Beaten Back
BEATEN back in sad dejection,
After years of weary toil
On that burning hot selection
Where the drought has gorged his spoil.
All in vain ’gainst him, the vulture,
I have battled without rest—
In the van of agriculture,
Marching out into the West.
Now the eagle-hawks are feeding
On my perished stock that reek
Where the water-holes receding
Long had left the burning creek.
I must labour without pity—
I the pick and spade must wield
In the streetways of the city
Or upon another’s field!
Can it be my reason’s rocking,
For I feel a burning hate
For the God who, only mocking,
Sent the prayed-for rain too late?
Pour, ye mocking rains, and rattle
On the bare, brown, grassless plain,
On the shrivelled hides of cattle
That shall ne’er want grass again!
Rush, ye yellow floods, to Murray,
Over thirsty creek-banks foam;
And o’er all, ye black clouds, hurry;
Ye can bring not back my home!
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
With the Cattle
The drought is down on field and flock,
The river-bed is dry;
And we must shift the starving stock
Before the cattle die.
We muster up with weary hearts
At breaking of the day,
And turn our heads to foreign parts,
To take the stock away.
And it’s hunt ‘em up and dog ‘em,
And it’s get the whip and flog ‘em,
For it’s weary work, is droving, when they’re dying every day;
By stock routes bare and eaten,
On dusty roads and beaten,
With half a chance to save their lives we take the stock away.
We cannot use the whip for shame
On beasts that crawl along;
We have to drop the weak and lame,
And try to save the strong;
The wrath of God is on the track,
The drought fiend holds his sway;
With blows and cries the stockwhip crack
We take the stock away.
As they fall we leave them lying,
With the crows to watch them dying,
Grim sextons of the Overland that fasten on their prey;
By the fiery dust-storm drifting,
And the mocking mirage shifting,
In heat and drought and hopeless pain we take the stock away.
In dull despair the days go by
With never hope of change,
But every stage we feel more nigh
The distant mountain range;
And some may live to climb the pass,
And reach the great plateau,
And revel in the mountain grass
By streamlets fed with snow.
As the mountain wind is blowing
It starts the cattle lowing
And calling to each other down the dusty long array;
And there speaks a grizzled drover:
“Well, thank God, the worst is over,
The creatures smell the mountain grass that’s twenty miles away.”
They press towards the mountain grass,
They look with eager eyes
Along the rugged stony pass
That slopes towards the skies;
Their feet may bleed from rocks and stones,
But, though the blood-drop starts,
They struggle on with stifled groans,
For hope is in their hearts.
And the cattle that are leading,
Though their feet are worn and bleeding,
Are breaking to a kind of run – pull up, and let them go!
For the mountain wind is blowing,
And the mountain grass is growing,
They’ll settle down by running streams ice-cold with melted snow.
The days are gone of heat and drought
Upon the stricken plain;
The wind has shifted right about,
And brought the welcome rain;
The river runs with sullen roar,
All flecked with yellow foam,
And we must take the road once more
To bring the cattle home.
And it’s “Lads! We’ll raise a chorus,
There’s a pleasant trip before us.”
And the horses bound beneath us as we start them down the track;
And the drovers canter, singing,
Through the sweet green grasses springing
Towards the far-off mountain-land, to bring the cattle back.
Are these the beasts we brought away
That move so lively now?
They scatter off like flying spray
Across the mountain’s brow;
And dashing down the rugged range
We hear the stockwhips crack –
Good faith, it is a welcome change
To bring such cattle back.
And it’s “Steady down the lead there!”
And it’s “Let ‘em stop and feed there!”
For they’re wild as mountain eagles, and their sides are all afoam;
But they’re settling down already,
And they’ll travel nice and steady;
With cheery call and jest and song we fetch the cattle home.
We have to watch them close at night
For fear they’ll make a rush,
And break away in headlong flight
Across the open bush;
And by the camp-fire’s cheery blaze,
With mellow voice and strong,
We hear the lonely watchman raise the Overlander’s song:
“Oh, it’s when we’re done with roving,
With the camping and the droving,
It’s homeward down the Bland we’ll go, and never more we’ll roam”;
While the stars shine out above us,
Like the eyes of those who love us –
The eyes of those who watch and wait to greet the cattle home.
