I looked over and saw this man on the extreme right aisle sort of galloping to the podium. He was tall, he was thin, and the way he was galloping it looked as though he was going someplace much more important than the podium.
quote by Betty Shabazz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Galloping Days
Galloping, galloping, galloping horses
Weave thro' our dreaming in burgeoning Spring;
There's sun in our hearts and there's sun on the courses,
And paeans of hope Winter's threnody forces
Over the hill-tops; for joy is a-wing.
Joy is a-wing, and the galloping rhythm
Mingles, alack, with a ruefuller rune,
For winners may rug but the losers run with 'em,
On the galloping, galloping tune.
Galloping, galloping, galloping gladly
Round the white railing and on to the turn,
While keeping in time to it, urgently madly,
Pulses are racing, ecstatic'ly, sadly;
Eyes to the thundering eagerly yearn,
Voice, upraising, are praising, are pleading,
Mid rackets gay jackets flash by and are gone.
Then the field in the sunlight, retreating, receding,
Goes galloping, galloping, galloping on.
Galloping, galloping, galloping; streaming
Now in green distances, seeming to crawl,
Like miniatures moving, like manikins seeming,
While o'er hedge and hollow a bland sun is beaming
Casting a benison over it all.
They run to the 'Distance.' The horses! The horses!
They gallop! They gallop! They turn for the 'Straight!'
They gallop, the hoses! Who nurses remorse is
A runagate cringer to galloping Fate.
Galloping, galloping, galloping ever,
Tho' cheering is over, they gallop amain;
Tho' fact and fond fancy reluctantly sever,
The round of that ultimate, straining endeavor
Still buffets and bludgeons and beats on the brain.
They gallop - Wake up, man! What profits regaining?
Luck lurks in the offing. On, on with the dance.
Aw, tear up your ticket! The sun is still shining.
The next race is starting. Who foots it with Chance?
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Galloping Horses
Oh, this is the week when no rhymster may rhyme
On the joy of the bush or the ills of the time,
Nor pour out his soul in delectable rhythm
Of women and wine and the lure they have with 'em,
Nor pen philosophic if foolish discourses,
Because of the fury of galloping horses.
Galloping, galloping thro' the refrain -
The lure and the lilt of it beat on the brain.
Strive as you may for Arcadian Themes,
The silks and the saddles will weave thro' your dreams.
Surging, and urging the visions aside
For a lyrical lay of equestrian pride,
For the roar of the race and the call of the courses,
And galloping, galloping, galloping horses.
This is the week for the apotheosis
Of Horse in his glory, from tail to proboscis.
That curious quadrupled, proud and aloof,
That holds all the land under thrall of his hoof.
All creeds and conditions, all factions and forces,
All, all must give way to the galloping horses.
Galloping, galloping - sinner and saint
March to the metre, releasing restraint.
If it isn't the Cup it's the Oaks or the Steeple
That wraps in its magic the minds of the people.
Whether they seek it for profit or pleasure,
They all, willy-nilly, must dance to the measure.
The mood of the moment in all men endorses
The glamorous game and the galloping horses
Galloping horses - jockeys and courses
They gallop, we gallop with galloping horses.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Argentna
Argentina.
When I got up and looked out of the window the village was
floating on a cloud. I walked to where the cloud ended and
saw the pampas of Argentine and horses galloping in a circle
around a dead cypress. The horses looked tired and starved,
but could not stop their senseless galloping around the tree.
There were also many dead foals trampled down in the dust.
I was in Buenos Aires once, remember a great ballroom and
a big marble staircase I saw the dictator’s wife walk down it.
She was dressed in white and striking at a distance, but close
up she looked hollow eyed and her skin was yellow. A band
played wiener waltzes, officers and their women danced with
decorum. It was only when thousand guitars struck up a cord,
music born from paucity and dreams to break free and flee,
the dictator’s lady smiled and looked young again.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Like A Tall Thin Girl
Well, I dont care to eat out in smart restaurants.
Id rather do a vindaloo: take away is what I want.
I was down at the old bengal, having telephoned a treat
When I saw her framed in the kitchen door.
She looked good enough to eat.
