Every event that a man would master must be mounted on the run, and no man ever caught the reins of a thought except as it galloped past him.
quote by Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Let It Rein Let It Rain
Few can dispute the fact that love is the principle in which everything in heaven and earth anchors upon. This poem is about love and how that love rules and should be made to emanate from our every day life.
In the universe it reins
The heavens and the earth it rains
It reins it rains
In every good it reins
From every good it rains
It reins it rains
On the cross it reins
From the cross it rains
It reins it rains
In heaven it reins
From heaven it rains
It reins it rains
From the earth let it rain
In the earth let it rein
Let it rain let it rein
From the heart let it rain
In the heart let it rein
Let it rain let it rein
From every action let it rain
In every action let rein
Let it rain let it rein
From every word let it rain
In every word let it rein
Let it rain let it rein
From every handshake let it rain
In every handshake let it rein
Let it rain let it rein
From your feet let it rain
In your feet let it rein
Let it rain let it rein
From every gaze let it rain
In every gaze let it rein
Let it rain let it rein
From every event let it rain
In every event let it rein
Let it rain let it rein
From your occupation let it rain
In your occupation let it rein
Let it rain let it rein
From charity let it rain
In charity let it rein
Let it rain let it rein
From everywhere let it rain
In everywhere let it rein
Let it rain let it rein
From everybody let it rain
In everybody let rein
Let it rain let it rein
So let love rain
So let love rein
So let it rain let it rein
poem by Obed Akuma
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The Cowboy And The Rainbow... ' (Cowboy Poem # 3)
A Cowboy, Neath A Rainbow
Rode The Range, Far and Free
Holding Lightning Reins, and A Lasso
Strung Around His Untamed Dreams
Riding On His Horse, named Bullseye-Shoot
A Big, Bay Thoroughbred
Galloped Long, Nudged by The Cowboy’s Boots
To Race, As Dark Clouds Fled …
… Away, As Each Hoof Struck The Ground
Sounding, Just Like Thunder!
The Cowboy and Horse, Were Rainbow-Bound
Both, A Romantic, Climatic-Color Wonder!
Flashing Across The Range
On A Silver Saddle and Same Kind of Spurs
The Cowboy’s Hat and Horse’s Tail and Mane
And Sunset … All Became A Rainbow-Blur …
As The Cowboy, Lassoed The Wind
So Fast, They Did Go!
So Fast, His Lariat Did Spin …
I Think He Caught His Rainbow…
… A Cowboy Neath A Rainbow
Rode The Range, Far and Free
Holding Lightning Reins and A Lasso
Strung Around His Untamed Dreams …
poem by MoonBee Canady
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pegasus
If I am a Pegasus, the winged horse in Greek mythology.
Definitely I would have changed my stable, jockey and reins
As I want to be free myself.
I am sure that my Master would have released me
And I find a short cut for my loved ones.
I promise him to be returned with my lost identity.
Then I could have request from my Master to be a Stallion as usual
And give back the wings according to my phenomenon.
Master, please do not count my teeth as I am a workhorse without the working papers.
(To my poet friend Max.Reif)
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Promıses
four white stallions galloped
across the landscape
In tow a lovely lady riding
in a make-believe carriage
The day was filled with promise
Promises for a better tomorrow.
Suddenly the horses became
annoyed
Refusing to yield to the lovely
lady holding their reins.
Her task at hand, corral their
energies
And so she did.
poem by Heather Burns
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Farewell, Dick!
He bowed and he doffed his tricorn hat
As the wagon both lurched and swayed,
It rattled on over the cobblestones,
And the mud in the alleyways,
The crowd had cheered when he passed them by
As he stood, so debonair,
In a new frock coat and a pair of pumps
With a ribbon tied up in his hair.
They rumbled along the Tyburn road
From York, as the people stared,
Then came to a halt at Knavesmire
Approaching the 'Three Legged Mare',
He mounted the ladder boldly,
Stamped his foot to allay his fear,
Then spoke to the executioner
In a voice both calm and clear.
The rope was knotted around his neck,
He spoke to the crowd at last,
He bid farewell to his countrymen
And the darker deeds of his past,
Undaunted then, he stepped off the rung
And fell, to swing in the air,
While the crowd was hushed, and the wagon pushed
To receive his body there!
But up on the hill was a phantom horse,
As black as a lump of coal,
Its eyes were gleaming, its coat a-shine,
Its breath, pale mist in the cold,
She started, reared, as her master hung
Then galloped right through the press,
As his soul dropped out of his body there,
She was waiting for him, Black Bess!
He leapt unthinking astride her back,
Cast one swift glance behind,
His body hung from the rope, he saw,
But he somehow didn't mind!
He doffed his hat to the sightless crowd
Then wheeled away on his horse,
And galloped away to where phantoms play
When their lives have run their course!
