In grave-eyed mystery,
And watch the stars come out
As sandalled dusk goes by.
And now the light is gone,
The drowsy murmurs cease,
And through the still unknown
I wonder whence comes peace.
Then softly falls the word
Of one beyond a name,
“Peace only comes to him
Who guards his life from shame, —
“Who gives his heart to love,
And holding truth for guide,
Girds him with fearless strength,
That freedom may abide.”

Poems about Freedom and Independence

These poems about independence and freedom explore the connection between freedom and independence, inspiring us to embrace our own autonomy and to fight for the freedom of others.

1. Liberty

       by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts

A child, I set the thirsting of my mouth
To the gold chalices of loves that craze.
Surely, alas, I have found therein but drouth,
Surely has sorrow darkened o’er my days.
While worldlings chase each other madly round
Their giddy track of frivolous gayety,
Dreamer, my dream earth’s utmost longings bound:
One love alone is mine, my love is Liberty.
I have sung them all;—youth’s lightsomeness that fleets,
Pure friendship, my most fondly cherished dreams,
Wild blossoms and the winds that steal their sweets,
Wood odors, and the star that whitely gleams.
But our hearts change; the spirit dulls its edge
In the chill contact with reality;
These vanished like the foam-bells on the sedge:
I sing one burden now, my song is Liberty.
I drench my spirit in ecstasy, consoled,
And my gaze trembles toward the azure arc,
When in the wide world-records I behold
Flame like a meteor God’s finger thro’ the dark
But if, at times, bowed over the abyss
Wherein man crawls toward immortality,—
Beholding here how sore his suffering is,
I make my prayer with tears, it is for Liberty.

2. Could I But Ride Indefinite

       by Emily Dickinson

Could I but ride indefinite,
As doth the meadow-bee,
And visit only where I liked,
And no man visit me,
And flirt all day with buttercups,
And marry whom I may,
And dwell a little everywhere,
Or better, run away
With no police to follow,
Or chase me if I do,
Till I should jump peninsulas
To get away from you, —
I said, but just to be a bee
Upon a raft of air,
And row in nowhere all day long,
And anchor off the bar,—
What liberty! So captives deem
Who tight in dungeons are.

3. The New Colossus

       by Edward Moran

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

4. Country of Freedom

       by Amos Russel Wells

Country of freedom, be free in thy heart:
Free from the shackles of prisoning pride,
Free from the liar’s contemptible art,
Free from allurements that tempt thee aside,
Free from the crafty and treacherous guide,
Free from the ravening greed of the mart,
Free from the snares that in opulence hide,—
Country of freedom be free in thy heart!

Country of freedom, find freedom for all:
Freedom for thinkers’ adventurous quest,
Freedom for greatness to spring from the small,
Freedom for better to grow to the best,
Freedom for justice’s rigorous test,
Freedom for progress in hut and in hall,
Freedom for labor’s unwearying zest,—
Country of freedom, be free for them all!

Country of freedom, be free for the earth:
Over the bloody and desperate main,
Far in the regions of darkness and dearth,
Challenge the tyrant’s unmerciful reign,
Pierce to the heart of his evil domain,
Win for thy brothers the lands of their birth,
Shatter the prison and sever the chain,—
Country of freedom, be free for the earth!

5. The Message of the Liberty Bell

       by Mrs. Elvira Robinson

Around the congress with closed door
Thousands of anxious people pour
To wait till all suspense be o’er.
And still above the bellman waits
The slow decision of the fates,
While fears depress and hope elates.
“Passed, it has passed,” at length they cry,
Ten thousand glad mouths make reply,
And send the echoes to the sky.
“Ring! ring!” exclaims the watching boy;
The bell responds with notes of joy.
Freedom’s proclaim its sweet employ.
Loud and more loud the proud notes swell,
The people’s shouts responding well,
All o’er the land the glad news tell.
From sea to sea, from pole to pole,
The echoes of that bell shall roll,
Till freedom comes to every soul.

6. Liberty Bell

       by J. P. Dunn

Ring on, ring on sweet Liberty Bell
For peace on earth, good will to men.
A story true, ye kindly tell,
From Bunker Hill down to Argonne.
Ring on, ring on sweet Liberty Bell
In every clime where freedom dwells
Your sweetest strains and imparting knells
On New Year’s eve was heard again.
Ring on, ring on sweet Liberty Bell
Peal after peal, your music swell
Beneath the blue the white and red
That waves so proudly today o’er the living
And so sacredly o’er the dead.

Poems about Freedom and Equality

These freedom and equality poems remind us that freedom cannot be truly achieved without equality. They inspire us to fight for justice and to create a world where everyone has the same rights and opportunities.

1. Susan B. Anthony

       by Katharine Rolston Fisher

Her life is a luminous banner borne ever ahead of her era, in
lead of the forces of freedom,
Where wrongs for justice call.
High-hearted, far-sighted, she pressed with noble intrepid impatience,
one race and the half of another
To liberate from thrall.

If now in its freedom her spirit mingle with ours and find us
toiling at dusk to finish
The task of her long day,
On ground hard held to the last, gaining her goal for women,
if for her word we hearken,
May we not hear her say:

“Comrades and daughters exultant, let my goal for you be a mile-
stone. Too late have you won it to linger.
Victory flies ahead.
Though women march millions abreast on a widening way to free-
dom, trails there are still for women
Fearless to break and tread.

“Keep watch on power as it passes, on liberty’s torch as it
travels, lest woman be left with a symbol,
No flame in her lamp alive.
In the mine, the mill and the mart where is bartered the bread of
your children, is forged the power you strove for,
For which you still must strive.”

Her spirit like southern starlight at once is afar and around us;
her message an inward singing
Through all our life to run:
“Forward together, my daughters, till born of your faith with
each other and of brotherhood all the world over,
For all is freedom won.”

2. Freedom

       by Ambrose Bierce

Freedom, as every schoolboy knows,
Once shrieked as Kosciusko fell;
On every wind, indeed, that blows
I hear her yell.

She screams whenever monarchs meet,
And parliaments as well,
To bind the chains about her feet
And toll her knell.

And when the sovereign people cast
The votes they cannot spell,
Upon the pestilential blast
Her clamors swell.

For all to whom the power’s given
To sway or to compel,
Among themselves apportion Heaven
And give her Hell.

3. Reveille

       by Lola Ridge

Come forth, you workers!
Let the fires go cold—
Let the iron spill out, out of the troughs—
Let the iron run wild
Like a red bramble on the floors—
Leave the mill and the foundry and the mine
And the shrapnel lying on the wharves—
Leave the desk and the shuttle and the loom—
Come,
With your ashen lives,
Your lives like dust in your hands.

I call upon you, workers.
It is not yet light
But I beat upon your doors.
You say you await the Dawn
But I say you are the Dawn.
Come, in your irresistible unspent force
And make new light upon the mountains.

You have turned deaf ears to others—
Me you shall hear.
Out of the mouths of turbines,
Out of the turgid throats of engines,
Over the whisling steam,
You shall hear me shrilly piping.
Your mills I shall enter like the wind,
And blow upon your hearts,
Kindling the slow fire.

They think they have tamed you, workers—
Beaten you to a tool
To scoop up a hot honor
Till it be cool—
But out of the passion of the red frontiers
A great flower trembles and burns and glows
And each of its petals is a people.

Come forth, you workers—
Clinging to your stable
And your wisp of warm straw—
Let the fires grow cold,
Let the iron spill out of the troughs,
Let the iron run wild
Like a red bramble on the floors . . .

As our forefathers stood on the prairies
So let us stand in a ring,
Let us tear up their prisons like grass
And beat them to barricades—
Let us meet the fire of their guns
With a greater fire,
Till the birds shall fly to the mountains
For one safe bough.

4. Gitanjali 35

       by Rabindranath Tagore

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;
Where words come out from the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action—
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

5. To A Reformer

       by Grace Greenwood

“Enthusiast,” “Dreamer,” — such the names
Thine age bestows on thee,
For that great nature, going forth
In world-wide sympathy;
For the vision clear, the spirit brave,
The honest heart and warm,
And the voice which swells the battle-cry
Of Freedom and Reform!

Yet, for thy fearless manliness,
When weak time-servers throng, —
Thy chivalrous defence of right,
Thy hold rebuke of wrong, —
And for the flame of liberty,
Heaven-kindled in thy breast,
Which thou hast fed like sacred fire, —
A blessing on thee rest!

