Morning Walk (Parody)
Full of revenge the animal started walking,
while the wind jerked off curtains down the street
blowing wildly behind clouds of fog,
passing the supermarket, where trolleys stick out
like always bunched together.
Passing tractors, with a lost tooth, going round a drum,
shy, she sneaks past rubble, tin shacks
that is stripped, past a tower next to the street;
a female dog that morning is walking
with twisted teeth.
And in her territory she gradually got loose, became dog again,
crossing the streets without a chain, going right through a fence,
where she walks into a direction without an owner, playing with butterflies
that are hopping up and down to find nectar or are turning above the lettuce;
she pauses, with the smell of meat that drives her on,
while she is half blinded.
Oh, the gnashing and a clatter when the wind
rips curtains off at houses down the street,
capsizing something against a car,
blowing beds and bricks, exposing poverty
at every shack.
She walks inquisitive
over rags, intestines and rubbish bags
that are stringed together,
inquisitive up to the street,
running over the road full of uniforms,
whining with aching teeth,
the wind flies up full of fester
when she shakes her big head -
at this place
the wind is contained
forever.
(With apologies to Louis Esterhuizen/Reference: “Oggendwandeling” (Morning walk) by Louis Esterhuizen.)
poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes
In A Cold Wind
In a cold wind
in a night wind,
under a yellow street-light,
its paleness and the dark night.
Leaves blown past,
down the wind, cast
onto the silent roadway,
or in heaps, on the footway.
The houses that rise
into grey skies,
windows with drawn curtains,
facing onto pale gardens.
Slow in the sky,
the clouds moving by;
on the ground, the shadows blurred,
the whistling wind heard.
And the wind that blows
comes not, nor goes.
In this night, its sound
wraps all around.
Not here alone,
its long low drone,
along endless fences and hedges,
insidiously edges.
Now is the hour,
now is the closing of the flower,
an end to approaching and retreating,
to losing and defeating,
in a cold wind,
in a night wind,
on a corner of a cold street,
where all directions meet.
poem by Rory Hudson
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Bouquet (parody)
(with apologies to Louis Esterhuizen)
Far off against the water source
she and her brothers every day finds grief,
for hours they walk along, like bearded angels
tired of the forgetting
and in the afternoons, after finding the apples for the day,
she comes with teeth full of green pieces to me,
she walks with dignity sucking every wet finger
to show proudly how the clinging soot
cannot wash off from her teeth -
Showing exactly how hard she has to bow and walk around,
while she is sucking up
every last drop
and I am waiting, while I have already forgotten.
At first light she comes to say that she is sorry,
I find tears while my darling
is really longing-
For the late afternoon’s thank you, her bouquet is already wilting.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Street Mission
I dont know
Man, I just got here
You got me thinking
Im about to leave
Some say maybe tomorrow
New direction, hello
What I know know know
What I know know know
I walk tall
I walk in the wild wind
I love to stare
I love to watch myself grow
Someday, maybe tomorrow
New direction, hello
Well I know know know
Well I know know know
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
And Im promising nothing
Im just living a smile
I casually arrange it
I know...well I know know know
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
I walk tall
I walk in the wild wind
I live an image
Of plastic and gold
Some say maybe tomorrow
A resurrection, hello
Well I know know know
Well I know know know
Well I know know know
Well I know know know
Oh...
Oh...
Oh...i need something
I need someone
I need you
Oh...Ive got something
Ive got someone
Ive got you
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
Good night
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Street Missions
I don't know
Man, I just got here
You got me thinking
I'm about to leave
Some say maybe tomorrow
New direction, hello
What I know know know
What I know know know
I walk tall
I walk in the wild wind
I love to stare
I love to watch myself grow
Someday, maybe tomorrow
New direction, hello
Well I know know know
Well I know know know
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
And I'm promising nothing
I'm just living a smile
I casually arrange it
I know...well I know know know
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
I walk tall
I walk in the wild wind
I live an image
Of plastic and gold
Some say maybe tomorrow
A resurrection, hello
Well I know know know
Well I know know know
Well I know know know
Well I know know know
Oh...
Oh...
Oh...I need something
I need someone
I need you
Oh...I've got something
I've got someone
I've got you
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
Good night
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why Will You Gone with the Wind
Why will you gone with the wind?
Does it because you were attracted
by the peach street in that Tree City?
-it's like walking in the fragrant garden of sweet peach
when you read that historic city in a sunny spring morning.
But you should know there has walnut
besides chestnut street in this city of Brotherly Love,
-it's like walking in the golden heaven with sweet nut
when you read this lovely city in a beautiful autumn afternoon.
Gone with the wind?
The soft wind of the South
or the blue sky of the North,
Which one will be your favorite choice?
