The Manse Gate
At a wave of his hand, with his eye on the traffic,
Underneath his yellow helmet head,
the bulldozer, lifting its beak
Came down upon the old Manse gate,
And in a second, with its pillars
And walls, were rubble for the road,
foundation.
Contributing to its raiso d'etre, passe.
you leave Marlay Park, on the Grange Road side,
the exit gate, facing what was a Manse,
you could have seen it,
a status of Gentry.
Those walls kept in an ethos,
those gate let in a class,
of carriages and conversation.
To a long, winding, Elms driveway,
the Manse well gone.
And now the gates too,
at the dropp of a hand, the wave,
of a young man, helmetted in yellow,
And a cigarette swinging in the spare hand,
as the clear road allows the beak of progress
move away a century of style.
Then he looks to wave me on,
And holding in his hand, pulling on the
smoke,
nods the beak towards the wall,
the highways now ready for foundation.
History is history at a glance.
poem by Bernard Kennedy
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Related quotes
The Dog Who Wants To Get Out Of The House
the Japanese fritz
is brown
the gate is closed
and it waits
for an exit by chance
there is so much
road to run
outside the walls
as i open the gate
it raises its head
and starts to scratch
the cemented
floor
i go out alone without
the dog
the gate is closed again
i carry with me
a feeling that i cannot
yet describe
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Lonely Old Road
I went down a lonely old road,
They said was keeping me home,
One day I will know about,
Down that lonely old road I was to be told,
How come no one told me to go down this lonely old road?
I felt that I didn't know anything beyond this lonely old road,
Come to think of it,
I don't because this lonely old road,
Is all I know,
No one told me about this darn lonely old road,
I tried to keep my head held high,
Gravity pressed my head down,
I was walking around,
Saying I'm walking down this lonely old road,
If you should ever see me,
All you have to do is wave that hand of yours,
Telling me to go down this lonely old road,
I might smirk at first,
Because you told me to go down this lonely old road,
But you also heard me out,
Before I went on this journey,
On this lonely old road,
Just know that one day,
I'll get off this lonely old road,
I'll have something to show,
About this lonely old road.
poem by Qeeony Luv
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Flower-De-Luce: Hawthorne
How beautiful it was, that one bright day
In the long week of rain!
Though all its splendor could not chase away
The omnipresent pain.
The lovely town was white with apple-blooms,
And the great elms o'erhead
Dark shadows wove on their aerial looms
Shot through with golden thread.
Across the meadows, by the gray old manse,
The historic river flowed:
I was as one who wanders in a trance,
Unconscious of his road.
The faces of familiar friends seemed strange;
Their voices I could hear,
And yet the words they uttered seemed to change
Their meaning to my ear.
For the one face I looked for was not there,
The one low voice was mute;
Only an unseen presence filled the air,
And baffled my pursuit.
Now I look back, and meadow, manse, and stream
Dimly my thought defines;
I only see--a dream within a dream--
The hill-top hearsed with pines.
I only hear above his place of rest
Their tender undertone,
The infinite longings of a troubled breast,
The voice so like his own.
There in seclusion and remote from men
The wizard hand lies cold,
Which at its topmost speed let fall the pen,
And left the tale half told.
Ah! who shall lift that wand of magic power,
And the lost clew regain?
The unfinished window in Aladdin's tower
Unfinished must remain!
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Untraveled
As my world had slowly unraveled,
From taking a road that was untraveled,
Narrow up ahead was the way
I had only my belief and I did pray,
Forward in front of me was the only gate
I took nothing to chance, or even to fate.
I now know not to walk with sin,
Never will I walk with it ever again,
So all alone on the road I did walk
Without sinning or immorality so to myself I did talk,
No other person was in my thoughts or my sight
As no one was at my left, or on my right.
Another road I noticed not very far away,
I saw liars and sinners and those ready to betray,
Their road was long and it was very wide
People walked it with a happiness and also with pride,
Their upcoming gate was crooked, rusted and bent
Sadly not one soul was sorry, or wanted to repent.
As I walk the road that is seldom traveled,
My life in front of me then became unraveled,
It shows the life that I have lived and also led
Now my life and my redemption is on my head,
As I headed for the final entrance gate
To find my hereafter, as heaven will await.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Coronation
At the king's gate the subtle noon
Wove filmy yellow nets of sun;
Into the drowsy snare too soon
The guards fell one by one.
Through the king's gate, unquestioned then,
A beggar went and laughed, 'This brings
Me chance, at last, to see if men
Fare better being kings.'