‘T is said thy spirit knoweth not
Its times of calm and sleeping,
That ever are its restless thoughts
Like wild waves onward leaping.
Then may its flashing waters
Be tranquil never more, —
They are “troubled” by an angel,
Like the sacred pool of yore.

6. Song for Equal Suffrage

       by Charlotte Perkins Gilman

Day of hope and day of glory! After slavery and woe,
Comes the dawn of woman’s freedom, and the light shall grow and grow
Until every man and woman equal liberty shall know,
In Freedom marching on!

Woman’s right is woman’s duty! for our share in life we call!
Our will it is not weakened and our power it is not small.
We are half of every nation! We are mothers of them all!
In Wisdom marching on!

Not for self but larger service has our cry for freedom grown,
There is crime, disease and warfare in a world of men alone,
In the name of love we’re rising now to serve and save our own,
As Peace comes marching on!

By every sweet and tender tie around our heartstrings curled,
In the cause of nobler motherhood is woman’s flag unfurled,
Till every child shall know the joy and peace of mother’s world–
As Love comes marching on!

We will help to make a pruning hook of every outgrown sword,
We will help to knit the nations in continuing accord,
In humanity made perfect is the glory of the Lord,
As His world goes marching on!

7. Militants to Certain Other Women

       by Katharine Rolston Fisher

You who pass coldly by when the police rush upon us,
When they wrench away our banners,
(Beautiful banners whose colors cry a demand for liberty)
You who criticize or condemn
(Declaring you “believe in suffrage,
Worked for it in your state, and your mother
knew Susan B. Anthony”)
Can you think in terms of a nation?
Could you die, (or face ridicule) for your belief?
For the freedom of women, for your freedom,
we are fighting;
For your safety we face danger, bear torture;
For your honor endure untellable insult.
To win democracy for you we defend the banners of democracy
Till our banners and our bodies
Are flung together on the pavement,
Waiting at the gates of government,
We have made of our weariness a symbol
Of women’s long wait for justice.
We have borne the hunger and hardship of prison,
To open people’s eyes
To men’s determination to imprison the power of women.

You women who pass coldly by,
Do you imagine your freedom is coming
As a summer wind blows over fields?
Slowly it has advanced by a sixty-years’ war,
(Those who have fought in it have not forgotten)
And that war is not won.
Strongly entrenched, the foe sits plotting.

Close to his lines our banners fly,
Signalling where to direct the fire,
Greater forces are needed, reserves and recruits.
Are you for winning or for waiting,
Women who watch the banners go down?
Women who say, “Suffrage is coming,”
While suffrage goes by you into Prussia?
Case to be content with applauding speeches, and praising politicians.
Patience is shameful.
Awake, rise, and act

8. A Protest From Italy

       by Julia Ward Howe

I. There.

Amid Italian orange groves,
A distant murmur reached mine ear,
The wrangling tongues of Western men,
Each, crossed at arms with his compeer.

In that fair land, where passions rage
Briefly, through Nature’s gentleness;
Where the black eyebrows’ direst forwn,
Must yield to the soft air’s caress;

Where even curses fall in words
Whose beauty heals the wound they make;
(Though strong to feel, those Southern hearts,
They’re timid to o’erturn and break;)

I felt my life so calm and deep,
Such rapture, settling to such peace,
I sighed: ‘Hush! hush! my countrymen—
Let this untempered babbling cease!

‘Ye who assert your rights in men,
What right is worth such evil blood?
You—frantic champions of the slave,
Bethink—God orders all for good.

‘Shake not thus ruthlessly your cup
Of new fermented liberty,
Till the scum mantle to the top,
And leave the sun-touched liquor free.

‘Northern and Southron, part in peace,
Each to his own contentment thrive,
Since each divergent destiny
May keep a sacred good alive.’

Thus sang I, in that land of rest,
Till, drunk with Music’s golden wine,
I crossed my hands upon my breast,
And dreamed of heaven, at Raphael’s shrine.

II. Here.

Bathed in your icy Northern springs,
My slumbering eye is roused to sight;
The sharp steel wind doth surrender all
My silken armor of delight.

Mine ear, by mass and anthem lulled,
The trumpet’s brazen voice awakes;
From its slow pulses, keenly stirred,
My blood its natural current makes.

Things which in distance dimly showed
Press on me, in the nearer view;
I see the race that’s passing out,
Weave hateful fetters for the new.

I see a plague, long held aloof,
That to the social heart hath crept,
See, blood-hounds track the inner shrine
Where, sacred once, the outcast slept.

I see, upon the altar steps,
Base Interest trample Godlike Right.
Strike, lyre, thy chorus of brave sounds!
Find, palsied hand, thine ancient might!

Back! back, volcanic flood, that creep’st
So snakelike, through our peaceful plains;
Back, tortuous Intrigue! thou art bold
To drop thy mask where Justice reigns.

Back, baleful force! back, perjured law!
Sacred while ye the right sustain,
But fall’n like Judas, to betray
The sinless blood, for love of gain.

Judas! that gain will serve thee nought!
It will but buy a field of blood,
Whereon impartial Time shall write,
‘Here they that fought for Freedom stood.

‘These men the tie of Nature held
A claim beyond the pride of race;
Their banner bore Man’s bleeding heart
Without the color of his face.

‘Reluctantly they bared the sword,
And let the prudent scabbard go;
They perished in the name of Christ;
His enemies would have it so.’

III. There and Here.

The natural loves that move my heart,
My country, matter not to thee;
Yet let me to my words impart
That which may make them one with me.

And tell thee that, however dear
I hold the light of Roman skies;
However from the canvas clear
The soul of Raphael blessed mine eyes;

Howe’er intense the joy of flowers,
And the spring-wedded nightingale,
Or deep the charm of twilight hours
Hushed to the Miserès wail;

A holier joy to me were given,
Could I persuade they heart from wrong;
As rapturous birds drop down from heaven’
With heaven’s convincement in their song.

9. Dear Nancy

       by Susanna Blamire

Dear Nancy, since men have all made their own laws,
Which oppress the poor women, whatever’s the cause;
Since by hardness of reason or hardness of fist
All wrong must be right if they choose to persist;
I’d have you with caution in wedlock engage,
For if once you are caught you’re a bird in a cage,
That may for dear liberty flutter the wing
As you hop round the perch, but ’tis chance if you sing.

The man who in courtship is studious to please,
Throws off his attention and hears not nor sees;
Whilst her who before was the fairest of flowers
The cloud on his brow ever drenches with showers:
And the man whose rough manners were courteous before,
Gives you every reason to look for no more;
For such churls I’ve seen through the whole of their lives
Give nought but an oath or a frown to their wives.

Let her speech or her manners be e’er so bewitching,
Why, women should only give mouth in the kitchen
Nor e’en there rule the roast, for my lord must be by,
And a finger must always have in every pie.
Then he’d lifeless become,­to such silence is prone,
That you’d think him a statue just cut out of stone;
And his fair one, I’ll wager, not all the year round
Hears aught of his voice save a hum-and-ha sound.

Now some, to advise you all evils to shun,
Bid you ever be happy by holding your tongue;
But Jack Boaster has taught me that this will not do,
For when he is railing his dear shall rail too;
And Andrew Macgrumble insists that his wife
Shall ask pardon most humbly each hour of her life:
And he’s right; for, since wedlock has made them both one,
‘Tis fit for such sin she should daily atone !

Then there’s trim little Dicky, who calls himself bless’d
In a spouse so accomplish’d, so young, and well dress’d;
Should she play with her lap-dog, ‘twould give him such pain,
He would tear down a curl, and then curl it again;
Should you travel life’s road with a mate such as these,
‘Tis a chance the whole journey you’d do aught to please.
Yet you fondly fancy that yours is a swain
Whom softness and sweetness will still keep the same;­

That when years have roll’d on, though your locks be turn’d grey;
Though the rosebud is blown­nay, quite faded away;
Tho’ the canker of time should love’s blossoms destroy,
Yet as Darby and Joan you may still be wish’d joy;­
Then hold your good humour, for that is the charm
Which can make beauty linger, and keep the heart warm;
And, when youth, with light wings, shall for ever have flown,
Make your Darby delighted to sit by his Joan!