The plains are all awave with grass,
The skies are deepest blue;
And leisurely the cattle pass
And feed the long day through;
But when we sight the station gate
We make the stockwhips crack,
A welcome sound to those who wait
To greet the cattle back:
And through the twilight falling
We hear their voices calling,
As the cattle splash across the ford and churn it into foam;
And the children run to meet us,
And our wives and sweethearts greet us,
Their heroes from the Overland who brought the cattle home.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Song Of The Sundowner
I'm the monarch of valley, and hill, and plain,
And the king of this golden land.
A continent broad is my vast domain,
And its people at my command.
My tribute I levy on high and low,
And I chuckle at Fortune's frown;
No matter how far in the day I go,
I'm at home when the sun goes down.
In the drought-stricken plains of the lone Paroo,
When the rainless earth is bare,
I take toll from the shepherd and jackeroo,
And I sample their humble fare.
Not a fig care I though the stock may die,
And the sun-cracked plains be brown;
I can make for the east, where the grass is high
I'm at home when the sun goes down.
When river and creek their banks o'er leap,
And the flood rolls raging by;
When the settlers are mourning their crops and sheep,
I can watch them without a sigh.
What matter to me if their fences go,
If their horses and cattle drown?
I can find a good meal when the sun is low,
And a home when the sun goes down.
So I wander away at my own sweet will,
Be it northerly, south or west;
When I'm hungry my paunch I can always fill,
When I'm tired I can always rest.
I care not what others may do or think,
I'm a monarch without a crown'
I can always be sure of my food and drink,
And a home when the sun goes down.
poem by Thomas E. Spencer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Burnin' For You
Home in the valley
Home in the city
Home isn't pretty
Ain't no home for me
Home in the darkness
Home on the highway
Home isn't my way
Home will never be
Burn out the day
Burn out the night
I can't see no reason to put up a fight
I'm living for giving the devil his due
And I'm burning, I'm burning, I'm burning for you
I'm burning, I'm burning, I'm burning for you
Time is the essence
Time is the season
Time ain't no reason
Got no time to slow
Time everlasting
Time to play besides
Time ain't on my side
Time I'll never know
Burn out the day
Burn out the night
I'm not the one to tell you what's wrong or what's right
I've seen signs of what (freezing their eyes) went through
Well I'm burning, I'm burning, I'm burning for you
I'm burning, I'm burning, I'm burning for you
Burn out the day
Burn out the night
I can't see no reason to put up a fight
I'm living for giving the devil his due
And I'm burning, I'm burning, I'm burning for you (repeat)
song performed by by Iced Earth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Big City Nights
Music :rudolf schenker
Lyrics:klaus meine
When the daylight is falling down into the night
And the sharks try to cut a big piece out of life
It feels alright to go out to catch an outrageous thrill
But its more like spinning wheels of fortune
Which never stand still
Big city, big city nights
You keep me burning
Big city, big city nights
When the sunlight is rising up in my eyes
And the long night has left me back at somebodys side
It feels alright for a long sweet minute like hours before
But its more like looking out for something
I cant find anymore
Big city, big city nights
You keep me burning
Big city, big city nights
Always yearning
There is no dream
That you cant make true, if youre looking for love
But theres no girl
Whos burning the ice away from my heart
Maybe tonight!
Big city, big city nights
You keep me burning
Big city, big city nights
Always yearning
Big city, big city nights
You keep me burning
Big city, big city nights
Always yearning
song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Burning Bridges
I know exactly how you feel,
Cause you were this to close a deal,
And everything fell from out your hands,
You must decide on other plans now,
But maybe it's best to just ignore it,
Otherwise, oh, you're living for it,
And anyone else would wonder what this is,
Many folks said you sold your soul to the..
Burning, burning, burning bridges.
