Homecoming Of A Wanderer (To Bhupen Hazarika)
He returned home through the same village roads,
Some morning declaring his fight against time and its tides,
through which he had gone.
Declaring miles and miles of road shorter than his dreams through which he had gone..
Declaring himself anonymous and wanderer and leaving promises of returning winner.
through which he had gone,,,
He returned.
On his return, the village road saw the same villager and he returned on the same wheels of his dreams
And those dreams were still full of life.
On his return but he was no longer an anonymous, he earned a name which could travel boundaries of land, river, ocean and time as well..
And when he returned he was no longer a wanderer for everywhere he went he left a mark of the river of his village where he belonged and now he owned a home in thousands heart
On his return he was no longer a wanderer
He returned through the same village roads
but not without gifts of eternity..
gifts from the zenith of human limits,,
gifts of pride and honour,,
gifts of travelling the roads of life,,
larger than travelled by any one ever,,,
he returned for he had left with promises of returning to his mother.
For sunset is nowhere more peaceful than the laps of her..
Dedicated to the wanderer,
Related quotes
The Ship That Never Returned
On a summer's day while the waves were rippling, with a quiet and a gentle breeze;
A ship set sail with a cargo laden for a port beyond the sea.
Did she ever return? No, she never returned, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
There were sad farewells, there were friends forsaken, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander on a ship that never returned.
Did she ever return? No, she never returned, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
Said a feeble lad to his aged mother, I must cross that deep blue sea,
For I hear of a land in the far off country, where there's health and strength for me.
Did she ever return? No, she never returned, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
'Tis a gleam of hope and a maze of danger, and our fate is still to learn,
And a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
Did she ever return? No, she never returned, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
Said this feeble lad to his aged mother, as he kissed his weeping wife,
"Just one more purse of that golden treasure, it will last us all through life.
Did she ever return? No, she never returned, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
"Then we'll live in peace and joy together and enjoy all I have earned."
So they sent him forth with a smile and blessing on a ship that never returned.
Did she ever return? No, she never returned, and her fate is still unlearned,
But a last poor man set sail commander, on a ship that never returned.
poem by Henry Clay Work
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A Homeless Man's Departure
After the Rebellion of 755, all was silent wasteland,
gardens and cottages turned to grass and thorns.
My village had over a hundred households,
but the chaotic world scattered them east and west.
No information about the survivors;
the dead are dust and mud.
I, a humble soldier, was defeated in battle.
I ran back home to look for old roads
and walked a long time through the empty lanes.
The sun was thin, the air tragic and dismal.
I met only foxes and raccoons,
their hair on end as they snarled in rage.
Who remains in my neighborhood?
One or two old widows.
A returning bird loves its old branches,
how could I give up this poor nest?
In spring I carry my hoe all alone,
yet still water the land at sunset.
The county governor's clerk heard I'd returned
and summoned me to practice the war-drum.
This military service won't take me from my state.
I look around and have no one to worry about.
It's just me alone and the journey is short,
but I will end up lost if I travel too far.
Since my village has been washed away,
near or far makes no difference.
I will forever feel pain for my long-sick mother.
I abandoned her in this valley five years ago.
She gave birth to me, yet I could not help her.
We cry sour sobs till our lives end.
In my life I have no family to say farewell to,
so how can I be called a human being?
No Longer Adrift
No longer adrift, I have returned;
Returned to the place of my birth,
The origin of my love's declaration.
I have returned to the sweetfullness
Of timelessness, on nature's breast
Yearned and in mourning, as since scorned.
But I still have my faith, I still have my love,
For the voices they speak to me, through your words.
poem by Harriet James
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I Am An American Still, I Suppose
Rain comes and Darkness with it
I came here a few days ago
As a stranger
And already I am at home.
Miles and miles of Memories
Roads I have traveled
And returned to.
Nothing I was and am and ever will be
Is foreign to me.
I am an American still,
I suppose.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Love's Unrequited Paradoxicity
Love of the unrequited type...
Ah! How paradoxical it be!
Even more paradoxical
Than that of the returned type...
return to me my boomerang
if ironic paradox be
bring on your wings an offering
return to set this captive free
Love is love whether returned or not.
It gives all meaning to life,
But when not returned
It drives us into insanity!
Constantly contemplating
Upon what may or may not be...
provide a reason, supply a rhyme
keep despair exiled forever
to hearts a breathe of gentle clime
elixir to heart's endeavour
If you have not experienced
This type of love,
This unrequited love
Then you shall not understand
The joyous part.
You will think it all tragic.