(and I mean eat.)
She was a tall thin girl.
She looked like a tall thin girl.
She said, ''whose is this carry-out?
My face turned chilli red.
Well, I dont know about carrying out,
But you can carry me off to bed.
(and I mean bed.)
She was a tall thin girl.
She moved like a tall thin girl.
Maybe I can fetch for it,
And maybe I can stretch for it.
I may not be a fat man and Im not exactly small
But when it all comes down, couldnt stand my ground.
This girl was tall.
(and I mean tall.)
Big boy doane, hes a drummer. dont play no tambourine
But hes madras hot on the bongo trot,
If you know just what I mean.
Stands six foot three in his underwear;
Going to get him down here and see
If this good ladys got a little sister 'bout the same size as me.
She was a tall thin girl.
She looked like a tall thin girl.
Well, can I fetch for it?
Well, maybe I can stretch for it?
Well, am I up for it? or do I have to go down for it?
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We looked at each other standing on the podium, and I think we all were tearing up. But we had to keep it cool. I think we did. Then we let out a breath.
quote by Michael Irvin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In some ways, that's the story of my season - when I wasn't making big mistakes, I was winning races and being on the podium. And when I made mistakes I was still fourth or fifth, just off the podium.
quote by Bode Miller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Popular Scrips
If today
one is a galloping horse
to give you a fortune
tomorrow
the same may stand panting dead as an ass
as one sees a galloping scrip
we tend to feel
'ah i should have owned some of it'
strangely though
if you already own the scrip that is galloping
it is time for you to disown it
similarly strange it is
when tomorrow the same stands dead as an ass
you go all out to buy and own it
this aspect of the horse and the ass
in a popular scrip
the galloping and panting
of the popular scrips
keeps the market vibrant
poem by Samanyan Lakshminarayanan
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When I started my program... there was a big clock in the corner and I looked and it said nine o'clock exactly. And it was funny, because when I was standing on the podium, it said exactly 10 p.m., and this whole hour had changed my life.
quote by Sarah Hughes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Galloping Horse
Watching, in sarrow as you gallop away
in your mighty white horse to the endless shimmering sea
I can only watch so long, before breaking down to face away-
mourning the day i went wrong.
In hoping and knowing that youll return
i leave without saying a word
But i turn too soon and forever lost-you become-
in human and in thought
Now i carry such a burden as to have you-
gone from my life, my soul, and my mind
but still in hoping, and knowing that you will not return,
i wait by the sea-searching for a galloping horse
And in dreams i imagine your smile once more,
by the galloping horse
And in visions i see you, returning-
by the galloping horse.
poem by Afrodita Alkline
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Santa Looked A Lot Like Daddy
(Buck Owens & Don Rich)
Well, Santa looked a lot like daddy
Or daddy looked alot like him
It's not the way I had him pictured
Santa was a much too thin
He didn't come down the chimney
So momma musta let him in
Yeah, Santa looked a lot like daddy
Or daddy looked alot like him.
Well they thought I was a sleepin'
They thought I was tucked in bed
They never thought that I'd come a peepin'
Or that I'd hear what was said
Santa put his arm around momma
And momma put her arm around him
So if Santa Claus ain't daddy
Then I'm a gonna tell on them.
Well, Santa looked a lot like daddy
Or daddy looked alot like him
It's not the way I had him pictured
Santa was a much too thin
He didn't come down the chimney
So momma musta let him in
Well, Santa looked a lot like daddy
Or daddy looked alot like him.
I never saw Dancer or Prancer
I never heard the sleigh bells ring
I never saw the red nosed reindeer
Like they show on the TV screen
But he sure bought alot of presents
So Santa Claus he must have been
Well, he sure looked a lot like daddy
And daddy looked alot like him.
Well, Santa looked a lot like daddy
Or daddy looked alot like him
It's not the way I had him pictured
Santa was a much too thin
He didn't come down the chimney
So momma musta let him in
Well, Santa looked a lot like daddy
Or daddy looked alot like him.
Santa looked a lot like daddy
Or daddy looked alot like
Daddy looked alot like him...
song performed by by Travis Tritt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dream Horse
Galloping, galloping in the night sky,
a pale dream horse and his dream herd float by.