Oh, desire,
Can cause heart attacks.
Burning, burning, burning, burning, burning, burning.
song performed by by Jason Mraz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Hearts On Fire
We saw the writings on the wall
When heathens ruled above us all
Tormented, we still heard the call
You come to bring us down
Wield the scepter, steal the crown
Time on the throne is running out
Cause seasons change but we are still the same
Event though the cold winds blow were burning like a flame
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Burning for the steel
Hearts On Fire
For years shunned by society
Outcasts, condemned for our beliefs
Our legions grew in secrecy
And now, the time is here
I see the Templars everywhere
The Freedom Call is drawing near
We hold our rebel banners up with pride
The colours crimson and the Hammer is the sign
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Burning for the steel
Solo: Stefan
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire
song performed by by Hammerfall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Lost Forever
All your life youre bin slipping and sliding
Trying to find a way
Sun wont shine but now its your time to pay
Theres no turning back as you look
The hangman in the eye
Now hells just your death away
Its too late to say you care
When theres evil in your stare
You say youre not to blame
In your head voices mocking
Every prayer
Remember the face you saw
That once was you
Spirit high theres no way that
You could lose
Give him rope they said
As you look the hangman in
The eye
Now around your neck you feel
The noose
In your head voices mocking
Every prayer
Now youre lost forever
Im burning with fire its time to
Leave or get out
Im burning in fire I cant take
No more so get out
Im burning with fire the wheels of
Steel will grind you
Burning in fire this time
Youre lost forever
Lost forever!
Theres an evil in your stare
Lost forever!
And hells just a breath away
Youre lost forever
And theres no way out you burn
With fire its time to get out
Get out, get out
And theres no way out
Lost forever
song performed by by Black Sabbath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
In the Storm that is to come
By our place in the midst of the furthest seas we were fated to stand alone -
When the nations fly at each other's throats let Australia look to her own;
Let her spend her gold on the barren west, let her keep her men at home;
For the South must look to the South for strength in the storm that is to come.
Now who shall gallop from cape to cape, and who shall defend our shores -
The crowd that stand on the kerb agape and glares at the cricket scores?
And who will hold the invader back when the shells tear up the ground -
The weeds that yelp by the cycling track while a nigger scorches round?
There may be many to man the forts in the big towns beside the sea -
But the East will call to the West for scouts in the storm that is to be:
The West cries out to the East in drought, but the coastal towns are dumb;
And the East must look to the West for food in the war that is to come.
The rain comes down on the Western land and the rivers run to waste,
When the city folk rush for the special tram in their childless, senseless haste,
And never a pile of a lock we drive - but a few mean tanks we scratch -
For the fate of a nation is nought compared with the turn of a cricket match!
There's a gutter of mud where there spread a flood from the land-long western creeks,
There is dust and drought on the plains far out where the water lay for weeks,
There's a pitiful dam where a dyke should stretch and a tank where a lake should be,
And the rain goes down through the silt and sand and the floods waste into the seas.
We'll fight for Britain or for Japan, we will fling the land's wealth out;
While every penny and every man should be used to fight the drought.
God helps the nation that helps itself, and the water brings the rain,
And a deadlier foe than the world could send is loose on the western plain.
I saw a vision in days gone by and would dream that dream again
Of the days when the Darling shall not back her billabongs up in vain.
There were reservoirs and grand canals where the Dry Country had been,
And a glorious network of aqueducts, and the fields were always green.
I have seen so long in the land I love what the land I love might be,
Where the Darling rises from Queensland rains and the floods run into the sea.
And it is our fate that we'll wake to late to the truth that we were blind,
With a foreign foe at our harbour gate and a blazing drought behind!