Poems about Freedom and Power

These poems explore the complex relationship between freedom and power, inspiring us to use our freedom to make positive changes in the world.

1. The Guerilla

       by John Brainard

Though friends are false, and leaders fail,
And rulers quake with fear;
Though tamed the shepherd in the vale,
Though slain the mountaineer;
Though Spanish beauty fill their arms,
And Spanish gold their purse—
Sterner than wealth’s or war’s alarms,
Is the wild Guerrilla’s curse.

No trumpets range us to the fight;
No signal sound of drum
Tells to the foe, that in their might
The hostile squadrons come.
No sunbeam glitters on our spears,
No warlike tramp of steeds
Gives warning —for the first that hears
Shall be the first that bleeds.

The night breeze calls us from our bed,
At dewfall forms the line,
And darkness gives the signal dread
That makes our ranks combine:
Or should some straggling moonbeam lie
On copse or lurking hedge,
‘T would flash but from a Spaniard’s eye,
Or from a dagger’s edge.

‘T is clear in the sweet vale below,
And misty on the hill;
The skies shine mildly on the foe,
But four upon us still.
This gathering storm shall quickly burst,
And spread its terrors far,
And at its front we’ll be the first,
And with it go to war.

O! the mountain peak shall safe remain —
‘T is the vale shall be despoiled,
And the tame hamlets of the plain
With ruin shall run wild;
But Liberty shall breathe our air
Upon the mountain head,
And Freedom’s breezes wander here,
Here all their fragrance shed.

2. The Dying Bondman

       by Frances Ellen Watkins

Life was trembling, faintly trembling
On the bondman’s latest breath,
And he felt the chilling pressure
Of the cold, hard hand of Death.

He had been an Afric chieftain,
Worn his manhood as a crown;
But upon the field of battle
Had been fiercely stricken down.

He had longed to gain his freedom,
Waited, watched and hoped in vain,
Till his life was slowly ebbing —
Almost broken was his chain.

By his bedside stood the master,
Gazing on the dying one,
Knowing by the dull grey shadows
That life’s sands were almost run.

“Master,” said the dying bondman,
“Home and friends I soon shall see;
But before I reach my country,
Master write that I am free;

“For the spirits of my fathers
Would shrink back from me in pride,
If I told them at our greeting
I a slave had lived and died;

“Give to me the precious token,
That my kindred dead may see —
Master! write it, write it quickly!
Master! write that I am free!”

At his earnest plea the master
Wrote for him the glad release,
O’er his wan and wasted features
Flitted one sweet smile of peace.

Eagerly he grasped the writing;
“I am free!” at last he said.
Backward fell upon the pillow,
He was free among the dead.

3. The Flower of Liberty

       by Oliver Wendell Holmes

What flower is this that greets the morn,
Its hues from heaven so freshly born?
With burning star and flaming band
It kindles all the sunset land;—
O, tell us what its name may be!
Is this the Flower of Liberty?
It is the banner of the free,
The starry Flower of Liberty!

In savage Nature’s far abode
Its tender seed our fathers sowed;
The storm-winds rocked its swelling bud,
Its opening leaves were streaked with blood,
Till, lo! earth’s tyrants shook to see
The full-blown Flower of Liberty!
Then hail the banner of the free,
The starry Flower of Liberty!

Behold its streaming rays unite
One mingling flood of braided light,—
The red that fires the Southern rose,
With spotless white from Northern snows,
And, spangled o’er its azure, see
The sister Stars of Liberty!
Then hail the banner of the free,
The starry Flower of Liberty!

The blades of heroes fence it round;
Where’er it springs is holy ground;
From tower and dome its glories spread;
It waves where lonely sentries tread;
It makes the land as ocean free,
And plants an empire on the sea!
Then hail the banner of the free,
The starry Flower of Liberty!

Thy sacred leaves, fair Freedom’s flower,
Shall ever float on dome and tower,
To all their heavenly colors true,
In blackening frost or crimson dew,—
And GOD love us as we love thee,
Thrice holy Flower of Liberty!
Then hail the banner of the free,
The starry Flower of Liberty!

4. Mare Liberum

       by Henry Van Dyke

You dare to say with perjured lips,
“We fight to make the ocean free”?
You, whose black trail of butchered ships
Bestrews the bed of every sea
Where German submarines have wrought
Their horrors! Have you never thought,—
What you call freedom, men call piracy!

Unnumbered ghosts that haunt the wave
Where you have murdered, cry you down;
And seamen whom you would not save,
Weave now in weed-grown depths a crown
Of shame for your imperious head,—
A dark memorial of the dead,—
Women and children whom you left to drown

Nay, not till thieves are set to guard
The gold, and corsairs called to keep
O’er peaceful commerce watch and ward,
And wolves to herd the helpless sheep,
Shall men and women look to thee—
Thou ruthless Old Man of the Sea—
To safeguard law and freedom on the deep!

In nobler breeds we put our trust:
The nations in whose sacred lore
The “Ought” stands out above the “Must,”
And Honor rules in peace and war.
With these we hold in soul and heart,
With these we choose our lot and part,
Till Liberty is safe on sea and shore.

5. Of Old Sat Freedom on the Heights

       by Lord Alfred Tennyson

Of old sat Freedom on the heights,
The thunders breaking at her feet:
Above her shook the starry lights:
She heard the torrents meet.

There in her place she did rejoice,
Self-gather’d in her prophet-mind,
But fragments of her mighty voice
Came rolling on the wind.

Then stept she down thro’ town and field
To mingle with the human race,
And part by part to men reveal’d
The fulness of her face—

Grave mother of majestic works,
From her isle-altar gazing down,
Who, God-like, grasps the triple forks,
And, King-like, wears the crown:

Her open eyes desire the truth.
The wisdom of a thousand years
Is in them. May perpetual youth
Keep dry their light from tears;

That her fair form may stand and shine,
Make bright our days and light our dreams,
Turning to scorn with lips divine
The falsehood of extremes!

6. Everyone Sang

       by Siegfried Sassoon

Everyone suddenly burst out singing;
And I was filled with such delight
As prisoned birds must find in freedom
Winging wildly across the white
Orchards and dark green fields; on; on; and out of sight.

Everyone’s voice was suddenly lifted,
And beauty came like the setting sun.
My heart was shaken with tears and horror
Drifted away … O but every one
Was a bird; and the song was wordless; the singing will never be done.

7. Liberty

       by Robert Herrick

Those ills that mortal men endure
So long, are capable of cure,
As they of freedom may be sure;
But, that denied, a grief, though small,
Shakes the whole roof, or ruins all.

8. Oriflamme

       by Jessie Redmon Fauset

I think I see her sitting bowed and black,
Stricken and seared with slavery’s mortal scars,
Reft of her children, lonely, anguished, yet
Still looking at the stars.

Symbolic mother, we thy myriad sons,
Pounding our stubborn hearts on Freedom’s bars,
Clutching our birthright, fight with faces set,
Still visioning the stars!

9. Home, Sweet Home

       by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

Sharers of a common country,
They had met in deadly strife;
Men who should have been as brothers
Madly sought each other’s life.

In the silence of the even,
When the cannon’s lips were dumb,
Thoughts of home and all its loved ones
To the soldier’s heart would come.

On the margin of a river,
‘Mid the evening’s dews and damps,
Could be heard the sounds of music
Rising from two hostile camps.

One was singing of its section
Down in Dixie, Dixie’s land,
And the other of the banner
Waved too long from strand to strand.

In the lawn where Dixie’s ensign
Floated o’er the hopeful slave,
Rose the song that freedom’s banner,
Starry-lighted, long might wave.

From the fields of strife and carnage,
Gentle thoughts began to roam,
And a tender strain of music
Rose with words of “Home, Sweet Home.”

Then the hearts of strong men melted,
For amid our grief and sin
Still remains that “touch of nature,”
Telling us we all are kin.

In one grand but gentle chorus,
Floating to the starry dome,
Came the words that brought them nearer,
Words that told of “Home, Sweet Home.”

For awhile, all strife forgotten,
They were only brothers then,
Joining in the sweet old chorus,
Not as soldiers, but as men.

Men whose hearts would flow together,
Though apart their feet might roam,
Found a tie they could not sever,
In the mem’ry of each home.

