The Runaway Slave
I strain my ears at every sound
As I flee from Masters vast estate
I dare not walk upon the road-
must not be seen, alone, this late.
I hear the baying of his hounds
My absence has been noted there
Men with torches, men with guns,
My soul freezes me with fear.
I am the fox, his are the hounds
that I must run a desperate race
To fail is to be chained and whipped
Then sold – a horrid fate I face
The dogs grow close, but the river's near
I leap and overcome my fear.
The water will disguise my scent
With swift strong stokes I'll soon be clear
With joy I hear the hounds, confused,
barking, helpless, and at bay.
But master gets me in his sights
And sets me free another way.
I awaken from sleep with a start.
One nightmare stops, the next begins
I shower, shave and dress for work
and wonder if it ever ends..
poem by John F. McCullagh
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The Hounds Of Winter
Mercury falling
I rise from my bed
Collect my thoughts together
I have to hold my head
It seems that shes gone
And somehow I am pinned by
The hounds of winter
Howling in the wind
I walk through the day
My coat around my ears
I look for my companion
I have to dry my tears
It seems that shes gone
Leaving me too soon
Im as dark as december
Im as cold as the man in the moon
I still see her face
As beautiful as day
Its easy to remember
Remember my love that way
All I hear is that lonesome sound
The hounds of winter
They follow me down
I cant make up the fire
The way that she could
I spend all my days
In the search for dry wood
Board all the windows and close the front door
I cant believe she wont be here anymore
I still see her face
As beautiful as day
Its easy to remember
Remember my love that way
All I hear is that lonesome sound
The hounds of winter
They follow me down
A season for joy
A season for sorrow
Where shes gone
I will surely, surely follow
She brightened my day
She warmed the coldest night
The hounds of winter
They got me in their sights
I still see her face
As beautiful as day
Its easy to remember
Remember my love that way
All I hear is that lonesome, lonesome sound
The hounds of winter
They harry me down
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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India Rubber
Did it all for you to say
You never wanted me that way
Now the dogs have had their meat
I think I'll go plug in the mains
I tumble like a clown
Before your baying hounds
I supplicate myself
Into your hands
When you spare a make-up smile
I'm instantly your biggest fan
How I was to know that
You practised it beforehand?
I tumble like a clown
Before your baying hounds
I supplicate myself
Into your hands
song performed by by Radiohead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Mystery Solved
Tracking e'er closely
These hounds know the scent
Rabid enthusiasm foaming
Their purpose-totally bent;
Listening with keen ears
Volume 'tis under control
Two senses are covered
Coverage of this homes soul;
Charts and compasses used
As smell and ears detect
The opening and shutting of doors
And words most direct;
This is all happening in real time
Down the lane in Onkenwood
'Tis the the mans castle that isn't
Constantly circled by hounds of no good;
poem by Theodora Onken
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A Fairy Hunt
Who would hear the fairy horn
Calling all the hounds of Finn
Must be in a lark's nest born
When the moon is very thin.
I who have the gift can hear
Hounds and horn and tally ho,
And the tongue of Bran as clear
As Christmas bells across the snow.
And beside my secret place
Hurries by the fairy fox,
With the moonrise on his face,
Up and down the mossy rocks.
Then the music of a horn
And the flash of scarlet men,
Thick as poppies in the corn
All across the dusky glen.
Oh! the mad delight of chase!
Oh ! the shouting and the cheer !
Many an owl doth leave his place
In the dusty tree to hear.
poem by Francis Ledwidge
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The Hounds Howl At Night (Reprise)
The hounds howl at night
Because evil is here
The hounds howl at night
For the terror that will soon begin
The hounds howl at night
For the blackness of the night
The hounds howl at night
For their love of the crescent moon
Even though it's shrouded in fog
poem by Justin Gildow
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Black Dog
A dark paranoia dogs my steps,
goes for the throat, leaps on my chest,
brings down it's prey and rips my flesh,
baying at the moon.
I am a tortured soul in hell,
flayed alive, not doing well.
A black dog obeying some primal spell,
baying at the moon.
Moods that shift from meek and mild,
to vile anger, all blast and bile,
courting danger and passions wild,
baying at the moon.
