The Hateful Road
Oh pleasant things there be
Without this prison yard :
Fields green, and many a tree
With shadow on the sward,
And drifting clouds that pass
Saihng above the grass.
All lovely things that be
Beyond this strong abode
Send comfort back to me ;
Yea, everything I see
Except the hateful road ;
The road that runs so free
With many a dip and rise,
That waves and beckons me
And mocks and calls at me
And will not let me be
Even when I close my eyes.
poem by Frederick William Harvey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Grass Is Greener
One thing that I have heard
As I have often been told
Was the grass is always greener
On the other side of the road,
And to the that one statement
I truly had no ideal,
Was it but a lie that I often heard
Or was that assumption for real.
So on top of my own roof
I went to, after my climb
To check another ones yard
Of course a yard, that wasn't mine.
And there is where I stood
As I surveyed across the road
To see if anyone's grass was greener
As I often had heard and also been told.
And there from where that I stood
And from what that I could see
Their grass was not any greener
Than my yard, that I do believe.
So I surveyed the yards of my neighbors
As up on my roof I stood as I thought
Maybe all yards are all different then
So I got off my roof, and I went for a walk.
I walked down the street
Then I walked up the next block
Seems as though the houses got bigger
Along with their possession's and their lots.
Their grass didn't seem any greener
Than mine or the other that I have seen
Though theirs yards were much larger
As though a good picture from everyone's dream.
So there I left, and I continued my walk
I then came across some railroad tracks
And there stood houses and from what I saw,
Their grass was as green, front yard and back.
Though their yards they wasn't as large
As the ones I have seen
And their houses weren't as large or as nice
But their yards, they were just as green.
So then I headed back unto my home
To reflect back on the things that I have seen,
And of the ideals people thought of and said
And what in their mind they really did mean.
So when I got back unto my home
I climbed again on top of my roof
So there I could reflect and think to myself
About my neighbors and me and to tell the truth.
Though the grass might be greener, I did say
On the other side of the road,
But this one thing I tell you my friend,
The grass, it still has to be mowed.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Drifting
Drifting, drifting, drifting away.
I got myself a mansion, then I gave it away.
It's not the world that's heavy, just the things that you save.
And I'm drifting, drifting away.
Drifting, drifting, drifting along.
I rid myself of worries, and the worries were gone.
I only run when I want to and I sleep like a dog.
I'm just drifting, drifting along.
The suitcoats say, "There is money to be made."
They get so damn excited, but I guess it's their way.
My road it may be lonely just because it's not paved.
It's good for drifting, drifting away.
The suitcoats say, "There is money to be made."
They get so damn excited, nothing gets in their way
My road it may be lonely just because it's not paved.
It's good for drifting, drifting away.
Drifting, drifting, drifting, uh huh.
I feel like going back there, but never for long.
I sometimes wonder if they know that I'm gone.
I'm just drifting, drifting along.
Drifting, drifting along. Drifting, drifting along.
Merry Christmas...
song performed by by Pearl Jam
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Contact
The tires are the things on your car
That make contact with the road
The car is the thing on the road
That takes you back to your abode
The tires are the things on your car
That make contact with the road
Bummed is what you are
When you go out to your car and its been towed
I woke up one morning in november
And I realized I love you
Its not your headlights in front
Your tailpipe, or the skylight above you
Its the way you cling to the road
When the wind tries to shove you
Id never go riding away
And come back home without you
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Green, Green Grass Of Home
(words & music by claude putman, jr.)
The old home town looks the same,
As I step down from the train,
And there to meet me is my mama and papa
Down the road I look and there runs mary
Hair of gold and lips like cherries
Its good to touch the green, green grass of home
Yes, theyll all be there to meet me,
All creatures smiling sweetly
Its good to touch the green, green grass of home
The old house is still standing,
Though the paint is cracked and dry
And theres an old oak tree that I used to play on
Down the lane Ill walk with my sweet mary
Hair of gold and lips like cherries
Its good to touch the green, green grass of home
Then I awake and look around me
Cold gray walls surround me
And I realize that I was only dreamin
Theres a guard and theres a sad old padre
Arm and arm well walk at daybreak
Again Ill touch the green, green grass of home
Yes, theyll all be there to meet me
In the shadow of that old oak tree
As they lay me beneath the green, green grass of home
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where She Told Her Love
I saw her crop a rose
Right early in the day,
And I went to kiss the place
Where she broke the rose away
And I saw the patten rings
Where she o'er the stile had gone,
And I love all other things
Her bright eyes look upon.
