Travellers
They came as travellers
and were mistaken as Gods
in olden times.
They came from distant worlds
and some simply lost their way.
Their remnants lay hidden,
locked in vaults away from our day.
Their secrets to be revealed
by what they called a primitive society.
Their voices silenced
for the good of all
some would say,
until new travellers arrive
to find those who disappeared
into our yesterdays.
11 July 2008
poem by David Harris
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Travellers gallery
Travellers gallery
~
welcome to the travellers gallery
the windows frame a world
from water coloured rivers
to pastel forests and fields
sketched out towns spread out
between charcoal cities
nameless people, faces
all passing in a hurry
the travellers gallery presents
a life in motion exhibition
all in natural hue colour
by bus, train or car
the landscape and portraits
become ingrained in memory
welcome to the travellers gallery
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Can’t Hold Back The Years
I sit here reading the letter
as my tears smudge the ink.
I can’t hold them back
no more than I could
hold back the years.
The words say you have left me
that you’ve moved out today.
That you won’t be coming back
no matter what I say.
I sit with my head bowed
remembering good time we had.
Remembering the sorrow and sadness
that followed in the good times wake.
Remembering those precious moments,
we wanted to last forever,
but disappeared at the blink of an eye.
I can’t hold back the years
nor the tears I cry.
Tomorrow heralds a brand new day,
a brand new start some would say.
When we should erase yesterdays
and start a new life,
but it isn’t that easy,
as we need our yesterdays
to build that new day.
If we haven’t got them,
what will happen is hard to say.
As I sit here and read your letter
my tears still fall,
and I can’t hold back the years
no more than I can hold back the tears
for our lost yesterdays.
4 April 2008
poem by David Harris
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Thirsty Travellers
When zebras migrate plain to plain
They brave the hunters, too,
These travellers have much to gain
As each one sees it through...
Consider running to and fro,
Attacked on either side,
Then panicked, wondering where to go,
When there's no place to hide...
Such are the burdens each must face
The whole day long, no doubt,
In seeking some great resting place,
Like that's what life's about...
Survivors left to tell the tales
Of how, somehow, they lived,
Despite the fact another fails
And loses life's sweet gift...
Thirsty travellers find the shore,
To line up cautiously,
To face the crocodiles and more
Takes utmost bravery...
Each baptised zebra takes his chance,
With courage rarely known...
In hopes, somehow, the odds enhance
When none there swims alone...
Denis Martindale, copyright, December 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Thirsty Travellers'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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7th Channel
Bide my time,
Everything will be in line,
Mystic rhyme,
Nine and three and five are mine,
Memories,
Past, future, now,
Show me,
Just where mans destiny will lie.
Human race,
Outa space,
Travellers.
Make a race,
And mutate,
Warriors.
Unify,
Open eye,
Clarity.
Human race,
Outa space,
Travellers.
Magnetize all your actions powerfully,
Energize everything you touch and see,
Change minds,
Rebuild the world,
Unlock
The healing power in you heart.
Human race,
Outa space,
Travellers.
Human race,
Lost in space,
Warriors.
Make a race,
And mutate,
Warriors.
Unify,
Open eye,
Clarity.
Magnetize,
Energize,
Travellers.
Human race,
Outa space,
Warriors.
Unify,
Open eye,
Clarity.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Primitive Love
Primitive love
I want what it used to be, primitive love
No modern love, its all a hustle
Whats done is done, now its my turn to have some fun
Youre much to sly, dont give me alibis
I dont want to know, I dont want to know
Primitive love
I want what it used to be
I want it, primitive love
Primitivie love, I want what is used to be
I want what it used to be, primitive love
I want, I need, primtive love
You dont have to worry , I dont want your money
I dont have to think, right now youve got me at the brink
This is good-bye for all the times I cried
Dont want no more, dont want no more
Primitive love
I want what it used to be
I want it, primitive love
Primitivie love, I want what is used to be
I want what it used to be, primitive love
I want, I need, primitive love
Is it right, or is it wrong?