Gundi-?
Does it mean gone with the wind?
poem by by unknown author
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If I Could Be The Wind
I want to be the wind blowing in forest playing their own song.
I want to be the wind bringing smiles for farmers.
I want to be the wind bringing rain, helping fireman in his hardest time.
I want to be the wind assisting plant to expand their kingdom.
I want to be the wind smoothly blowing over the sea and bringing fisherman home safely.
I want to be the wind covering the thing which ought to be left in past.
I want to be the wind clearing the mind of those with agony
I want to be the wind blowing in summer and tending to those without shelter.
I want to be the wind which bring happiness to the children taking their kite high up in the sky.
I want to be the wind removing clouds of torment and allowing sun to lay down its vital warmth.
I want to be the wind which remove thorn from path and help people to move forward.
I want to be the wind helping bird to take their first flight.
I want to be the wind which leaves versifier rapt giving him his divine words
I want to be the wind blowing all over place bringing happiness to people and vanishes stealthily, unnoticed.
I WANT TO BE THE WIND…
poem by Parth Gwari
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Wild Night
As you brush your shoes and stand before your mirror
And you comb your hair and grab your coat and hat
And you walk the streets trying to remember
All those wild nights breeze through your mind
And everything looks so complete
When youre walking out on the street
And the wind catches your feet
And sends you flying, crying
Oooh, oo-ooh wee the wild night is calling
All the girls walked by dressed up for each other
And the boys do the boogie woogie on the corner of the street
And the people passing by just stare with the wild wonder
And the inside jukebox roars just like thunder
And everything looks so complete
When youre walking out on the street
And the wind catches your feet
And sends you flying, crying
Oooh, oo-ooh wee the wild night is calling
The wild --------- night is calling
Come on out and dance
Come on out and make romance
Come on out and dance
Come on out and make romance
And everything looks so complete
When youre walking out on the street
And the wind catches your feet
And sends you flying, crying
Oooh, oo-ooh wee the wild night is calling
Oooh, oo-ooh wee the wild night is calling
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Whom; It May The Wind Blows You
I saw the drunken man on the 16th street
used the dark red raincoat
He was drunk without a head
(but) riding his heart
Walk into Glen-arm
Blinded his words
There was no wind blows
But the words always stuck in an old Oak tree
(from) A distant land
The pieces of memories
Powerless into sound pieces are now
in the country that everyone should speak
Even to speak on his own
In the wind, even in passing by people
who do not know
I see the drunken man,
sitting in a pushed wheelchair
grumbling about love
It's not belong to the wind but
to whom I will never know
I am just a traveler, traveler
who recorded all not by malice
I promised the cool breeze of the mountain
(16th Street Denver,21 Oct 2010)
poem by Imam Setiaji Ronoatmojo
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City Of Worcester
Worcester, the city of noise,
Walking along these city streets,
Seeing people busy,
pacing,
Cracked city walks,
Aged city houses,
Beautiful city air, '
Never seems to be a minute to spare,
As cars stream along,
Cops and fire trucks pass down my street.
Loud children playing in the streets.
As I walk down the street of mine,
I hear parents yelling at their children.
Dogs barking as you walk by,
Houses that are old and crusty,
Men and women fighting.
This right here is the city I was born in.
The City Of Worcester!
poem by Cassandra Prew
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The Solitary Reaper
I behold him single,
walking on the street
and his face is covered
by the long black cloak
that the evening wind
bristles against.
From a distance he looks
like a ancient priest,
or somebody trying to
get the better
of the foggy raining weather.
Something sinister is in his step
and I have seen him before
and the knowledge of it,
brings the hair on my arms to life.
I greet him like a old friend
and he smiles at me
like regular passers on the street do
and his voice is part of the wind:
“I am not coming for you, yet.”
The moonlight glitters yellow
in a crescent shape in the sky
and falls on the sickle in his hand
and death walks by,
to take away the very pulse of life
somewhere nearby
and he’s in a hurry to be in time
before destiny’s clockwork reach its mark.
Down the street
I hear a young man sobbing
in a old white house
where all the lights
are burning a soft yellow
and just for a moment,
the solitary reaper hesitates
before unnoticed
he walks through the door.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Wind is Blowing
The wind is blowing,
Blowing slow and fast on my skin,
Blowing fast and hard on his skin.
The wind is cold tonight,
Blowing scary in the woods,
Blowing swiftly throw the night.
The wind is warm today,
Blowing hard in town,
Blowing soft in the county.
