At least the Pilgrim Fathers used to shoot Indians: the Pilgrim Children merely punch time clocks.
quote by e.e. cummings
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pilgrim
And how do I choose and where do I draw the line
Between truth and necessary pain?
And how do I know and where do I get my belief
That things will be all right again?
What words do I use to try and explain
To those who have witnessed all my tears?
And what does it mean to know all these things
When loves been wasted all these years,
When loves been wasted all these years.
Standing in the shadows
With my heart right in my hand,
Removed from other people
Who could never understand.
I was a pilgrim for your love,
A pilgrim for your love,
A pilgrim for your love,
I was a pilgrim for your love.
Its like living in a nightmare,
Like looking in the blackest hole,
Like standing on the edge of nothing,
Completly out of control.
Now where have I been all these years
And how come I just couldnt see?
Like a blind man walking round in darkness,
I was a pilgrim for your love,
I was a pilgrim for your love.
Standing in the shadows
With my heart right in my hand,
Removed from other people
Who could never understand.
Chorus
I was a pilgrim for your love.
A pilgrim for your love.
I was a pilgrim.
Pilgrim for your love.
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It is a pity that instead of the Pilgrim Fathers landing on Plymouth Rock, Plymouth Rock had not landed on the Pilgrim Fathers.
quote by Chauncey Depew
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pilgrim's Daughter
‘Pilgrim’s daughter’
I met a pilgrim’s daughter
We did things we shouldna oughta
The old pilgrim father caught us
God he was in such a lather
Now I’m! the pilgrim father
MICMAC
poem by Michael Micmac Mccrory
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Lost Pilgrim (Lyrics)
Pilgrim, those are dry and bitter tears,
And normal eyes look way beyond your years.
Pilgrim, did you drink the mercury,
Your lips turn blue and you're struggling just to see.
You were too far gone to carry on,
Now your life has stalled.
As you march ahead yet go no place at all.
Pilgrim, when you left that all behind,
The loneliness destroyed your able mind.
Pilgrim, see the writing on the door,
It's taking you back to a place you were before.
Pious eyes, ignoring passers by,
Welcome to their grave.
Don't despair, this world of toil and care,
This pilgrim lost his way.
Pilgrim, will you ever find your cause,
This drink so pure that you're willing to risk it all.
Pious eyes, ignoring passers by,
Welcome to their grave.
Don't despair, this world of toil and care,
This pilgrim lost his way.
poem by Satan's Sibling
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Pilgram
Pilgrim, how you journey
On the road you chose
To find out where the winds die
And where the stories go.
All days come from one day
That must you must know,
You cannot change whats over
But only where you go.
One way leads to diamonds,
One way leads to gold,
Another leads you only
To everything youre told.
In your heart you wonder
Which of these is true;
The road that leads to nowhere,
The road that leads to you.
Will you find the answer
In all you say and do?
Will you find the answer
In you?
Each heart is a pilgrim,
Each one wants to know
The reason why the winds die
And where the stories go.
Pilgrim, in your journey
You may travel far,
For pilgrim its a long way
To find out who you are...
Pilgrim, its a long way
To find out who you are...
Pilgrim, its a long way
To find out who you are...
song performed by by Enya
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who would true Valour see
Who would true Valour see
Let him come hither;
One here will Constant be,
Come Wind, come Weather.
There's no Discouragement,
Shall make him once Relent,
His first avow'd Intent,
To be a Pilgrim.
Who so beset him round,
With dismal Storys,
Do but themselves Confound;
His Strength the more is.
No Lyon can him fright,
He'l with a Gyant Fight,
But he will have a right,
To be a Pilgrim.
Hobgoblin, nor foul Fiend,
Can daunt his Spirit:
He knows, he at the end,
Shall Life Inherit.
Then Fancies fly away,
He'l fear not what men say,
He'l labour Night and Day,
To be a Pilgrim.
poem by John Bunyan
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The Pilgrim
Who would true Valour see
Let him come hither;
One here will Constant be,
Come Wind, come Weather.
There's no Discouragement,
Shall make him once Relent,
His first avow'd Intent,
To be a Pilgrim.
Who so beset him round,
With dismal Storys,
Do but themselves Confound;
His Strength the more is.
No Lyon can him fright,
He'l with a Gyant Fight,
But he will have a right,
To be a Pilgrim.
Hobgoblin, nor foul Fiend,
Can daunt his Spirit:
He knows, he at the end,
Shall Life Inherit.
Then Fancies fly away,
He'l fear not what men say,
He'l labour Night and Day,
To be a Pilgrim.
poem by John Bunyan
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Any biographer must of necessity become a pilgrim a peripatetic, obsessed literary pilgrim, a traveler with four eyes.