But there is a joyous part!
you freely give from joyous grace
once prisoner of love withheld
escape on wings of kiss' embrace
receive twin souls, tender fire meld
Love is love whether returned or not.
my need reaches to the heavens
despaired reply from there to find
where is that spark this chest quickens
love without truth is love unkind
Whether that person feels the same or not,
I still love her, and to have someone
That I love so much,
Brings certain joy unto me...
But certain grief to not recieve the love in return...
It is the most tragic grief
And the most joyous joy
At the same time!
Love, paradox of paradoxes!
poem by Frederick Kesner
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I'm Alive (That Was The Day My Dead Pet Returned To Save My Life)
I was just kicking down the street
And the sun was in my eyes
So I couldn't see the truck
That was sixty times my size
And just seconds off from splattering me
Let me tell you
I was so scared I couldn't move
Like my boots were full of glue
Then I felt a little tug
And I thought of good Old Blue
And he pulled me from that catastrophe
That was the day
My dead pet returned to save my life
I'm alive
He's alive
I'm alive
I was spitting in the canyon
Near the cliff up on the mountain
When an unexpected sneeze
Hung me in the breeze
At forty five degrees in the sky
Suddenly I felt something
Had me by the belt
And in between my praying
Swore I heard a stallion neighing
Was the ghost of my horse
And I cried, yes I cried
That was the day
My dead pet returned to save my life
That was the day
My dead pet returned to save my life
I'm alive
He's alive
Hey, I'm alive
Things were getting gory
Got caught on territory
Belonging to the Crutches
In an alley in their clutches
Looking kind of dismal that night
Well the leader's name was Fats
Swinging broken baseball bats
Things got really frantic
Starting jumping in their panic
That was the day
My dead pet returned to save my life
That was the day
My dead pet returned to save my life
I'm alive, I'm alive, real alive
That was the day my dead pet returned
That was the day my dead pet returned
That was the day my dead pet returned
That was the day my dead pet returned
To save my life
Hallucinating billions of rats
Lots of rats
I'm alive, I'm alive
He's alive, he's alive, he's alive
I'm alive, yeah
He's alive, he's alive
I'm alive, real alive
Alive, alive, alive
Alive, alive, alive, alive
Alive, alive, alive, alive
I'm alive
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Walk of a stream (from the mad man's song)
A few drops of ink were trying to flow out into a blend of black and white...
A few waves of music were trying to reach to their strings, , ,
to write and sing of emptiness, a little mine and a little yours...
In what is no longer, seeking a place I walk and then I meet mine...
In your flight you try to make a litlle of the sky yours..
then you meet thine....
A few drops of ink dried..
A few wings of failed flight...
Thus of our emptiness we wrote and sang...
Life has often told to me its strange tales..
Sometimes it has called me by my name..
sometimes it has made me meet my soul...
One day though it walked in and halted my travel of the day..
So there I had to stay...
I realised only on nightfall just above was moon to appear
So was I made to stay...
life has often told to me its strange tales...
When someday you would realise after time has but gone away long,
that you should not have departed, and then decide to return
to the place you left....
You may not find me waiting for you, , ,
Deep beneath the bosom of the sands of desert
walks a stream...
seeking the thirst of the wanderer
and in a oasis they meet...
Longer the thirst has traveled with the wanderer,
stronger shall be the bliss of the meeting...
We shall someday meet, some day other..........
A rainbow is neither lost nor formed...
Its that some day seven colors meet and they are indigo, ,
other day just seven strangers....
When into sunset, evening plays its flute, , ,
and shadows of memories past and dreams of times to come
start to hide and seek among the woods of your heart....
fall in love with the way the sun welcomes the night
For the route to red petals walk through the charm of thorns...
and if unpricked you were to walk
You would reach but faded rose, dead with time...
Melody may be the music of the ocean, sea or river bear...
distance may be the dreams of the water of their...
Drops but must love the walk of a stream...
Several weathers in spring
Several weathers in spring
~
a spring morning began
clouds broke for the sun
and returned to claim the sky
rain fell into a shower of hail
and the wind blew it all dry
the sun returned for a spell
and quickly went away
people spoke of sleet and snow
where it fell elsewhere
I had heard or was told
in the room, behind the window
nothing seemed to change
the temperature was modest
and the air still and dry
it was only the picture changing
dependent on the weather
before the light slowly left
and we returned to the night
poem by Matthew Holloway
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A fish out of water in water.
I returned to the native
To spend the rest of my life
With the same warmth
And with the same anguish
With which I had once left.
Everything looked alien.
No one is known
To no one am I known.
A fish felt out of water
When it returned to water
02.01.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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One Man
Deserted now: The village stands.
The plague has taken everyone
But still the work of human hands
preserved in every stick and stone.
The bodies long returned to dust.