The wind is cool,
Blowing all the time,
As they say,
The wind is blowing!
poem by Angela M. Maynard
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On a windy night (in answer to T.S. Eliot)
I. It’s Midnight
It’s Midnight
and the wind brushes softly though my hair,
there are long drawn out shadows everywhere
under the street lamps and the bright light
is stringed out in white
beacon after beacon leading for some to somewhere
but to me it feels as if they are going nowhere,
as if this dark night
is endless without form or shape
and one lonely shadow is following me
while branches are caught in a macabre dance
and there’s a chill at the nape
of my neck and darkness wherever I see
while I walk as if in a trance.
II. Half past one
Half past one
and the spluttering street lump did mutter
“so you had your fun, ”
and no single word did I utter
and at my back fear was crawling
as if in the past night
I had done a unpardonable sin and wind was the singing
“do not look back” and above me the stars was bright
but a strange feeling was in me
as if something evil was following,
as if from it I would never be free
and I glimpsed back, in my daring caught a glance
of something without shadow sneaking behind
and I believed that it as a trick of the mind.
III. It was half-past two
It was half-past two
and while walking through the park
I did not have a clue
where I was going and the night was very dark
and a black thinned out cat sneaked past
with green glowing eyes
as if the tranquillity could not last
and all of the past goodbyes
where coming to my mind
of loved animals, friends and you
as if I was blind and never again to find
the place in the world where I belonged to
and with a leap of delight
the cat found something to eat in that night.
IV. The darkness washed over me
The darkness washed over me
falling like a old worn out cloak
and there were known stars that I could see
but with feelings wanted to choke
and it was half-past three
with a strange familiar howl in the wind
and the cat was eying me
as if in me it had find
a close compatriot
who is also a dweller in the night,
but in life I felt like a idiot
watching the bright
lights of cars passing in the distance,
praying for some kind of deliverance.
V. At four I was chilly
At four I was chilly
and did not want to wait in the park anymore,
the cat was still with me
purring much more in love with me than before
and I carried it while stroking it
as if I had found a new friend
and bit by tiny bit
I liked it and it was no fiend
but a tiny living thing
with shiny bright eyes burning
right through me and the wind did sing
the leaves on branches were still churning
and for a time I had company,
and it was great to be alive with something that loved me.
VI. The memory was crowding me
The memory was crowding me,
as if there was no escape
that on a similar night I did see
a glance of beauty peering from beneath a cape
and then it was somewhat chilly
not like now a summer night
and a strange passion did fill me
to see her full face in the bright light
but into the night she did disappear
with white cheeks and the fire of a eye
as if she was not meant to be near
and now with the sun in a bright sky
with a bird calling on its mate
I see her standing at the garden gate.
[Reference: Rhapsody on a Windy Night by T. S. Eliot.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Late August
There’s a chilly wind blowing this morning,
the black-collard barbet
flies into my study’s window
as if it can go right through it,
the big brown Labrador jumps
with locking jaws
trying to snatch it from the air,
there’s menace creeping into the morning,
menace coming from somewhere,
both dogs jump and try
to snap the postman’s hand in two,
while he is putting letters
in the mailbox,
last night the police
made a ruckus at two in the morning,
at the neighbours across the street,
hooted the neighbourhood awake
and as a mistake
was at the wrong address
and when I got back to bed,
I thought that I had heard something
and in t-shirt and shorts
went to investigate
with a shotgun in my hands
but it was only the wind
rustling through the trees,
blowing as it did
from the beginning of time.
This morning felt like Monday,
as if going to work
after a weekend
brought the responsibilities of living
back to me again.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Walking In The Street
Oh billy stares at cherry in the hall
And walks out into the rain so blessed and tall
Standin on the corner with a gun underneath his coat
Beneath the stars on the street
Oh on lexington avenue they stand
Velvet aces they case the promised land
Reachin out across the hoods with both hands
Oh, tryin to catch a ride
Tonight were lovers in the cold
Running past the graveyards in the snow
Walking in the street with nowhere to go
And its no, no, no
Oh and the getaway driver waits outside the store
He pulls away just as billy runs out the door
Oh and billy wont run anymore, no, no, no
Oh baby I cant lay the stars at your feet
Oh but I think we could take it all, just you and me
Oh come on, youll see, theres a lot of room
For you baby, in this front seat
Tonight were lovers on that road (in the snow)
Running past the graveyards in the snow
Walking in the street with nowhere to go
And its oh, oh, oh
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Til Daddy Comes Home (for Ruthie)
The wind
talking with the voices
of the trees
as if a ventriloquist
or playing now
that discarded twisted trumpet
etched in frost
a long lonely note
a hanging
pub sign
THE DOG & DUCK
trying to break free
unleased by the wind's fury
turning yesterday's TIMES
into many storied seagulls
MAN. U'S LOSS!
