When I left home, I was going to ride around a little while and then go to my mom's. As I rode and rode and rode, I felt even more anxiety coming upon me about not wanting to live.
quote by Susan Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Wild Love
My wild love went ridin
She rode all the day
She wrote to the devil
And asked him to pay
The devil was wiser
Its time to repent
He asked her to give back
The money she spent
My wild love went ridin
She rode to the sea
She gathered together
Some shells for her head
She rode and she rode on
She rode for a while
Then stopped for an evenin
And lay her head down
She rode on to christmas
She rode to the farm
She rode to japan
And re-entered a town
By this time the weather
Had changed one degree
She asked for the people
To let her go free
My wild love is crazy
She screams like a bird
She moans like a cat
When she wants to be heard
My wild love went ridin
She rode for an hour
She stopped and she rested
And then she rode on
Ride, cmon
song performed by by Doors
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Traveller
As I rode in to Burrumbeet,
I met a man with funny feet;
And, when I paused to ask him why
His feet were strange, he rolled his eye
And said the rain would spoil the wheat;
So I rode on to Burrumbeet.
As I rode in to Beetaloo,
I met a man whose nose was blue;
And when I asked him how he got
A nose like that, he answered, "What
Do bullocks mean when they say 'Moo'?"
So I rode on to Beetaloo.
As I rode in to Ballarat,
I met a man who wore no hat;
And, when I said he might take cold,
He cried, "The hills are quite as old
As yonder plains, but not so flat."
So I rode on to Ballarat.
As I rode in to Gundagai,
I met a man and passed him by
Without a nod, without a word.
He turned, and said he'd never heard
Or seen a man so wise as I.
But I rode on to Gundagai.
As I rode homeward, full of doubt,
I met a stranger riding out:
A foolish man he seemed to me;
But, "Nay, I am yourself," said he,
"Just as you were when you rode out."
So I rode homeward, free of doubt.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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He Rode On a Bus
Since he rode on a bus,
They believed him to be without powerful allies.
Since he rode on a bus,
They believed him to be limited in influence.
Since he rode on a bus,
And lived amongst the poor and not the rich...
He was disrespected more.
But only a few knew,
His worth was more than this.
Even though his funds were limited.
And since he chose to ride on a bus,
He knew he could do what he wished.
His life was not lived to acquire material possessions.
His life was lived for him...
To enjoy every bit of it.
Being there with the people,
As his experience.
And if he rode on a bus...
That was a piece of 'his' happiness.
No explanations did he have to make,
Since for him this was a perfect fit.
Unlike the others,
Who expressed pretentions...
Every chance they would get.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Different Sunset.
Kempton was one of your
Best friends at school he
Was a year older than you
And having had polio it left
Him with a limp and when
He ran it seemed as if he was
Riding an imaginary horse
And to keep up with him
You had to ride one too.
Your horse was brown
And ordinary but his was
White like the one the Lone
Ranger rode and when you
Both came out of the movies
You rode off into the sunset
Together you trying to keep
Up with him as he rode ahead.
You envied his small collection
Of knives. His father brought
Them back from the WW2 taken
From dead Germans and they
Were laid out in his bedroom
Like a small treasure trove big
And small ones and your eyes
Ran over them bound down
With an inner envy. All you had
Was a small penknife which you
Bought out of pocket money
You’d earned running errands
And kept in the loop of your jeans
Where the belt went through.
Kempton rode off into another
Bright sunset from you in 1961.
You think of him now and then
Riding into a different sunset
A young boy amongst old men.
poem by Terry Collett
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~! ! ~! ! ~! ! ~! ! ~! My City
Night rode pillion* in city
Where neighbours meet;
Only in seminars
Night rode pillion in city
Where mortar of fear
Hold bricks together
Night rode pillion in city
Where only sex can be
Legally traded for hunger
Night rode pillion in city
Whose beaches have to answer?