But a tiny child in the press had seen,
Was blessed with second sight,
She watched him wave to the mourning crowd
And disappear in the night;
She laughed and waved in the mother's arms
Who had cried 'til she was sick,
But the child then wiped her tears away
And called out - 'Farewell, Dick! '
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Master
Master went a-hunting,
When the leaves were falling;
We saw him on the bridle path,
We heard him gaily calling.
'Oh master, master, come you back,
For I have dreamed a dream so black!'
A glint of steel from bit and heel,
The chestnut cantered faster;
A red flash seen amid the green,
And so good-bye to master.
Master came from hunting,
Two silent comrades bore him;
His eyes were dim, his face was white,
The mare was led before him.
'Oh, master, master, is it thus
That you have come again to us?'
I held my lady's ice-cold hand,
They bore the hurdle past her;
Why should they go so soft and slow?
It matters not to master.
poem by Arthur Conan Doyle
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Lord of the Flies
Oh Master my Master
Oh where have you been
I wallowed in filth and
I drowned in sin
Oh Master my Master
It's my rotten luck
To swim in the decay
And swallow the muck
Oh Master my Master
I stand in the fires
Surrounded by murderers
Thieves, cheaters, and liars
Oh Master my Master
the earth has turned red
Fluid with blood
Of the recently dead
Oh Master my Master
What's wrong with the world
The blackness unfolds
Like a flag that's unfurled
Oh Master my Master
You ignore my cries
And now I'm quite sure
You're the Lord of the Flies
poem by Anonymous Ghurl
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Event Of My Death
Event of my Death
As I Iay in the dawn of the hours waiting for my body to rest
I wonder what I will do in the event of my death….
In the event of my death most just think heaven or hell
No not me it doesn’t stop there…
In the event of my death my spirit will leave my body
My spirit will truly start living
In the event of my death I case my location,
Thinking about what led up to this…
In the event of my death I will visit all my loved ones…
My first visit will be to my king..
I will watch over him making him feel secure..
In the event of my death I will make my presence known
I will make them feel me in the heart and their surroundings…
In the event of my death I will travel…
I will hover over all the pyramids in Egypt,
I will explore all the places I’ve never been..
In the event of my death I will talk with my creator..
I will know all the answers…
Most of all In the Event of my death I will meet with my brother..
My brother and I will be together again…
In the Event of My death I will realize I’m really not dead..
In the Event of My death I will know that my spirit lives on..
I will know what living is all about…
In the Event of My death I will be immortal
I will be goddess a In the Event of My death...
I will be what I was born to be....
I will be free
I will be free of insecurities, free of poverty,
free of calamity, free of a broken heart,
Free of depression, free of negativity,
Free of racism, free of prejudice
I will be free In the Event of my Death
I will be all the things I was born to be...
I will be powerful, I will be beautiful, and I will be limitless
I will be a Goddess in the Event of my death...
Now what will you be....
Author: Templar Thomas
poem by Templar Thomas
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After the Hunt
Underneath the windy mountain walls
Forth we rode, an eager band,
By the surges and the verges and the gorges,
Till the night was on the land—
On the hazy, mazy land!
Far away the bounding prey
Leapt across the ruts and logs,
But we galloped, galloped, galloped on,
Till we heard the yapping of the dogs—
The yapping and the yelping of the dogs.
Oh, it was a madly merry day
We shall not so soon forget,
And the edges and the ledges and the ridges
Haunt us with their echoes yet—
Echoes, echoes, echoes yet!
While the moon is on the hill
Gleaming through the streaming fogs,
Don’t you hear the yapping of the dogs—
The yapping and the yelping of the dogs?
poem by Henry Kendall
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The Sugar-cubes!
An ant had found some sugar-cubes,
And ran across to feed;
It ate them all and became fat;
A spider glimpsed the ant!
The ant could not run very fast;
The spider caught it fast;
It threw a web and ate it up,
And it became too fat!
A lizard glanced the spider fat
And flicked its tongue for food;
In moment’s time, it gulped it whole
And went to take a nap!
A cat that came that way then caught
The lizard by its teeth;
And ate it piece-meal with relish;
A dog then chased the cat!
The barking dog caught cat by leg
And bit it till it died;
The master heard the mewing noise,
And struck the dog too dead!
Oh, what a tragedy sequence,
Some sugar-cubes had caused!
The master wept all day and night,
And starved himself to death!
(5-19-2000)
poem by John Celes
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This fact immediately suggested a singular event - that at some time in the distant past the universe began expanding from an extremely small size. To many people this inference was loaded with overtones of a supernatural event - the creation, the beginning of the universe.
quote by Michael Behe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Event
Your event is beginning to take place,
For it is longer and better to be this.
Your event is pleasant and grand,
For it is bigger and huger to become.
Events are monsterous and happy,
For all time it is. For each man it is. For the event it is.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Farmer and His Carabao
Sitting on a saddle-like mounted stones,
Watching the river runs gently yonder,
Wondrous, countless, tiny whirlpools,
Sublimely caught his eyes to ponder;
Alone, he sees, he hears nothing but
To himself as high as the bird flown,
To charcoaled stem of a dead tree, it sat,
Mimicked all noises if he had not known;
Under that tree, his carabao rests in a paddle,
Snorting and snoozing on his muddy cradle,
But his master came to drag him out again,
So he rose without a splash of complain.