If she looks upon the hedge or up the leafing tree,
The whitethorn or the brown oak are made dearer things to me.
I have a pleasant hill
Which I sit upon for hours,
Where she cropt some sprigs of thyme
And other little flowers;
And she muttered as she did it
As does beauty in a dream,
And I loved her when she hid it
On her breast, so like to cream,
Near the brown mole on her neck that to me a diamond shone;
Then my eye was like to fire, and my heart was like to stone.
There is a small green place
Where cowslips early curled,
Which on Sabbath day I traced,
The dearest in the world.
A little oak spreads o'er it,
And throws a shadow round,
A green sward close before it,
The greenest ever found:
There is not a woodland nigh nor is there a green grove,
Yet stood the fair maid nigh me and told me all her love.
poem by John Clare
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I am sick of this road
Another horrid drive
300 miles, etched in my mind
Burnt into my eyes
Tree after tree, damn this monotony
Road staggers through the hills
Lost in woods
Eastern Ohio in fall
So uninteresting
Like an old photograph in a textbook
It never changes
Fields of wheat
Fields of grass
Fields of exhaustion in my life
I am not doing this for you anymore
It is sick
Disgusted driver loses his focus
No fairness in the visits
So unbalanced in quantity
Road ends in hell for me
I am here for a single sunflower among weeds
Cuts have been scribed on my arms by the thorns
Bright flower that cannot be picked
Must remain in the hills
I am sick of this road
poem by Casey Stewart
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Things I Miss The Most
I swear I gave up drinkin';
Sometimes I have no choice,
After singin' hard, six nights straight,
A little sip sure helps my voice.
Don't get me wrong, I love these songs,
An' I know I've got it made.
Sometimes my mind starts driftin',
When I'm up here on the stage.
To that last half-mile of dirt road,
An' that oak tree on the hill.
To those dogs out, barkin' in the yard,
An' that tractor in the field.
An' them kids up on the front porch,
Screamin': "Mamma, Daddy's home!"
When I'm out here, I'm just thinkin',
About the things I miss the most.
Yeah, the hardest bthing I have to do,
Is hang up this telephone.
There's so much left to talk about,
An' I been gone so long.
So put them kids on one more time,
Before they go to sleep.
And, baby, no, no matter where I go,
All that I can see,
Is that last half-mile of dirt road,
An' that oak tree on the hill.
To those dogs out, barkin' in the yard,
An' that tractor in the field.
An' them kids up on the front porch,
Screamin': "Mamma, Daddy's home!"
When I'm out here, I'm just thinkin',
About the things I miss the most.
The things I miss the most.
The things I miss the most.
An' it's killin'me:
I hate to leave this family that you've given me,
God only knows, I hate to go,
So hold me close and let me let you know,
About the things I miss the most.
Instrumental Break.
People always ask me,
After every show,
"Of all the places that you've ever been,
"What's your favorite place to go?"
It's that last half-mile of dirt road,
An' that oak tree on the hill.
An' those dogs out, barkin' in the yard,
An' that ol' tractor in the field.
An' them kids up on the front porch,
Screamin': "Mamma, Daddy's home!"
When I'm out here, I'm just thinkin',
'Bout the things I miss the most.
While I'm out here, I'm just thinkin',
About the things I miss the most.
Oh, ooh.
song performed by by Van Zant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Little Land
When at home alone I sit
And am very tired of it,
I have just to shut my eyes
To go sailing through the skies--
To go sailing far away
To the pleasant Land of Play;
To the fairy land afar
Where the Little People are;
Where the clover-tops are trees,
And the rain-pools are the seas,
And the leaves, like little ships,
Sail about on tiny trips;
And above the Daisy tree
Through the grasses,
High o'erhead the Bumble Bee
Hums and passes.
In that forest to and fro
I can wander, I can go;
See the spider and the fly,
And the ants go marching by,
Carrying parcels with their feet
Down the green and grassy street.
I can in the sorrel sit
Where the ladybird alit.
I can climb the jointed grass
And on high
See the greater swallows pass
In the sky,
And the round sun rolling by
Heeding no such things as I.