Never may the steps of carnage
Shake our land from shore to shore,
But may mother, home and Heaven,
Be our watchwords evermore.

Poems about Freedom and Slavery

These poems about slavery and freedom remind us of the struggles that have been faced by those who have been enslaved and inspire us to fight for the freedom of all people.

1. Slavery

       By Hannah More

If Heaven has into being deigned to call
Thy light, O Liberty! to shine on all;
Bright intellectual Sun! why does thy ray
To earth distribute only partial day?

2. On the Rejection of the Bill for Abolishing the Slave Trade

       By Anna Letitia Barbauld

Wrung Nature’s tortures, shuddering, while you tell,
From scoffing fiends bursts forth the laugh of hell;
In Britain’s senate, Misery’s pangs give birth
To jests unseemly, and to horrid mirth—
Forbear!—thy virtues but provoke our doom,
And swell th’ account of vengeance yet to come;
For, not unmarked in Heaven’s impartial plan,
Shall man, proud worm, contemn his fellow-man?

3. To the Right Honourable William, Earl of Dartmouth

       Phillis Wheatley

No more, America, in mournful strain
Of wrongs, and grievance unredress’d complain,
No longer shalt thou dread the iron chain,
Which wanton Tyranny with lawless hand
Had made, and with it meant t’ enslave the land.

4. The Slave’s Lament

       By Robert Burns

It was in sweet Senegal that my foes did me enthrall
For the lands of Virginia-ginia O;
Torn from that lovely shore, and must never see it more,
And alas! I am weary, weary O!

5. To Toussaint L’Ouverture

       By William Wordsworth, ‘

Oh miserable Chieftain, where and when
Wilt thou find patience? Yet die not! Do thou
Wear rather in thy bonds a cheerful brow;
Though fallen thyself, never to rise again,
Live, and take comfort!

6. Abolition of Slavery in The District of Columbia

       By John Greenleaf Whittier, ‘

When first I saw our banner wave
Above the nation’s council-hall,
I heard beneath its marble wall
The clanking fetters of the slave!

Poems about Freedom and Love

These freedom and love poems explore the connection between freedom and love, reminding us that true freedom comes from the ability to love and be loved.

1. Freedom and Love

       by Thomas Campbell

How delicious is the winning
Of a kiss at love’s beginning,
When two mutual hearts are sighing
For the knot there’s no untying!
Yet remember, ‘Midst our wooing,
Love has bliss, but Love has ruing;
Other smiles may make you fickle,
Tears for other charms may trickle.
Love he comes, and Love he tarries,
Just as fate or fancy carries;
Longest stays, when sorest chidden;
Laughs and flies, when press’d and bidden.
Bind the sea to slumber stilly,
Bind its odour to the lily,
Bind the aspen ne’er to quiver,
Then bind Love to last for ever.
Love’s a fire that needs renewal
Of fresh beauty for its fuel:
Love’s wing moults when caged and captured,
Only free, he soars enraptured.
Can you keep the bee from ranging
Or the ringdove’s neck from changing?
No! nor fetter’d Love from dying
In the knot there’s no untying.

2. Freedom in Love

       By Malume

1
I want to have my freedom in Love,
If independent to Love you and be loved,
Be free to give you Love and receive Love,
Have independence to make my decisions,
Is never bound by the interests unrelated to our feeling,
And in my intimate behavior shut your mouth.
2
I want to have the freedom to write what I think,
That there are no limits in my words of Love,
That my writing may bloom like a flower,
And that I can convey each of my desires,
That nothing shut my voice in this conversation,
That I’m that bridge in our relationship.
3
May my space to Love you be unlimited,
May our encounters of Love be infinite,
May you be faithful in your commitment to love,
That I am the star that shines in your universe,
May you be the Sun that warms me every morning,
And that nothingn should deprive the autonomy of our desires.
4
I want you to give yourself to me body and soul,
That is my favorable way of loving,
Be my blanket in the cold hours,
The water that cools me in the hours of heat,
I want you to bem y eternal Love,
And that nothing in this world contradicts our happiness.

3. Love and Freedom

       By Jasmine Smith

Love and freedom
Freedom
A state of mind
If u believe u are free
Then freedom u will find
Love
A state of heart
If ur heart tells u it is love u feel
Don’t bother fighting once it starts
Freedom
Love
They harmonize yet they contradict
Love sets u free
Yet it binds in place
U are free to love
Yet for some only in ur own ethnicity, social class, or race
People live and want for both
Just to taste the sweet nectar of a freedom they have never known
Or
To hold close to their hearts the love of their choice
So love
Is to freedom
As freedom
Is to love
Both given from the most graceful god above

4. Why He Fought

       by Carolyn Devonshire

Soldier stashed a silver locket
Safe inside his jacket pocket
When the war would numb his senses
He’d break down and drop pretenses
Open up the only token
That recalled those thoughts unspoken
Images of infant, young wife
For their freedom, he’d give his life

5. To A June Bug

       by John Watt

My front porch welcomes your return each year.
Built like a Sherman tank with wings – the night
is filled with music to the springtime ear,
the buzz and clatter of your noisy flight.
Announcing to the world it now is June,
you fly into our lives and cast your spell,
reminding us that summer beckons soon –
sweet season of youth’s freedom from school bell.
Ah yes, first love that bloomed in June’s warm sun –
that first kiss, blushing like a timid squirrel
and holding hands in public with the one
who showed me I could be loved by a girl.
Your tenure brief; then by July’s first day,
like childhood and young love, you’ve flown away.

6. Christmas Wish

       by Tim Smith

When i wake from my happy dream
I remember magic did appear
Angels sang and freedom rang
and you and I were there

We sat amongst the flowing fields
with fauna all around
I held you tight through the night
never making but a sound

Before we woke three words we spoke
which were meaningless until today
as we kissed under the acient oak
I asked you if you’d stay

For I have dreamt and I have wished
for a love that will ring true
so a Christmas Wish I ask of you
is for you to love me too.

7. It’s Quiet Now

       by Tim Smith

It is quiet now
-the sun moves up the ridge

Honey crisp scent of freedom
-hovers and engulfs the air

Pangs of pleasure peal
-the primrose bows her head

Yellow paints the morning
-the fields are all aglow

Poems about Freedom and Confinement

These poems explore the challenges of confinement and inspire us to fight for the freedom of those who are imprisoned or confined.

1. Experience

       by Frank Dempster Sherman

When I set free my Golden-wing,
Straight to the open fields he flew,
But never once I heard him sing
The songs which in his cage he knew.

I followed him and left behind
The narrow room where came to me
The dreams which I was wont to bind
In sheaves of song and melody.

Alas! the happy dreams no more
Would turn to music on my lute:
Gone was the joy I knew before,
And liberty had made me mute.

So now my Golden-wing and I
Come gladly back to cage and den
To hear the dreams go singing by
And find life full of song again.

2. At Home

       by Christina Rossetti

When I was dead, my spirit turned
To seek the much-frequented house:
I passed the door, and saw my friends
Feasting beneath green orange boughs;
From hand to hand they pushed the wine,
They sucked the pulp of plum and peach;
They sang, they jested, and they laughed,
For each was loved of each.

I listened to their honest chat:
Said one: ‘To-morrow we shall be
Plod plod along the featureless sands
And coasting miles and miles of sea.’
Said one: ‘Before the turn of tide
We will achieve the eyrie-seat.’
Said one: ‘To-morrow shall be like
To-day, but much more sweet.’

‘To-morrow,’ said they, strong with hope,
And dwelt upon the pleasant way:
‘To-morrow,’ cried they one and all,
While no one spoke of yesterday.
Their life stood full at blessed noon;
I, only I, had passed away:
‘To-morrow and to-day,’ they cried;
I was of yesterday.

I shivered comfortless, but cast
No chill across the tablecloth;
I all-forgotten shivered, sad
To stay and yet to part how loth:
I passed from the familiar room,
I who from love had passed away,
Like the remembrance of a guest
That tarrieth but a day.

3. Where We Differ

       by William Henry Davies

To think my thoughts are hers,
Not one of hers is mine;
She laughs — while I must sigh;
She sighs — while I must whine.

She eats — while I must fast;
She reads — while I am blind;
She sleeps — while I must wake;
Free — I no freedom find.

To think the world for me
Contains but her alone,
And that her eyes prefer
Some ribbon, scarf, or stone.