No living soul now dare come near
Their fear still holds in check their lust
though there is nothing left to fear.
The plague died when the people died.
There was no one to pass it on
Natures laws cannot be denied.
The pestilence is long since gone
In time they will re occupy
the empty village and renew
its heart and soul.They will supply
the busy life that once it knew.
But until then the houses wait
for men to overcome their fear.
In time men will appreciate
that they will be most welcome here.
All that it takes is one brave man
to move in and claim for his own.
A house to share with his woman.
Others will follow when they’re shown.
That it is safe to settle here.
Although the houses need repair
and that there is nothing left to fear.
It only needs one man to dare.
21-Aug-07
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Wanderer
Oh well Im the type of guy who will never settle down
Where pretty girls are well, you know that Im around
I kiss em and I loveem cause to me theyre all the same
I hug em and I squeeze em they dont even know my name
They call me the wanderer yeah the wanderer
I roam around around around...
Oh well theres flo on my left and theres mary on my right
And janie is the girl with that Ill be with tonight
And when she asks me which one I love the best
I tear open my shirt I got rosie on my chest
cause Im the wanderer yeah the wanderer
I roam around around around...
Oh well I roam from town to town
I go through life without a care
til Im as happy as a clown
With my two fists of iron and Im going nowhere
Im the type of guy that likes to roam around
Im never in one place I roam from town to town
And when I find myself a-fallin for some girl
I hop right into that car of mine and ride around the world
Yeah Im the wanderer yeah the wanderer
I roam around around around...
Oh yeah Im the type of guy that likes to roam around
Im never in one place I roam from town to town
And when I find myself a-fallin for some girl
I hop right into that car of mine and ride around the world
Yeah cause Im a wanderer yeah a wanderer
I roam around around around...
cause Im a wanderer yeah a wanderer
I roam around around around...
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I
I am the son of my village, ,
I am born in the dreams of my father
and my childhood is his craft,
and the blossoming of my mother's garden.
So, often in my journey the fragrances of my village soil nourish me,
the messages of my mother hug me
and I draw warmth.....
I am the definition of my dreams, , ,
dreams those are birth less, ,
dreams ageless, ,
dreams those are indifferent to failure and success..
dreams those can decorate each of life's blank page, , ,
I am my best companion, , ,
Though I cannot hold my own hands, ,
I am my only guide, ,
In each of my failure and victory, ,
I have taken guard and declared to them they
aren't important to me more than myself...
I have invited myself to newness and gifted myself a new quest,
I am my best friend, ,
I am my strongest critic
and I am my deepest lover, , ,
drinking my own blood, sweat and tears, , ,
believe me, I have nullified the chances of betrayal....
I am a lover, , ,
though I have never met love...
for love is a statue and so it stays,
I am son of my village
On the palms of infinite I travel from nowhere to nowhere..
I am the song of the sky, , ,
and my pain is deeper than blue, ,
I have been friend of my father, , ,
and lover of my mother.
I am the son of my village..
So often in the journey
the fragrances of village soil nourish me,
and I draw warmth
Village Green
Out in the country,
Far from all the soot and noise of the city,
Theres a village green.
Its been a long time
Since I last set eyes on the church with the steeple
Down by the village green.
twas there I met a girl called daisy
And kissed her by the old oak tree.
Although I loved my daisy, I saw fame,
And so I left the village green.
I miss the village green,
And all the simple people.
I miss the village green,
The church, the clock, the steeple.
I miss the morning dew, fresh air and sunday school.
And now all the houses
Are rare antiquities.
American tourists flock to see the village green.
They snap their photographs and say gawd darn it,
Isnt it a pretty scene?
And daisys married tom the grocer boy,
And now he owns a grocery.
I miss the village green,
And all the simple people.
I miss the village green,
The church, the clock, the steeple.
I miss the morning dew, fresh air and sunday school.
And I will return there,
And Ill and daisy,
And well sip tea, laugh,
And talk about the village green.
We will laugh and talk about the village green.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jephthah Judge of Israel
Have you not heard these many years ago,
Jeptha was judge of Israel?
He had one only daughter and no mo,
The which he loved passing well.
And as by lott,
God wot,
It so came to pass,
As Gods will was,
That great wars there should be,
And none should be chosen chief but he.
And when he was appointed judge,
And chieftain of the company,
A solemn vow to God he made,
If he returned with victory,
At his return,
To burn
The first live thing,
****
That should meet with him then,
Off his house when he should return agen.
It came to pass, the wars was o'er,
And he returned with victory;
His dear and only daughter first of all
Came to meet her father foremostly:
And all the way
She did play
On tabret and pipe,
Full many a stripe,
With note so high,
For joy that her father is come so nigh.