Through that forest I can pass
Till, as in a looking-glass,
Humming fly and daisy tree
And my tiny self I see,
Painted very clear and neat
On the rain-pool at my feet.
Should a leaflet come to land
Drifting near to where I stand,
Straight I'll board that tiny boat
Round the rain-pool sea to float.
Little thoughtful creatures sit
On the grassy coasts of it;
Little things with lovely eyes
See me sailing with surprise.
Some are clad in armour green--
(These have sure to battle been!)--
Some are pied with ev'ry hue,
Black and crimson, gold and blue;
Some have wings and swift are gone;--
But they all look kindly on.
When my eyes I once again
Open, and see all things plain:
High bare walls, great bare floor;
Great big knobs on drawer and door;
Great big people perched on chairs,
Stitching tucks and mending tears,
Each a hill that I could climb,
And talking nonsense all the time--
O dear me,
That I could be
A sailor on a the rain-pool sea,
A climber in the clover tree,
And just come back a sleepy-head,
Late at night to go to bed.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Green Green Grass Of Home
The old hometown looks the same
As I step down from the train
And there to meet me is my mama and papa
And down the road I look and there runs Mary
Her golden lips like cherries
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home.
Yes, they've all come to meet me
Arms reaching, smiling sweetly
It's so good to touch the
Green, green grass of home.
The old house is still standing
Though the paint is cracked and dry
And there's that old oak tree that I used to play on
Down the lane I'd walk with my sweet Mary
Her golden lips like cherries
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home.
Yesm they've all come
Arms reaching, smiling sweetly
It's so good to touch the
Green, green grass of home.
Then I awake and look around me
At the gray walls that surround me
And I realized that I was only dreaming
For there's a guard and there's a sad old padre
Arm in arm, we'll walk at daybreak
Again I'll touch the green, green grass of home.
Yes they'll all come to see me
In the shade of that old oak tree
As they lay me neath the
Green, green grass of home...
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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En-Dor
Behold there is a woman that hath a familiar spirit at En-dor. -- I Samuel, xxviii. 7
The road to En-dor is easy to tread
For Mother or yearning Wife.
There, it is sure, we shall meet our Dead
As they were even in life.
Earth has not dreamed of the blessing in store
For desolate hearts on the road to En-dor.
Whispers shall comfort us out of the dark--
Hands--ah God!--that we knew!
Visions .and voices --look and hark!--
Shall prove that the tale is true,
An that those who have passed to the further shore
May' be hailed--at a price--on the road to En-dor.
But they are so deep in their new eclipse
Nothing they say can reach,
Unless it be uttered by alien lips
And I framed in a stranger's speech.
The son must send word to the mother that bore,
'Through an hireling's mouth. 'Tis the rule of En-dor.
And not for nothing these gifts are shown
By such as delight our dead.
They must twitch and stiffen and slaver and groan
Ere the eyes are set in the head,
And the voice from the belly begins. Therefore,
We pay them a wage where they ply at En-dor.
Even so, we have need of faith
And patience to follow the clue.
Often, at first, what the dear one saith
Is babble, or jest, or untrue.
(Lying spirits perplex us sore
Till our loves--and their lives--are well-known at
En-dor). . . .
Oh the road to En-dor is the oldest road
And the craziest road of all!
Straight it runs to the Witch's abode,
As it did in the days of Saul,
And nothing has changed of the sorrow in store
For such as go down on the road to En-dor!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Some Say Im Running
(brent bourgeois/michael w. smith)
Here I go restless heart
Another lovely misadventure in the dark
All my friends who knew me when
Tell me not to wander down that road again
What they dont know what they cant see
Its being on that road that makes me free
Some say Im running
I know Im falling back to you
The waters deep under the bridge
As I pass by our old house upon the ridge
All our sins have washed away
Now all thats left are all the things we didnt say
Oh restless heart you beat so fast
While my mind is telling me that it wont last
Some say Im running
I know Im falling back to you
Against the odds Ill roll the dice
I guess my heart has won despite all good advice
So grab your things and come on in
And get to know your children once again
When does a fool stop being a fool?
And since when is love obliged to any rules?