4. Freedom

       by George William Russell

I will not follow you, my bird,
I will not follow you.
I would not breathe a word, my bird,
To bring thee here anew.

I love the free in thee, my bird,
The lure of freedom drew;
The light you fly toward, my bird,
I fly with thee unto.

And there we yet will meet, my bird,
Though far I go from you
Where in the light outpoured, my bird,
Are love and freedom too.

5. A Snare

       by Frank Dempster Sherman

Love I locked upon a time
In the fetters of my rhyme,
Bound his feet and fixed his hands
Firm in fancy-forgèd bands,
Fastened with a dainty twist
Couplet-gyves around his wrist.
Sealed his lips and left him dumb,
Prisoner till She should come.

Then I said unto my Heart:
“By this magic, by this art,
You shall learn if She be kind
To your constancy, or blind:
Like the rhyme your chains are stout:
Captive in the dungeon Doubt,
There you languish at the door
Praying freedom evermore.

If She pity Love’s distress,—
If, with maiden tenderness,
She his bands and fetters slip,
Murmuring with trembling lip
Linkèd music of my song,—
Be of cheer; for then, erelong,
At your bars her face you’ll see,—
Then the lock shall feel the key
Turn its rusty round,—and then,
Love know liberty again!”

6. The Plains of Peace

       by Olivia Ward Bush-Banks

Again my fancy takes its flight,
And soars away on thoughtful wing,
Again my soul thrills with delight,
And this the fancied theme, I sing,
From Earthly scenes awhile, I find release,
And dwell upon the restful Plains of Peace.

The Plains of Peace are passing fair,
Where naught disturbs and naught can harm,
I find no sorrow, woe or care,
These all are lost in perfect calm,
Bright are the joys, and pleasures never cease,
For those who dwell on the Plains of Peace.

No scorching sun or blighting storm,
No burning sand or desert drear,
No fell disease or wasting form,
To mar the glowing beauty here.
Decay and ruin ever must decrease,
Here on the fertile, healthful Plains of Peace.

What rare companionship I find,
What hours of social joy I spend,
What restfulness pervades my mind,
Communing with congenial friend.
True happiness seems ever to increase,
While dwelling here upon the Plains of Peace.

Ambitions too, are realized,
And that which I have sought on earth,
I find at last idealized,
My longings ripen into worth,
My fondest hopes no longer fear decease,
But bloom forth brightly on the Plains of Peace.

‘Tis by my fancy, yet ’tis true,
That somewhere having done with Earth,
We shall another course pursue,
According to our aim or worth,
Our souls from mortal things must find release,
And dwell immortal on the Plains of Peace.

7. The Canary

       by Frank Dempster Sherman

Up in your cage of gold,
Singing us all awake,
What, if it might be told,
What is the wish you’d make?

Is it, “I’d like to be
Out in the open air,
Out of this Cage, and free,
Free to go anywhere?”

You’re such a happy bird,
Caroling all day long,
Nobody ever heard
You sing a solemn song.

So I have come to think
This is your carol sweet:
“Plenty have I to drink,
Plenty have I to eat;

“So I’m content to stay
Here in my golden ring,
Nothing to do all day,
Only to eat and sing.”

8. Prisoners

       by Hilda Dolittle

It is strange that I should want
this sight of your face—
we have had so much:
at any moment now I may pass,
stand near the gate,
do not speak—
only reach if you can, your face
half-fronting the passage
toward the light.

Fate—God sends this as a mark,
a last token that we are not forgot,
lost in this turmoil,
about to be crushed out,
burned or stamped out
at best with sudden death.

The spearsman who brings this
will ask for the gold clasp
you wear under your coat.
I gave all I had left.

Press close to the portal,
my gate will soon clang
and your fellow wretches
will crowd to the entrance—
be first at the gate.

Ah beloved, do not speak.
I write this in great haste—
do not speak,
you may yet be released.
I am glad enough to depart
though I have never tasted life
as in these last weeks.

It is a strange life,
patterned in fire and letters
on the prison pavement.
If I glance up
it is written on the walls,
it is cut on the floor,
it is patterned across
the slope of the roof.

I am weak—weak—
last night if the guard
had left the gate unlocked
I could not have ventured to escape,
but one thought serves me now
with strength.

As I pass down the corridor
past desperate faces at each cell,
your eyes and my eyes may meet.

You will be dark, unkempt,
but I pray for one glimpse of your face—
why do I want this?
I who have seen you at the banquet
each flower of your hyacinth-circlet
white against your hair.

Why do I want this,
when even last night
you startled me from sleep?
You stood against the dark rock,
you grasped an elder staff.

So many nights
you have distracted me from terror.
Once you lifted a spear-flower.
I remember how you stooped
to gather it—
and it flamed, the leaf and shoot
and the threads, yellow, yellow—
sheer till they burnt
to red-purple in the cup.

As I pass your cell-door
do not speak.
I was first on the list—
They may forget you tried to shield me
as the horsemen passed.

9. How I Became a Madman (Prologue)

       by Kahlil Gibran

You ask me how I became a madman. It happened thus: One day, long before many gods were born, I woke from a deep sleep and found all my masks were stolen,—the seven masks I have fashioned and worn in seven lives,—I ran maskless through the crowded streets shouting, “Thieves, thieves, the cursed thieves.”

Men and women laughed at me and some ran to their houses in fear of me.

And when I reached the market place, a youth standing on a house-top cried, “He is a madman.” I looked up to behold him; the sun kissed my own naked face for the first time. for the first time the sun kissed my own naked face and my soul was inflamed with love for the sun, and I wanted my masks no more. and as if in a trance I cried, “Blessed, blessed are the thieves who stole my masks.”

Thus I became a madman.

And I have found both freedom and safety in my madness; the freedom of loneliness and the safety from being understood, for those who understand us enslave something in us.

But let me not be too proud of my safety. Even a Thief in a jail is safe from another thief.

10. On Liberty and Slavery

       by George Moses Horton

Alas! and am I born for this,
To wear this slavish chain?
Deprived of all created bliss,
Through hardship, toil, and pain!

How long have I in bondage lain,
And languished to be free!
Alas! and must I still complain–
Deprived of liberty.

Oh, Heaven! and is there no relief
This side the silent grave–
To soothe the pain–to quell the grief
And anguish of a slave?

Come, Liberty, thou cheerful sound,
Roll through my ravished ears!
Come, let my grief in joys be drowned,
And drive away my fears.

Say unto foul oppression, Cease:
Ye tyrants rage no more,
And let the joyful trump of peace,
Now bid the vassal soar.

Soar on the pinions of that dove
Which long has cooed for thee,
And breathed her notes from Afric’s grove,
The sound of Liberty.

Oh, Liberty! thou golden prize,
So often sought by blood–
We crave thy sacred sun to rise,
The gift of nature’s God!

Bid Slavery hide her haggard face,
And barbarism fly:
I scorn to see the sad disgrace
In which enslaved I lie.

Dear Liberty! upon thy breast,
I languish to respire;
And like the Swan upon her nest,
I’d to thy smiles retire.

Oh, blest asylum–heavenly balm!
Unto thy boughs I flee–
And in thy shades the storm shall calm,
With songs of Liberty!

11. The Peacemaker

       by Joyce Kilmer

Upon his will he binds a radiant chain,
For Freedom’s sake he is no longer free.
It is his task, the slave of Liberty,
With his own blood to wipe away a stain.
That pain may cease, he yields his flesh to pain.
To banish war, he must a warrior be.
He dwells in Night, eternal Dawn to see,
And gladly dies, abundant life to gain.

What matters Death, if Freedom be not dead?
No flags are fair, if Freedom’s flag be furled.
Who fights for Freedom, goes with joyful tread
To meet the fires of Hell against him hurled,
And has for captain Him whose thorn-wreathed head
Smiles from the Cross upon a conquered world.

12. On Freedom

       by Kahlil Gibran

And an orator said, Speak to us of Freedom.
And he answered:
At the city gate and by your fireside I have seen you prostrate yourself and worship your own freedom,
Even as slaves humble themselves before a tyrant and praise him though he slays them.
Ay, in the grove of the temple and in the shadow of the citadel I have seen the freest among you wear their freedom as a yoke and a handcuff.
And my heart bled within me; for you can only be free when even the desire of seeking freedom becomes a harness to you, and when you cease to speak of freedom as a goal and a fulfilment.

