Ah, the pleasure, the joy - a big news story that runs and runs, that is played down by some of our journalistic colleagues, saying 'it'll never happen', only to be confirmed by the Home Secretary.
quote by Kamal Ahmed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pain runs through my body
Pain runs through my body, and I don't need anymore.
Pain runs through my body, so leave me alone you whore.
Pain runs through my blood, as I start to bleed.
Pain runs through my body, and love is what I need.
Pain runs through my body, everyday of my life.
Pain runs through my body, as I pick up the knife.
Pain runs through my body, as I put it through my chest.
Pain runs through my body and I think you know the rest.
poem by Ari Castillo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Wild Horse
(r. stewart/a. taylor)
Born and raised
In a motel in new orleans
I ran away
With a hobo and his gypsy friends
We rode a freight train up to cleveland
Across the utah plains
Proud men, troubadours torn and frayed
Sleeping under the stars
While gently strumming guitars
Played the songs of woddy guthrie
And the open road
I knew right then I could never go home
Cause the wild horse runs free forever
Oh yeah, a wild horse runs free forever
And ever and ever
I met a girl
From a family of position and wealth
What a hand
This rambler had been finally dealt
A beauty six years and ten
I felt the walls closing in
Like a swollen river
Bout to overflow
Like a losing gambler I kept on rolling
And a wild horse runs free forever
Yeah yeah yeah
A wild horse runs free forever
The wild horse runs free forever
Yeah yeah yeah
A wild horse runs free forever
Play the guitar
So understand I must go
But Ill drink you one last toast
Oh heres to the heart
And the hands of a man
That come with the dust
And are gone with the wind
May the wild horse run free forever
Yeah the wild horse runs free forever
The wild horse runs free forever
Yeah the wild horse run free forever
Wild guitar, baby, come on, wild
I know, I know, I know, I know
Play it for me, come on.
Yeah, hit it. yeah yeah. let me hear it, yeah.
The wild horse run free ...
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Of, course it always cheers a news editor when a story has what we describe as 'legs' therefore it, erm, runs.
quote by Kamal Ahmed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Karma
I drop a stone into the ocean
Every choice another turn of the screw
Another wheel set in motion
With every single thing I do
Its there in the air that I breathe
Its in my whisper and scream
Inside everything I believe
And its all gonna come around someday
As the smallest stream runs to a river
And every river runs to the sea
So every little bit of love I give to another
You know that I believe it comes back to me
There is no absolution whether Im the garden or the rose
If I aint part of the solution, yeah you know how that goes
You can always leave but you bring it all back home someday
As the smallest stream runs to a river
And every river runs to the sea
So every little bit of love I give to another
You know that I believe it comes back to me
Every single thing I say, everyone that I betray
Any love that I take when I do not make it in return
Every thing I do and every time Ive been unfaithful too
All the things that I believe are lessons I must learn
As the smallest stream runs to a river
And every river runs to the sea
So every little bit of love I give to another
You know that I believe it comes back to me
As the smallest stream runs to a river
And every river runs to the sea
So every little bit of love I give to another
You know that I believe it comes back to me
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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News to the king, good news for all
'NEWS to the king, good news for all,'
The corn is trodden, the river runs red.
'News of the battle,' the heralds call,
'We have won the field; we have taken the town;
We have beaten the rebels and crushed them down.'
And the dying lie with the dead.
'Who was my bravest?' quoth the king,
The corn is trodden, the river runs red.
'Whom shall I honour for this great thing?'
'Threescore were best, where none were worst;
But Walter Wendulph was aye the first.'
And the dying lie with the dead.
'What of my husband?' quoth the bride,
The corn is trodden, the river runs red.
'Comes he to-morrow; how long will he bide?'
'Put off thy bridegear, busk thee in black;
Walter Wendulph will never come back.'