The hunt is savage and hard-pressed,
with gnashing teeth to stop my breath.
A scream of horror, mute in my breast,
baying at the moon.
My limber friends fawn and smile,
to render pity to the unruly child.
I curse their tenderness, I spit and snarl,
baying at the moon.
I drank the poison from the vial,
and saw my visions from exile.
An addict's life can be a trial,
baying at the moon.
Some arcane instinct, I cannot tell.
Repellant in it's ancient smell,
craven fear made visceral,
baying at the moon.
The jealous gods have unleashed the hounds.
The pack scent blood and my weeping wounds;
the chase is on, my life in ruins,
baying at the moon.
A gauntlet run that lasts for miles,
exhausts the body and the mind's denials.
Love is madness and we're all beguiled,
baying at the moon.
poem by David SmithWhite
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Its That Fear
It's that fear
Ooo very scary! !
I bet you don't know it
Keeps you worried
It's that fear...
Very loud in your ear..
But not everyone could hear
It's that fear
Why? Y u even here
Leaving people in tears..
It's that fear
Born and raised
Can be of denial
Struggles, family or revival
It's that fear
That keeps consuming..
Consuming us in out! !
Eating us away...
It's that fear
The fear we hate
Come to us in pace
In life circumstance
It's that fear
Can anyone hear?
Like a monster or dear?
I wish it was fair..
it's that fear
Some say never fear
But in the back they tear
Overwhelmed can't even dare
Trying to overcome the fear..
It's that fear
The fear which keep us
Us alive and awake
Awake from unexpected
Awake to fight against
It's that fear
I want all to hear..
You and me here..
We need to chase Mr. Fear
We could make it
Make this a better world
Without the fear
The fear of loss
The fear of famine
The fear of war
The fear of poverty
The fear of religion
The fear of recognition
Why are we in fear...?
Can't it be there not here..
It's time to chase him out there
Leaving us in peace in here
It's that fear
The fear which is not only mine
It's that fear for all
The fear we both hear
Hear from different angles
Hear in different times
We all just don't want him here...
The fear we both imagine
An illusion body..
Could affect your goals
Never entertain that fear.
Unanchored.
You adjust to the circumstances
and then they go and change on you
and you're all at sea again,
seasick with worry.
Keep reality at bay as best you can,
at bay- safe from pursuing hounds
in bay- safe from drowning waters.
So...let's play poetry.
L ay rules to follow firmly one by one
E quip with standard aids and tools of trade
T o squeeze from life a modicum of fun
S elect a game not previously played.
P lay fairly, cheating renders all a farce
L uxuriate in incremental gain
A crostically abridge the next impasse
Y et aim for pleasure, past the pools of pain.
P erhaps tomorrow hounds will catch the scent
O r overnight the mooring rope may slip
E ach day, life plays it's tricks with no relent
T hrow gibes right back at life with taunting lip.
R esist the dogs and tides for e'er so long
Y es certainly, I'm strong, I'm strong, I'm strong.
poem by Diane Hine
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Hounds going home in the Dark
Rustle of feet in the roadside grass,
Trample of horses' hoofs, and - Hark!
Blast of an anxious horn! Hounds pass;
Hounds going home in the dark.
Bold was our huntsman galloping free
On a difficult line to the hills to-day,
But his hand is trembling against his knee
At the hint of a light on the King's Highway.
‘ Car!' And the gold spreads over the sky ;
‘ Keep to the front there! Stop them, Mark!
' Toot-toot-too-oot ! - ' Halloo, there !-Hi ! ‘-
Hounds going home in the dark.
Crack of a whip as the headlights near-
Blind in the blaze they group and grope.
‘ Curse the feller, and can't he hear?
Put 'em across, there I-Cope, boys, cope! '
When never a star is hung in the sky,
With never a lamp or a lantern spark,
Huntsman and Whips go groping by,
Blowing them home in the dark.
poem by William Henry Ogilvie
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Otter Hunting In Ribblesdale
Through yon little planting, by yonder streamside,
Where Ribble's sweet waters flow softly and wide,
While the dew's on the meadows it's up and away,
A-hunting the otter at break o' the day.