You shall be free indeed when your days are not without a care nor your nights without a want and a grief,
But rather when these things girdle your life and yet your rise above them naked and unbound.

And how shall you rise beyond your days and nights unless you break the chains which you at the dawn of your understanding have fastened around your noon hour?
In truth that which you call freedom is the strongest of these chains, though its links glitter in the sun and dazzle your eyes.

And what is it but fragments of your own self you would discard that you may become free?
If it is an unjust law you would abolish, that law was written with your own hand upon your own forehead.
You cannot erase it by burning your law books nor by washing the foreheads of your judges, though you pour the sea upon them.
And if it is a despot you would dethrone, see first that his throne erected within you is destroyed.
For how can a tyrant rule the free and the proud, but for a tyranny in their own freedom and a shame in their own pride?
And if it is a care you would cast off, that care has been chosen by you rather than imposed upon you.
And if it is a fear you would dispel, the seat of that fear is in your heart and not in the hand of the feared.

Verily all things move within your being in constant half embrace, the desired and the dreaded,the repugnant and the cherished, the pursued and that which you would escape.
These things move within you as lights and shadows in pairs that cling.
And when the shadow fades and is no more, the light that lingers becomes a shadow to another light.
And thus your freedom when it loses its fetters becomes itself the fetter of a greater freedom.

Poems about Freedom of Choice

These poems remind us of the importance of choice in our lives and inspire us to fight for the freedom to make our own decisions.

1. Freedom of Choice

       by-larkbird

They have the freedom to chose,
Be it a choice thats good or bad.
They have their lives before them,
And have more then any teen ever had.

What do they want to do and be?
For them, the sky is the limit.
A charmed life of freedom of choice,
But there is more then that in it.

They have more temptains then any other,
And there are many things to tie them down.
It is up to them ti spread their wings,
And take flight from the broken grond.

2. Freedom of Choice

       by Scarlet

everyone has choices
you can choose to be good
or bad
you can choose to do the right thing
or the wrong thing
you can choose to help fight this war
or you can choose to ignore it
if you fight you can choose how
most choose weapons
but they create more problems
than they solve
for they hurt the innocent
few choose their voice
it is a wonderful choice
but only for those few who can be heard
heard and taken seriously
I choose a pen
so I may write it all
and it will be there for all whom choose to read
you see we all have choices
good or evil
love or hate
fight or ignore
right or wrong
which will you choose?

3. Freedom of Choice

       by Quaid-Uz- Zaman

Let free will
move freely
breaking all the chains of sufferings
and let soul be saturated with love and care seeking for beauty.
As
cleanliness and purity it always endeavers for
we must meditate
and
honor the deeds;
only then
we discover the horizon
leading to freedom
and
cherished dream.

Poems about Freedom of Life

These life poems about freedom celebrate the gift of life and inspire us to live our lives with freedom and purpose.

1. Bound and Free

       by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Come to me, Love! Come on the wings of the wind!
Fly as the ring-dove would fly to his mate!
Leave all your cares and your sorrows behind!
Leave all the fears of your future to Fate!
Come! and our skies shall be glad with the gold
That paled into gray when you parted from me.
Come! but remember that, just as of old,
You must be bound, Love, and I must be free.

Life has lost savour since you and I parted;
I have been lonely, and you have been sad.
Youth is too brief to be sorrowful-hearted—
Come! and again let us laugh and be glad.
Lips should not sigh that are fashioned to kiss—
Breasts should not ache that joy’s secret have found.
Come! but remember, in spite of all this,
I must be free, Love, while you must be bound.

You must be bound to be true while you live,
And I keep my freedom forever, as now.
You must ask only for that which I give—
Kisses and love-words, but never a vow.
Come! I am lonely, and long for your smile.
Bring back the lost lovely Summer to me!
Come! but remember, remember the while,
That you must be bound, Love, and I must be free.

2. I Love to Walk Against the Yellow Light

       by Philip Henry Savage

I love to walk against the yellow light,
The lemon-yellow of the first daylight,
When cold and clear above the frozen earth
The white sun rises far down to the right.

And then to think of life is very sweet;
The shackles fall and drop about one’s feet;
Till in the clear forgetfulness of morn
It seems the world and life are all complete.

‘T is good to be forgotten and forget;
To look upon the sun and so beget
A golden present, and a past that’s free,
A little time, of memory and regret.

And when one strikes and stumbles on a stone,
And turns to find the wingèd fancies flown —
Yet through the passages of life that day
Will run a radiance other than its own.

3. The Free

       by George William Russell

They bathed in the fire-flooded fountains;
Life girdled them round and about;
They slept in the clefts of the mountains:
The stars called them forth with a shout.

They prayed, but their worship was only
The wonder at nights and at days,
As still as the lips of the lonely
Though burning with dumbness of praise.

No sadness of earth ever captured
Their spirits who bowed at the shrine;
They fled to the Lonely enraptured
And hid in the Darkness Divine.

At twilight as children may gather
They met at the doorway of death,
The smile of the dark hidden Father
The Mother with magical breath.

Untold of in song or in story,
In days long forgotten of men,
Their eyes were yet blind with a glory
Time will not remember again.

4. Libera Me

       by Ernest Christopher Dowson

Goddess the laughter-loving, Aphrodite, befriend!
Long have I served thine altars, serve me now at the end,
Let me have peace of thee, truce of thee, golden one, send.

Heart of my heart have I offered thee, pain of my pain,
Yielding my life for the love of thee into thy chain;
Lady and goddess be merciful, loose me again.

All things I had that were fairest, my dearest and best,
Fed the fierce flames on thine altar: ah, surely, my breast
Shrined thee alone among goddesses, spurning the rest.

Blossom of youth thou hast plucked of me, flower of my days;
Stinted I nought in thine honouring, walked in thy ways,
Song of my soul pouring out to thee, all in thy praise.

Fierce was the flame while it lasted, and strong was thy wine,
Meet for immortals that die not, for throats such as thine,
Too fierce for bodies of mortals, too potent for mine.

Blossom and bloom hast thou taken, now render to me
Ashes of life that remain to me, few though they be,
Truce of the love of thee, Cyprian, let me go free.

Goddess the laughter-loving, Aphrodite, restore
Life to the limbs of me, liberty, hold me no more
Having the first-fruits and flower of me, cast me the core.

5. Vacation Song

       by Frank Dempster Sherman

When study and school are over,
How jolly it is to be free,
Away in the fields of clover,
The honey-sweet haunts of the bee!

Away in the woods to ramble,
Where, merrily all day long,
The birds in the bush and bramble
Are filling the summer with song.

Away in the dewy valley
To follow the murmuring brook,
Or sit on its bank and dally
Awhile with a line and a hook.

Away from the stir and bustle,
The noise of the town left behind:
Vacation for sport and muscle,
The winter for study and mind.

There’s never a need to worry,
There’s never a lesson to learn,
There’s never a bell to hurry,
There’s never a duty to spurn.

So play till the face grows ruddy
And muscles grow bigger, and then
Go back to the books and study;
We’ll find it as pleasant again.

6. A Dream and A Song

       by William Stanley Braithwaite

A dream comes in and a song goes forth;
The wind is south and the sun is north —
The daisies run on the dunes to the sea,
And over the world my soul goes free.

Ah, over the world to sing and roam
In the sun and wind- without a home
Till a woman’s heart shall dream and say:
“O song of the dreamer I bid you stay

And sing in my heart: make glad my feet
To run as the winds do, soft and fleet
Over the dunes and down to the sea,
Where Love came home in a dream to me.”

7. Freedom

       by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

I care not who were vicious back of me,
No shadow of their sins on me is shed.
My will is greater than heredity.
I am no worm to feed upon the dead.

My face, my form, my gestures and my voice,
May be reflections from a race that was.
But this I know, and knowing it, rejoice,
I am Myself, a part of the Great Cause.

I am a spirit! Spirit would suffice,
If rightly used, to set a chained world free.
Am I not stronger than a mortal vice
That crawls the length of some ancestral tree?

