En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The never-ending road

I saw the landscape passing by,
while the car swept
on with a never-ending road.

Buildings rose up into the air
and everywhere people were
packed square by square
in offices, flats and apartments.

White yellow mine dumps
and huge cranes glided by
and I felt small as a fly,
against the immensity of it all

Acres of corn surrounded me
and all the way to the horizon,
I saw no tree.

The green was all around me
and a mechanical spray point,
where showering water in an arc.

The land flattened
while I drove South
and grey thorn bushes flashed by.

Here and there
some rocky outcrops
stood red brown against the flat plain,
but everything begged for a dropp of rain.

In the far distance up in the sky
a lightning bolt twisted to the ground
and when the rain came gushing down,
life sprouted from the sand.

The road stretched on
and in the distance
the black of the tar
met with the sky
and except for the windmills I passed by,
that road could have been
anywhere on this good great earth.

poem by Gert Strydom
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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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First rain

The past winter had come
with black ripe
and had turned the green grass,
even the flowers into dead,
yellow withered things

but now in this early spring,
rain was showering the earth
with thousands of kisses,

bringing back life
and the sweet smell
drifted up from the wet sand
as if something great
had come forth
out of the creator’s hand

and later a rainbow
with brilliant colours
stretched from horizon to horizon
against the dark black clouds

while in the distance
lightning bolts were crashing down
one after another

and in my imagination
I could already see
tender shoots sprouting.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Rain-tree

Rain-tree

The rain-tree is of cassia family -
Like an elephant it stands on the road, clothed
With thick green foliage, dark against the sky
All along the Bandra-Kurla road in Mumbai.

You have to exert a little and see
Over the top to see the nazuna-type
Of pink flowers sitting above the foliage
In plentiful numbers, with up-thrust pink hairs.

Unlike the African tulip in front of ONGC
At Bandra Flyover visible from the distance,
Here the pink and green does not show off
As rain-tree flowers don’t advertise themselves.

Unlike copper-pod’s bright yellow flowers
The rain tree flowers don’t weave a carpet:
I’ve never seen the flowers on the ground below
Nor do they wither on the tree, how I wonder!

In monsoon rains, the leaves shine specially,
Transparent drops falling on walkers below,
Or with a thud on the racing car bonnets too,
Some choose to fall on road to rise a bit upwards.

I have not understood why it is called rain-tree:
Are they attracted, peacock-like, to the rain-clouds,
Or does the rain-bird which drinks water straight from heavens
Prefer this tree, and inspire Kalidasa to write Meghdoot?

poem by Daniel Trevelyn Joseph
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Down This Road

(Michael Dulaney/Michael Lunn)
Down this road there's an old brick house
My mama cried the day that I moved out
And my first summer job was pumpin' gas and fixin' flats
But at Henry Walker's Texaco
Down this road, down this road
Down this road there's a maple tree
In a cotton field where Jenny first kissed me
And I can still remember the night she said good-bye
I stood there like a fool and watched her go
Down this road, down this road
And it goes on forever
And it goes by too fast
It'll take you anywhere you want to go
And every memory will bring you back
Down this road there's a small white church
Daddy lived his life by the preacher's word
He raised me right, I could always feel his love
Even when the angels called him home
Down this road
And it goes on forever
And it goes by too fast
It'll take you anywhere you want to go
And every memory will bring you back
Down this road
Down this road
Down this road

song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rain Show

Chennai city
At south india
On the road
Rain was on the way
Town buses
Go slow too slow
At road
A road poblem
In side the bus
Rain rain drops rain
Come again
Travalling people...
Simply taken
The umberlaw
At inside the bus
With a rain!
How is the rain show?

poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Past skeletons of steal and concrete

Past skeletons of steal and concrete
I came this morning
and saw people small like ants,
between yellow cranes groaning and bended.

Where white smoke poured from round chimneys
and people struggled in the half-light
or glowing in a hell like fire
of iron and metal
lost between ovens cooking glowing,

people where captive and caged
by walls, doors and roofs that surrounded them
and lost in the circles drawn by the city
attracted by work from rural places.

The day was cast over and grey
but still they kept on building
and cement lorries were parked in the road
while workers were clinging to black pipes.

On the other side of the road children laughed
caught by the tinned pleasure pulsating
day and night without end
and beggars waited with stretched out hands.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Grey

Grey road stretched through grey rain.
Grey rain fell though grey mist.
Grey mist enveloped all,
all the eye could see,
all the land,
all the sky
and me.
Grey covered all,
all the way down to the sea.

