Wheeling
So the Earth is wheeling on
As wheeling the sun and moon
And wheeling the Time on ages and aeons
As wheeling the life on births and deaths
And wheeling on are hope and despair
As peace and woe chasing one another
And good and bad luck are two wheels
creatures all in destiny's colours
And creatures all wheel around what
An unknown power-point, the Pivot
And we the comparted wheeling specials
On quarrels are we to spin our visuals
And we the comparted human specials
Aren't we to wheel on our sixth sense
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Related quotes
Curiosity is free-wheeling intelligence.
quote by Alistair Cooke
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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They see me wheeling around in a beautiful gown, and they realize you can look elegant, and you can lead a happy life in a wheelchair. I know I've helped handicapped people, because I've received many comments.
Crumbling Land
In a while Ill find the time to make the sunshine mine
In a smile I saw a single eagle in the sky
Wheeling, soaring, gliding high
On a hill there lived a man with many shining things
Shiny gold, shiny car and shiny diamond rings
Wining, dining, shining king
Now the eagle flies in clear blue skies
Drinking in the clear blue well
Back here on the ground another dealer coughs and dies
But fifty more come rolling off the floor production line
Then a man commuting like a village on the sand
In his hand a moving picture of the crumbling land
Screaming, dealing, movie man
Here we go, hold your breath to see if something blows
Close your eyes, count till ten and see the sunrise rise
Gliding high into the sky
By the holy mansion, let the guardian rise
Upon the finger of the king
On high the eagle flies, that glitter all of gold
Then wheeling in a cloudy sky, he flies into the sun
song performed by by Pink Floyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eternity Road
Hark listen here he comes
Hark listen here he comes
Turning, spinning, catherine wheeling
For ever changing
Theres no beginning
Speeding through a charcoal sky
Observe the truth we cannot lie
Travelling eternity road
What will you find there?
Carrying your heavy load
Searching to find a peace of mind.
Youll see us all around
Youll see us all around
Turning, spinning, catherine wheeling
For ever changing
Theres no beginning
Youre so very far from home
And so very much alone
Travelling eternity road
What will you find there?
Carrying your heavy load
Searching to find a peace of mind.
Travelling eternity road
What will you find there?
Carrying your heavy load
Searching to find a peace of mind.
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Study
Somewhere the long mellow note of the blackbird
Quickens the unclasping hands of hazel,
Somewhere the wind-flowers fling their heads back,
Stirred by an impetuous wind. Some ways’ll
All be sweet with white and blue violet.
(Hush now, hush. Where am I?—Biuret—)
On the green wood’s edge a shy girl hovers
From out of the hazel-screen on to the grass,
Where wheeling and screaming the petulant plovers
Wave frighted. Who comes? A labourer, alas!
Oh the sunset swims in her eyes’ swift pool.
(Work, work, you fool——!)
Somewhere the lamp hanging low from the ceiling
Lights the soft hair of a girl as she reads,
And the red firelight steadily wheeling
Weaves the hard hands of my friend in sleep.
And the white dog snuffs the warmth, appealing
For the man to heed lest the girl shall weep.
(Tears and dreams for them; for me
Bitter science—the exams are near.
I wish I bore it more patiently.
I wish you did not wait, my dear,
For me to come: since work I must:
Though it’s all the same when we are dead.—
I wish I was only a bust,
All head.)
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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Surroundings-30
Singing Carter
A freewheeling mind singing
Mindless of the surrounding
Homes amazed keen watching
While bulls on ruly wheeling
poem by Indira Renganathan
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The Freedom Of Words
A dreamer
Trying to catch
The gold dust
As the sun
Bursts overhead
Illusive
As the cart wheeling seeds
Of the dandelion
Caught in a whirlwind
A maelstrom
All the better
For dispersil
Free from those
Who would eradicate them
As weeds.
poem by Vince Gullaci
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When Hope but made Tranquillity be felt (fragment)
When Hope but made Tranquillity be felt--
A Flight of Hopes for ever on the wing
But made Tranquillity a conscious Thing--
And wheeling round and round in sportive coil
Fann'd the calm air upon the brow of Toil--
poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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So
Obscene mortals on scene
Adept at betrayal
Offscene goodness off seen
Mortals rest sceptical
Mother queen Earth has been
Her best to be whimsical
Rebirth umpteen on wheeling
Nature 's assaying reviving trial
Unseen Lord off scene
Not yet at self-portrayal
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Surroundings-2
Evening Rainy Street
Rains in silent grey
Dozing trees on drippy leaves
Caw-coo birds sparse cry
Wheeling sounds off in hurry
Nighted street lighting tubes lined
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Surroundings-21
Silence Is Gold
Treasured gold in yellow silence
Sparse wheeling unfelt in doze
Snoozing in heaven-mother's croonings
Post meridiem, midway resting princess
poem by Indira Renganathan
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This is the marketplace of political ideas. This is how America operates. It's a free market. It's free-wheeling. From the outside, it looks unpredictable. There's a circus-like free market.
quote by Jon Huntsman, Jr.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Making Of Viola
I.
THE FATHER OF HEAVEN.
Spin, daughter Mary, spin,
Twirl your wheel with silver din;
Spin, daughter Mary, spin,
Spin a tress for Viola.
ANGELS.
Spin, Queen Mary, a
Brown tress for Viola!
II.
THE FATHER OF HEAVEN.
Weave, hands angelical,
Weave a woof of flesh to pall -
Weave, hands angelical -
Flesh to pall our Viola.
ANGELS.
Weave, singing brothers, a
Velvet flesh for Viola!
III.
