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One who runs alone cannot be outrun by another.
Pain runs through my body
Pain runs through my body, and I don't need anymore.
Pain runs through my body, so leave me alone you whore.
Pain runs through my blood, as I start to bleed.
Pain runs through my body, and love is what I need.
Pain runs through my body, everyday of my life.
Pain runs through my body, as I pick up the knife.
Pain runs through my body, as I put it through my chest.
Pain runs through my body and I think you know the rest.
poem by Ari Castillo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Name That Runs
Underneath the sea stands a river of silk and milk that runs,
Opening thoughts of you, the dispute of a month that runs.
I have a maze of worries that tortures the depths of the mind,
Offering me a solution shall be the ocean that is the millionth that runs.
One person is one antagonist, the anatomy of whom excretes blood,
Fetching horrible nightmares like those heroes of the labyrinth that runs.
Let the heavens be attached to the barbarians and soldiers,
One masters them as a battle that rages on as the zillionth that runs.
One will escape the rigours of youth to face a war on the frontline,
Battle systems need generals and wizards of the heavens, the seventh that runs.
I have my name engraved like a stone of weight, the grave so morbid,
One masters my writing as if the relics are as morbid as the trillionth that runs.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Horse To Outrun
A horse is sent to outrun the rollers with wheels,
A pin and needle can be a horse, but they are animals.
Stones are thrown on the bleeding wounds,
Heaven shines its odours on them to bind.
The wheels spin, to collect a dust of ruined historical measures,
Wheels indeed spin around to outrun the steed,
To make it abandon, but the battle is never-ending.
Eat the green goose, for it is cherished for its taste,
After the race is won by the rollers with wheels.
If the horse triumphs then exaltation is not possible,
Wheels are to oppress the horse or steed
To make it bleed and to crush its very head and neck.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Passing Me
In a hurry I ran down the street
People were blurs that I did meet
But as quick as I was and twice as fast
I could not outrun my sins or even my past.
I thought I had left them so many years ago
When I was younger and didn't think about growing old
Doing the things which I should never had done
Not knowing that one day they would be a rerun.
But now they keep passing me again and again
Which were my lies and evils which are a sin
Though as fast as I was or that I could ever be
They always catch up, and then they pass me.
How I wish that I was faster than they were
But that is a stupid wish, that I once had observed
Now I am hoping and praying that they never existed
But then one day I know that they all will be listed.
Now wherever that I run my past is already there
With no remorse or humility, sadness or even care
So I guess that I must run for the rest of my life
Or maybe hide away somewhere, where there is no strife.
I now look over my shoulder whenever that I can
As I try to prepare myself wherever that I am
Hopefully my strength and endurance will forever last
But sadly the faster that I run, I still can't outrun my past.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Inside Your Head
It's so hard to keep and stay,
Inside your head.
Any wisdom from you runs...
Run, run, runs.
With a running done that comes,
Run, run, runs.
With a running done that comes,
Run, run, runs.
When you open your mouth,
Out it comes...
Something ignorant is done,
Really dumb, dumb.
Something ignorant is done,
Really dumb, dumb.
And you might think your responses are cute.
When you choose something abusive,
To say that's aloof.
And you might think your responses are cute.
When you choose abusive uses,
To say that are loose.
But,
Any wisdom from you runs...
Run, run, runs.
With a running that is done,
Runs, run, run..
With a running that is done,
Run, runs, run.
It's so hard to keep and stay...
Inside your head.
When you open your mouth,
Any face will turn red.
'Cause,
Any wisdom from you runs...
Run, run, runs.
With a running that is done,
Runs, run, run..
With a running that is done,
Run, runs, run.
Any wisdom from you runs.
Run, run, runs.
It's so hard to keep and stay...
Inside your head.
It's so hard to keep and stay...
A wisdom chased away.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Karma
I drop a stone into the ocean
Every choice another turn of the screw
Another wheel set in motion
With every single thing I do
Its there in the air that I breathe
Its in my whisper and scream
Inside everything I believe
And its all gonna come around someday
As the smallest stream runs to a river
And every river runs to the sea
So every little bit of love I give to another
You know that I believe it comes back to me
There is no absolution whether Im the garden or the rose
If I aint part of the solution, yeah you know how that goes
You can always leave but you bring it all back home someday
As the smallest stream runs to a river
And every river runs to the sea
So every little bit of love I give to another
You know that I believe it comes back to me
Every single thing I say, everyone that I betray
Any love that I take when I do not make it in return
Every thing I do and every time Ive been unfaithful too
All the things that I believe are lessons I must learn
As the smallest stream runs to a river
And every river runs to the sea
So every little bit of love I give to another
You know that I believe it comes back to me
As the smallest stream runs to a river
And every river runs to the sea
So every little bit of love I give to another
You know that I believe it comes back to me
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Greatness alone in not enough, or the cow would outrun the hare.
Pejar Creek
Deep in the meadow grass
Easy stand the cattle,
Lightly lock the young bulls
In a mimic battle,
Pride gathers with each shock,
Every break and rally -
That’s where the Pejar runs,
Runs like a slip of silver through the valley.
Softly as a thrush sings
In the morning hushes,
Softly sing the waters
Round the reedy rushes,
Softly at the sand-bar,
Softly at the sally -
That’s where the Pejar runs,
Runs like a slip of silver through the valley.
Where awakes the morning
To dapple all the hills,
Where dewdrop, shaken,
Pendant slides and spills,
Where the golden bugles
Sunset calls reveille -
That’s where the Pejar runs,
Runs like a slip of silver through the valley.