flying in my face
making me swerve
wobble
almost topple
oops
off
the bicycle threatening
to become
airborne
with every gust
unpegging a sheet
from a clothsline
losing its mind
as if it created
a ghost
that chases me
down the street
with great gusto
urging the garden gnomes
to come alive
inching up
the crazy paving
towards the house
steadfast as a fortress
before shattering
their hopes of invasion
scattering their gaily coloured
shards
I...I...I
balancing on my bike
each bone shaking
each bolt & nut
threatening to come loose
on into the valley
of the wind's breath
into the teeth
of the gale
a hat & scarf
running down the road
all
by themselves
racing an inside-out
umbrella
the wind
like a big bad wolf
then turning a corner
in my mind the unkind wind
turning kind
its hand
on my behind
goosing me along
until I fall
into my child's
welcoming smile.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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Lonely Street
Sometimes when I'm walking down this lonely street,
Well, it sure don't seem like twenty years,
Since I went walking down this lonely street
And the smell of perfumed ladies filled the air
This street ain't got no name, dead end is in the river,
And I lived where I hated life day by day,
There wasn't nothing I could do to shake a cold night shiver,
'Cause to move up Lonely Street you had to have some say
Gambling is bad luck down on Lonely Street
And it sure ain't no place to be when a man gets sore
You know I killed a man and I paid all I can,
With twenty years on a chain gang,
For the flesh and the blood on that jailhouse floor
Sometimes when I'm walking down this lonely street
I get caught up in a dream that won't let me go
And as the bright lights flash up and down this lonely street
My mind rolls back the years long time ago
I see my baby stumblin' around with tears in her eyes
And as I reach out for her she falls on the floor
She mumbles through bloody lips about a bad man, robber, raper,
And in my gut I know I got one to score
The word was comin' down, down on Lonely Street
That the bad man was a dead man if he crossed my trail
Every night I'd walk up and down this Lonely Street
I get stinkin' drunk, and always in jail,
One night they threw me in with a man they called the mangler
He was caught on the street makin' some old whore,
I remember he was quite proud of that,
So half-crazed I shot him,
And I cried in the blood on that jailhouse floor
song performed by by Kansas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Night Walk
a full moon
overlooks streets
and alleys
its cold, quiet
footsteps echo
and yet not
street lights comfort
wind rolls along
against my face
almost numb
windows are lit
through curtains
people sat warm
here I walk
thoughts as company
in the dark of night
my nerves on edge
waiting, waiting
then nothing
I walk
watch the moon
quietly alone
and yet not
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Shed
I'm like a freight train feelin' no pain
I never turn back one track
Better step aside
Like a shotgun
I'm really someone
You'll feel my heatwave
Won't save anyone near to me
I'm steel
So come and try to bend me if you can, hah
I don't feel
Before you know it it's over
Get out of my way
I'm street walking, street walking
Night stalking, i'm street walking
No reputation
You better quick run
Cause i got no time i'll climb all over you
You need a strong hand
To be a mean man
You've got to think fast
I'll last longer than you could know
I'm steel
So won't you come and try to bend me if you can
I don't feel
Before you know it it's over
Out of my way
I'm street walking
Hey, i'm a wild cat
Don't need to prove that
I'm always howlin' prowlin'
Stalkin' my prey
It could be your night
To feel the dog bite
And hear the slashing, crashin'
Tearin' inside of you
I'm steel
So come and try to break me if you can, no way
Like a wheel
About to roll you over
Get out of my way
I'm street walkin', street walkin'
No talkin', street walking
Night stalking, street walking
No talkin', i'm street walkin', yeah
Street walkin', street walkin'
Night stalking, street walking
song performed by by Rainbow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Streets of Life
Walking down a crowded street
Friends can suddenly appear
Bustling on their happy feet
Telling you that they're so near
Walking down an empty street
Makes you wonder if you're lost
For there is no one to greet
You're like walking in a frost
Walking down the streets of life
On which roadway will you be?
That of glory or of strife?
Or on path where you'd be free?
Walking down the august hall
By the road you know not where
Is there pride as you recall?
How the heck did you get there?
.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
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Soar With The Wind
What caused your hat to fall?
Alas, the wind started it all.
The wind can sometimes be deadly
But what happened to you really?
The wind blowing the leaves
The wind bothering the bees
But look at you, so nice and neat
What would you do with it?
Soar high like the wind
Aim high like the wind
But not too high or you will fall
I do not know if you can endure it all.
I want to ride with the wind
With you, dear, like a helpless weed.
Forever starts here with you
Like a fountain of water, kissing you.
Soar with the wind, be wild and free
Behold, just fly away and breathe.
The wind can sometimes be nice
But not too nice or you will die.
Enjoy its lasting peace
Sooner or later you will see
That it was just a reverie
Full of happiness and glee.
poem by Georgia Leana Benedictos
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