Some say Im running
I know Im falling back to you
Lets learn to give lets talk things out
Lets give them someone else to talk about
Some say Im running
But I know Im falling back to you
song performed by by Martina Mcbride
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Comfort Me
Wake me my lady
Dont let me sleep
Open my eyes
To the wonders you keep
Let me look at you
See how you shine
Ill fall in love
Like Ive done every time
Lay me in soft green grass
Down where the river runs
Under the mountain caps
Gold with the setting sun
Walk me along the bay
Beyond the verdant trees
Carry me with your grace
Forever comfort me
You walk on water
Searching the east
The souls of the masses
Pass at your feet
Looking up at you
Tears in their eyes
Fathers of fathers of fathers
Gone by
Walk me down old main streets
Ride me down rusty rails
Fields full of summer wheat
Peppered with rounded bales
Steeples where church bells ring
Lighthouses by the sea
Reach out through gathered storms
Faithfully comfort me
I am your tired
I am your poor in spirit
Yearning to breathe
Breathe, free
Breathe, free
Lay me in soft green grass
Down where the river runs
Under the mountain caps
Gold with the setting sun
Walk me along the bay
Beyond the verdant trees
Carry me with your grace
Forever comfort me
Walk me down old main streets
Ride me down rusty rails
Fields full of summer wheat
Peppered with rounded bales
Steeples where church bells ring
Lighthouses by the sea
Reach out through gathered storms
Faithfully comfort me
song performed by by Tim McGraw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Peppercorn Tree
Such a nice work of Nature and pretty for to see
And pleasant for to scent it's leaves the peppercorn tree
To look at not unlike the weeping willow it's branches hanging down
A thing of natural beauty in a garden of the town,
The beautiful peppercorn trees have a style of their own
And only natural beauty in Nature's World known
Had i the gift of poetry of Nature i would write
Of things such as the rich green peppercorn tree lovely in the noon sunlight
It never loses it's leaves it is an evergreen
Such lovely things in Nature we take for granted to be seen
The strong though pleasant peppercorn like aroma blown out by the freshening breeze
That blow up from the coastal lands through the peppercorn trees
Such a nice work of Nature or so 'twould seem to me
It does have it's own beauty the peppercorn tree.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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And She Was
And she was lying in the grass
And she could hear the highway breathing
And she could see a nearby factory
Shes making sure she is not dreaming
See the lights of a neighbors house
Now shes starting to rise
Take a minute to concentrate
And she opens up her eyes
The world was moving and she was right there with it (and she was)
The world was moving she was floating above it (and she was) and she was
And she was drifting through the backyard
And she was taking off her dress
And she was moving very slowly
Rising up above the earth
Moving into the universe
Drifting this way and that
Not touching ground at all
Up above the yard
Chorus
She was glad about it... no doubt about it
She isnt sure where shes gone
No time to think about what to tell them
No time to think about what shes done
And she was
And she was looking at herself
And things were looking like a movie
She had a pleasant elevation
Shes moving out in all directions
Chorus
Joining the world of missing persons (and she was)
Missing enough to feel alright (and she was)
song performed by by Talking Heads
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rocks On The Road
Theres a black cat down on the quayside.
Ships lights, green eyes glowing in the dark.
Two young cops handing out a beating:
Know how to hurt and leave no mark.
Down in the half-lit bar of the hotel
Theres a call for the last round of the day.
Push back the stool, take that elevator ride.
Fall in bed and kick my shoes away.
Rocks on the road.
Cant sleep through the wild sound of the city.
Hear a car full of young boys heading for a fight.
Long distance telephone keeps ringing out engaged:
Wonder who youre talking with tonight.
Who you talking with tonight?
Rocks on the road.
Tired plumbing wakes me in the morning.
Shower runs hot, runs cold playing with me.
Well, Im up for the down side, lifes a bitch
And all that stuff:
So come and shake some apples from my tree.
Have to pay for my minibar madness.
Itemised phone bill overload.
Well now, how about some heavy rolling?
Move these rocks on the road.
Crumbs on the breakfast table.
And a million other little things to spoil my day.
Now how about a little light music
To chase it all away?
