Having covered some half a hundred cities, towns, villages, and wide spots in the road during the last tow years, George and I fairly wallowed in the comfort of our own home base.
quote by Martin Milner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Let Us Forget Our Villages...
Villages, my friend, are no more those heavens.
You used to tell about villages living, I remember.
Villages, my friend, are no more those marvels.
You used to boast about the ones quite variant, I recall.
Villages have begun to grow its heights,
Its vast expanses shrinking to a few yards.
Villages have sent away their caring mothers to the towns,
Villages have driven away their milky animals to the farm houses.
That`s why my friend, I can`t take you to my village
And when you offer to do so, I am not inclined.
Let us hide in the fortress of this city`s hard walls known to us and
Forget our villages where our memories wander as ghosts.
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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I wear my heart in my shoes
Home is where the heart is,
I probably carry mine in my shoes,
Shoes of leather, sturdy, used & worn,
covered in mud.
The British countryside,
All Hills and bumps
and wide open fields,
Muddy & Wet,
Dotted with quaint little towns,
Rivers Runny Through.
Home is where the heart is,
My home is between my stinking socks,
and my leather sole.
If home is where my heart is,
I tread on it everyday,
I probably wear it in my shoes.
poem by Sam Seymour
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Ballade Of The Dead Cities
The dust of Carthage and the dust
Of Babel on the desert wold,
The loves of Corinth, and the lust,
Orchomenos increased with gold;
The town of Jason, over-bold,
And Cherson, smitten in her prime -
What are they but a dream half-told?
Where are the cities of old time?
In towns that were a kingdom's trust,
In dim Atlantic forests' fold,
The marble wasteth to a crust,
The granite crumbles into mould;
O'er these--left nameless from of old -
As over Shinar's brick and slime,
One vast forgetfulness is roll'd -
Where are the cities of old time?
The lapse of ages, and the rust,
The fire, the frost, the waters cold,
Efface the evil and the just;
From Thebes, that Eriphyle sold,
To drown'd Caer-Is, whose sweet bells toll'd
Beneath the wave a dreamy chime
That echo'd from the mountain-hold, -
'Where are the cities of old time?'
ENVOY.
Prince, all thy towns and cities must
Decay as these, till all their crime,
And mirth, and wealth, and toil are thrust
Where are the cities of old time.
poem by Andrew Lang
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Night Anthem
Today it is a peaceful night finaly here at home
And the stars are shining in the sky here at home
Can you see it?
Take a look in the sky here at home so that you can see the star
Because they are shining so bright like diamonds in the sky
The trees at home is covered with snow
And the road s here at home are also covered with snow
The squirels are eating their nuts here at home
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Many women cut back what had to be done at home by redefining what the house, the marriage and, sometimes, what the child needs. One woman described a fairly common pattern: I do my half. I do half of his half, and the rest doesn't get done.
quote by Arlie Hochschild
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Comfort You
Lot of havoc in the sea
People rushing endlessly
Sometimes I think it's just their way
Of capturing a better day
You keep rushing home baby
For your dose of reality
I'll hold out my hands to you
You do what you need to
Ohh, whoa
I will comfort you (I will comfort you)
Ohh, whoa
I will comfort you (I will comfort you)
An ocean of humanity
Some wash up along the street
It's hard to keep in stepping round
It's hard to keep that frame of mind
Trying to move with the sun
Gives the illusion that we're one
I'll be running next to you
We do what we need to
Ohh, whoa
I will comfort you (I will comfort you)
Ohh, whoa
I will comfort you (I will comfort you)
But when the moonlight washes over our bed
and the road slows
A lonely siren screeching 'round the bend
The cool air blows
Raising the hair on my skin
We come face to face
Try to let each other in
Ohh, whoa
I will comfort you (I will comfort you)
Ohh, whoa
I will comfort you (I will comfort you)
I will I will I will I will
I will I will I will I will
I will comfort you
song performed by by Cyndi Lauper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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(Solitude poems) International women's day
I walk to their villages
And I see spread before my eyes
The terrible suffering of this women!
I walk amongst them in their rural towns
And I am confronted by the uncalled for
Total lack of services for this women!
I meet millions of them in the cities
And I'm saddened by their frightened stares
And the unjust exploitation of this women!
And you madam
You're so glib in your presentation
You make the same speech every year you
Trumpet the same lies of yesterday of...
Rural women are side lined by their leaders...
The women must be empowered...
Whatever happened to the propaganda of
Rolling back the frontiers of poverty?
Roll your sleeves or watch out you puppet
We will come down to your comfort
Zone and roll you out of your comfy position
Of privilege any time now
poem by Ngaka Motaung
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London River
Half a score o' sailormen that want to sail once more,
Cruising round the waterside with the Peter at the fore!
Half a score o' sailormen the sea will never drown -
Seven days in open boats a-drifting up and down! -
Out to find another ship and sail from London Town!