0 hear the glad music of horn and of hound;
0 hear how they welcome in day with the sound:
0 hear how the valley is loud with the strain
And the woodlands give answer with echo again.
Come rise up full soon, come rise up and go,
The mist's on the hill and the river runs low:
While the dew's on the meadows it's up and away
A-hunting the otter at break o' the day.
Now Ribble, sun-chequered, slides joyfully down
Which late thro' the bridges roared foaming and brown:
Now hot lies the scent, and the morning is still, &mdash
Hark for'ard, good hounds, to a view and a kill!
A health to good fellowship fill we now high,
You true-hearted sportsmen afar and anigh,
Here's many a good chase when the morning is grey,
A-hunting the otter at break o' the day.
poem by Cicely Fox Smith
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The Song Of The Negro Boatmen
O, praise an' tanks! De Lord he come
To set de people free;
An' massa tink it day ob doom,
An' we ob jubilee.
De Lord dat heap de Red Sea waves
He jus' as 'trong as den;
He say de word: we las' night slaves;
To-day, de Lord's freemen.
De yam will grow, de cotton blow,
We'll hab de rice an' corn:
O nebber you fear, if nebber you hear
De driver blow his horn!
Ole massa on he trabbels gone;
He leaf de land behind;
De Lord's breff blow him furder on,
Like corn-shuck in de wind.
We own de hoe, we own de plough,
We own de hands dat hold;
We sell de pig, we sell de cow,
But nebber chile be sold.
De yam will grow, de cotton blow,
We'll hab de rice an' corn:
O nebber you fear, if nebber you hear
De driver blow his horn!
We pray de Lord: he gib us signs
Dat some day we be free;
De norf-wind tell it to de pines,
De wild-duck to de sea;
We tink it when de church-bell ring,
We dream it in de dream;
De rice-bird mean it when he sing,
De eagle when he scream.
De yam will grow, de cotton blow,
We'll hab de rice an' corn:
O nebber you fear, if nebber you hear
De driver blow his horn!
We know de promise nebber fail,
An' nebber lie de word;
So like de 'postles in de jail,
We waited for de Lord:
An' now he open ebery door
An' trow away de key;
He tink we lub him so before,
We lub him better free.
De yam will grow, de cotton blow,
He'll gib de rice an' corn:
O nebber you fear, if nebber you hear
De driver blow his horn!
So sing our dusky gondoliers;
And with a secret pain,
And smiles that seem akin to tears,
We hear the wild refrain.
We dare not share the negro's trust,
Nor yet his hope deny;
We only know that God is just,
And every wrong shall die.
Rude seems the song; each swarthy face
Flame-lighted, ruder still:
We start to think that hapless race
Must shape our good or ill;
That laws of changeless justice bind
Oppressor with oppressed;
And, close as sin and suffering joined,
We march to Fate abreast.
Sing on, poor hearts! your chant shall be
Our sign of blight or bloom,—
The Vala-song of Liberty,
Or death-rune of our doom!
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song Of The Negro Boatman
Oh, praise an' tanks! De Lord he come
To set de people free;
An' massa tink it day ob doom,
An' we ob jubilee.
De Lord dat heap de Red Sea waves
He jus' as 'trong as den;
He say de word: we las' night slaves;
To-day, de Lord's freemen.
De yam will grow, de cotton blow,
We'll hab de rice an' corn;
Oh nebber you fear, if nebber you hear
De driver blow his horn!
Ole massa on he trabbels gone;
He leaf de land behind:
De Lord's breff blow him furder on,
Like corn-shuck in de wind.
We own de hoe, we own de plough,
We own de hands dat hold;
We sell de pig, we sell de cow,
But nebber chile be sold.
De yam will grow, de cotton blow,
We'll hab de rice an' corn;
Oh nebber you fear, if nebber you hear
De driver blow his horn!
We pray de Lord: he gib us signs
Dat some clay we be free;
De norf-wind tell it to de pines,
De wild-duck to de sea;
We tink it when de church-bell ring,
We dream it in de dream;
De rice-bird mean it when he sing,
De eagle when he scream.