But when he saw his daughter dear
Coming on most foremostly,
He wrung his hands, and tore his hair,
And cryed out most piteously:
'Oh! it's thou,' said he,
'That have brought me Low,
And troubled me so,
That I know not what to do.
'For I have made a vow,' he sed,
'The which must be replenished;'
****
'What thou hast spoke
Do not revoke,
What thou hast said;
Be not afraid;
Altho' it be I,
Keep promises to God on high.
'But, dear father, grant me one request,
That I may go to the wilderness,
Three months there with my friends to stay;
There to bewail my virginity;
And let there be,'
Said he,
'Some two or three
Young maids with me.'
So he sent her away,
For to mourn, for to mourn, till her dying day.
poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Envoys from Alexandria
They had not seen, for ages, such beautiful gifts in Delphi
as these that had been sent by the two brothers,
the rival Ptolemaic kings. After they had received them
however, the priests were uneasy about the oracle. They will need
all their experience to compose it with astuteness,
which of the two, which of such two will be displeased.
And they hold secret councils at night
and discuss the family affairs of the Lagidae.
But see, the envoys have returned. They are bidding farewell.
They are returning to Alexandria, they say. And they do not ask
for any oracle. And the priests hear this with joy
(of course they will keep the marvellous gifts),
but they also are utterly perplexed,
not understanding what this sudden indifference means.
For they are unaware that yesterday the envoys received grave news.
The oracle was given in Rome; the division took place there.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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a village in Iberia
A Village in Iberia
Drove to the village where I was born, hadn’t been there
for forty years, the lane was muddy and houses deserted;
this village had been abandoned long time ago; what was
I thinking of coming here? A tree had grown right through
our cottage, roof smashed now walls were tumbling down.
Puny human dwellings, here today and gone in less than
Ten decades, the tree seemed to say. What a nostalgic fool
I’m, this idea of returning, rebuild the old house and live
here in happy retirement.
This was no longer a village but a graveyard, houses were
tombstones of a past that had nothing to offer but poverty,
glassless window resembled crosses of a defunct faith.
I sat on a stone smoking a cigarette the aroma of wafted
through the drab silence, from behind a broken wall a dog
came, young, and it looked eerily like Stella the dog I loved
all those years ago, don’t tell me she has waited for five
dog generations, to return from the wasteland of eternity
just for me?
“I’ll call you Stella”, I said and stroked the dog’s head.
She knitted her brows together as to say, “What else? ”
I opened the right hand car door, Stella jumped in like she
had done this a thousand time before, drove off and didn’t
look back once, the only memory I need of my childhood,
was alive and snoozing in the seat beside me.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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You Were Gone
Emptiness has covered my mind.
You were gone.
This was any way expected.
What I never thought,
That you would disappear
Behind the silence much before.
I returned from your door,
Time and again.
The belief made me wait.
Your call to return though never came.
Now many miles away,
Only wall of impossibility reigns.
poem by Kingshuk Chakraborty
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God's....
what you have taken which is
not yours
shall be returned
with all the penalties and interest
and surcharges
what you have given with a meek heart
shall be returned too
in the same manner
but this Time it is God
that gives you more than
you can ever expect
must you choose greed then?
must you stick to avarice?
you give a seed
then you shall have a tree filled with fruits
and even birds
nest there and find their rest
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Village
A Village in Iberia
Drove to the village where I was born, hadn’t been there
for forty years, the lane was muddy and houses deserted;
this village had been abandoned long time ago; what was
I thinking of coming here? A tree had grown right through
our cottage, roof smashed now walls were tumbling down.
Puny human dwellings, here today and gone in less than
Ten decades, the tree seemed to say. What a nostalgic fool
I’m, this idea of returning, rebuild the old house and live
here in happy retirement.
This was no longer a village but a graveyard, houses were
tombstones of a past that had nothing to offer but poverty,
glassless window resembled crosses of a defunct faith.
I sat on a stone smoking a cigarette the aroma of wafted
through the drab silence, from behind a broken wall a dog
came, young, and it looked eerily like Stella the dog I loved
all those years ago, don’t tell me she has waited for five
dog generations, to return from the wasteland of eternity
just for me?
“I’ll call you Stella”, I said and stroked the dog’s head.
She knitted her brows together as to say, “What else? ”
I opened the right hand car door, Stella jumped in like she
had done this a thousand time before, drove off and didn’t
look back once, the only memory I needed of my childhood,
was alive and snoozing in the seat beside me.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Guest
Guest came and returned back
I am unlucky not able to know
And slept.
Guest came and returned back
I lost all the beauty and richness
That I have kept.
Guest came and returned back.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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