Life's Journey
First you take the road to memories
that looms up on your left
then you find yourself on roundabouts
that offer life and death
then take the road to solitude
and the bypass that avoids
the steep hill down to hades
which is when you'll hear the noise
of angels near the airport
all hymns and organ sounds
then take the first road on your right
the one marked 'sacred grounds'
there's a car park there convenient
and a man who marks a card
that indicates precisely
where your car should now be parked
the man who runs this parking lot
st peter is his name
will always wish you all the best
but not invite you back again
it's a short walk to the airport
once you have left your car
you may not know where you're going
but 'departures' is a start
the airport's traffic is unique
it's essentially one way
all outbound flights none inward
all hours of night and day
no need to take your luggage
so please travel very light
just be happy you've been chosen
for God's galactic flight
the cost of one way tickets
the only one's he sells
is that promises you'll always keep
or else you'll go to hell
there's no business class nor first class
all the seats are just the same
and the flight is never-ending
it's just a part of God's great game.
poem by David Keig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
711 Story
I was in NYC on the street Lexington Ave.
This street is close to Madison
known for it’s high class ads.
I was there in hotel room number 711,
believe me it was no peaceful heaven.
I was up all night with noise from a truck,
Up on the 7th floor is where I was stuck.
Tired I missed my bus the next day,
I was very late to airport JFK.
Luckily a unlucky girl from MN was there,
She was crying hysterical without a care.
We rebooked our flight out of Washington D.C.
driving to DC airport before that plane did leave.
On the drive unlucky girl did complain,
about the morning and everything.
I told her I lived on gambling for 7 months
and when I travel I had so much luck.
When we got to the airport
the plane number did change,
so I called on my cell phone to rearrange,
who would pick me up at the last minute to spare,
the lady announced the new flight number,
but I was still unaware.
Until I boarded the plane,
did I realize all the numbers were all the same.
My room number was 711,
along with the time message was left on my phone,
even the number on the plane ride home.
They all were my Lucky 711
which made me think of 911.
when that catastrophe had struck,
Luckily none of my friends in NYC
did get hurt or stuck.
Years later I lived at a 711 address,
I also had an accident at that number
on a different street I do confess.
I ended up fine without a mess.
Now is 711 meant to be?
and should I play the lottery?
Now when 711 ever crosses my mind,
I try to save it in my diary in that point in time.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on Feb.11,2011
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Seven Eleven Story
I was in NYC on the street Lexington Ave.
This street is close to Madison
known for it’s high class ads.
I was there in hotel room number 711,
believe me it was no peaceful heaven.
I was up all night with noise from a truck,
Up on the 7th floor is where I was stuck.
Tired I missed my bus the next day,
I was very late to airport JFK.
Luckily a unlucky girl from MN was there,
She was crying hysterical without a care.
We rebooked our flight out of Washington D.C.
driving to DC airport before that plane did leave.
On the drive unlucky girl did complain,
about the morning and everything.
I told her I lived on gambling for 7 months
and when I travel I had so much luck.
When we got to the airport
the plane number did change,
so I called on my cell phone to rearrange,
who would pick me up at the last minute to spare,
the lady announced the new flight number,
but I was still unaware.
Until I boarded the plane,
did I realize all the numbers were all the same.
My room number was 711,
along with the time message was left on my phone,
even the number on the plane ride home.
They all were my Lucky 711
which made me think of 911.
when that catastrophe had struck,
Luckily none of my friends in NYC
did get hurt or stuck.
Years later I lived at a 711 address,
I also had an accident at that number
on a different street I do confess.
I ended up fine without a mess.
Now is 711 meant to be?
and should I play the lottery?
Now when 711 ever crosses my mind,
I try to save it in my diary in that point in time.
Written by Christina Sunrise on Feb 11,2011
poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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711 Story
I was in NYC on the street Lexington Ave.
This street is close to Madison
known for it's high class ads.
I was there in hotel room number 711,
believe me it was no peaceful heaven.
I was up all night with noise from a truck,
Up on the 7th floor is where I was stuck.
Tired I missed my bus the next day,
I was very late to airport JFK.
Luckily a unlucky girl from MN was there,
She was crying hysterical without a care.
