Pride went out on horseback, and returned on foot.
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Misfortune comes on horseback and goes away on foot.
Diseases come on horseback, but go away on foot.
Sickness comes on horseback, but goes away on foot.
The Goose-Girl
Spring rides no horses down the hill,
But comes on foot, a goose-girl still.
And all the loveliest things there be
Come simply, so, it seems to me.
If ever I said, in grief or pride,
I tired of honest things, I lied:
And should be cursed forevermore
With Love in laces, like a whore,
And neighbours cold, and friends unsteady,
And Spring on horseback, like a lady!
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sickness comes on horseback and departs on foot.
Misfortunes come on horseback and depart on foot.
Diseases come on horseback, but steal away on foot.
Whoever goes on foot during April and May, goes on horseback the rest of the year.
Straw Foot
I guess you didnt hear me
When I told you for the first time
Well dont you worry
It wont be the last
All I need a floorboard
An a wooden shoe
Step aside an let my lady through
Hey foot, straw foot
Low we lay em down
Hey foot, straw foot
Up an back around
See the high priest
He took my place
When the judge looks to me
He saw his sons face
Not gonna join you in
Your tower of babble, boy
Tired o that talkin
Im sick o that noise
Hey foot, straw foot
Low we lay em down
Hey foot, straw foot
Coverin ground
Im not alone
An looks can be deceivin
When we get down to it
Youre talkin when you
Should be leavin
Ive been to nebraska
It reminded me of spain
All the questions loaded
All my answers same
Hey foot, straw foot
Low we lay em down
Hay foot, straw foot
Coverin ground
Let us not mince our words
Lets say it true this time
I need your forgiveness
Just like you need mine
Tell me how it is that
You dont want what hes given
It aint no sin son
To be forgiven
Hey foot, straw foot
Low we lay em down
Hey foot, straw foot
All over town
song performed by by 16 Horsepower
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Game of My Life
When I step foot onto the court
I become a lioness defending my pride
Against the fierce attack of a puma,
Who through his eyes, only sees dinner.
Marking territory as I cross half court,
I begin to search for that 1 special lion.
Once I spot him, away goes my pride.
Now at last this battle is all mine.
As fast as I can,
Across the field I go,
Only to receive my pride,
So perfect and precise.
At last, that 1 special lion that always seems to read my mind,
Darts toward the puma, to stop him in his tracks.
I then gather my pride and use this as a getaway.
Not only have I escaped with my pride,
But the fact of knowing, I have won my fight.
The Great Day
Hurrah for revolution and more cannon-shot!
A beggar upon horseback lashes a beggar on foot.
Hurrah for revolution and cannon come again!
The beggars have changed places, but the lash goes on.
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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A foot soldier
When I was hurt & lost someone dear
I did go on because I am a foot soldier
When the going got tough with nothing to gear
I did go on because I am a foot soldier
when the faith felt small & doubts really bigger
I did go on because I am a foot soldier
When the sky was dark & nothing seemed near
I did go on because I am a foot soldier
when the wounds were hurting with no immediate cure
I did go on because I am a foot soldier
when the hopes were grim & nothing was clear
I did go on because I am a foot soldier
When storms came hard striking some fear
I did go on because I am a foot soldier
I fought & fought & I fought till the victory was sure
Yes, I could do it because I am a foot soldier
poem by Ameya Deshpande
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Ship That Never Returned
On a summer's day while the waves were rippling, with a quiet and a gentle breeze;
A ship set sail with a cargo laden for a port beyond the sea.
Did she ever return? No, she never returned, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
There were sad farewells, there were friends forsaken, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander on a ship that never returned.
Did she ever return? No, she never returned, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
Said a feeble lad to his aged mother, I must cross that deep blue sea,
For I hear of a land in the far off country, where there's health and strength for me.
Did she ever return? No, she never returned, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
'Tis a gleam of hope and a maze of danger, and our fate is still to learn,
And a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
Did she ever return? No, she never returned, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
Said this feeble lad to his aged mother, as he kissed his weeping wife,
"Just one more purse of that golden treasure, it will last us all through life.
Did she ever return? No, she never returned, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
"Then we'll live in peace and joy together and enjoy all I have earned."
So they sent him forth with a smile and blessing on a ship that never returned.
Did she ever return? No, she never returned, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
poem by Henry Clay Work
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Left Foot, Right Foot
left foot, right foot,
left foot, right foot,
eyes fixed straight ahead....
drawn by the spectre
of our own greed;
use it up, throw it out,
use it up, throw it out....
hardened and lifeless,
eaten from within
by the maggots of ego...
deaf to the cries
of our own children,
blinded by the 'God'
of cyber technology...
strip the fields,
cut down the forests...
mine the mountains,
we pee in our own
drinking water, and
walk away....
leaving nuclear tracks
in the womb of time.
left foot, right foot,
left foot, right foot...
marching blindly to hell
with drool on our chins!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Creative Types Are So Tempermental
You want me to apologize?
OKAY...
I apologize.
'What level of sincerity,
Was that apology? '
I would say...
Right between where I would put my foot.
And the words your ears would hear,
As they rolled off my tongue.
'I accept your apology.'
I am glad of that!
Because you would find my foot painful.
And those words rolling off my tongue...
Would be created just for you.
'But then again...
That doesn't sound too bad of an offer.
Do you mind if I returned your apology?
What did I say now?
Who cares!
Walk away.
You creative types are so tempermental.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Homecoming Of A Wanderer (To Bhupen Hazarika)
He returned home through the same village roads,
Some morning declaring his fight against time and its tides,
through which he had gone.