A pilgrim is a wanderer with purpose.
quote by Peace Pilgrim
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Pilgrim Fathers landed on the shores of America and fell upon their knees. Then they fell upon the aborigines.
The Pilgrim Fathers landed on the shores of America and fell on their knees; then they fell upon the aborigines.
Faint and Weary Toiled a Pilgrim
'Faint and weary toiled a pilgrim,
Faint and weary of his load;
Sudden came a sweet bird winging
Glad and swift across his road.
''Blessed songster!' cried the pilgrim,
'Where is now the load I bore?
I forget it in thy singing;
Hearing thee, I faint no more,'
'While he spoke the bird went winging
Higher still, and soared away;
'Cruel songster!' cried the pilgrim,
'Cruel songster not to stay!'
'Was the songster cruel? Never!
High above some other road
Glad and swift he still was singing,
Lightening other pilgrims' load!'
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
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There Are No Children Here
The untrained eye
Walks down the street
And sees children
But they're not children
There are no children here
Adults look back
With hungry eyes
And someone thinks
''They're just children
With a mother and a father
Never any fear''
And they kid themselves
As there are no mothers
No fathers
Because there are no children here
Terror doesn't care
As they cry over there
It lets someone stare
Through the sight of a gun
Seeing everyone
And just for fun
Shoot them
People rush around crying
''But they were just children!
They were just children! ''
A man with a gun
Turns and runs
But as he does they hear
''They aren't children''
And
''They weren't children''
And
''You need to know:
There are no children here''
No one makes a sound
Listening to the truth he's found
And they know:
It's our fault
We didn't save them
We could have saved them
If we cared
There would be children here
poem by Violet Llewellyn
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Punch & Judy
(fish / marillion)
Punch
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Washing machine, pinstripe dream
Stripped the gloss from a beauty queen
Punch and judy, judy
Found our nest, in the daily express
Met the vicar in a holy vest
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Brought up the children church of e
Now I vegetate with a colour tv
Worst ever thing that ever happened to me
Oh, for d.i.v.o.r.c.e.
Oh judy
Whatever happened to pillow fights
Whatever happened to jeans so tight, friday nights
Whatever happened to lovers lane
Whatever happened to passion games
Sunday walks in the pouring rain
Punch
Punch
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Punch
Punch
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Curling tongs, mogadons, I got a headache baby, dont take so long
Single beds, middle age dread
Losing the war in the waistlands spread
Who left the cap of the toothpaste tube
Who forgot to flush the loo
Leave your sweaty socks outside the door
Dont walk across my polished floor, oh judy
Whatever happened to morning smiles
Whatever happened to wicked wiles, permissive styles
Whatever happened to twinkling eyes
Whatever happened to hard fast drives
Complements on unnatural size
Punch
Punch
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Punch
Punch
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Punch and judy
Propping up a bar, family car
Sweating out a mortgage as a balding clerk
Punch and judy, judy
World war three, suburbanshee
Just slip her these pills and Ill be free.
No more judy
Judy, judy no more!
Goodbye judy!
song performed by by Marillion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Pilgrim`s Elevation!
A pilgrim treads the path
To reach the 'abode' of his God
With many joining him.
The hymns and the eulogies
Reverberate across the terrains and the mounts
With the 'eternity' still wrapped in mystery.
A world living apart is left behind
Waiting for a Samaritan
With his conscience transported.
Leaving everything to men with crowns and swords
Where is he heading for
With his destination never defined?
Take a diversion please,
And tell the ones close at your heels
With a mind that can do things.
A pilgrim has to be elevated
By being with the needy and the famished
With a spirit drawn from within.
It leaves not, it lives with you and
It has no destination but a destiny
With the'Almighty' still mighty when 'left' alone!
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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Corydon
A PASTORAL
SCENE: A roadside in Arcady
SHEPHERD.
Good sir, have you seen pass this way
A mischief straight from market-day?
You'd know her at a glance, I think;
Her eyes are blue, her lips are pink;
She has a way of looking back
Over her shoulder, and, alack!
Who gets that look one time, good sir,
Has naught to do but follow her.
PILGRIM.
I have not seen this maid, methinks,
Though she that passed had lips like pinks.
SHEPHERD.
Or like two strawberries made one
By some sly trick of dew and sun.
PILGRIM.
A poet!
SHEPHERD.
Nay, a simple swain
That tends his flock on yonder plain,
Naught else, I swear by book and bell.
But she that passed, you marked her well.
Was she not smooth as any be
That dwell herein in Arcady?