We rebooked our flight out of Washington D.C.
driving to DC airport before that plane did leave.
On the drive unlucky girl did complain,
about the morning and everything.
I told her I lived on gambling for 7 months
and when I travel I had so much luck.
When we got to the airport
the plane number did change,
so I called on my cell phone to rearrange,
who would pick me up at the last minute to spare,
the lady announced the new flight number,
but I was still unaware.
Until I boarded the plane,
did I realize all the numbers were all the same.
My room number was 711,
along with the time message was left on my phone,
even the number on the plane ride home.
They all were my Lucky 711
which made me think of 911.
when that catastrophe had struck,
Luckily none of my friends in NYC
did get hurt or stuck.
Years later I lived at a 711 address,
I also had an accident at that number
on a different street I do confess.
I ended up fine without a mess.
Now is 711 meant to be?
and should I play the lottery?
Now when 711 ever crosses my mind,
I try to save it in my diary in that point in time.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on Feb.11,2011
poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Seven Eleven Story
I was in NYC on the street Lexington Ave.
This street is close to Madison
known for it’s high class ads.
I was there in hotel room number 711,
believe me it was no peaceful heaven.
I was up all night with noise from a truck,
Up on the 7th floor is where I was stuck.
Tired I missed my bus the next day,
I was very late to airport JFK.
Luckily a unlucky girl from MN was there,
She was crying hysterical without a care.
We rebooked our flight out of Washington D.C.
driving to DC airport before that plane did leave.
On the drive unlucky girl did complain,
about the morning and everything.
I told her I lived on gambling for 7 months
and when I travel I had so much luck.
When we got to the airport
the plane number did change,
so I called on my cell phone to rearrange,
who would pick me up at the last minute to spare,
the lady announced the new flight number,
but I was still unaware.
Until I boarded the plane,
did I realize all the numbers were all the same.
My room number was 711,
along with the time message was left on my phone,
even the number on the plane ride home.
They all were my Lucky 711
which made me think of 911.
when that catastrophe had struck,
Luckily none of my friends in NYC
did get hurt or stuck.
Years later I lived at a 711 address,
I also had an accident at that number
on a different street I do confess.
I ended up fine without a mess.
Now is 711 meant to be?
and should I play the lottery?
Now when 711 ever crosses my mind,
I try to save it in my diary in that point in time.
Written by Christina Sunrise on Feb 11,2011
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cut Price Bloody Flights
I fancied going on holiday,
So I searched the Internet,
I tried out various airlines,
Just to see what I could get.
As I'm on a real tight budget,
The price had to be the best,
Nothing fancy, there and back,
Costing less than all the rest.
I then came across a company,
Their seats were really cheap,
A no frills airline that would do,
My debts wouldn't go too deep.
When I searched their website,
I was amazed at what I found,
A flight to where I want to go,
For just a single pound.
I then went on to pay the bill,
So I used my credit card,
What they charged me for using it,
Has left me feeling scarred.
Then before the bill was finalised,
When I thought I could relax,
They told me I then had to pay,
Something called airport tax.
But now on to the airport,
As I checked my baggage in,
They said it should be done on-line,
Otherwise you cannot win.
I paid another surcharge,
By this time I was running late,
Another charge for that said she,
I thought this is bloody great.
As you didn't print your tickets off,
I'm afraid that's even more,
This is sheer and utter madness,
But our terms you can't ignore.
She said your bags are far too heavy,
that will cost you more again,
I was running out of money,
This was driving me insane.
Eventually when I boarded,
They left me so surprised,
They made me pay for an extra seat,
Saying I was oversized.
I thought that I had seen it all,
Then I asked them for a meal,
Thirty pounds for micro chips,
Is not the greatest deal.
I also bought a drink of juice,
My micro chips to soak,
The price they charged me for it,
Would have made an elephant choke.
Then I visited the toilet,
This caused even more ado,
They even charge an entry fee,
To use the bloody loo.
Eventually when we landed,
I asked where we were at,
She said in Spain I don't know where,
But at least the ground is flat.
I eventually got a taxi,
The driver was full of smiles,
I found out why when I got the bill,
We had travelled two hundred miles.
If you want to travel cheap,
Make sure you read their rules,
Or the consequences you will reap,
They use complicated tools.