8. Apostate

       by Léonie Adams

From weariness I looked out on the stars
And there beheld them, fixed in throbbing joy,
Nor racked by such mad dance of moods as mars
For us each moment’s grace with swift alloy.
And as they pierced the heavens’ serene deep
An envy of that one consummate part
Swept me, who mock. Whether I laugh or weep,
Some inner silences are at my heart.
Cold shame is mine for all the masks I wear,
Belying that in me which shines and sings
Before Him, to face down man’s alien stare—
A graceless puppet on unmeaning strings,
I that looked out, and saw, and was at rest,
Stars, and faint wings, rose-etched along the west.

9. The Lake Isle

       by Ezra Pound

O God, O Venus, O Mercury, patron of thieves,
Give me in due time, I beseech you, a little tobacco-shop,
With the little bright boxes
piled up neatly upon the shelves
And the loose fragrant cavendish
and the shag,
And the bright Virginia
loose under the bright glass cases,
And a pair of scales
not too greasy,
And the volailles dropping in for a word or two in passing,
For a flip word, and to tidy their hair a bit.

O God, O Venus, O Mercury, patron of thieves,
Lend me a little tobacco-shop,
or install me in any profession
Save this damn’d profession of writing,
where one needs one’s brains all the time.

10. When Evening

       by Philip Henry Savage

When evening comes and shadows gray
Steal out across the glimmering bay
And tremble in the air between;

When evening comes and shadows green
Are shaken down across the moor
From willow-trees along the shore;

When evening stoops across the hill
Towards the sunset glowing still
And fills the hollow glens with shade;

When evening gathers in the glade;
And all the little beasts now run
That erst were hidden from the sun;
Then do I hear the footsteps fall
That bitter day hears not at all;
Then is the sunset like a door
That leads me on to more and more,
Till in the quietness of night
I find a freedom and a light
Eternal such as nowhere glows
From any sun that ever rose.

11. Applause

       by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

I hold it one of the sad certain laws
Which makes our failures sometimes seem more kind
Than that success which brings sure loss behind—
True greatness dies, when sounds the world’s applause.

Fame blights the object it would bless, because
Weighed down with men’s expectancy, the mind
Can no more soar to those far heights, and find
That freedom which its inspiration was.

When once we listen to its noisy cheers
Or hear the populace’ approval, then
We catch no more the music of the spheres,
Or walk with gods, and angels, but with men.

Till, impotent from our self-conscious fears,
The plaudits of the world turn into sneers.

12. That Glove

       by Mary E. Tucker

Why cherish thus the senseless thing?
Do memories around it cling
Of joys long past?
Or does it speak of present bliss?
Do sweet last word, or parting kiss,
Charms o’er it cast?

Now were it but a thing with life,
In which were earthly passions rife,
Then I could see
Why you should press it to your heart,
Nor let it from your hand depart —
It cannot flee.

You touch it, and you are unmann’d —
I hold it passive in my hand —
No thrill of love
Shoots through my veins; you bow before it,
The loving slave of her who wore it —
That white kid glove!

You fought for freedom. You were brave,
I grant it. Even now you rave
Of subjugation.
Yet you are subject of a queen,
Whose power greater is, I ween,
Than Yankee nation.

Yes, e’en the touch of her small hand
Is equal to a stern command,
Because you love.
You walk submissive in her band,
And when you cannot hold her hand,
You hold her glove.

I do not judge thee — go thy way.
I have a glove — (what can I say?)
And I adore it.
Ah! often in the hours for sleep,
I kiss the glove, and sadly weep
For one who wore it.

13. At Night

       by Amy Lowell

The wind is singing through the trees to-night,
A deep-voiced song of rushing cadences
And crashing intervals. No summer breeze
Is this, though hot July is at its height,
Gone is her gentler music; with delight
She listens to this booming like the seas,
These elemental, loud necessities
Which call to her to answer their swift might.
Above the tossing trees shines down a star,
Quietly bright; this wild, tumultuous joy
Quickens nor dims its splendour. and my mind,
O Star! is filled with your white light, from far,
So suffer me this one night to enjoy
The freedom of the onward sweeping wind.

14. Baby’s Way

       by Rabindranath Tagore

If baby only wanted to,
he could fly up to heaven this moment.
It is not for nothing that he does not leave us.
He loves to rest his head on mother’s bosom,
and cannot ever bear to lose sight of her.
Baby know all manner of wise words,
though few on earth can understand their meaning.

It is not for nothing that he never wants to speak.
The one thing he wants
is to learn mother’s words from mother’s lips.
That is why he looks so innocent.
Baby had a heap of gold and pearls,
yet he came like a beggar on to this earth.
It is not for nothing he came in such a disguise.

This dear little naked mendicant
pretends to be utterly helpless,
so that he may beg for mother’s wealth of love.
Baby was so free from every tie
in the land of the tiny crescent moon.
It was not for nothing he gave up his freedom.

He knows that there is room for endless joy
in mother’s little corner of a heart,
and it is sweeter far than liberty to be caught
and pressed in her dear arms.

Baby never knew how to cry.
He dwelt in the land of perfect bliss.
It is not for nothing he has chosen to shed tears.
Though with the smile of his dear face
he draws mother’s yearning heart to him,
yet his little cries over tiny troubles
weave the double bond of pity and love.

15. The Platonic Lady

       by John Wilmot

I could love thee till I die,
Would’st thou love me modestly,
And ne’er press, whilst I live,
For more than willingly I would give:
Which should sufficient be to prove
I’d understand the art of love.

I hate the thing is called enjoyment:
Besides it is a dull employment,
It cuts off all that’s life and fire
From that which may be termed desire;
Just like the bee whose sting is gone
Converts the owner to a drone.

I love a youth will give me leave
His body in my arms to wreathe;
To press him gently, and to kiss;
To sigh, and look with eyes that wish
For what, if I could once obtain,
I would neglect with flat disdain.

I’d give him liberty to toy
And play with me, and count it joy.
Our freedom should be full complete,
And nothing wanting but the feat.
Let’s practice, then, and we shall prove
These are the only sweets of love

16. My Hermitage

       by Alexander Posey

Between me and the noise of strife
Are walls of mountains set with pine;
The dusty, care-strewn paths of life
Lead not to this retreat of mine.

I hear the morning wind awake
Beyond the purple height,
And, in the growing light,
The lap of lilies on the lake.

I live with Echo and with Song,
And Beauty leads me forth to see
Her temple’s colonnades, and long
Together do we love to be.

The mountains wall me in, complete,
And leave me but a bit blue
Above. All year, the days are sweet—
How sweet! and all the long nights thro’

I hear the river flowing by
Along its sandy bars;
Behold, far in the midnight sky,
An infinite of stars!

‘Tis sweet, when all is still,
When darkness gathers round,
To hear, from hill to hill,
The far, the wandering sound.

The cedar and the pine
Have pitched their tents with me.
What freedom vast is mine!
What room! What mystery!

Upon the dreamy southern breeze,
That steals in like a laden bee
And sighs for rest among the trees,
Are far-blown bits of melody.

What afterglows the twilight hold,
The darkening skies along!
And O, what rose-like dawns unfold,
That smite the hills to song!

High in the solitude of air,
The gray hawk circles on and on,
Till, like a spirit soaring there,
His image pales and he is gone!

17. Mine Eye And Heart Are at a Mortal War

       by William Shakespeare

Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war
How to divide the conquest of thy sight;
Mine eye my heart thy picture’s sight would bar,
My heart mine eye the freedom of that right.
My heart doth plead that thou in him dost lie,—
A closet never pierced with crystal eyes—
But the defendant doth that plea deny
And says in him thy fair appearance lies.
To ’cide this title is impaneled
A quest of thoughts, all tenants to the heart,
And by their verdict is determined
The clear eye’s moiety and the dear heart’s part:
As thus; mine eye’s due is thy outward part,
And my heart’s right thy inward love of heart.