And the dying lie with the dead.
poem by Augusta Davies Webster
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Temporary Secretary
Mister Marks Can You Find For Me
Someone Strong And Sweet Fitting On My Knee
She Can Keep Her Job If She Gets It Wrong
Ah, But Mister Marks I Won't Need Her Long
All I Need Is Help For A Little While
We Can Take Dictation And Learn To Smile
And A Temporary Secretary Is What I Need For To Do The Job
I Need A
Temporary Secretary, Temporary Secretary
Temporary Secretary, Temporary Secretary
Mister Marks Could You Send Her Quick
'Cause My Regular Has Been Getting Sick
I Need A
Temporary Secretary, Temporary Secretary
Mister Marks I Can Pay Her Well
If She Comes Along And Can Stay A Spell
I Will Promise Now That I'll Treat Her Right
And Will Rarely Keep Her 'Til Late At Night
I Need A ..
She Can Be A Belly Dancer
I Don't Need A Need Romancer
She Can Be A Diplomat
But I Don't Need A Girl Like That
She Can Be A Neurosurgeon
If She's Doin' Nothing' Urgent
What I Need's A Temporary, Temporary Secretary
I Need A, I Need A
Temporary Secretary. Temporary Secretary
Temporary Secretary, Temporary Secretary
Temporary Secretary, Temporary Secretary
Now Mister Marks When I Send Her Back
Will You Please Make Sure She Stays On The Right Track
Spoken: Well I Know How Hard It Is For Young Girls These Days In The Face Of Everything To Stay On
The Right Track
What I Need's A Temporary, Temporary Secretary
Temporary Secretary I Need A
Temporary Secretary, Temporary Secretary,
Temporary Secretary I Need A
Temporary Secretary. Temporary Secretary,
Temporary Secretary.
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Name That Runs
Underneath the sea stands a river of silk and milk that runs,
Opening thoughts of you, the dispute of a month that runs.
I have a maze of worries that tortures the depths of the mind,
Offering me a solution shall be the ocean that is the millionth that runs.
One person is one antagonist, the anatomy of whom excretes blood,
Fetching horrible nightmares like those heroes of the labyrinth that runs.
Let the heavens be attached to the barbarians and soldiers,
One masters them as a battle that rages on as the zillionth that runs.
One will escape the rigours of youth to face a war on the frontline,
Battle systems need generals and wizards of the heavens, the seventh that runs.
I have my name engraved like a stone of weight, the grave so morbid,
One masters my writing as if the relics are as morbid as the trillionth that runs.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The way I see it, it's a great thing to be the man who hit the most home runs, but it's a greater thing to be the man who did the most with the home runs he hit. So as long as there's a chance that maybe I can hammer out a little justice now and then, or a little opportunity here and there, I intend to do as I always have — keep swinging.
quote by Hank Aaron
Submitted by anonym
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Love Riding
such a wild horse
sleeps within
just to gallop
just to move fast
as storm
to ransack stone to dust
such the wild hoofs
to break the jaws
the salient feature of untold apache
wild his move awakes
with transmitted warm
aflames to ratify
the dribbling tracks of tunicked soil
to strip off every silence to flag
the flood of noise
pain and pleasure
the wild
wild
runs to ruin
her fathomic far
as if any further awake
bother not his sleep within
runs with gallop
runs to break
runs to implant
the scream never loose
its pacific passion
Pranab k c
04/08/2012
poem by Pranab K. Chakraborty
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Inside Your Head
It's so hard to keep and stay,
Inside your head.
Any wisdom from you runs...
Run, run, runs.
With a running done that comes,
Run, run, runs.
With a running done that comes,
Run, run, runs.
When you open your mouth,
Out it comes...
Something ignorant is done,
Really dumb, dumb.
Something ignorant is done,
Really dumb, dumb.
And you might think your responses are cute.
When you choose something abusive,
To say that's aloof.
And you might think your responses are cute.
When you choose abusive uses,
To say that are loose.