Now as I sit here bankrupt,
I wish had studied my rights,
I'm living proof there's no such thing as,
'' Cut Price Bloody Flights ''
A Penny Loafer Saved, A Penny Loafer Earned
Well Brian and me well,
We both agree that,
That penny loafers are absurd,
'Cause I dont know why on earth,
You would take yout two cents worth,
And stick them in your girly shoes,
And Dave replied well after all,
Why not at least use quarters,
So then you can make a phone call,
Its finally time, time for our victory lap,
Assemble the B, just one left turn,
The matchbox tires spin out on the welcome mat,
And the firemen are tired men,
who cant put out the rug burn,
And they say,
Cut your hair short, then walk through an airport,
So that you can dream of destinations
Cut your hair short, then walk through an airport,
Cut your hair short, then walk through an airport,
While all the while you're singing good vibrations,
You're singing good vibrations
You're singing, good, good, good, good, vibrations
You're singing, good, good, good, good, vibrations
You're singing, good, good, good, good, we both agree
You're singing, good, good, good, good, mmm hmm hmm hmm
song performed by by Relient K
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My First Flight
My First Flight
The Silkair-flight took off
at Chennai Airport,
where we paid sixty six rupees for two idlies
which cost six rupees elsewhere.
The wide national highways
seemed narrow lanes.
When the flight seemed moving
in snail's pace over the Bay of Bengal,
I told my wife, 'we'd be too late to Singapore'.
Our neighbour asked me if it was our maiden flight
and told the air-hostess to guide us reach
the flight to Melbourne at Singapore Airport
where in dazzling lights, escalators and Skytrains,
people would be missing out during transit.
I was very precautious to write my 'Will'
and handed it over to my daughter,
for dividing my earnings incase anything untoward happened
as there is danger from the terror, lightning and thunder
and also from the pilot's mishandling of situations.
Round patches of cumulous clouds were seen
over the surface of sea and land.
The flight was above thirty five thousand feet
flying in the speed of more than 900 k.ms/hour.
The journey of sixteen hours fled off without boring
as the avuncular hostesses supplied the food-packets,
fruits, drinks, breads, .. to keep us in good humour.
It was a culture shock to me at Singapore
where people of all the Asian nations and others
boarded the flight to Melbourne.
For myself it was a travel from the austral Asian city
to the austral Australian city but in a route different
from the one traversed by the ancient Tamils
from the lost Lemurian continent to Australian coasts.
---
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Lost Luggage
I packed my heart into a suitcase
Took a flight to somewhere else
Upon arrival I found my luggage lost
And with that my heart
Now I’m looking to sue somebody
So I can get back what’s rightfully mine
I feel the need to fight for this
It’s my heart, my thoughts, my feelings
Currently being kept in some lost and found
Gathering dust on a shelf
I’ll write letters to the airlines
Pen them to every airport
Words into the sky and upon the ground
Searching to find that missing something
My heart packed into a suitcase
While I took a flight away
All I know is I’ll find it again someday
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Every Road Leads Me Back To You
Every road leads me back to you.
My destiny is mapped out
for every step I take
and every road I travel
leads me back to you.
Some are guided by the morning sun,
some by the moon and stars at night,
but every road I travel
leads me back to you.
Our home maybe far away
in the snow tipped mountaintops
or under the big city lights.
It does not matter where it lies,
every road I take the end will be the same,
for every road leads me back to you,
and you are there to shelter me
from any given storm.
You lead me away from temptations
that plague my life.
You are always there
when my foes I have to fight.
Each night when I am weary
tis, you I come to at night,
for every road I travel, Lord
always leads me back to you
for my faith to be renewed.