For their wet look
Night rode pillion in city
Where green n white hangs in shame
Rest brazenly flutter
Night rode pillion
Holy are the whores and
righteous are hounded
Night rode pillion in city
Where pillion riding is banned
Night rode pillion in city
Where I mooched sex
From my wife dressed in outage
Night rode pillion in city
Which gulped my love
Without a burp
Night rode pillion in city
Where mothers are kept collateral
To buy some text msgs and gas:
So that night may clandestinely
Ride pillion
* On of the commonest of Karachi’s sight and sounds is a motorbike. It would invariably have a young rider with his friend pillion riding. Pillion riding is a source of entertainment for majority of youth who prowl the city street overnight on their two-wheeler be it a religious, cultural or national occasion or an electrical outage. It is a most usual vehicle for street crimes like drive by shooting, cell phone/car snatching etc. Wrote this during outage when some thousand miles away someone’s “ceiling swam in shadows black when seen through hollow moisture laden eyes.
poem by Frank Lisa IndiRa Francesca Roger Platt Cornish Ma
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I'm a lonely cowboy part one
A LONELY COWBOY, PART ONE
I'm a lonely cowboy, riding all alone,
I'm a lonely cowboy, no love to call my own,
I ride the lonely canyons and the mountains all day long,
looking for the cattle, and singing my lonely song,
no matter where I wander, no matter where I roam,
no matter where I'm riding, I still have no home,
no one to care about me, no one to hold my hand,
I'm just a lonely cowboy, I'm just a lonely man,
I talk to my only companion, I tell him how I feel,
that I want a sweetheart, I want a love thats real,
then he lets out a nicker to say he understands,
that I'm a lonely cowboy, I'm a lonely man,
it's the kind of life I'm living, the kind of life I've had,
it's why the songs I'm singing always seem so sad,
one day she will find me, the one I'm looking for,
then my life of sadness will finally all be o'er.
someone to share the sorrow, someone to share the joy,
someone to fill the emptiness, in this lonely cowboy,
I rode up in Montana, down in Texas too,
I'm going to keep on drifting, till I find a love thats true,
I rode in Colorado, and in Kansas just as well,
I rode in Nebraska my life a lonely hell,
I rode in Arizona and in New Mexico,
then in Oklahoma till I finally had to go
I rode in Wyoming, I rode in old Utah,
I rode in Missouri, now I'll go to Arkansas,
maybe I'll find her in the mountains
or in the high plains,
the woman that I've been needing, to take away my pain,
there will be no other, in this heart of mine,
I know I'll love her only, until the end of time.
written by Harry Bryant
4/16/03 7: 30: 53 AM �
all rights reserved
poem by Harry Bryant
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The Two Soldiers
by Bob Dylan (arr)
He was just a blue-eyed Boston boy,
His voice was low with pain.
"I'll do your bidding, comrade mine,
If I ride back again.
But if you ride back and I am left,
You'll do as much for me,
Mother, you know, must hear the news,
So write to her tenderly.
"She's waiting at home like a patient saint,
Her fond face pale with woe.
Her heart will be broken when I am gone,
I'll see her soon, I know."
Just then the order came to charge,
For an instance hand touched hand.
They said, "Aye," and away they rode,
That brave and devoted band.
Straight was the track to the top of the hill,
The rebels they shot and shelled,
Plowed furrows of death through the toiling ranks,
And guarded them as they fell.
There soon came a horrible dying yell
From heights that they could not gain,
And those whom doom and death had spared
Rode slowly back again.
But among the dead that were left on the hill
Was the boy with the curly hair.
The tall dark man who rode by his side
Lay dead beside him there.
There's no one to write to the blue-eyed girl
The words that her lover had said.
Momma, you know, awaits the news,
And she'll only know he's dead.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two Soldiers
He was just a blue-eyed boston boy,
His voice was low with pain.
Ill do your bidding, comrade mine,
If I ride back again.
But if you ride back and I am left,
Youll do as much for me,
Mother, you know, must hear the news,
So write to her tenderly.
Shes waiting at home like a patient saint,
Her fond face pale with woe.
Her heart will be broken when I am gone,
Ill see her soon, I know.
Just then the order came to charge,
For an instance hand touched hand.
They said, aye, and away they rode,
That brave and devoted band.
Straight was the track to the top of the hill,
The rebels they shot and shelled,
Plowed furrows of death through the toiling ranks,
And guarded them as they fell.
There soon came a horrible dying yell
From heights that they could not gain,
And those whom doom and death had spared
Rode slowly back again.
But among the dead that were left on the hill
Was the boy with the curly hair.
The tall dark man who rode by his side
Lay dead beside him there.
Theres no one to write to the blue-eyed girl
The words that her lover had said.