The king sat bowed beneath his crown,
Propping his face with listless hand;
Watching the hour-glass sifting down
Too slow its shining sand.
'Poor man, what wouldst thou have of me?'
The beggar turned, and pitying,
Replied, like one in dream, 'Of thee,
Nothing. I want the king.'
Uprose the king, and from his head
Shook off the crown, and threw it by.
'O man, thou must have known,' said he,
'A greater king than I.'
Through all the gates, unquestioned then,
Went king and beggar hand in hand.
Whispered the king, 'Shall I know when
Before
his
throne I stand?'
The beggar laughed. Free winds in haste
Were wiping from the king's hot brow
The crimson lines the crown had traced.
'This is his presence now.'
At the king's gate, the crafty noon
Unwove its yellow nets of sun;
Out of their sleep in terror soon
The guards waked one by one.
'Ho here! Ho There! Has no man seen
The king?' The cry ran to and fro;
Beggar and king, they laughed, I ween,
The laugh that free men know.
On the king's gate the moss grew gray;
The king came not. They called him dead;
And made his eldest son one day
Slave in his father's stead.
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
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There Are Walls Between Us
brother, there are walls between us
needles of rain between our faces
when i touch your hand
you seem so far away
like an island to another island
without a boat
just a telescope.
you expect too much, like the way you want me
to devote all the attention you need:
every need,
every discomfort,
every uneasiness,
every asking ungiven seems to be unforgiven
i resign.
i stop
from this unfair brotherhood
that you
impose upon me
there are walls and walls that you are building now
and i cannot see and hear you anymore
you built them
i won't destroy them and i will not ask the reasons why
we deserve a distance, a far away distance, perhaps
for us to rethink
what brotherhood is all about
it is not a one-way traffic i suppose so
you must understand it as i do
i am going inside this road with my own car
you take yours and we meet halfway
keep those walls, they are yours
i keep this road, this bridge, this open space
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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One Road
One road to happiness
One road to loneliness
The devils hand or the promised land
Which one will you choose
Life is a strange thing
It can make you happy or sad
Theres two roads that you can take
The good one or the bad
One road to happiness
One road to loneliness
The devils hand or the promised land
Which one will you choose
You may take the long road
Lots of people do
But you will find no peace of mind
Till jesus comes to you
One road to happiness
One road to loneliness
The devils hand or the promised land
Which one will you choose
If you take the bad road ,you will never see
The happiness that you would find through all eternity
One road to happiness
One road to loneliness
The devils hand or the promised land
Which one will you choose
One road to happiness
One road to loneliness
The devils hand or the promised land
Which one will you choose
song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beak Kind To Birds!
Beak kind to birds both near and far,
Both high and low as well...
To me, each bird's a superstar!
In fact, to me, they're swell!
Beak kind to birds and show you care
With titbits now and then...
And watch with wonder as they share
Their breakfast once again!
Beak kind and keep your cats at bay...
Else feeding birds take flight!
It's nicer seeing birds at play
Than watching them take fright!
Beak kind to birds, give them their space
So they may co-exist...
For none on Earth can take their place,
So they'd be sorely missed!
Beak kind to birds, they'll flock to you -
They're all our feathered friends!
It doesn't matter, black or blue...
Beak kind - 'cos it makes sense!
poem by Denis Martindale (2003)
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This Space Between the Gate, the Garden Lovely - Eternal Rounds of Determined Variations
.
...variations determined of rounds eternal -
lovely garden the gate
the between space
this...
All
this space between the gate and the garden lovely
within the hole of the ring in the breath flung in
the dirt's cool dank breath
the hand of the digger becomes the tree
shall hang
language surpasses itself breaks
upon its own weight like the empty shell of the beetle
little is the frame we live within the tiny world
the wave of the wind ripple in the mind and Mind
the barn side the vague window pane opening upon
the living the dead artifacts
All
All
is here everywhere in the ring in the hand in the dirt
and out the grave house underneath
thanks the air and pass the leaves
becomes the sign upon which all breathing things
upon its own weight like the empty shell of the beetle
walks upon Vast the space it partakes of making
turns to the dropp of rain the flaked paint of the
eternal scene of stones breathing becoming bread
All
All
the living the dead artifacts
the barn side the vague window pane opening upon
the wave of the wind ripple in the mind and Mind
little is the frame we live within the tiny world
shall hang language shall surpass itself break
the hand of the digger become the tree
the dirt's cool dank breath
within the hole of the ring in the breath flung in
this space between the gate and the garden lovely
All
All
eternal scene of stones breathing becoming bread
turns to the dropp of rain the flaked paint
walks upon Vast the space it partakes of making
upon its own weight the empty shell of the beetle
becomes the sign upon which all breathing things
thanks the air and pass the leaves
and out the grave house underneath
All
All
this space between the gate and the garden lovely
is here everywhere in the ring in the hand in the dirt
the living the dead artifacts
eternal scene of stones breathing becoming bread
eternal rounds of determined variations...
poem by Warren Falcon
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The History of Man
The history of man is fraught
With violent conflict, all for naught!