11 August 2008
poem by David Harris
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Outside My Window (not finished yet)
The sun sets on another day
I watch it as it goes beyond the horizon
From my claustrophobic hotel room
I admire the colors in the sky
My eyes stray from the sun
To my darkening surroundings
From my third floor view
I see the tops of the trees ahead
For the winter they are dead
Lonely and uncovered
Naked, they seem to tremble
With the cool gust of wind
With the wind, though,
The trees come alive
Seemingly moving by theirselves
Swaying back and forth
Through the broken branches
And further towards the sun
I watch the traffic
Of a busy interstate
With the night fall ensuing
The traffic has quieted
Sparsely, the cars past my view
Mostly tractor trailers now
I can hear one of their low toned,
Yet noisy horns
The sounds of civilization
The interstate seperates me from the airport
Always busy
The planes take off and land
Every couple of minutes it seems
I catch a glimpse
Of a big passenger jet
The howling of it's engines
Deafen me
As the plane takes flight
It turns towards the sun
I watch as different shades of red,
Orange, and yellow reflect off it's wings
Within a few minutes
The plane is gone from sight
And my attention is focused
Onto the sun once again
Now it's barely visible
As the last of it disappears
Behind the airport
Behind the interstate
Behind the trees
Outside my window
poem by Matthew Jenkins
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Hard Road
(h. vanda / g. young)
My mama n papa told me son that youre just a fool
When I told em I was leaving home I was leaving school
So then in a couple of hours I found myself
Heading down that southbound road
With everything I owned on my back
I carried such a heavy load
And its a hard, hard road that I travel
Its a hard, hard road that I travel
Its a hard, hard road that I travel down the line
And its a hard, hard road down the line
Well I wanna tell ya friends
That its good to be a traveling man
cause Im doing what I want to
Living just the best that I can
Nobody putting rings around my neck
To put me in a pigeon hole
Ive got my dog and my radio
To listen to some rock n roll
And its a hard, hard road that I travel
Its a hard, hard road that I travel
Its a hard, hard road that I travel down the line
And its a hard, hard road down the line
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The growth of Stewart Airport creates new jobs for area residents, brings new business and new travelers to the region, and brings new convenient travel options to those of us living in the Hudson Valley.
Do you want to hear the hills groan
Do you want to hear the hills groan?
Have a walk along the uphill and downhill road
That zigzags around one hill and thenanother
Till it reaches you to an altitude of 11000 feet
All along the way you will see
The forest cover of the hills are being torn off
The stony bones of the hills are being hit hard by dynamite
And any one who has ears can hear the mountains
Writhing in silent pain
The p ilgrim walking along the winding road
Which mounts to the shrine of Lord Siva
Doesnot know that gods have taken flight
From hills and dales
Nature is being made a parking place
For pleasurehunting cars
They have not only made the tigers and the pythons homeless
They have made the gods flee
Hence out of the day and night
Ajoy has taken flight
With the surging pleasure seeking of man
And the diabolic brain of the scientists
poem by Dr. Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya
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Oops!
With open arms,
you run to one another
but miss completely
and you both end up
hugging strangers
who wants no part of either of you.
Oops!
You’ve done it again.
Your running for a bus
and it waits for you,
you tell the driver
the stop you want
and he give you a strange look.
You an close your eyes as he replies
telling you he does not go there.
Oops!
You’ve done it again.
Your at an airport
Your mind is miles away
then you realise your flight
was boarding ten minutes ago.
You run down the corridor
but the flight has left without you.
Oops!
You‘ve done it again.
This old world keeps on spinning
but there are times for us all
when we just wish it would stop
and let us off,
but that only happens
when we oversleep.
Oops!
You’ve done it again.
25 February 2011
poem by David Harris
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The Road That Was Not Mine
The road that was not mine
I've often wondered about?
If I had followed that road somewhere
would I have felt left out?
There must have been something calling to me,
something too obscure
to understand at the onset
that the road I took was my lure.
I do not miss what wasn't mine
for in its absence I learned
how the road I'm on was exactly
the road for which I yearned.
There must be a defining purpose
that propels us to where we go.
At the end of our travels on this earth
we will look back and we'll know.
We will recognize all the holes
and sympathize with unfinished goals
and regrets will fall away.
For the adventures that come to you
will always have you say.
This was my life. I did my thing
and the road that was not mine
was for someone else to travel on.
But I wonder about it sometimes?
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Destination Moon
Dont bother to call this room
Theres nobody here who can pick up
Or has stuff they need to talk about
And who wont be now
Checking out and flying
By rocket to the moon
By airplane to the rocket
By taxi to the airport
By front door to the taxi
By throwing back the blanket
Hanging down the legs
Thank you for the card with the cartoon nurse
But you see theres nothing wrong with me
You think, thats what you think.