Back and forth, he and his master worked on,
To an acre of land that this man only owned,
As they labored together, time didn’t matter,
‘Till the summons of the night ruled thereafter.
Like a glowing star afar from the moonlight spot,
A kerosene lamp lit by the window of cogon hut,
While the son’s fueling a kiln to steam a pot of rice,
The farmer and his carabao made home without sighs.
poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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Keeping Their Distance And Staying Away
They did not want it to appear,
They associated with me...
Publicly.
Until the host of the event,
We attended...
Announced,
If it had not been for my efforts...
There would not have been an event,
To attend.
What did those pretentious do?
Cracked faked smiles.
As if in the doing,
They were compensating me for my time.
And I thought of them to be a dime a dozen.
A waste of space manipulated!
With a doing to me a favor...
By keeping their distance and staying away.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Tempest
We are never free
Once we thought we have been freed from one master
Actually we already become a slave to another one
Once we thought we have the control in our life
Actually we are moved by someone’s plan
Once we thought we have escaped the critical point
Actually we only run from trouble to trouble
But at least we could choose
Which master we want to serve
Which way we want to spend the rest of our life
And enjoy its difficulty
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Am I a master
I am the master, master of art
have painted true pictures,
of rising sun, mountain, sea
through jungles flowing rivers,
shining stars, birds, cloudy sky,
can paint anything and everything.
insects, lions, bear and deer.
just like the living things.
I am the master, master of art,
can make my own paint and brush
Alas! but cannot create raw material
of any of paint, brush or canvas.
Oh! can not paint these seven
which are made only in heaven:
smell, touch, look, hear and taste,
emotions, thought and breathe.
No, I am not the master, master of art
can paint uncountable things yet not.
Not possible to paint love and laugh
I have to go again and again to learn
to the supreme master, who painted
the universe, stars, moon and sun
(C) S. D. Tiwari
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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Finders Keepers for Friend Thad
I have just caught a passing thought.
I wrote it down in black and white,
it was a stray I had the right
I’ve not seen one like this before
A random thought, original.
It is not often that you see
a brand new thought that’s flying free.
I claimed it which is typical,
I caught it by pure accident
it was not something I had planned.
I am quite sure you’ll understand
I’m following a precedent
which was established long ago.
Finders are keepers as you know.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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How They Brought The Good News From Ghent To Aix
I.
I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he;
I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three;
``Good speed!'' cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew;
``Speed!'' echoed the wall to us galloping through;
Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest,
And into the midnight we galloped abreast.
II.
Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace
Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place;
I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight,
Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right,
Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit,
Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit.
III.
'Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near
Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear;
At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see;
At Dffeld,'twas morning as plain as could be;
And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the half-chime,
So, Joris broke silence with, ``Yet there is time!''
IV.
At Aershot, up leaped of a sudden the sun,
And against him the cattle stood black every one,
To stare thro' the mist at us galloping past,
And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last,
With resolute shoulders, each hutting away
The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray:
V.
And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back
For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track;
And one eye's black intelligence,---ever that glance
O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance!
And the thick heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon
His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on.
VI.
By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, ``Stay spur!
``Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her,
``We'll remember at Aix''---for one heard the quick wheeze
Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees,
And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank,
As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank.
VII.
So, we were left galloping, Joris and I,
Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky;
The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh,
'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff;
Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white,
And ``Gallop,'' gasped Joris, ``for Aix is in sight!''
VIII.
``How they'll greet us!''---and all in a moment his roan
Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone;
And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight
Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate,
With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim,
And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim.
IX.
Then I cast loose my buffcoat, each holster let fall,
Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all,
Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear,
Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse without peer;
Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or good,
Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood.
X.
And all I remember is---friends flocking round
As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground;
And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine,
As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine,
Which (the burgesses voted by common consent)
Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent.
poem by Robert Browning
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Caught In The Game
You swore youd never again, let yourself be tempted,
Too many times in the past when youve opened up your heart --
Youve had it broken in pieces, by too many lies,
Still its hard to acknowledge the past --
When she flashes those eyes,
Over and over the song skips,
Just as the final refrain fades away --
Like fools we are caught in the game
*caught in the game,
Caught in the game again --
Caught in the game,
Caught in the game*
I swore Id never again catch myself believin
Too many times Ive been hurt -- and it makes you hard inside
But when I saw you in the city tonight --
Was it just imagination --
Or did your eyes burn a little too bright,
For purely conversation --
Over and over the lights flash down at the corner arcade
Swept away --
Like fools we are caught in the game
( * repeat)
Over and over the song skips
Just as the final refrain fades away.
Like fools we are caught in the game
( * repeat)
song performed by by Survivor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Once men are caught up in an event, they cease to be afraid. Only the unknown frightens men.
quote by Antoine de Saint-Exupery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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