Declaring miles and miles of road shorter than his dreams through which he had gone..
Declaring himself anonymous and wanderer and leaving promises of returning winner.
through which he had gone,,,
He returned.
On his return, the village road saw the same villager and he returned on the same wheels of his dreams
And those dreams were still full of life.
On his return but he was no longer an anonymous, he earned a name which could travel boundaries of land, river, ocean and time as well..
And when he returned he was no longer a wanderer for everywhere he went he left a mark of the river of his village where he belonged and now he owned a home in thousands heart
On his return he was no longer a wanderer
He returned through the same village roads
but not without gifts of eternity..
gifts from the zenith of human limits,,
gifts of pride and honour,,
gifts of travelling the roads of life,,
larger than travelled by any one ever,,,
he returned for he had left with promises of returning to his mother.
For sunset is nowhere more peaceful than the laps of her..
Dedicated to the wanderer,
Foot Of Pride
(Bob Dylan)
Like the lion tears the flesh off of a man
so can a woman who passes herself off as a male
They sang "Danny Boy" at his funeral and the Lord's Prayer
preacher talking 'bout Christ betrayed
Like the earth just opened and swallowed him up
reached too high, was thrown back to the ground
You know what they say about bein' nice to the right people on the way up
sooner or later you gonna meet them comin' down
Oh, there ain't no comin' back when your foot of pride come down
ain't no comin' back
Oh, no, comin' back when your foot of pride come down
ain't no comin' back
They got a brother named James, don't forget faces or names
sunken cheeks and his blood is mixed
He looked straight into the sun and said revenge is mine
but he drinks, and drinks can be fixed
Sing me one more song, ha, about ya love me to the moon and the stranger
and your fall by the sword love affair with Erroll Flynn
In these times of compassion when conformity's in fashion
say, one more stupid thing to me before the final nail is driven in
Oh, there ain't no comin' back when your foot of pride come down
hey, hey, hey, hey
Oh, baby, ain't no comin' back when your foot of pride come down
hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, ain't no comin' back
There's a retired businessman named Red ...
cast down from heaven and he's out of his head
He feeds off of everyone that he can touch
he said he only deals in cash or sells tickets to a plane crash
Not somebody that you play around with much Miss Delilah is his
a Philistine is what she is, She'll do wondrous works with your fate
Ah, Feed you coconut bread, spice buns in your bed
if you don't mind sleepin' with your head face
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lines On H---'s Foot
It may be you've seen her eyes,
Dark and deep like midnight skies;
You mayhap have seen them flash
Underneath the drooping lash,
And been dazzled by the light
Of those orbs, so dark and bright;
But-have you seen her foot,
In its little gaiter boot?
You have noticed, maybe, how
The lily spreads from chin to brow.
You have thought her cheek more fair
Than if roses lingered there;
(Roses would seem out of place
On her pale patrician face)
But-again I question you,
Have you seen her tiny shoe?
You have thought her mouth, no doubt,
Like a blush-rose half blown out;
Small and sweet, withal, beside,
Touched with scorn and curved with pride;
(Innate pride-not meant to chill)-
You have seen it there, and still-
Answer one more question, pray-
Have you seen her boot? I say.
Such a tiny, tiny thing,
Is that foot of which I sing;
No. 3 would hide it so
It could not be found, I know.
No. 2 must stand aside
All too long and large and wide,
No. 1
must
be the boot
For this maiden's little foot.
You may envy, sir, the clerk
In the shoe-store, hard at work,
Who tries the gaiter boot
On this cunning little foot.
On his knee, supporting it,
Saying, 'It's a perfect fit,'
Buttoning on the No. 1,
Looking sorry, when it's done.
You have seen her, slight and neat,
As she tripped along the street,
You have
heard
the pit-pat-fall
Of that foot so very small.
That she's fair, and pure, and good,
Bright, and sweet is understood,
But-have you
seen
that foot-
In its dainty gaiter boot?
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ineptness
Carry a big stick,
To threaten from a distance.
Send me pictures of it...
To upset me quick,
With visions I'll be hit with it!
But you'll be wrong wrong.
And I'll be long gone!
Foot power...
Zip.
I like buttered biscuits,
Baked and fresh.
Heated from the oven,
And tasting their best!
You can bring that big stick,
To threaten me with it.
But when I've eaten buttered biscuits,
I'm prepared to split.
Humming a song...
With,
Foot power...zip!
Inept.
Foot power,
Zip!
Ineptness.
Foot power zip!
Inept.
Foot power,
Zip!
Ineptness.
Foot power zip!
'What? '
Foot power zip!
'What is this? '
Foot power zip!
'What? '
Foot power zip!
'What is this? '
Foot power zip!
'What? '
Ineptness!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On a White Horse
Some day you’ll appear on a white horse.
I’ll see you on a horseback from afar.
You’ll dismount it and I’ll hear your voice,
“Lady, you dazzled me like the brightest star...”
I’ll lower my eyes, burning with shame
And give you my silk lacy handkerchief.
“Lady, could you tell me your name? ”
I’ll raise my head, though I’ll be stunned a bit...
You and your horse will be very tired,
So I’ll offer my castle to you,
Though my burning cheeks will be still red,
Though the sudden feeling will be quite new...
Some day you’ll appear on a white horse.
I’ll see you on a horseback from afar.
This day I’ll find my life-giving source.
But today I still don’t know where you are...
poem by Jolanta Gradowicz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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