Thats what they all say,
Before I blow you away
By rocket to the moon
By airplane to the rocket
By taxi to the airport
By front door to the taxi
By throwing back the blanket
Hanging down the legs
Soon the man who sweeps the room
Brings the secret telegram:
Commence official interplanetary exploration
Thank you for the card with the cartoon nurse
But you see theres nothing wrong with me
You think, thats what you think.
Thats what they all say,
Before I blow you away
By rocket to the moon
By airplane to the rocket
By taxi to the airport
By front door to the taxi
By throwing back the blanket
Hanging down the legs
By rocket to the moon
Crawl to the rocket
By coughing at the airport
By limping to the taxi
By throwing back the blanket
Hanging down the withered leg
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Forever Begins
The silent night calls, resilent as I emerge.
Silly ideas of skipping class or playing sick.
Hard knock life been a month no books can't blame mom for trying.
No loan, the government said she made too much; could you believe that. Faithful still going to Sunday school better believe it that is the highlight of my day. God is helping me pass my classes; feeling great as I receive passing grades.
English teacher, just got finished helping my cousin with his first poem.
If I tell him I'm proud that will be the end of me.
Honor student at the age of fourteen and is a freshmen now. Nevertheless I came up short when I dropped all I was doing to see him graduate.
Overwhelmed I slept over at the airport for my first time and didn't think nothing about it. Well actually right around that time he inspired me to write poetry.Self conscious being, I didn't actually sleep at the airport.
In fact I don't rest at night; my moms struggles keep me wide awake.
Loving her is loving me. Hope I never become senile when it comes to respecting women.
Haters going to hate but how can they stop my flow - they not Moses.
When I go forever will begin.
poem by Alex Kenneh
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Bound No’th Blues
Goin’ down the road, Lawd,
Goin’ down the road.
Down the road, Lawd,
Way,way down the road.
Got to find somebody
To help me carry this load.
Road’s in front o’ me,
Nothin’ to do but walk.
Road’s in front of me,
Walk…an’ walk…an’ walk.
I’d like to meet a good friend
To come along an’ talk.
Hates to be lonely,
Lawd, I hates to be sad.
Says I hates to be lonely,
Hates to be lonely an’ sad,
But ever friend you finds seems
Like they try to do you bad.
Road, road, road, O!
Road, road…road…road, road!
Road, road, road, O!
On the no’thern road.
These Mississippi towns ain’t
Fit fer a hoppin’ toad.
poem by Langston Hughes
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Down The Road
(Van Morrison)
Well it's down the road I go
And I got those worried
Lonesome homesick Jones
Way on down the road
Well it's down the road I go
Well I got the blues
From way down in New Orleans
Way on down the road
And I got to be so far away
Oh don't you see
All our memories, dreams and reflections
That keep haunting me
Well it's down the road I go
And I hear those gypsy voices
Calling me
Way on down the road
Well I got to be
So far away in my memory
Dreams and reflections come on
Keep on back haunting me
Well it's down the road I go
Well I got the blues
From down in New Orleans
Way on down the road
Well it's down the road I go
Well I ve got the worried
Lonesome homesick Jones
Way on down the road
Way on down the road
Oh down the road
Way on down the road baby come on
Way on down the road
Trying to find my way back home
Trying to find my way back home
Further on down the road
Trying to find my way back home
Further on down the road
Down the road of peace
Down the road of peace
Down the road of peace baby
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heartbreak Road
I’m walking down this road called heartbreak,
which leads to a place called despair.
It’s a long and lonely road that I’m travelling
and I’ll find no comfort there.
It’s not a road I ever thought I’d be taking
and it’s not the way I’d choose to go,
but my failure to hold onto my loved one
has left me with self pity and sorrow.
This road has deep holes filled with sadness,
when I stumble, tears form in my eyes.
With loneliness and misery I walk in puddles
from the raindrops from the weeping skies.
My broken dreams and schemes accompany me
even though they weigh heavy on my mind.
Memories, happy and sad hinder my progress,
which makes new dawns so hard to find.
My heart has been emptied and shattered,
and I’ve only heartbreak road to walk.
It’s an endless one-way road of darkness
to which my troubled mind is fraught.
poem by Orlando Belo
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