Glimpsed through grey the swell of the ocean,
riding the waves a wind surfer surfing,
chopping, fighting the crests with swift motion
skirting the spray, sail unfurling.
Stopping, I stared at that sight in the mist,
oh how he came dancing over the sea,
right through the rain a state of sheer bliss,
the wondrous frolic rippling throughout me
making me tingle right down deep inside.
That misty image ripped all grey apart
a glorious vision of freedom untied,
returning tremendous joy to my heart
filling me up, bringing tears to my eyes,
emerging from grey a great love of life.

poem by Diana Rosser
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Pretoria At Half Past Four

At half past four
while the civil service employees
are going home
blue-white thunderbolts crash down
while an afternoon shower begins
and the road becomes a skating rink.

Pedestrians run into the shelter of buildings,
the road workers stop their labour
where they are repairing the road,
while the main roads run like small rivers
with water flowing knee deep
and housewives in the suburbs take cover
behind closed doors.

Inside the shelter of a small church
you are peaceful on your knees
while you pray
and a few lost teenagers
sit scared on the back benches
and the banner in the church
proclaims that God saves.

Some light fall radiating white on your face,
while outside lightning bolts are crashing down,
while somewhere in the distance sirens below;
you talk like every other day
with the God of the universe.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Square Water

SQUARE WATER

When the bus collapsed on the road
To the capital
A man in blue opened the hood
And spit at the engine
While off to the side
Down a rough slope
Was a square cut body of water
Neutral and calm for all:
Water buffalo, children and dogs.
A radiantly happy girl is climbing out.
The buffalo gaze over at two men
In white pith helmets and black clothes
Who seem to be digging a hole.
A bicycle is parked between the children
And the men
The water is roiled by swimmers
Splashing in the brown liquid.
Bruegel should have been there
To mix the ordinary with something
Unexpected:
Perhaps a boy with wings falling
Off in the distance.
That rapid movement might have caught
The eyes of the buffalo
But the men would have been too busy
Digging and the children would have been
Having too much fun to look up.
When the bus started I framed
A shot that included them all except
For the imaginary falling boy
Who only hit the water in my imagination.

poem by Burgess Needle
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Yellow And Rose

Notes:
JT on Sony.com: Botany Bay is where they brought the convicts. . .The dregs of British society who became the finest nation on God's green earth. . . beautiful. Yellow and Rose is a half baked thing about transportation, transformation and Australia.
Yellow and Rose
Yellow and Rose
Yellow and Rose
Oh boy, Botany Bay
Watching the water go by
Here's your home so far away
Here is a tear for your eye
Here is a vast and unknown land
Here are the strangers on the sand
Oh, seeds of the universe ever endeavor to grow
Tiny pieces of everything into the water they go
Everything changes for the strangers on the shore
They are blue and green no more
They are yellow and rose
Down under got the south side
This groovy crazy planet
Watching from the outside
It's as smooth as a gravy sandwich
People play music night for day
One caught the sun in a sekere
Seeds of the universe ever endeavor to grow
Tiny pieces of everything into the water they go
Everything changes for the strangers on the shore
They are blue and green no more
They are yellow and rose
Remember when we thought we were in California
We thought it was the eye of the hurricane
Old gypsy woman she tried to warn you
"You'll be back this way again
Hungry for the rain
It's written in your hand, plain"
Seeds of the universe ever endeavor to grow
Tiny pieces of everything into the water they go
Everything changes for the strangers on the shore
They are blue and green no more
They are yellow and rose
Yellow and Rose
Yellow and Rose
Yellow and Rose

song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sometimes I imagine

Sometimes I imagine
that my D Jacobs painting
of a red brown earth road
that in winter
runs through the yellow green veldt
past a few oak and blue gum trees
to the purple blue mountains
in the distance
is a Pierneef,

but what draws it nearer to me,
is that I almost feel
the sand beneath me feet,
can smell the tussocks of grass,
try to catch the shades of the trees
one by one,
see a graveyard
in the distance next to
a few bushes,
look at the bright blue sky
and get emotionally involved
with this painting
as it brings my childhood days
back to me
and it jumps right
into my heart.

[Reference: Painting by D Jacobs that belongs to me.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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Yellow & Rose

Notes:
Jt on sony.com: botany bay is where they brought the convicts. . .the dregs of british society who became the finest nation on gods green earth. . . beautiful. yellow and rose is a half baked t
About transportation, transformation and australia.
Yellow and rose
Yellow and rose
Yellow and rose
Oh boy, botany bay
Watching the water go by
Heres your home so far away
Here is a tear for your eye
Here is a vast and unknown land
Here are the strangers on the sand
Oh, seeds of the universe ever endeavor to grow
Tiny pieces of everything into the water they go
Everything changes for the strangers on the shore
They are blue and green no more
They are yellow and rose
Down under got the south side
This groovy crazy planet
Watching from the outside
Its as smooth as a gravy sandwich
People play music night for day
One caught the sun in a sekere
Seeds of the universe ever endeavor to grow
Tiny pieces of everything into the water they go
Everything changes for the strangers on the shore
They are blue and green no more
They are yellow and rose
Remember when we thought we were in california
We thought it was the eye of the hurricane
Old gypsy woman she tried to warn you
Youll be back this way again
Hungry for the rain
Its written in your hand, plain
Seeds of the universe ever endeavor to grow
Tiny pieces of everything into the water they go
Everything changes for the strangers on the shore
They are blue and green no more
They are yellow and rose
Yellow and rose
Yellow and rose
Yellow and rose

song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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After Rain