De yam will grow, de cotton blow,
We'll hab de rice an' corn:
Oh nebber you fear, if nebber you hear
De driver blow his horn!
We know de promise nebber fail,
An' nebber lie de word;
So like de 'postles in de jail,
We waited for de Lord
An' now he open ebery door,
An' trow away de key;
He tink we lub him so before,
We lub him better free.
De yam will grow, de cotton blow,
He'll gib de rice an' corn;
Oh nebber you fear, if nebber you hear
De driver blow his horn!
So sing our dusky gondoliers;
And with a secret pain,
And smiles that seem akin to tears,
We hear the wild refrain.
We dare not share the negro's trust,
Nor yet his hope deny;
We only know that God is just,
And every wrong shall die.
Rude seems the song; each swarthy face,
Flame-lighted, ruder still:
We start to think that hapless race
Must shape our good or ill;
That laws of changeless justice bind
Oppressor with oppressed;
And, close as sin and suffering joined,
We march to Fate abreast.
Sing on, poor hearts! your chant shall be
Our sign of blight or bloom,
The Vala-song of Liberty,
Or death-rune of our doom!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Three Ravens
There were three ravens sat on a tree,
They were as black as they might be.
The one of them said to his mate,
'Where shall we our breakefast take?'
'Downe in yonder greene field,
There lies a knight slain under his shield.
'His hounds they lie downe at his feete,
So well they can their master keepe.
'His haukes they flie so eagerly,
There's no fowle dare come him nie.'
Downe there comes a fallow doe,
As great with yong as she might goe.
She lift up his bloudy hed,
And kist his wounds that were so red.
She got him up upon her backe,
And carried him to earthen lake.
She buried him before the prime,
She was dead herselfe ere even-song time.
God send every gentleman,
Such haukes, such hounds, and such a leman.
The Three Ravens
There were three ravens sat on a tree,
They were as black as they might be.
The one of them said to his mate,
'Where shall we our breakefast take?'
' Downe in yonder greene field,
There lies a knight slain under his shield.
'His hounds they lie downe at his feete,
So well they can their master keepe.
' His haukes they flie so eagerly,
There's no fowle dare come him nie.'
Downe there comes a fallow doe,
As great with yong as she might goe.
She lift up his bloudy hed,
And kist his wounds that were so red.
She got him up upon her backe,
And carried him to earthen lake.
She buried him before the prime,
She was dead herselfe ere even-song time.
God send every gentleman,
Such haukes, such hounds, and such a leman.
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sleep No Man Desires
There is a sleep no man desires
There is something about that sleep
That sends fear down the hearts of men
That world unknown yet revered by fear
That surrounds a man when he goes to sleep
It is the sleep of the tired women
It is the sleep of the defeated elands
It is the sleep that makes the hyenas laugh
It is the sleep that feeds the vultures
It is the sleep that no man loves
But is the eventual sleep for all that breaths
It is the sleep of paradise
A paradise so desired for good deeds on earth
Yet it is the sleep that hounds the aged and the poor
A sleep that embraces the dying
A sleep that knows no class
It is the silent sleep on angels' chariots
Take a pillow and courage to slip into it
Courage, be brave and face that sleep
That sleep that frightens the mighty
That sleep that is wild on eart
That sleep that has no path
That is hated and more than loathed
A sleep that captured great men of history
It is the sleep of the GONE.
poem by Major Elazia
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My Country
Was it just a dream, were you so confused
Was it just a giant leap of logic
Was it the time of year, that makes a state of fear
Methods were the motives for the action
And did I hear you say
My country right or wrong
Did you save your face
Did you breach your faith
Women, there were children at the shelter
Now who can stop the hail
When human senses fail
There was never any warning, no escape
Did I hear you say
My country right or wrong
My country oh so strong
My country going wrong
My country right or wrong
I hear you say the truth must take a beating
The flag a camouflage for your deceiving
I know, yes I know
Its written on your soul
I know, we all make mistakes
This is not a case of blurred vision
Its a case of black holes, pocket holes, soul holes
And did I hear you say...