Momma, you know, awaits the news,
And shell only know hes dead.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He Rode All The Way To Texas
A light shines from my window
I just cant sleep no more
Lord, it hurts so much to be alone
But the real men never do admit
That its them that might be wrong
At least thats what he told me in his song
Chorus:
He rode all the way to texas
On an old freight train
Didnt miss the girl he left behind
He rode all the way to texas
Didnt shed a tear
Hes lettin you know that hes the movin kind
The freedom that he sings about
I guess Ill never know
I just cant shake the guilt or kill the pain
But he lets me ride when the lights turns low
Get on board the radio and take a ride to texas on his train
Repeat chorus
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mostly it would be those who rode in a particular even would hang out with those who rode in the same event.
quote by Chris LeDoux
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A White Horse Of The Most Magical Kind
She rode a white horse,
rode it for sanity;
galloped and cantered
with rhythmic consistency,
walked for a while
along glistening streams
and trotted through dark woods
with the darkest of dreams.
Bridled with a need to express
she rode east and rode west,
never stopping or ceasing her quest,
until she reached
the most beautiful shore,
of a beach of white sand
with a moon in the sky
that reached with its moonlight
into her heart, that had cried.
She dismounted the horse
and danced on the sands
with stars in her eyes;
pure love in her hands.
She looked at her horse
praised it and said
'a horse such as you
is a magical find
a horse that's named poetry
is the most wonderful kind.'
poem by David Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Hidden Heart
AS I rode out of Lochinvar
About me all the scene was fair;
The skies, with not a cloud to mar,
Were filled with fresh and dewy air,
While making song, a merry throng,
The thrushes warbled everywhere.
As I rode out of Lochinvar
Through Fairydom I seemed to go,
For round about, and near and far,
Enchanted lights began to glow;
And where I went, on what intent,
And who I was I did not know!
For lo, I met a troubadour
As I rode out of Lochinvar;
His like on earth is seen no more,
With feathered hat and gay guitar;
And loud and clear, and sweet to hear,
He sang a song of love and war.
As I rode out of Lochinvar
He sang a song I somehow knew,
The while he touched his gay guitar;
And when I asked him, 'Who are you?'
'Yourself!' he said — and bowed his head,
And vanished like the morning dew.
Though I may see him nevermore,
This much in very truth I ken,
That one, at heart a troubadour,
May seem a sober citizen,
Who sets afar his gay guitar
To seem just like his fellow men.
poem by Roderic Quinn
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Judas
Tired of his endless guilt,
He rode his motorbike to Gethsemane
And went out to strangle Jesus.
Coming home at last, he met his girl
And felt the tender swastika of love.
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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The Death Of A Sage
In despair he rode away,
leaving the world behind,
he thought he could bring the light,
but found only a walled in door.
Idols crowded him,
Demanding his Way begone from them,
To leave all minds in their fists.
He rode to find another way to spread his light,
oh Great Master, how far did you ride?
Despair crushed his soul and his Way,
He left us to our gold,
Now we split from him and all.
Without the Way all idols are silent.
Now we are empty of all and the mind has collected mold.
Oh we shall never forget you all wise Sage.
Never forget the Great Master.
poem by Nicholas Abaddon
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The Charge Of The Light Brigade
HALF a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
'Forward, the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns!' he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
'Forward, the Light Brigade!'
Was there a man dismay'd ?
Not tho' the soldier knew
Some one had blunder'd:
Their's not to make reply,
Their's not to reason why,
Their's but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.
Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro' the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reel'd from the sabre-stroke
Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death,
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.
When can their glory fade ?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wonder'd.
Honour the charge they made!
Honour the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred!
.
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Blackjack Davey
1. black jack davey come a-riden on back,
A-whistlin loud and merry.
Made the woods around him ring,
And he charmed the heart of a lady,
Charmed the heart of a lady.
2. how old are you, my pretty little miss,
How old are you, my honey
She answered to him with a lovin smile
Ill be sixteen come sunday,
Be sixteen come sunday.
3. come and go with me, my pretty little miss,
Come and go with me, my honey,
Take you where the grass grows green,
You never will want for money
You never will want for money
4. pull off, pull off them high-heeled shoes
All made of spanish leather.
Get behind me on my horse
And well ride off together,
Well both go off together.
5. well, she pulled off them high-heeled shoes
Made of spanish leather.
Got behind him on his horse
And they rode off together.
They rode off together.
6. at night the boss came home
Inquiring about this lady.
The servant spoke before she thought,
Shes been with black jack dave,
Rode off with black jack davey.