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Burning Ground
And I take you down to the burning ground
And you change me up and you turned it around
In the wind and rain Im gonna see you again
In the morning sun and when the day is done
And you take my hand and you walk with me
Sometimes it feels like eternity
And I turn the tide I get back my pride
And I make you proud wont you say it out loud
When I take you down to the burning ground
To the burning ground, to the burning ground
To the burning ground, to the burning ground
And I take you down by the factory
And I show you like it has to be
And you understand how the work is done
And I pick up the sack in the midday sun
And I pull you through by the skin of your teeth
And I lift the veil, I see whats underneath
And you return to me and you sit on your throne
And you make me feel that Im not alone
And I take you down to the burning ground
To the burning ground, to the burning ground
To the burning ground
Hey man, whats that youre carrying?
Feels like lead
It weighs a ton - lets see if we can dump it by the side of the hill
Hey wait up, why dont you dump it on the burning ground
Dump it down there
Yeh man, dump the jute
Hey man dump the jute on the burning ground
Dump the jute?
Yeh you know, dump the jute
Dump the jute!
On the burning ground
On the burning ground
And you make me think what its all about
Sometimes I know gonna work it out
And I watch you run in the crimson sun
Tear my shirt apart open up my heart
And I watch you run
Down on your bended knees
By the burnt out well
Can you tell me please
Between heaven and hell
Wont you take me down
To the burning ground, to the burning ground
To the burning ground, to the burning ground
And you fall and pray, when you hear that sound
As were walking back to the burial mound
And you shake your head and you turn it around
And you see the flames from the burning ground
And you get down on your knees and pray
And I catch my breath as were running away
And I take the jute and I throw him down
On the burning ground, on the burning ground
On the burning ground, its on the burning ground.....
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Andy's Gone With Cattle
Our Andy's gone to battle now
'Gainst Drought, the red marauder;
Our Andy's gone with cattle now
Across the Queensland border.
He's left us in dejection now;
Our hearts with him are roving.
It's dull on this selection now,
Since Andy went a-droving.
Who now shall wear the cheerful face
In times when things are slackest?
And who shall whistle round the place
When Fortune frowns her blackest?
Oh, who shall cheek the squatter now
When he comes round us snarling?
His tongue is growing hotter now
Since Andy cross'd the Darling.
The gates are out of order now,
In storms the `riders' rattle;
For far across the border now
Our Andy's gone with cattle.
Poor Aunty's looking thin and white;
And Uncle's cross with worry;
And poor old Blucher howls all night
Since Andy left Macquarie.
Oh, may the showers in torrents fall,
And all the tanks run over;
And may the grass grow green and tall
In pathways of the drover;
And may good angels send the rain
On desert stretches sandy;
And when the summer comes again
God grant 'twill bring us Andy.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Burning Inside
Will these dreams still follow me,
On of dark obscurity?
Cant you see it up in the sky
As it kicks you in the face and lets you dye
You never have the answers
And now you tell me the facts of life
I really couldnt be bothered with you
Get out of my face and watch me die
Burning inside!burning inside!
Absolution and a frozen room
Are dreams of men below
I try to grab it but the touch is hot
The mirrors collapses, but the image can not
Im scared of darkness in a light
I scare myself cause I know Im right
I see the evil in youre savage eye
As it cuts right through the sky
Burning inside!burning inside!burning inside!burning inside!burning
Inside!burning inside!burning inside!burning inside!
Calling the mantra with a blade in the skin
For the demons within
I feel the pain is the death and decay
But the lesson never fades away
Too little shadows, turn away
Another man through the window pane
Another slave and a victim of fate
Another lesson in hate
Burning inside! burning inside!burning inside!burning inside!burning
Inside!burning inside!burning inside!burning inside!
song performed by by Ministry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Smoking
Burning desires,
Burning face,
Burning eyes,
Burning lungs,
Burning heart,
Burning existence,
Burning world,
Everything is burning and burning.
Fire can never soothe a burning mind,
It will burn more and more
And reduce to ashes
Thy wishes,
Thy ambitions,
Thy vivacity,
And even thy life
Thy ruin is imminent.
poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Drought-ess
Lumpy frog on a dry grass watch
Red burning land of robin chest
Hoy- hot- hot water not.
Watertight bath, of Rain last.
Dry sky with shining moaning light of
Thirsty clouds on dehydrated walls.
Rose made of steel on melting iron tree.