THE FATHER OF HEAVEN.
Scoop, young Jesus, for her eyes,
Wood-browned pools of Paradise -
Young Jesus, for the eyes,
For the eyes of Viola.
ANGELS.
Tint, Prince Jesus, a
Dusked eye for Viola!
IV.
THE FATHER OF HEAVEN.
Cast a star therein to drown,
Like a torch in cavern brown,
Sink a burning star to drown
Whelmed in eyes of Viola.
ANGELS.
Lave, Prince Jesus, a
Star in eyes of Viola!
V.
THE FATHER OF HEAVEN.
Breathe, Lord Paraclete,
To a bubbled crystal meet -
Breathe, Lord Paraclete -
Crystal soul for Viola.
ANGELS.
Breathe, Regal Spirit, a
Flashing soul for Viola!
VI.
THE FATHER OF HEAVEN.
Child-angels, from your wings
Fall the roseal hoverings,
Child-angels, from your wings,
On the cheeks of Viola.
ANGELS.
Linger, rosy reflex, a
Quenchless stain, on Viola!
All things being accomplished, saith the Father of Heaven.
Bear her down, and bearing, sing,
Bear her down on spyless wing,
Bear her down, and bearing, sing,
With a sound of viola.
ANGELS.
Music as her name is, a
Sweet sound of Viola!
VIII.
Wheeling angels, past espial,
Danced her down with sound of viol;
Wheeling angels, past espial,
Descanting on 'Viola.'
ANGELS.
Sing, in our footing, a
Lovely lilt of 'Viola!'
IX.
Baby smiled, mother wailed,
Earthward while the sweetling sailed;
Mother smiled, baby wailed,
When to earth came Viola.
AND HER ELDERS SHALL SAY:-
So soon have we taught you a
Way to weep, poor Viola!
X.
Smile, sweet baby, smile,
For you will have weeping-while;
Native in your Heaven is smile, -
But your weeping, Viola?
Whence your smiles we know, but ah?
Whence your weeping, Viola? -
Our first gift to you is a
Gift of tears, my Viola!
poem by Francis Thompson
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Flames That Will Burn no More
I sit and wonder where the good love goes
once the flames diminish all is said passions
finished.Where does the spirit of past lovers
lay.Well-maybe brushing the floor in some quiet
sea.Well-maybe pounding tired earth where it
does not rain.Well-maybe wheeling behind bars
not seen by the unaided eye.Well-maybe unhappily
settled in their burial working to dig free.
Well-maybe only on breeze the summer heat and
wing.Well-maybe locked in a heart's chamber of
and blood and still water.Well-maybe bound to
transient state like in memories.The flames
that burned will burn no more.
poem by William Blackman
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Sleep
When all, and birds, and creeping beasts,
When the dark of night is deep,
From the moving wonder of their lives
Commit themselves to sleep.
Without a thought, or fear, they shut
The narrow gates of sense;
Heedless and quiet, in slumber turn
Their strength to impotence.
The transient strangeness of the earth
Their spirits no more see:
Within a silent gloom withdrawn,
They slumber in secrecy.
Two worlds they have--a globe forgot,
Wheeling from dark to light;
And all the enchanted realm of dream
That burgeons out of night.
poem by Walter de la Mare
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In the Train
As we rush, as we rush in the Train,
The trees and the houses go wheeling back,
But the starry heavens above the plain
Come flying on our track.
All the beautiful stars of the sky,
The silver doves of the forest of Night,
Over the dull earth swarm and fly,
Companions of our flight.
We will rush ever on without fear;
Let the goal be far, the flight be fleet!
For we carry the Heavens with us, dear,
While the Earth slips from our feet!
poem by James Thomson
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It's You
The Sun does not set each day
it is obscured;
its red finger-lights,
its rushing sun beams
retreat
blushed into embarrassment.
The green spot
at sunset
over water
is an exclamation point.
It's You.
I have seen the Firmament
draw its curtains closed;
I have seen Inner Night
recline on Silk-Covered Anticipations.
Its You.
Winds quiet.
Beasts are soothed,
all is twilight.
It's You.
Thunder soft,
gathering intensity
fueled
by nothing but a smile
it seems;
descends;
once again
magic time
comes real.
Each time spackled expection.
Each time cart-wheeling surprize
Each time unreal.
In the quiet rush
I hear foot-steps.
It's You
The room has no oxygen;
only night perfumes
and loving humors.
Under cover
gather
earth, sun and moon
because in glittering night
they all live here
in our room.
It's You.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Zebras
After the lion's roar
I see them standing quivering
testing the air
with nostrils snorting
in a bevy of white and black stripes
being both fearful and curious
and passing slowly
in the knee high grass
with soft voices calling
at each other
and the stallion wheeling nervously
turning around its herd
and sunlight flashes over
the magnificent animal.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Fire
To mean a time is special like putting on a fire,
The fire burns and churns into blasts of laughter,
It is cheering you on, wheeling around,
Causing anger, feeling grotesque,
So that fire relies on fire to be fire.
The meaning of work is in the flame,
The work is relevant to death, and foolishness.
It would not die, the fire does not die,
But while it traverses the area, we lie and fool
The other man, who leaves fire and keeps warm.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Sunset, Rising Moon
Sable hills
etched flat on fragile panes,
glowing sky,
indigo fast fading
to black,
while on the edge of fire
incandescent embers
(cast from the sun
gone to create
new day)
hurry this wheeling world
on ancient paths.
But see how,
newly awakened,
the cool lady ascends,
awash in reflected glory,
full and round,
and lovely.
poem by Steven Federle
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