Primitive drums call me backward into stone
Pack up and leave, Im not yours to deceive
Dont want you no more, dont want you no more
Primitive love
I want what it used to be
I want it, primitive love
Primitivie love, I want what is used to be
I want what it used to be, primitive love
I want, I need, primtive love
song performed by by Gloria Estefan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Key To Time!
the dawn of creation,
again and again...
with every step
on the path to liberation!
our bodies shells,
holding undiscovered universes....
our spirits roam,
orphaned travellers,
in search of....
and light is only touch
put to darkness with passion,
the voices of God
pulse through our veins!
hunger, and magic,
a simple dropp of rain,
holding the secrets of infinity,
and the key to time!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Mad Professor Blyth
Mad Professor Blyth is working on his pet invention
to dematerialise himself into the fourth dimension
He's got his mind set on illusion
to find the secrets of diffusion
Conclusion: he disappeared
Tried it on his cat one grey night when it was foggy
Never got it back Oh what happened to his Moggy
He's got his mind set on illusion
to find the secrets of diffusion
Conclusion: he's disappeared
All the kids around about his neighbourhood
used to laugh at him and call him names
Silly old bat freaky four-eyes
sort of things they used to shout
He can't hear them now
He's disappeared
Colleagues at the lab
they all thought that he was crazy
Don't know where he's at
His formulas to them are hazy
He had his mind set on illusion
He found the secrets of diffusion
Conclusion: he's disappeared
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Family Secrets
Every family has its secrets
hidden in the dark corners of the past,
the ones passed down
from generation to generation
never to be revealed to the outside world.
Some are considered shameful,
others fill the heart with dread,
all them are secrets
best kept within the family.
Some do reveal themselves
in the most astonishing ways,
an innocent conversation
and something never talked about
is suddenly revealed.
Something thought so shameful,
means nothing anymore,
but is never cast aside
and someone wishes
that earlier that secret
should have been revealed.
Many lives are turned
upside down now
and will never be the same.
Now the shame is not in the secret,
but in that, it was never revealed.
8 April 2011
poem by David Harris
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Low Society
A judge a dentist or physician
In this low society
Trade ambition for position
In this low society
Have you heard its in the stars
Next july we collide with mars
Have you heard it in the bars
In this low society
No more pay and lots of leisure
In this low society
Low society
Im just doing what I can
In this low society
But Im an incidental man
In this low society
I give away what others sell
The secrets yours so never tell
cos if you do youll go to hell
Low society
Side by side and always tired
All for one and no-one hired
All thats left is love inspired
Low society
And when the party is complete
And youre still standing on your feet
The taste of victory is sweet
Low society
And darling dont forget
In this low society
To turn off your t.v. set
In this low society
The most important thing at all
In this low society
Is not to stand too tall
In this low society
In this world that never learns
I can see rome as it burns
All the passion and the power
Turns to ash within an hour
No more play and no more pleasure
In this low society
song performed by by Heaven 17
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Identity Crisis!
When born, I was called “baby”
And later they called me “Abby”
Within 5 years they called me “student”
And for 7 years, like that I spent
Then they called me “teen”
I loved it and felt like a queen
Then I was called “woman”
And those times, were the best
Then some one tied a knot and called me “wife”
I hated those times, it was horrible and gross
In years I became “mother”
It was beautiful but tough
Then being called “grandma”
My times got better and better
Then at last I was called “old”
And my body was frail and cold
All this time I wondered,
Where my identity has gone
Some where in the middle, I had lost it
Through the ages, I had a crisis
An identity crisis to say!
DECEMBER 23,2008
poem by Sania Harris
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Today is primitive of tomorrow
‘How primitive I was! ’,
It was my grandfather’s woe
When I was young.
How primitive I am!
It is my woe to my grandson.
Yesterday is primitive
02.06.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Love And Thought
Two well-assorted travellers use
The highway, Eros and the Muse.
From the twins is nothing hidden,
To the pair is naught forbidden;
Hand in hand the comrades go
Every nook of nature through:
Each for other they were born,
Each can other best adorn;
They know one only mortal grief
Past all balsam or relief,
When, by false companions crossed,
The pilgrims have each other lost.
poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson
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Where will i find you again?
Where will I find you again?
The world is too vast,
Too crowded,
Distances too wide
And we stand
Separated by time.
In this invisible
Haze called life,
I found you,
As a lock
Finds its long lost key.
You unlocked
What lay hidden,
Long forgotten
A few bits
Disintegrated
Lost to time.