Half a score o' sailormen broke and on the rocks,
Linking down Commercial Road, tramping round the Docks,
Half a score o' sailormen, torpedoed twice before,
Once was in the Channel chops, once was off the Nore,
Last was in the open sea five hundred mile from shore!
Half a score o' sailormen that want to sail again -
And her cargo's all aboard her, and it's blowing up for rain!
Half a score o' sailormen that won't come home to tea -
For she's dropping down the river with the Duster flying free -
Down the London River on the road to the open sea!
poem by Cicely Fox Smith
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Lincolnshire Day
Lincolnshire Day (2012)
Today is Lincolnshire Day held every year on the 1st October,
The anniversary of the start of The Lincolnshire Rising in 1536,
But after all these years we are still under the yoke of Westminster,
But we still hope for independence.
Lincolnshire is England's largest united county,
Be it the Fens or the Wolds Lincolnshire is a beautiful place,
Covered with glorious countryside,
Full of quaint villages and market towns.
From Louth, the capital of the Wolds,
To Spalding, the capital of the Fens,
And Lincolnshire's capital, Lincoln itself,
There is nowhere better than Lincolnshire.
By Christopher Tye
poem by Christopher Tye
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Suffolk
A luscious land of fertile soil,
Upon which there's been years of toil,
The towns and villages appeal,
With somewhat of an old world feel,
Traditionally brewed vintage ale,
Many a bizarre quaint tale,
Out on the broads all is tranquil,
A place to be with time to kill,
Once home of witches and fairies,
Now where to live a life of ease,
A history rearing horses,
Home of the grand national races,
Brilliantly vibrant blue skies,
Folk with Anglo and Celtic ties,
A coast that glows with golden sands,
History built on the fenlands.
poem by Christian Lacdael
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Bright Lights
The bright lights are calling me
The bright lights are calling me
When the world is dark and cold
And Im heading down the road
The bright lights are calling me
As the world is round, the road is long
Ive trouble on my mind
Ill just keep on moving
Until the day comes round
The wind a blowing on my back
And my feet a flying
Flying down the road
Where the bright lights shine
Mondays in a pigtown
Tuesdays in a truck
Wednesdays a field of mud
And thursdays out of luck
Fridays rain clouds
Saturday flies by
Sunday comes shining
From a blue blue sky
The bright lights are calling me
The bright lights are calling me
When the world is dark and cold
And Im heading down the road
The bright lights are calling me
Some towns are golden
Some towns are stained
Some towns are shadows
Fading in the rain
Some towns are rust
And some towns they gleam
Some towns are mad dogs
Some towns are a dream
The bright lights are calling me
The bright lights are calling me
When the world is dark and cold
And Im heading down the road
The bright lights are calling me
Some dreams are hollow
Some dreams are cold
Some dreams are crazy
And some dreams are bold
Some dreams are bought
And other dreams are sold
Some dreams lie waiting
At the end of the road
The bright lights are calling me
The bright lights are calling me
When the world is dark and cold
And Im heading down the road
The bright lights are calling me
song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Remember, the Arctic didn't have any ice. And the Northwest Passage was wide open. They were raising grapes in Scotland for God sakes, had a huge winery. Iceland was a farming community. As some of the glaciers retreated they found villages that were covered with ice.
Act of God?
A coin when dropped will
In one second, fall sixteen feet
In two, sixty four
In three, one hundred and forty four.
They were driving back from Sydney
Mum and Dad and their two kids
The freeway was a nightmare
So they took the old road that they did.
The old road’s quite an old road
Been there for many years
The rain was slanting sideways
Being late home was their fear.
It was night and many lights were out
The road was dark and quite awash
Water running everywhere
The kids shrieked with every splash.
A short drive now back to the warmth
Of the house in which they lived
A short drive back now to that home
Where they brought up both their kids.
Just two and three I think they were
A precious time of life
The kids strapped in the back seat
In the front was man and wife.
A dip there in the road appeared
Just where there is a creek
But we’ll be home soon they both said
Both kids were now asleep.
‘Slow down now, that’s deep water’
Said the man unto his wife
Those were the very final words
He would utter in his life.
One hundred feet, one hundred feet
One hundred feet or more
Was the depth of that great puddle
Into which the rain had poured.
It was at a place called Somersby
When the rain had drained away
That they winched up that death carriage
On the following grey day.
Yes, the chasm it was very deep
A Grand Canyon not a puddle
So for everyone upon that road
And every time you loved ones cuddle
Just think of those four driving home
And think of their full fright
And hold each other closely
Each and every single night
We should live for every minute
We should relish every hour
For simple stupid circumstance
Can destroy life’s fragile flower.
A coin when dropped will
In one second fall sixteen feet
In two, sixty four
In three, one hundred and forty four.
It was that deep.