From Drought-ess mind.
poem by Luca Menin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
God's Answer
BANNISTER, who lived for gain,
Counting love and mateship weak,
Bannister of Coolah Creek
Once, and once alone, 'tis said,
Bent his knees and bowed his head,
Praying God to send him rain.
Sheep and cattle were to him
Pounds and pence in wool and hide —
That, and nothing more beside;
Gain, and gain alone, he sought —
Bought and sold, and sold and bought —
Bannister, the shrewd and grim!
Drought might slay his neighbour's sheep,
Leave his friends with stricken lands,
Starving stock and empty hands,
Driving them to ruin's brink;
Not by so much as a wink
Did it cause him loss of sleep.
Loving neither man nor maid,
Man and maid no pity showed
When the Drought, red-handed, strode
Through the land, and spared him not;
Then it was, by all forgot,
Bannister knelt down and prayed.
Hands entreatingly out-thrown,
Head and shoulders bowed with care,
Bannister sent up his prayer;
Did that prayer include a friend?
Nay; but selfish to the end
For himself he prayed alone.
Scarce a stone's-throw from his door
Coolah Creek, dry-bedded, lay
Day and night, and night and day
Staring skyward, stark and dumb;
In its single river-gum
Sang the shepherd-bird no more.
Praying long and low, there ran
Through his mind a vision sweet —
Waters singing at his feet;
And his words a torrent poured:
'Open Thou Thy floodgates, Lord,
Lest I be a ruined man!'
Then he rose and sought his bed,
Sighing as he sank to sleep,
While, without, his famished sheep
In the darkness moaned their woe,
And his cattle, lowing low,
Sagged with droop of eye and head.
Dreams were his with splendour lit,
Happy dreams of days to be:
While his prayer limped leadenly
Through cold spaces, drear and lone,
Till, at last, it reached God's throne,
And God, bending, answered it.
Hot and still the darkness was,
Hushed and hot the midnight air.
Drought and death were everywhere,
Thirst and hunger, pain and grief:
Stirless hung the wilted leaf,
Motionless the brittle grass.
Mercy, pity seemed aloof,
God remote and cold to man,
When a whispering began —
And the sleeper woke to hear,
Low at first, then loud and clear,
Raindrops drumming on his roof.
Little things began to stir,
Little voices filled the night —
Whispers, murmurings of delight,
Till the torrent drowned them all
In the thunder of its fall . . .
God had answered Bannister!
Thinking thus his troubles o'er,
Pleased with God, he slept again;
Bannister, unloved of men,
Loved of God most surely seemed.
Coolah Creek, awakened, streamed
Scarce a stone's-throw from his door.
Dreaming dreams of gain anew,
Bannister reposed at ease,
Hearing but sweet melodies,
Free of loss and free of pain.
Gorged and swollen by the rain,
Coolah Creek a giant grew.
Foam upon its torrent swept,
Leaf and limb went down its flood;
Like a beast athirst for blood
Through the dark it ramped and raged;
Like a lion long encaged,
Free at last, it roared and leapt;
Then it burst its banks, and broke
Bar and barrier in its path
Shouting, foaming in its wrath . . .
Dreaming dreams of golden gain,
Hides and tallow, wool and grain.
Bannister too late awoke.
Never more to speak and stir,
Never more to strive and hoard —
Self, and self alone, his lord —
Veins no more with life aglow,
Body washing to and fro —
God had answered Bannister!
poem by Roderic Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
God's Answer
BANNISTER, who lived for gain,
Counting love and mateship weak,
Bannister of Coolah Creek
Once, and once alone, 'tis said,
Bent his knees and bowed his head,
Praying God to send him rain.
Sheep and cattle were to him
Pounds and pence in wool and hide —
That, and nothing more beside;
Gain, and gain alone, he sought —
Bought and sold, and sold and bought —
Bannister, the shrewd and grim!
Drought might slay his neighbour's sheep,
Leave his friends with stricken lands,
Starving stock and empty hands,
Driving them to ruin's brink;
Not by so much as a wink
Did it cause him loss of sleep.