But with you
I picked those bits
Disintegrated
Bits lost to time
And built a whole new city
Hidden from them all.
One fine day
The lock no longer fitted the key
And as much
I tried
You just locked up
Yourself too tight.
Hiding from me
all that sunshine
Its lovely thoughts
Which would melt me
Within me
Time and again
And my city
Devoid the sunshine
Lay deserted.
Where will I ever find you again?
Will I ever find you again?
poem by Anjali Kakati
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The road to ruin is always in good repair, and the travellers pay the expense of it.
quote by Josh Billings
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The road to ruin is kept in good repair, and the travellers pay the expense.
Time Has Taken Them Away
I am a man who lives in yesterdays,
in a world of worn out photographs
with faces I want to remember
but more often that I can’t.
I want to go back and relive
some of the best moments in my life.
Talk again to my school friends
who somehow shaped my life.
I want to rebuild what I left behind,
try to find so many things
that were lost in an earlier time.
I want to go back to my yesterdays,
but time has taken them away.
28 October 2008
poem by David Harris
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The Doors Are Locked
From inside of this room
I shall not exit
I have locked the doors
To the world outside.
It does not matter to me what is happening outside, because
Behind these locked doors
Is the world that I live in,
This land of my dreams that
I have fabricated for myself alone.
I recall my father recently reading me a story-
Of a woman who created a world within her dreams-
There she lived and locked herself
Inside of the doors that
Barred her from all that is real.
My father's hope was that
I would find my way out from
This place he called the land of my delusions.
This place which he calls the land of my delusions has become
My only veracity.
From the inside of this room
I shall not exit-it is here I safely converse with
The voices inside of my mind.
The doors to this room are locked, but
I can still hear my mother weeping, and
I hear my mother cry out from the midst of her tears-
What has become of my only child?
Inside of this room, I have constructed a world.
The doors are locked and
I have shut reality out-
The doors to my room are locked and
I have lost the key.
My mother is still weeping as her one and only
Has lost the key that would open the doors
To the world outside-
My mother is sobbing; the key is lost and alas-
Her only child's sanity has also been lost.
poem by Claudia Krizay
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We are all travellers in the wilderness of this world, and the best we can find in our travels is an honest friend.
quote by Robert Louis Stevenson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Victims Of Circumstance
They stand bewildered by all that goes around them,
living within their own little worlds,
which we cannot even understand.
These victims of circumstance stand.
We all look on and bow our heads,
when they bury victims of war,
but turn away whenever we see
these poor lost souls.
Some are there because of defects at birth,
others the aftermath of disease,
while others involved in accidents,
and left to suffer humiliation.
The brain is a wonderful thing,
when it functions properly,
functioning wrong its host
is charged with insanity.
There are those who are violent,
and in institutions are the only life they will ever see.
Others have strange ways, and act in a childlike manner be.
While others need constant attention, because of hardly any brain activity.
All are victims of circumstance,
beyond anyone’s control.
They would live a normal life,
if they had a choice to be.
They are victims shunned by society,
who say they are a blight, on our lives,
and locked away out of sight,
every one of them should be.
No one wants to associate with them;
their only friends are of their own kind.
They look out with pleading eyes,
for someone who may be kind.
The names they are called are hurtful,
yet they do not understand.
These poor lost souls
only ask for a helping hand.
Those who have worked with the mentally ill,
will tell you, not all of them are stupid.
They can feel just like us, love, hurt and pain.
Some can do what we call menial tasks
and others look after themselves.
Sadly, some do need to be institutionalized
because they are dangers to themselves or others,
and some have to be there for the constant attention that they need.
Yet others because they look somewhat strange,
and do childish things at times.
They are all labelled under an umbrella,
and simply called insane.
But, for the grace of God,
we might have walked with them there,
these victims,
victims of circumstance.
18 - 19 May 2007
poem by David Harris
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Secrets.
No matter how open our lives
we have secrets inside our head.
Secret fears, loves, hopes and desires
we hide them in our mind
never to be revealed.
Secrets we keep only to ourselves
some are imaginary,
some are very real
only we know which is which,
but none will be revealed.
They are our secrets
and only ours to keep.
14-15 August 2009
poem by David Harris
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