18. A Japanese Wood-Carving

       by Amy Lowell

High up above the open, welcoming door
It hangs, a piece of wood with colours dim.
Once, long ago, it was a waving tree
And knew the sun and shadow through the leaves
Of forest trees, in a thick eastern wood.
The winter snows had bent its branches down,
The spring had swelled its buds with coming flowers,
Summer had run like fire through its veins,
While autumn pelted it with chestnut burrs,
And strewed the leafy ground with acorn cups.
Dark midnight storms had roared and crashed among
Its branches, breaking here and there a limb;
But every now and then broad sunlit days
Lovingly lingered, caught among the leaves.
Yes, it had known all this, and yet to us
It does not speak of mossy forest ways,
Of whispering pine trees or the shimmering birch;
But of quick winds, and the salt, stinging sea!
An artist once, with patient, careful knife,
Had fashioned it like to the untamed sea.
Here waves uprear themselves, their tops blown back
By the gay, sunny wind, which whips the blue
And breaks it into gleams and sparks of light.
Among the flashing waves are two white birds
Which swoop, and soar, and scream for very joy
At the wild sport. Now diving quickly in,
Questing some glistening fish. Now flying up,
Their dripping feathers shining in the sun,
While the wet drops like little glints of light,
Fall pattering backward to the parent sea.
Gliding along the green and foam-flecked hollows,
Or skimming some white crest about to break,
The spirits of the sky deigning to stoop
And play with ocean in a summer mood.
Hanging above the high, wide open door,
It brings to us in quiet, firelit room,
The freedom of the earth’s vast solitudes,
Where heaping, sunny waves tumble and roll,
And seabirds scream in wanton happiness.

19. A Last Word

       by Ernest Dowson

Let us go hence: the night is now at hand;
The day is overworn, the birds all flown;
And we have reaped the crops the gods have sown;
Despair and death; deep darkness o’er the land,
Broods like an owl; we cannot understand
Laughter or tears, for we have only known
Surpassing vanity: vain things alone
Have driven our perverse and aimless band.
Let us go hence, somewhither strange and cold,
To Hollow Lands where just men and unjust
Find end of labour, where’s rest for the old,
Freedom to all from love and fear and lust.
Twine our torn hands! O pray the earth enfold
Our life-sick hearts and turn them into dust.

Poems about Freedom of Speech

These poems about freedom of expression remind us of the importance of free speech and inspire us to fight for the freedom to express ourselves.

1. Freedom of Speech

       by Lucie Brock-Broido

If my own voice falters, tell them hubris was my way of adoring you.
The hollow of the hulk of you, so feverish in life, cut open,

Reveals ten thousand rags of music in your thoracic cavity.
The hands are received bagged and examination reveals no injury.

Winter then, the body is cold to the touch, unplunderable,
Kept in its drawer of old-world harrowing.

Teeth in fair repair. Will you be buried where; nowhere.

Your mouth a globe of gauze and glossolalia.
And opening, most delft of blue,
Your heart was a mess—

A mob of hoofprints where the skittish colts first learned to stand,
Catching on to their agility, a shock of freedom, wild-maned.

The eyes have hazel irides and the conjunctivae are pale,

With hemorrhaging. One lung, smaller, congested with rose smoke.
The other, filled with a swarm of massive sentimentia.

I adore you more. I know
The wingspan of your voice, whole gorgeous flock of harriers,

Cannot be taken down. You would like it now, this snow, this hour.
Your visitation here tonight not altogether unexpected.

The night-laborers, immigrants all, assemble here, aching for to speaking,
Longing for to work.

2. Freedom of Speech

       by Hebert Logerie

It’s not funny
To die for the liberty
For the freedom to speak
Freely without fears.

It is not beautiful
to suffer for the rights
To use simple or single words,
To write truthfully, to shed lights
On everything, which is distasteful.

Freedom of the Press
Must be fundamental,
It is the very foundation of true
Democracy, which is a form of wisdom.

A great Nation wants nothing less
Than constant criticism from the few.
Bring the projectors, the martyrs,
The cameras, the writers,
The headlines, the headlights
Of the intelligentsia, to educate the mass,
The unemployed and the underprivileged

The real Heroes
Are never afraid to die,
For the words,
For the pens, pencils
Brushes, and crayons;
The dead heroes
Are our eternal champions.

The sick cowards
Are afraid of the words.
They are unreasonably angry,
Because they kill and hide
Like rats, like rodents.

The freedom of expression
Is absolutely warranted,
And is basically normal.
Open up, open wide to speak out,
Scream and shout.
This is fundamental
In a true democracy.

It is not funny or freaky,
To die for free speech.
However, it’s too early
to die for the expression
Of simple words.

3. Freedom of Expression

       By Sachin Khakharia

Freedom of Expression!
My limbs lose tightness, mind swallows brightness, spirit hears…. silence.
Freedom of expression,
Could the cost be priceless?

Freedom of Expression!
Some of it disgusts me, when they shout “How can you judge me!?”
Am I listening to simply reply, or to truly understand?
Freedom of expression,
I guess we’ve all got to play our hand

Freedom of Expression!
I should be able to express that beat beneath my chest
Whenever I want, wherever I choose, however I feel is right,
So should he and so should she. So should my friend’s and so should my enemies!
Freedom of expression,
But what about the young boys’ impression
 
Freedom of Expression!
Some may find it offensive, put up defences, trigger acts that are senseless, yet
Freedom of expression,
Triggers all of our senses
Or is it just my senses, am I being selfish?

Freedom of Expression!
Freedom of expression
Freedom of ….expression
Without which, I remain defenceless

Poems about Freedom Fighters

These poems on freedom fighters celebrate the courage and determination of those who have fought for freedom throughout history, inspiring us to continue the fight for liberty.

1. Freedom Fighters

       By Tommy Gpoetry

Freedom fighters, born so young.
Lion hearts, from day one.
Playing with their plastic guns,
Banishing evil from night to sun.

Freedom fighters grow to men,
they train for years,
they learn to win.
All across
the world they go,
they do it proudly,
they do what their told.

Freedom fighters.. suicide bombers…
War has changed… enemies without honor,
satan’s coming you better look around,
he wants to trick you, he wants you to bow down.
Our Freedom fighters stand the ground!
in midst of the enemy, extremists all around!

Women subdued,
no rights.. no views..
Hate is preached,
swords unleashed..
Freedom Mourns…
Like old prophets warn!

Freedom fighters hold on strong!
In your heads, sing our songs.
The anthems of red, white, and blue!
Songs of your mother and father too.

Freedom fighters hope does draw near,
for the seventh trump All Will Hear!

Freedom fighters brave and True!
Freedom fighters we salute You!
Freedom fighters I want you to know,
America Trule Loces You So!

2. The Freedom Fighters

       by Savita Tyagi

Amid the heavy burden of the days of slavery
Confronted by the tyranny of Imperial law
Lives a comrade and a freedom fighter
With a faith in dream that is not but must be-
The dream of freedom for the colonized Mother India.
We salute the immortality of those heroes.
Their courage and strength death can not touch
Their songs of freedom time can not erase.
We the children of Mother India
Will always be indebted to them.

Vandemataram!

Happy Independence Day India!
Happy Birthday Sri Aurobindo!

The most of the wordings for this short note have been taken from Sri Aurobindo’s Savitri to shape it as a tribute to freedom fighters. Sri Aurobindo himself was one of them.
Today is also the birthday of this great man.

3. A Freedom Fighter

       by Alancia Lebogang Mogorosi

A respected man he is
A loved man he is
For his doings, for what he did
Yes he is a freedom fighter

He never stood and watched
He was part of them
Those who had hearts for the innocent people
But in the end he was a leader

He was the one who was punished
Punished for the wonderful things he did for the people
He did them with his power
Now he earn the people respect

They love him he’s their hero
He fought for them
He fought for people’s freedom
Yes he is our freedom fighter

He never gave up no matter what
They never got him down no matter what they did
He stayed away from home and family
Living in locked house for 27 years
Almost his man time in Roben Island

He is South Africa’s father
He is Africa’s father
He is the world’s father
He is every one’s father, a loved father
He is our freedom fighter

4. To a Freedom Fighter

       By Maya Angelou

You drink a bitter draught.
I sip the tears your eyes fight to hold
A cup of lees, of henbane steeped in chaff.
Your breast is hot,
Your anger black and cold,
Through evening’s rest, you dream
I hear the moans, you die a thousands’ death.
When cane straps flog the body
dark and lean, you feel the blow,
I hear it in your breath.

Final Thoughts

Poems about freedom inspire us to fight for justice, embrace our own autonomy, and fight for the freedom of others.

They remind us of the struggles that have been faced and inspire us to continue the fight for liberation.

Freedom is the basic right of every human being. Though it may come in different shapes and forms, it is important for mankind to flourish.

Poems for freedom remind us of its importance and glory!