I met the family's best friend in a local pub yesterday. He had just got back from identifying the bodies.
poem by David Keig
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Leopard
Leopards with their spots
Four legged polka dots
Jaguars too have spots
Leopard have densely spots
Jaguars have central spots
You and I call them spots
But Zoologist calls them
'Rosettes' which doesn't rhyme with spots.
Better to call them 'spots'
because it rhymes with 'dots.'
Amalfi
Mountains erupt from the Mediterranean
Pastel buildings cascade down their side
Architecture and the sea acts as prisms
Creating a: kissed by the sun- spectrum of delight;
A handful of villages will be your backdrop
Upon your journey of the Amalfi coast
You will travel the fabled serpentine Amalfi road
Ah, Italia...You are such a wonderful host! ;
Pastel coloured towns-invite you
As they cling to the craggy cliffs most divine
Vertical landscapes are fit for a King
The sandy coves-and brightly coloured villages-sublime;
'Tis home to Ulysses' mythical sirens
The Amalfi coast-calls to you
From the past times ancient ruins
Or cruising the Isle of Capri's waters of blue;
Oh, so many incredible places and food-
Ravello and Positano are but a few
Exquisite to all of ones senses-
Italia, oh Italia-'tis calling you! ;
By, Theodora Onken
February 4,2012
poem by Theodora Onken
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Pylons
Like watchtowers stretching
far past the horizon
big giants of naked blue-grey steel
cut across the fields back to the source of raw power.
Interwoven in houses as a part
of the construction wires run
back to poles on farms,
in villages, towns and cities
and people have the use of electricity
in lights, appliances and machines.
How primitive does life feel
when the spark of lightning for a time is gone,
from the pylons
that hose it down into our existence.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Five Hundred Miles Away From Home
(bobby bare, charlie williams, hedy west)
Tear drops fell on mamas note
When I read the things she wrote
She said, we miss you girl
We love you come on home
Well I didnt have to pack
I had it all right on my back
Now Im five hundred miles away from home
Chorus:
Away from home, away from home
Cold and tired and all alone
Yes, Im five hundred miles away from home
Its hard to tell the state Im in
Where Im going, where Ive been
But theres a dream Ive been following so long
If mama knew the things Ive done
Shed forgive them everyone
But Im still five hundred miles away from home
Repeat chorus
Cant remember when I ate its just thumb and walk and wait
And Im still five hundred miles away from home
If my luck had been just right Id be with them all tonight
But Im still five hundred miles away from home
Repeat chorus
Lord, Im still five hundred miles away from home
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Musings on the North West
Domestic cattle quiet will graze where now the Buffalos roam,
and in spots now covered o'er with Indian Wigwams,
where white men never trod, cities will occupy their
sites with busy trade, and millions throng from Eastern
lands to take possession of the great North-West; then
Winnipeg, perchance, may be the capital of the Domin-
ion. In the days fortold, when this indeed shall be the
'Greater Britain,' with Ontario's towns for work shops
for this vast Prairie land.
' And poets will arise and high their lays will soar,
Worthy of the muse of a Burns or a Moore,'
A Shakespeare and a Milton, the great and the wise
Will sing of the glories of our Northern skies ;
Of its lakes and rivers, and its mountains grand,
Of its fertile plains and great prairie land.
A fit theme for song this empire gigantic
Whose arms stretch from Pacific to Atlantic.
poem by James McIntyre
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Victoria
White Star of Womanhood, whose rays
Thro’ years of peace and years of stress
Shed wide o’er all thy people’s ways
The light of nobleness—
A memory in their hearts impearled
To nerve thy sons where’er they roam—
Empress and Queen o’er half a World,
Yet Angel of the Home.
Now, when the Shadow of Death has crost
The belt of Empire, sea by sea,
The wide world weeps that freedom lost
A friend like thee,
Who strove for righteousness, who wore
A hero’s soul in woman’s breast:
God fold thee, now thy work is o’er,
In robes of rest.
Death came not to thy fearless eyes
A King of Terrors, but a friend,
Whispering: “Long years of sacrifice
At last shall end.
Sleep, for the stress of Life is o’er,
And on thy heart is laid release;
Lay down the Crown of Empire for
The Crown of Peace.”
poem by George Essex Evans
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Midnight
They put away the DDT now
But gave metal to the sea
A hundred years can't wait
A hundred years can't wait another day
The only eagle, only tree
Within a desert that was green
A hundred years can't wait
A hundred years can't wait another day
Midnight
Draws ever near
Daylight
Is fading so fast
It's so close to midnight
Midnight
The melting ice will fuel the sea
By burning gold from ancient tree
A hundred years can't wait
A hundred years can't wait another day
This is progress, this is sin
Injecting poison in her skin
A hundred years can't wait
A hundred years can't wait another day
Midnight
Draws ever near
Daylight
Is fading so fast
It's so close to midnight
Midnight
song performed by by Asia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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