Loving neither man nor maid,
Man and maid no pity showed
When the Drought, red-handed, strode
Through the land, and spared him not;
Then it was, by all forgot,
Bannister knelt down and prayed.
Hands entreatingly out-thrown,
Head and shoulders bowed with care,
Bannister sent up his prayer;
Did that prayer include a friend?
Nay; but selfish to the end
For himself he prayed alone.
Scarce a stone's-throw from his door
Coolah Creek, dry-bedded, lay
Day and night, and night and day
Staring skyward, stark and dumb;
In its single river-gum
Sang the shepherd-bird no more.
Praying long and low, there ran
Through his mind a vision sweet —
Waters singing at his feet;
And his words a torrent poured:
'Open Thou Thy floodgates, Lord,
Lest I be a ruined man!'
Then he rose and sought his bed,
Sighing as he sank to sleep,
While, without, his famished sheep
In the darkness moaned their woe,
And his cattle, lowing low,
Sagged with droop of eye and head.
Dreams were his with splendour lit,
Happy dreams of days to be:
While his prayer limped leadenly
Through cold spaces, drear and lone,
Till, at last, it reached God's throne,
And God, bending, answered it.
Hot and still the darkness was,
Hushed and hot the midnight air.
Drought and death were everywhere,
Thirst and hunger, pain and grief:
Stirless hung the wilted leaf,
Motionless the brittle grass.
Mercy, pity seemed aloof,
God remote and cold to man,
When a whispering began —
And the sleeper woke to hear,
Low at first, then loud and clear,
Raindrops drumming on his roof.
Little things began to stir,
Little voices filled the night —
Whispers, murmurings of delight,
Till the torrent drowned them all
In the thunder of its fall . . .
God had answered Bannister!
Thinking thus his troubles o'er,
Pleased with God, he slept again;
Bannister, unloved of men,
Loved of God most surely seemed.
Coolah Creek, awakened, streamed
Scarce a stone's-throw from his door.
Dreaming dreams of gain anew,
Bannister reposed at ease,
Hearing but sweet melodies,
Free of loss and free of pain.
Gorged and swollen by the rain,
Coolah Creek a giant grew.
Foam upon its torrent swept,
Leaf and limb went down its flood;
Like a beast athirst for blood
Through the dark it ramped and raged;
Like a lion long encaged,
Free at last, it roared and leapt;
Then it burst its banks, and broke
Bar and barrier in its path
Shouting, foaming in its wrath . . .
Dreaming dreams of golden gain,
Hides and tallow, wool and grain.
Bannister too late awoke.
Never more to speak and stir,
Never more to strive and hoard —
Self, and self alone, his lord —
Veins no more with life aglow,
Body washing to and fro —
God had answered Bannister!
poem by Roderic Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Burnin Up
Burning up! my heart is like burnin up!
Burning up! my heart is like burnin up!
Burning up! my heart is like burnin up!
Burning up! my heart is like burnin up!
Sometimes you can be in love and having fun
And still not know whats goin on
Or on the other hand you separate, thinking that the feelins gone
Feels like forever when were together
I knew that we are destinied
So heres the last chance for the last dance
For us to bring back the dream
So baby come and rescue me
Im burnin up!
I got somethin for you to see
Im burnin up!
Baby come and take me there
Im burnin up!
Trust me you should
Hurry up!
Baby Im just burnin up!
Im burnin up!
Rap:
In the midnite
Wait a minute
I can be in a lonely place
Then along you come with the sweetest thing to say
And put the sun in my day
So baby come and rescue me
Im burnin up!
I got somethin for you to see
Im burnin up!
Baby come and take me there
Im burnin up!
Trust me you should
Hurry up!
Baby Im just burnin up!
Im burnin up!
So baby come and rescue me
Im burnin up!
I got somethin for you to see
Im burnin up!
Baby come and take me there
Im burnin up!
Trust me you should
Hurry up!
Baby Im just burnin up!
Im burnin up!