The young and brash each other thrash,
Climbing to the climactic clash!
Wave after wave all churn and lash!
Wave after wave all turn to ash!
So many stabbed, so many shot,
So many murdered, all for naught!
poem by Joshua Dinkin
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Only If God Says Yes
Choices that we make in life
May take us far
Chances that we take tonight
May lead us into darken places
But at the end of Godly choices
Are higher dreams
But in the game of chance
Theres only a guilty wave or stream
Sometimes I don't know which road I should take
Sometimes I don't know which move I should make
But it's only if God says yes
I'll make my move
And it's only if God says yes
Then I will choose
For it's only if God would just
Bow his head
Then I will do it
Thats what I will do
I started down the right road
Only to end up wrong
The endless journey carried me so far away
From my home and family
But I'm learning I was never meant to go alone
Neither was it meant for me to go on my own no
Sometimes I don't know which road I should take
Sometimes I don't know which move I should make
I'll never go on my own
I'll never go all alone
Sometimes I don't know which road I should take
Sometimes I don't know which move I should make
But it's only if God says yes
I'll make my move
For it's only if God says yes
Then I will choose
For it's only if God would just answer me
And it's only if God would just hear my plead
And it's only if God would just bow his head
Then I will do it
That's what I will do
That's what I will do
song performed by by Yolanda Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Only If God Says Yes
Choices that we make in life
May take us far
Chances that we take tonight
May lead us into darken places
But at the end of Godly choices
Are higher dreams
But in the game of chance
Theres only a guilty wave or stream
Sometimes I don't know which road I should take
Sometimes I don't know which move I should make
But it's only if God says yes
I'll make my move
And it's only if God says yes
Then I will choose
For it's only if God would just
Bow his head
Then I will do it
Thats what I will do
I started down the right road
Only to end up wrong
The endless journey carried me so far away
From my home and family
But I'm learning I was never meant to go alone
Neither was it meant for me to go on my own no
Sometimes I don't know which road I should take
Sometimes I don't know which move I should make
I'll never go on my own
I'll never go all alone
Sometimes I don't know which road I should take
Sometimes I don't know which move I should make
But it's only if God says yes
I'll make my move
For it's only if God says yes
Then I will choose
For it's only if God would just answer me
And it's only if God would just hear my plead
And it's only if God would just bow his head
Then I will do it
That's what I will do
That's what I will do
song performed by by Yolanda Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Other Hand...
the black man's hand,
the poor man's hand.
the Muslim hand, the Jewish hand...
the gay man's hand,
the working man's hand,
the ex-convict's hand,
the farmer's hand, the garbage man's hand...
the Christian's hand, the atheist's hand,
the father's hand, the soldier's hand,
the peacemaker's hand,
the healer's hand, the teacher's hand,
the prodigal's hand, even the murderer's hand...
the victim's hand, the broken hand,
the praying hand, the touching hand...
all, when extended,
feel like my other hand!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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A lane in England
In autumn I walked in England
in a lane full of trees
where leaves lay auburn
on a road wet from rain.
Barren, stripped oak trees
were between other green ones
and it was as if I was going
right through a tunnel
with here and there trees
of which the leaves were more yellow.
In the distance the road bended to the right
where a bush fence
cut neatly square
and telephone poles
ran along the edge of the road
and the green moss banks
were covered with auburn leaves
at places
and on the other side
of the road
a shrub stretched out green and long
like a sausage
that was lying next to the road
and I would love
to have a lane like that
next to my driveway.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Hand-Me-Down!
got my hand-me-down boots,
and my hand-me-down jeans.
my broke down hand-me-down hat,
doing hand-me-down things.
my hand-me-down fire,
and my hand-me-down pot.
take a hand-me-down chair,
i'll share what i've got.
got some hand-me-down thoughts,
a couple of hand-me-down songs.
i've got a hand-me-down heart
that wont leave you alone.
we'll talk about hand-me-down freedom,
and hand-me-down truth....
in this hand-me-down world,
it's just me and you!
in this hand-me-down world....
paying hand-me-down dues!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Warning Bells
Warning Bells
Reaching for that bottle, your hand on that throttle,
getting ready to ride without a guide,
down that road, that road to hell.