But,
Any wisdom from you runs...
Run, run, runs.
With a running that is done,
Runs, run, run..
With a running that is done,
Run, runs, run.
It's so hard to keep and stay...
Inside your head.
When you open your mouth,
Any face will turn red.
'Cause,
Any wisdom from you runs...
Run, run, runs.
With a running that is done,
Runs, run, run..
With a running that is done,
Run, runs, run.
Any wisdom from you runs.
Run, run, runs.
It's so hard to keep and stay...
Inside your head.
It's so hard to keep and stay...
A wisdom chased away.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Run Crying Into The Night
Addictions in the home, parents fight
A child runs crying into the night
Hand over her mouth, he's there to rape
Woman runs crying into the night
Bullets are flying, kids are dying
Mothers run crying into the night
Bombs are dropping, houses exploding
People run crying into the night
The world turns evil, fear is building
Vicki runs crying into the night
poem by Victoria Dame
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pejar Creek
Deep in the meadow grass
Easy stand the cattle,
Lightly lock the young bulls
In a mimic battle,
Pride gathers with each shock,
Every break and rally -
That’s where the Pejar runs,
Runs like a slip of silver through the valley.
Softly as a thrush sings
In the morning hushes,
Softly sing the waters
Round the reedy rushes,
Softly at the sand-bar,
Softly at the sally -
That’s where the Pejar runs,
Runs like a slip of silver through the valley.
Where awakes the morning
To dapple all the hills,
Where dewdrop, shaken,
Pendant slides and spills,
Where the golden bugles
Sunset calls reveille -
That’s where the Pejar runs,
Runs like a slip of silver through the valley.
Where the springtime blossoms
Like a mellow laughter,
Over all the grasses,
Over ridge and rafter,
Over all the tree-tops,
Down each ferny valley -
That’s where the Pejar runs,
Runs like a slip of silver through the valley.
Where the Pejar rises
Springs the Wollondilly,
Twinned upon the mountains
Babbling brook and ghyllie;
Where the bridge-heads rumble
Side by side they dally -
Out where the Pejar runs,
Runs like a slip of silver through the valley.
poem by Dame Mary Gilmore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When The Money Runs Out/Another Poem Will Not Save Me
When the money runs out
Another poem will not save me-
When the money runs out
The poems will be a bit less poetic-
They will seem more meaningless-
All the years of writing them
Will seem more a waste and an indulgence-
When the money runs out
And I am working or trying to work
For not enough money
And guilty at being in debt
And frightened at not being able to pay on time
The poems will seem another kind of thing entirely
And I will wonder how I could have once given so much time to something
That does not make a cent-
When the money runs out
The poetry may run out with it
I will be the slave of small sums
And have lost my time and dedication
To what I have loved most.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Age Of Dallas
What did it mean
To be young
In the Age of Dallas?
To come home
To the farmhouse?
Ironing strewn
Across the living room
Mother crying
In front of the T.V.
Re-runs of Dealey Plaza.
I remember someone
Mentioning Camelot
Third-grade in Corvallis
My teacher came from Austin
But the School Secretary
Came from the
Principal’s office
Met our teacher
At the classroom door.
Tears
Flushed cheeks
We were filed
Onto the school bus
Solemnly driven home.
(Portland, Oregon 1978)
poem by Justice Putnam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am Of Ireland
'I am of Ireland,
And the Holy Land of Ireland,
And time runs on,' cried she.
'Come out of charity,
Come dance with me in Ireland.'
One man, one man alone
In that outlandish gear,
One solitary man
Of all that rambled there
Had turned his stately head.
That is a long way off,
And time runs on,' he said,
'And the night grows rough.'
'I am of Ireland,
And the Holy Land of Ireland,
And time runs on,' cried she.
'Come out of charity
And dance with me in Ireland.'