(hirst)
song performed by by Midnight Oil
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Praise of Dogs
Canine friend of man, today;
Faithful unto him in ways;
Guarding him, his house, all day;
Barking, keeping thieves at bay!
Sleeping with his ears on ground;
Listening to the faintest sound;
Well, he sees in dark and light;
Howls and growls in dead of night.
Tied for life, working o’er-time;
Longs to bite a bone, sometime;
Snarls at strangers when too near;
Wags his tail with joy, sans fear.
The police-dog, tracks criminals;
Hounds help tracing animals;
And sniff drugs with sense of smell;
Detecting bombs, pretty well.
Dogs can pull a sledge or cart;
In circus, do tricks by heart;
They can swim in waters deep;
Sit by master’s grave and weep!
They can retrieve long, lost things;
Joy to children, Dog, he brings;
Helps a lost man, find his home,
Orphaned in the streets, some roam.
Walking, running on command;
Petting, love, he will demand;
Lucky to find love and home;
Faithful friend, he will become.
Some are huge and some tiny;
Some are well-groomed, neat, shiny;
Some ferocious; some timid;
Some are brave and some stupid.
Dogs like humans, love their pups!
Nursing them till they grow up;
Like children, they love to play;
Dogs need love and care all day.
poem by John Celes
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Little Red Rooster
All right, listen now. at this time I would like to introduce a friend of ours,
A very talented guy named john sebastian. come on man.
Man, thats what I call a new york joint, man!
You can pick your teeth with a new york joint!
Well, Im the little red rooster
Too lazy to crow the day.
Little red rooster
Too lazy to crow the day.
Keep everything in the barnyard
Upset in every way.
Dogs begin to bark
The hounds begin to howl.
Dogs begin to bark and
The hounds begin to howl.
Look out strange cat people
The roosters on the prowl.
Yeah, dogs begin to bark
The hounds begin to howl.
Dogs begin to bark
The hounds begin to howl.
Look out strange cat people
Yeah, the roosters on the prowl.
If you see my rooster
Come on man, drive him home.
See my rooster, babe
Come on man, drive him home.
Aint been no peace in the barnyard
Since my little red rooster been gone.
Well, Im the little red rooster, babe
Too lazy to crow the day.
Well, Im the little red rooster, babe
Too lazy to crow the day.
Keep everything in the barnyard
Upset in every way.
song performed by by Doors
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stepping out of the Shadows
Afraid to do the things I really want to do,
Afraid to express what they are for fear of hurting you,
Afraid to say them out loud because someone might hear,
Afraid to tell the truth about what I really fear!
To live in fear is what we all do each and every day.
To admit it to ourselves is something we dare not ever say.
To step out of our comfort zone and do what we really feel,
Creates so much fear deep within, it can never be for real.
Those that came before us set the trend for what we dare,
Little did they know they were limiting us by fear,
Their intention seemed good back then, or so they really thought,
We sold our soul to trends, our creativity was bought!
How do we lose the fear that's our's and get back to being true.
How do we stand big and tall and do all that we can do.
We start by being not afraid and doing what we want,
Perhaps we can shake off the dust and wash away the taunt.
The taunt that says it must be so, it's always been that way,
We sleep at night and try to cram all things into the day.
Whose rules are these I ask of you, they were not born with me,
Perhaps they grew out back with you beside the money tree.
My money tree is dead and gone without ever bearing a dime,
I tried your way and lived in fear for quite a long long time.
My fear is gone and so I must create and start things new,
The trends are gone, I'm not afraid, I wish the same for you!
poem by Terry Holder
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All In Green My Love Went Riding
All in green my love went riding, four lean hounds
crouched low and smiling; riding upon a great gold
horse into the silver dawn. She ventured far ahead, an amazon
princess, flanking four lean hounds; my love struck the path.
She wished to rid herself of me. All in green
my love kept riding, without me; into the silver dawn.
Till I heard the whine of a horse and the bark of the hounds.
I abandoned all caution, raced atop the high peaks
into the silver sawn, to find the Golden Horse
with no rider. Four lean hounds, crouched low and silent
Where a motionless figure lay on the path;
All in green, my heart fell dead before.
poem by Ryan C. Walker
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