To chase it all away.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Running In The Family
Our dad
Would send us to our room
Hed be the voice of doom
He said that we would thank him later
All day
He was solid as a rock
But by eight oclock
Wed be crumbling
One night
My brother joe and me
Climbed down the family tree
That grew outside our bedroom window
We ran
Though we knew it couldnt last
Running from the past
From things that we were born to be
Looking back its so bizarre
It runs in the family
All the things we are
On the back seat of the car
With joseph and emily
We only see so far
- and we all have our daddys eyes
Looking back its so bizarre
Dad rang
The officer in charge
A man so large
He barely fit his circumstances
He said
Two kids out on the street
Were picked up on the beat
And in the station
So theres me
With emily and joe
Daddy driving home
All heading in the same direction
He knew
No matter what the breaks
Wed make the same mistakes
Couldnt take his eyes of joe and me
Looking back its so bizarre
It runs in the family
All the things we are
On the backseat of the car
With joseph and emily
We only see so far
- and we all have our daddys eyes
Looking back its so bizarre
It runs in the family
All the things we are
Looking back its so bizarre
Like a dream within a dream
Were all somewhere in between
Like a drummer plays his drum
Like a father like a son
- and your gonna have to face the music
- face the music
Hey hey
We keep it running in the family
Hey hey
We keep it coming in the family
Looking back its so bizarre
It runs in the family
All the things we are
On the backseat of the car
With joseph and emily
We only see so far
- cause we all have our daddys eyes
Take me back into your arms
Its no longer a mystery
No cause for alarm
Could have never come this far
With no sense of history
It always leaves a scar
- and we all have our daddys eyes
Looking back its so bizarre
Running in the family
Hey, hey!
song performed by by Level 42
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Road/Yes The Road Again
THE ROAD/ YES THE ROAD AGAIN
The road
Yes the road again
To see to feel
The beauty of the new in an ancient landscape-
Green green the trees
And blue the sky
And light the morning world-
The new
the road
The open road again
Who would have believed
I would ever find it again?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Green Green Grass Of Home
The old home town looks the same as I step down from the train,
And there to meet me is my mama and papa.
Down the road I look and there runs mary hair of gold and lips like cherries.
Its good to touch the green, green grass of home.
Yes, theyll all come to meet me, arms reaching, smiling sweetly.
Its good to touch the green, green grass of home.
The old house is still standing tho the paint is cracked and dry,
And theres that old oak tree I used to play on.
Down the lane I walk with my sweet mary, hair of gold and lips like cherries.
Its good to touch the green, green grass of home.
Yes, theyll all come to meet me, arms reaching, smiling sweetly.
Its good to touch the green, green grass of home.
[spoken:]
Then I awake and look around me, at four grey wall surround me
And I realize that I was only dreaming.
For theres a guard and theres a sad old padre -
Arm in arm well walk at daybreak.
Again I touch the green, green grass of home.
Yes, theyll all come to see me in the shade of that old oak tree
As they lay me neath the green, green grass of home
song performed by by Tom Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Road to Roma Jail
It's a long road, a cruel road, the road to Roma Jail,
birds in all the branches mocking as you pass,
the spiteful little soldier-bird, the stupid old jackass,
crying 'One, two three of them; riding head to tail'.
On the long road, the cruel road, the road to Roma Jail.
Crookedly the track runs beneath the grassy skies
silver shines the mulga, golden glows the plain,
Bullocks in the barley-grass start and stare again,
stockmen at the station-yars, watch the white dust rise,
but one man, jogging on, dare not raise his eyes.
Pride of life and wild blood, all must pay the toll,
stolen horses' mouths are hard as misers hearts
none knew where the end is once the journey starts,
and Steve rides a long ride to reach a bitter goal
where black imps, grinning imps, hover round his soul.
It's a long road, a cruel roaadm the road to roma Jail,
a trooper rides behind you, a tracker rides before,
your hands are tied, your head bowed, your heart and body sore,
and high above you in the blue the homing wood-duck sail,
on the long road, the cruel road, the road to Roma Jail
poem by Vance Palmer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Greeen Green Grass Of Home
The old home town looks the same,
As I step down from the train
And there to greet me is my mamma and my poppa
Down the road I look, and there runs Mary,
Hair of gold, lips like cherries,
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home
Yes, they'll all come to meet me, Arms a-reachin', smilin' sweetly,
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home
The old house is still standin,'Though the paint is cracked and dry
And there's that old oak tree, That I used to play on.
Down the lane I'll walk with my sweet Mary,
Hair of gold and lips like cherries
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home.
Then I awake and look around me,
At the four gray walls that surround me,
And I realize .Yes I was only dreaming,
For there's a guard and a sad old padre,
Arm in arm we'll walk at daybreak,
And at last I'll touch the green green grass of home
song performed by by Tom Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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