'The fiddlers are all thumbs,
Or the fiddle-string accursed,
The drums and the kettledrums
And the trumpets all are burst,
And the trombone,' cried he,
'The trumpet and trombone,'
And cocked a malicious eye,
'But time runs on, runs on.'
I am of Ireland,
And the Holy Land of Ireland,
And time runs on,' cried she.
"Come out of charity
And dance with me in Ireland.'
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Come, Rise Up
No one runs from the Sun thinking it can be done.
No one runs from the Sun thinking it can be done.
No one runs from the Sun thinking it can be done.
No one runs from the Sun thinking it can be done.
Come...
(And) Rise up!
Sunrise to open up eyes,
On the horizon to clear up skies.
Come...
And rise up!
To ease the preaching on the streets that heat...
Philosophies to cease the evils.
Come...
(And) Rise up!
Sunrise to open up eyes,
On the horizon to clear up skies.
Remove all shadows from faith and hope.
And silence folks with soaked mopes stroking!
No one runs from the Sun thinking it can be done.
No one runs from the Sun thinking it can be done.
No one runs from the Sun thinking it can be done.
No one runs from the Sun thinking it can be done.
Come...
(And) Rise up!
Sunrise to open up eyes,
On the horizon to clear up skies...
To ease the preaching on the streets that heat,
Philosophies...
To cease all evils.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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He who runs after good fortune runs away from peace.
Sandpiper
The roaring alongside he takes for granted,
and that every so often the world is bound to shake.
He runs, he runs to the south, finical, awkward,
in a state of controlled panic, a student of Blake.
The beach hisses like fat. On his left, a sheet
of interrupting water comes and goes
and glazes over his dark and brittle feet.
He runs, he runs straight through it, watching his toes.
- Watching, rather, the spaces of sand between them
where (no detail too small) the Atlantic drains
rapidly backwards and downwards. As he runs,
he stares at the dragging grains.
The world is a mist. And then the world is
minute and vast and clear. The tide
is higher or lower. He couldn't tell you which.
His beak is focussed; he is preoccupied,
looking for something, something, something.
Poor bird, he is obsessed!
The millions of grains are black, white, tan, and gray
mixed with quartz grains, rose and amethyst.
poem by Elizabeth Bishop
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She Crawls Away
I fall in she sees me and smiles
Then she starts to hate herself again
She screams something under her breath
That I wouldnt know if she said it outloud
She turns over to start a conversation
With a man that noone else can see
She dreams of loving me sometimes
And it makes me see what weve been missing
Its like I never knew anyone so strong before
She brings the man outa me
And she makes me see that they dont matter
I believe
We see her playin with another
She runs around you and then
Its like the sun goes down and she crawls away again
She wears white pants a miami sweater
Says that she loves the os
So uncle dean will come by
Her smile is like sunshine
Her tears hurt like leather
She runs the show she lets me know
Says its all about being the only
Its like someone said you could have one good thing in your life
She couldnt be your type
I didnt plan for your smile, but you make me laugh when you stand dreamin
I believe, we see her layin with another
She runs around you and then
Its like the sun goes down and she crawls away again
Where were you yesterday
Now that my heart is wild and free
And my lips have room to wander
How can I say your needing me now
When Ive got a plan
I know you dont understand why my heart is sorry know
I believe
We see her laying with another
She runs around you and then
Its like the sun goes down and she crawls
I believe
We see her waiting with another
She runs around you and then
Its like the sun goes down and she crawls away again
song performed by by Hootie & The Blowfish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Millions Like You
Life at times can be filled with turmoil,
not knowing which way it wants to go.
It runs one way and then runs another.
Confusion strikes your mind,
making you unsure what to do.
Whether you want to stay or go with the flow.
There is another alternative
and that is to run away.
Get lost in the far maddening crowd
that seek no pleasures
wherever they wander to
and take solace in the fact
there maybe millions like you,
or you could stay at home
and live with the confusion
that slowly eats away at your soul.
10 April 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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