There's no sound from their hooves,
There's no pound of their hearts,
as silently, soundlessly, they waft through the dark.
The moon was a chalice brimming with light,
when I first looked up and witnessed their flight.
In a swirl of mother-of-pearl stardust they rode,
and freedom of spirit was their only load.
Dream Horse, you are made of dream dust.
You rear on your hind legs and paw at the sky.
On earth you were a sight to stun the eye.
They say on this planet there is no grace
for you and your wild herds-there's not enough space,
but in endless eternity you've found a place.
So ride, Dream Horse, ride. Whirl by with your
dream herd, through the vast, incandescence of night!
There's no friction or resistance in their noiseless race,
as swiftly they slip through rimless space.
poem by Mary Naylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Carnival Time
Now is the season of Carnival.
Who's for the sunlit course?
Who's for the beat of galloping feet
And the day and the way of the horse?
Who joins the dance, tho' Lady Chance
Pleasure or pain may yield,
Who comes to the call of Carnival?
'Seven to four the field!'
This is the week of the Carnival
And the sign of a brighter dawn
In men's affairs. Who sheds old cares
Where gay frocks fleck the lawn?
Who would forget old days of fret?
Who comes to the call of mirth
And the conquering steeds? ... They're off! Who leads?
And the hoof beats spurn the earth.
Then, Hi! for the height of Carnival,
Gayer than all gone past:
And the nameless fears of the deadening years
Forsake men's minds at last.
Bright jackets flash beneath the sun
As the roar of the crowd begins,
And lifts and swells at a great home run:
'Who leads? Who lasts? Who wins?'
Ho! for the call of Carnival!
Way for the Sport of Kings!
And men, grown sane, turn once again
To all that high hope brings.
Who's for the Carnival? Who grows gay
Where galloping Fortune speeds
Around the turn to gallop our way
With the galloping, galloping steeds?
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Buddha in the Womb
Bobbing in the waters of the womb,
little godhead, ten toes, ten fingers
& infinite hope,
sails upside down through the world.
My bones, I know, are only a cage
for death.
Meditating, I can see my skull,
a death's head,
lit from within
by candles
which are possibly the suns
of other galaxies.
I know that death
is a movement toward light,
a happy dream
from which you are loath to awaken,
a lover left
in a country
to which you have no visa,
& I know that the horses of the spirit
are galloping, galloping, galloping
out of time
& into the moment called NOW.
Why then do I care
for this upside-down Buddha
bobbling through the world,
his toes, his fingers
alive with blood
that will only sing & die.
There is a light in my skull
& a light in his.
We meditate on our bones only
to let them blow away
with fewer regrets.
Flesh is merely a lesson.
We learn it
& pass on.
poem by Erica Jong
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Looked At You
i looked at you,
and saw the fugitive
in my mirror.
i looked at me,
and saw the child in you.
i looked at God,
and saw the stranger waiting.
i looked at the stranger,
and saw my brother in need.
i looked at freedom,
and saw the bars of the cell.
i looked at the bars,
and saw my spirit walk free.
i looked at anger,
and saw forgiveness waiting.
i looked at forgiveness,
and saw the hands of love.
i looked at my body,
and saw the bird leaving the nest.
i looked at the nest,
and saw a world made of straw.
i looked at today,
and saw the scars of yesterday.
i looked at yesterday,
and saw the dawning of tomorrow.
i looked at the seed,
and saw the plant in fullness.
i looked at fullness,
and saw emptiness the seed.
i looked at you...
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Galloping Away As You Wish
When you,
Rise and shine...
With a giving up of all your sorrows,
You will...
Hop on your high horse and ride,
To gallop away as you wish.
When you,
Rise and shine...
With a giving up of all your sorrows,
You will...
Begin to travel on a path,
That leaves behind a saddened past.
You've got to feel more deserving,
To leave behind a saddened past.
You've got to get up the nerve to...
Leave behind a sadness had.
Ride high in that saddle.
And...
Don't look back.
If you wish a better life and want it to last!
All you have to do is ask.
You've got to,
Feel more deserving...