PILGRIM.
Her skin was as the satin bark
Of birches
SHEPHERD.
Light or dark?
PILGRIM.
Quite dark.
SHEPHERD.
Then 'twas not she.
PILGRIM.
The peach's side
That's next the sun is not so dyed
As was her cheek. Her hair hung down
Like summer twilight falling brown;
And when the breeze swept by, I wist
Her face was in a sombre mist.
SHEPHERD.
No, that is not the maid I seek.
Her hair lies gold against the cheek;
Her yellow tresses take the morn
Like silken tassles of the corn.
And yet--brown locks are far from bad.
PILGRIM.
Now I bethinks me, this one had
A figure like the willow-tree
Which, slight and supple, wondrously
Inclines to droop with pensive grace,
And still retains its proper place;
A foot so arched and very small
The marvel was she walked at all;
Her hand--in sooth I lack for words--
her hand, five slender snow-white birds.
Her voice--though she but said "God-speed"--
Was melody blown through a reed;
The girl Pan changed into a pipe
Had not a note so full and ripe.
And then her eye--my lad her eye!
Discreet, inviting, candid, shy,
An outward ice, an inward fire,
And lashes to the heart's desire--
Soft fringes blacker than the sloe.
SHEPHERD.
Good sir, which way did this one go?
PILGRIM, solus.
So, he is off! The silly youth
Knoweth not love in sober sooth.
He loves, thus lads at first are blind--
No woman, only Womankind.
I needs must laugh, for, by the Mass,
No maid at all did this way pass!
poem by Thomas Bailey Aldrich
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What Magic Is There
What magic is there in thy mien
What sorcery in thy smile,
Which charms away all cark and care,
Which turns the foul days into fair,
And for a little while
Changes this disenchanted scene
From the sere leaf into the green,
Transmuting with love's golden wand
This beggared life to fairyland?
My heart goes forth to thee, oh friend,
As some poor pilgrim to a shrine,
A pilgrim who has come from far
To seek his spirit's folding star,
And sees the taper shine;
The goal to which his wanderings tend,
Where want and weariness shall end,
And kneels ecstatically blest
Because his heart hath entered rest.
poem by Mathilde Blind
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The Twenty-Second Of December
Wild was the day; the wintry sea
Moaned sadly on New-England's strand,
When first the thoughtful and the free,
Our fathers, trod the desert land.
They little thought how pure a light,
With years, should gather round that day;
How love should keep their memories bright,
How wide a realm their sons should sway.
Green are their bays; but greener still
Shall round their spreading fame be wreathed,
And regions, now untrod, shall thrill
With reverence when their names are breathed.
Till where the sun, with softer fires,
Looks on the vast Pacific's sleep,
The children of the pilgrim sires
This hallowed day like us shall keep.
poem by William Cullen Bryant
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Pilgrim
A pilgrim at the grey of dawn
Leaving in the mist of morning
On his journey of goodness
Heaven sent, God blessed
Pilgrim laughing at the world
Spreading joy
At the touch of his hand
Wiping out all the misery
Making love and history
Those of us who dont know war
We shouldnt try to make it
So many did and even more died
Do you think you could take it?
Love lies waiting at my back door
Such a beautiful matter of fact
Lifes like an apple
With love as the core
And Ill tell you bout that
Just a man in my prime
Love was there
But I had no time
I was cheered and adored
And I thought fame
Was all the world
Battles won and victory cheers
Were the sounds
Id heard for years
But the women I really loved
Was losing me
To all this blood
I only knew I had to win
And build a world
Where I was king
But leaders come and leaders go
And thats the truth
I came to know
Love or war I couldnt choose
And so both
I had to lose
song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fathers Are The Men From Sky
Fathers, the men who are like a pen
We never can see whatever is going on inside them
But suddenly that pen is finished and then?
Fathers, the men who try hard for the pleasure of their family
They just want the less for themselves because of the comfort of their children
Looking forward to spend a day with his family in a place that is hilly
Fathers, the men who justify the wishes of their children to their own wishes
They just live to see the victory of their children and family
But their life sometimes is as short as the golden fishes
Fathers, the men who are noble, they leave their tired face out of the house's door
They came in with a happy face, but we know they are tired from inside
We know that they are sad from the core.
Fathers, the men who listen to the pain of family members
People who are powerful to solve the problems and hard conditions
But no one has the ear to understand them; they just talk with the embers
Fathers,
Warm and kind people who never bother
Fathers,
Who are unique in their way, after them there is no tother
Fathers,
Are the men who are like the kind brothers.
poem by Ellias Anderson
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