Wake up before it's too late,
before you reach that gate.
Let go of the hate,
think of your mate.
Looking at life through the bottom of a bottle,
hands shaking,
body quaking.
One of these days you won't be waking.
Don't you hear them Warning Bells?
Shatter that bottle on the floor,
turn around, walk out that door,
do it for you. Listen to them Warning Bells.
Only time will tell if you heard,
heard them bells.
Don't find yourself on the floor, anymore,
turn around say no more, walk out that door.
You're off that road that road to hell.
You've heard them Warning, Warning Bells.
poem by Lucille van OnselenZunckel
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Somewhere Down The Road
(Wayne Kirkpatrick/Amy Grant)
So much pain and no good reason why
You cried until the tears run dry
Nothing else can make you understand
The one thing that you held so dear
Is slipping from your hand
And you say
Why, why, why
Does it go this way
And why, why, why
And all I can say is
Somewhere down the road
There'll be answers to the questions
Somewhere down the road
Though we cannot see it now
And somewhere down the road
You will find mighty arms reaching for you
And they will have the answers
At the end of the road
Yesterday I thought I'd seen it all
I thought I'd climbed the highest wall
But now I see that learning never ends
And all I know to do is keep on walking
'Round the bend
Singing
Why, why, why
Does it go this way
Why, why, why
And all I can say is
Somewhere down the road
There'll be answers to the questions
Somewhere down the road
Though we cannot see it now
And somewhere down the road
You will find mighty arms reaching for you
And they will hold the answers
At the end of the road
Somewhere, somewhere down
And somewhere down the road
There'll be answers to the questions
Somewhere down the road
Though we cannot see it now
And somewhere down the road
You will find mighty arms reaching for you
They will have the answers
At the end of the road
They will have the answers
At the end of the road
Somewhere down the road, yeah
Somewhere, somewhere
Somewhere, somewhere, somewhere down the road
Why, why, why
There will be arms reaching, down the road
Somewhere, somewhere, somewhere
Oooh
song performed by by Faith Hill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Streets Of Your Town
Writers: leo sayer & frank farrell
Have you seen the old men
That lean on the walls
Of salvation halls
In the streets of your town
You cant have missed
The vagrant
He is the rubble
He is the trouble you want to remove
In the parks about sundown
He makes his bed
His shoes are a pillow for his head
Have you seen the young men
That look so old
Theyd rather have the cold dark lonely road
Have you ever wondered
Why do they go
Leaving the tv and the automo
You can see them hailing trucks down the open road
You wave your thumb and you hop on board
You aint got no keeper you dont need a friend
I betcha wish you were the same
Yeah I betcha wish you were the same
Have you seen the old men
We lean on the walls
Of salvation halls
In the streets of your town
Were just a little shady
We get a little crazy
In the streets of your town
In the parks about sundown
We lay our heads
Our shoes are our pillow
The grass our bed
Dont need no keeper
And dont need no friend
I betcha wish you were the same
Yeah I betcha wish you were the same
song performed by by Leo Sayer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Only Those With The Key
The gate has been locked,
To block access...
To those once accustomed,
To free entry and free reign.
And this has been suggested...
Maybe one's own finding,
Of a home on the range...
Suitable for the deer and the antelope,
To play.
And any mumbling heard is one's own
The gate has been locked,
To block out the physical.
And that which appears limited.
But one 'spirited' in mind,
Can choose to look over the gate.
Or through its cracks.
Or...
Sit to wonder why THIS gate attracts.
And gates with locks that block,
To stop what's coming in...
Seem to imprison those behind them,
Rarely to come out to test the locks.
And only those with the key,
Know what it is used for.
AND...
Its history to be known or not!
Since whoever has got the key,
Needs not to peek or have interest in the doing.
Only those with the key to the gate that locks,
To block in or not to block out...
Do not concern themselves with peeking.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Riding On A Motorcycle On A Sunday Afternoon
back to my trails
yellow daisies along the road
orange skies above me
yellow has mellowed
dusty like a veil
of a woman
i traverse this road
on a motorcyle
the sound of the engine
like a rhythm of the
tonky machine
inside my helmet
my head disregards the
heat this hot sunday
afternoon moving
towards an end
i still think of you
ahead of me
on an edge of time
too close
we shall not meet
again
poem by Antonio Liao
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