Burning up! my heart is like burnin up!
Burning up! my heart is like burnin up!
Burning up! my heart is like burnin up!
Burning up! my heart is like burnin up!
song performed by by Faith Evans
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Mocking Bird On The Tree Fronting The House...
a mocking bird
sits on a branch of a tree
that fronts the house that
papa made
papa is gone.
a mocking bird left but one
sunny day
after the heavy rains for months
the mocking bird comes back
it is bringing silence
unlike all the other mocking birds
in town
the mocking bird is dead
a boy abandoned by his mother
stoned it
now the window if you walk a little
distant from the house
and sit on a bench across the road
looks like a Cheshire cat
giving Alice that fable smile.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Where The Streets Have No Names
I want to run
I want to hide
I want to tear down the walls
That hold me inside
I want to reach out
And touch the flame
Where the streets have no name
I want to feel sunlight on my face
I see the dust cloud disappear
Without a trace
I want to take shelter from the poison rain
Where the streets have no name
Where the streets have no name
Where the streets have no name
We're still building
Then burning down love
Burning down love
And when I go there
I go there with you
It's all I can do
The city's aflood
And our love turns to rust
We're beaten and blown by the wind
Trampled in dust
I'll show you a place
High on a desert plain
Where the streets have no name
Where the streets have no name
Where the streets have no name
We're still building
Then burning down love
Burning down love
And when I go there
I go there with you
It's all I can do
Our love turns to rust
We're beaten and blown by the wind
Blown by the wind
Oh, and I see love
See our love turn to rust
We're beaten and blown by the wind
Blown by the wind
Oh, when I go there
I go there with you
It's all I can do
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Keep On Burning
(ian hunter)
Oh
Well there aint no sense
In burning bridges.
No, there aint no sense
In burning bridges.
If were sorry
Then its our failure
So says the jailor,
Fade? away.
Now there aint no debts,
Just destinations.
Like birds made out of steel,
They fly by.
Lost lovers in a moonlit night,
Broken lovers in a starless night.
I lay my clothes down at your feet
cause all I want is for you
To keep on burning.
Keep on burning, babe,
Keep on burning.
Yeah, keep on burning (burning).
And when that flame dies
Becomes an ember,
Remember, keep on burning (keep on burning).
Can you feel my warmth
Inside of you, babe.
Oh can you feel my blood
Running through your vains.
Dont lay the blame on me, girl,
Just like lovers often will
I lay my heart down at your feet
Oh all I want is for you
To keep on burning,
Keep on burning (burning)
Keep on burning, babe (yeah),
Keep on burning (burning).
cause when that flame dies
Becomes an ember,
Remember, keep on (burning, keep on burning) burning.
Yeah, (you gotta) keep on burning (burning),
Ooh, keep on burning.
Keep on, keep on, keep burning, babe,
Ah (you gotta keep on burning, burning) keep on burning (burning),
Baby (yeah) you gotta keep on burning, burning.
Keep on burning,
Keep ...
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
On The Banks Of The Old Ponchartrain
Recorded by: hank williams, sr.
Written by: hank williams sr. & ramona vincent
I [a] travelled from [a7] texas to [d] old louis-[a] anne
Thru valleys, oer mountains and [e7] plains
Both [a] footsore and [a7] weary I [d] rested a-[a] while
On the [e7] banks of the old ponchar-[a] train.
The fairest young maiden that I ever saw
Passed by as it started to rain
We both found a shelter beneath the same tree
On the banks of the old ponchartrain.
We hid from the shower an hour or so
She asked me how long Id remain
I told her that Id spend the rest of my days
On the banks of the old ponchartrain.
I just couldnt tell her that I ran away
From jail on a west texas plain
I prayed in my heart I would never be found
On the banks of the old ponchartrain.
Then one day a man put his hand on my arm
And said I must go west again
I left her alone without saying goodbye
On the banks of the old ponchartrain.
Tonight as I sit here alone in my cell
I know that shes waiting in vain
Im hoping and praying someday to return
To the banks of the old ponchartrain.
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!