The rain of a night and a day and a night
Stops at the light
Of this pale choked day. The peering sun
Sees what has been done.
The road under the trees has a border new
of purple hue
Inside the border of bright thin grass:
For all that has
Been left by November of leaves is torn
From hazel and thorn
And the greater trees. Throughout the copse
No dead leaf drops
On grey grass, green moss, burnt-orange fern,
At the wind's return:
The leaflets out of the ash-tree shed
Are thinly spread
In the road, like little black fish, inlaid,
As if they played.
What hangs from the myriad branches down there
So hard and bare
Is twelve yellow apples lovely to see
On one crab-tree.
And on each twig of every tree in the dell
Uncountable
Crystals both dark and bright of the the rain
That begins again.

poem by Edward Thomas
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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
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Heavy Rain

Heavy rain, lightning too
Heavy rain, when Im with you
Seems like a thousand years
Since we both felt free
Weve seen a million faces
All staring at you and me
But just like humphrey bogart said
Before he passed out on his bed
Heres looking at you kid
And the rocky road ahead
Heavy rain, lightning too
Heavy rain when Im with you
You know the thunder comes like a lions roar
But it leaves me now
When you walk out the door
Listen to that northern wind
Its singing a sad old song
A melody so sick and tired
Been blowing much too long
Aint it time to feel the weather change
You know its overdue
Love is gone, we cant go on
Pretending old is new

Rain down

And the daylight comes
As a sweet surprise
Heavy rain
Filling up my eyes
Heavy rain

song performed by by Hall & Oates
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Everything is going to be wet

Every day rain falls down
from the overcast grey sky
and lightning bolts
flash blue white
like the fingers
of the gods
caressing the earth
while the leaves of autumn
cover every tree
in auburn, yellow and brown.

Green leaves on the stems
of big pink hollyhocks
here and there
dip up and down
when hit by drops of rain
as if suddenly coming alive

and it’s going to be
a wet winter
and probably
not all that chilly
with rain falling
out of season.

The grass is green
and everything but trees
are growing
as if it’s still spring.

and flowers bloom
on geraniums, roses, hollyhocks,
lilies, irises and petunias
in colours ranging
from white, orange, yellow,
violet to red and blue
and without covering
everything is going
to be wet.

poem by Gert Strydom
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The Road To Happiness

A lonely road I walk on
with nobody around
just the trees in the distance
and the rocks and dirt on the ground.
I was told there was happiness
beyond, where this road goes
happiness is what I lack
and in my smile it shows.
this emotion I long for
It has been quite sometime
since, I felt this inside my heart
a happiness that's all mine.
I know it's out there somewhere
to the end, I must now go
walking down this lonely road
what to expect, I do not know.
embarking on this journey
is something I must do
I felt this emptiness for to long
and somehow I seen it through.
I can't let nothing get me down
I have to give all of me
I have to make it all the way
at the end, happiness waits for me.

poem by Bobby Kramer Jr.
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Somewhere in the hillocks

Somewhere in the hillocks
there’s a place
where you go through a rocky gateway
where blunted brown rocks lie
in the red brown sand

and here and there are trees
sticking out like half bare fingers
against the sky
as if leaves are struggling to grow
and terrible winds
at times rip it off.

The grass of the veldt is yellow
as if it’s already winter,
but maybe not a lot of rain
falls here

and in the distance
I see clouds white and grey
hanging over the blue mountain top

while the sun at places
comes through it
and would have liked
to be with the painter Jacobs
at that place.

[Reference: Painting by D Jacobs that belongs to me.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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The Road Ahead Was Meandering

The road ahead was meandering,
while I drove at a steady speed
taking the path as it did swing
with the wind rushing at my chest and feet,

the sun shining hot on my body
and the action of driving,
had a pleasure to it, while I felt free
a part of the motorcycle

which roared with power beneath me
and I was one with the black stretching road
while far in the distance I could see
a truck creeping along with its load

and I enjoyed speed and sheer tranquillity,
felt one with the passing nature
and the elements of the wind and sun had a kind of affinity
while the feeling was in perfection awesome and pure.

poem by Gert Strydom
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