7. well, saddle for me my coal black stud,
Hes speedier than the gray.
I rode all day and Ill ride all night,
And Ill overtake my lady.
Ill bring back my lady.
8. well, he rode all night till the broad daylight,
Till he came to a river ragin,
And there he spied his darlin bride
In the arms of black jack davey.
Wrapped up with black jack davey.
9. pull off, pull off them long blue gloves
All made of the finest leather.
Give to me your lily-white hand
And well both go home together.
Well both go home together.
10. well, she pulled off them long blue gloves
All made of the finest leather.
Gave to him her lily-white hand
And said good-bye forever.
Bid farewell forever.
11. would you forsake your house and home,
Would you forsake your baby?
Would you forsake your husband, too,
To go with black jack davey.
Rode off with black jack davey?
12. well, Ill forsake my house and home,
And Ill forsake my baby.
Ill forsake my husband, too,
For the love of black jack davey.
Ride off with black jack davey.
13. last night I slept in a feather bed
Between my husband and baby.
Tonight I lay on the river banks
In the arms of black jack davey,
Love my black jack davey.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That Rollercoaster Ride I Rode
I'd like to keep,
You...
On my mind.
It's satisfying all the time.
And I'd like to keep,
You...
In my dreams.
To wake up and to see,
You...
Here with me.
I feel that load...
Off of my shoulders.
When you look glowing sunny and bright.
And I'm glad I know,
That...
Rollercoaster ride I rode,
Has ended.
I'd like to keep,
You...
In my dreams.
To wake up and to see,
You...
Near to me.
And I'd like to keep,
You...
On my mind.
It's satisfying all the time.
To know that I am yours and you're mind,
For the rest of our lives.
I'm glad I know,
That...
Rollercoaster ride I rode,
Nonstop until I couldn't let go...
Has finally ended.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Bars Of The County Jail
Gather you all and listen here
Ill tell you a tale if you lend me an ear
I rode a horse through many a town
But the devil rode me down to the ground
I was to marry a very rich girl
I loved her as only I can
But the father was shot and his gold was stoled
And now Im the devils man, na na na
And now I sing a tail of woe
Through the bars of the county jail
I walked into the room one night
I found her mother and gun
Well the man was dead and I kneeled and cried
The sheriff ran in and said Im holding you, son
Through the day I sing and play
For time is on my side
But when the moon and stars come out
I lay me down and cry
For the saviour mar I lied
Now I will not have a ride
Beside the window the scaffold was made
On the morrow I will hang
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Is You is or is You Ain't?
When Washington crossed the Delaware
His dear grand mummy made him swear
To beat those redcoats without restraint.
She said “Is you is or is you ain’t? ”
Now George kinda worried ‘bout the things he’d done.
There were all those bloody battles that he’d won.
He hadn’t always been exactly a saint
But then there was “Is you is or is you? ”
So off he rode into the heat of battle.
Suddenly a cannon ball yanked him from his saddle. When he felt the bump on his head he wanted to faint,
He couldn’t cause there was “Is you is or is you ain’t? ”
Now as the war was turning in favor of George,
He met an old enemy from Valley Forge.
He rode up to him and without restraint,
Said, “Was you is…but now you ain’t! ”
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Riding The Dark Horse
Riding along on the dark horse of sadness.
Each day or night.
The dark horse is my companion.
We ride through life.
On a dark stream of light.
Riding along side is depression.
My second companion.
We ride together in search of happiness.
We never find.
Riding the dark horse through this life.
I'm filled with sorrow.
Tears are inside.
As I reflect on my journey through life.
I see that the dark horse has always been,
what I ride.
The dark horse of sorrow.
Has always been by my side.
I will continue to ride,
The dark horse in this life.
Until I die.
Exchanging the dark horse for white,
as I cross the great divide.
Entering the gates of life on the other side.
Where happiness I may finally find.
Leaving the dark horse of sorrow behind.
Taking the two companions,
sorrow and depression with me.
As I ride to the other side.
Changing their apperance to laughter and joy.
As I dismount on heaven's shore.
Filled with so much joy.
As I look back on my journey.
That I rode to heavens door.
I finally see the beauty of my companions.
That rode with me upon life's shores.
They changed before my eyes.
Becoming laughter and joy.
Beautiful spirits of love to behold.
That rode on the dark horse of life with me.
Till reaching heavens shore.
poem by Weeping Willow
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