Where the springtime blossoms
Like a mellow laughter,
Over all the grasses,
Over ridge and rafter,
Over all the tree-tops,
Down each ferny valley -
That’s where the Pejar runs,
Runs like a slip of silver through the valley.
Where the Pejar rises
Springs the Wollondilly,
Twinned upon the mountains
Babbling brook and ghyllie;
Where the bridge-heads rumble
Side by side they dally -
Out where the Pejar runs,
Runs like a slip of silver through the valley.
poem by Dame Mary Gilmore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No matter how fast a man is, he cannot outrun his shadow.
Another man's horse and your own spurs outrun the wind.
When The Money Runs Out/Another Poem Will Not Save Me
When the money runs out
Another poem will not save me-
When the money runs out
The poems will be a bit less poetic-
They will seem more meaningless-
All the years of writing them
Will seem more a waste and an indulgence-
When the money runs out
And I am working or trying to work
For not enough money
And guilty at being in debt
And frightened at not being able to pay on time
The poems will seem another kind of thing entirely
And I will wonder how I could have once given so much time to something
That does not make a cent-
When the money runs out
The poetry may run out with it
I will be the slave of small sums
And have lost my time and dedication
To what I have loved most.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Never let your zeal outrun your charity. The former is but human, the latter is divine.
quote by Hosea Ballou
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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God has put within our lives meanings and possibilities that quite outrun the limits of mortality.
quote by Harry Emerson Fosdick
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am Of Ireland
'I am of Ireland,
And the Holy Land of Ireland,
And time runs on,' cried she.
'Come out of charity,
Come dance with me in Ireland.'
One man, one man alone
In that outlandish gear,
One solitary man
Of all that rambled there
Had turned his stately head.
That is a long way off,
And time runs on,' he said,
'And the night grows rough.'
'I am of Ireland,
And the Holy Land of Ireland,
And time runs on,' cried she.
'Come out of charity
And dance with me in Ireland.'
'The fiddlers are all thumbs,
Or the fiddle-string accursed,
The drums and the kettledrums
And the trumpets all are burst,
And the trombone,' cried he,
'The trumpet and trombone,'
And cocked a malicious eye,
'But time runs on, runs on.'
I am of Ireland,
And the Holy Land of Ireland,
And time runs on,' cried she.
"Come out of charity
And dance with me in Ireland.'
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Come, Rise Up
No one runs from the Sun thinking it can be done.
No one runs from the Sun thinking it can be done.
No one runs from the Sun thinking it can be done.
No one runs from the Sun thinking it can be done.
Come...
(And) Rise up!
Sunrise to open up eyes,
On the horizon to clear up skies.
Come...
And rise up!
To ease the preaching on the streets that heat...
Philosophies to cease the evils.
Come...
(And) Rise up!
Sunrise to open up eyes,
On the horizon to clear up skies.
Remove all shadows from faith and hope.
And silence folks with soaked mopes stroking!
No one runs from the Sun thinking it can be done.
No one runs from the Sun thinking it can be done.
No one runs from the Sun thinking it can be done.
No one runs from the Sun thinking it can be done.
Come...
(And) Rise up!
Sunrise to open up eyes,
On the horizon to clear up skies...
To ease the preaching on the streets that heat,
Philosophies...
To cease all evils.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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He who runs after good fortune runs away from peace.
Sandpiper
The roaring alongside he takes for granted,
and that every so often the world is bound to shake.
He runs, he runs to the south, finical, awkward,
in a state of controlled panic, a student of Blake.
The beach hisses like fat. On his left, a sheet
of interrupting water comes and goes
and glazes over his dark and brittle feet.
He runs, he runs straight through it, watching his toes.
- Watching, rather, the spaces of sand between them
where (no detail too small) the Atlantic drains
rapidly backwards and downwards. As he runs,
he stares at the dragging grains.
The world is a mist. And then the world is
minute and vast and clear. The tide
is higher or lower. He couldn't tell you which.
His beak is focussed; he is preoccupied,
looking for something, something, something.
Poor bird, he is obsessed!
The millions of grains are black, white, tan, and gray
mixed with quartz grains, rose and amethyst.
poem by Elizabeth Bishop
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Ah, the pleasure, the joy - a big news story that runs and runs, that is played down by some of our journalistic colleagues, saying 'it'll never happen', only to be confirmed by the Home Secretary.
quote by Kamal Ahmed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wild Horse
(r. stewart/a. taylor)
Born and raised
In a motel in new orleans
I ran away
With a hobo and his gypsy friends
We rode a freight train up to cleveland
Across the utah plains
Proud men, troubadours torn and frayed
Sleeping under the stars
While gently strumming guitars
Played the songs of woddy guthrie
And the open road
I knew right then I could never go home
Cause the wild horse runs free forever
Oh yeah, a wild horse runs free forever
And ever and ever
I met a girl
From a family of position and wealth
What a hand
This rambler had been finally dealt
A beauty six years and ten
I felt the walls closing in
Like a swollen river
Bout to overflow
Like a losing gambler I kept on rolling
And a wild horse runs free forever
Yeah yeah yeah
A wild horse runs free forever
The wild horse runs free forever
Yeah yeah yeah
A wild horse runs free forever
Play the guitar
So understand I must go
But Ill drink you one last toast
Oh heres to the heart
And the hands of a man
That come with the dust
And are gone with the wind
May the wild horse run free forever
Yeah the wild horse runs free forever
The wild horse runs free forever
Yeah the wild horse run free forever
Wild guitar, baby, come on, wild
I know, I know, I know, I know
Play it for me, come on.
Yeah, hit it. yeah yeah. let me hear it, yeah.
The wild horse run free ...
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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