To leave behind a saddened past,
If you wish a better life to be in your hands...
Held on tightly to grasp!
When you,
Rise and shine...
With a giving up of all your sorrows,
You will...
Hop on your horse and ride,
To gallop away to a better life.
When you,
Rise and shine...
With a giving up of all your sorrows,
You will...
Begin to travel on a path,
That leaves behind a sadness had.
You've got to get up the nerve,
To leave behind a sadness past.
Ride high in that saddle,
And...
Don't dare look back!
You've got to feel deserving...
To leave behind a sadness passed,
If you wish a better life to come to you...
At last.
Saddle up on that high horse,
And let it gallop away...
From troubles you've had in your past.
And...
A better life you will have,
Today!
If you...
Ride it high,
You'll be given a momentum lift!
Saddle up on that horse and let it,
Gallop away...
To where you wish.
Gallop away...
To where you wish.
Forget about those troubles that you've have had in the past,
And...
Gallop away to where you wish.
Gallop away to where you wish.
Forget about those troubles that you've have had in the past,
And...
Gallop away to where you wish.
Gallop away to where you wish.
With a galloping away as you wish.
Humming with a hmmm.
And...
Galloping away as you wish.
Humming with a hmmm hmmm.
And...
Galloping away as you wish.
Humming with a hmmm.
And...
Galloping away as you wish.
Humming with a hmmm hmmm.
And...
Galloping away as you wish.
Galloping away as you wish.
Galloping away as you wish.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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British Election
British election
Three men in suit on a podium, they have no shame, all three want to rule
Britain and they tell lies and promise things they cannot keep. Since we are
Serfs at heart we vote for the most aristocratic one forgetting when the loaf
is cut, they keep the slices we get the crumbs. All three men agree about
the war In Afghanistan and it most continue to win the peace and they extol
the brave soldiers who in the end die from an unwinnable war. I should have
been sorry for the soldiers they are mostly un educated working class, and like
the idea of fighting the Taliban. Should they die which they do too often.
There is a great funeral no one does a military send off like the Brits. To end
this war we have to talk to the Taliban, and when we do the suffering of mums
and the deaths of young men have come to nothing. Three well tailored men
on a podium, sing from the same music sheet, produced by newspapers and
everything will be as before in a country where people are made to feel
ashamed of being working class, being told of dependency culture and working
hard when there is no work, and be told how lazy they are.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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I think it was a great moment for America to have two ladies on the podium.
quote by Sarah Hughes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That Cat Won't Sit On Your Lap
She warned me
That cat won't sit on your lap
She won't let you pick her up
And she won't let you sit on your lap
She likes to rub her head on you
But that's it
She won't let you pick her up
The cat looked at me
I looked at her
I let her rub her head on my leg
I look at her again and made a cat noise
She said, you'll see, she doesn't let anybody pick her up
I just looked at the cat
She looked at me
I reached to pick her up and she flinched
But she came back
I looked at her
And picked her up
She arched her back briefly
I rubbed her head, which she liked
The cat stayed on my lap
She said....how did you do that?
I said, I just did!
I looked a the cat
she looked at me
And we agreed not to tell
I put her down
As I did she knowingly looked back at me.
poem by James T. Adair
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In, inside!
In, inside!
And the war came and took you away my love.
Medium, stadium, podium, radium! !
The moment of inspiration,
But, she's gone.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Dreaming The Breasts
Mother,
strange goddess face
above my milk home,
that delicate asylum,
I ate you up.
All my need took
you down like a meal.
What you gave
I remember in a dream:
the freckled arms binding me,
the laugh somewhere over my woolly hat,
the blood fingers tying my shoe,
the breasts hanging like two bats
and then darting at me,
bending me down.
The breasts I knew at midnight
beat like the sea in me now.
Mother, I put bees in my mouth
to keep from eating
yet it did no good.
In the end they cut off your breasts
and milk poured from them
into the surgeon's hand
and he embraced them.
I took them from him
and planted them.
I have put a padlock
on you, Mother, dear dead human,
so that your great bells,
those dear white ponies,
can go galloping, galloping,
wherever you are.
poem by Anne Sexton
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