I read a statement in a newspaper
I read a statement in a newspaper
That Twentyman, the manufacturer,
Found it was cheaper to deliver goods
By horse and lorry than by motor-truck
Or motor-van. So he had sold his trucks
To purchase horses. He dismissed those men
Who had mechanics' minds to re-employ
Drivers of horses, friends of animals.
Then life grew stronger in me because life
Had triumphed in this case and would perhaps
Finally triumph over the machine.
Even such mean commercial victory
Being better than no victory at all.
poem by Lesbia Harford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Motor Of Love
I Can't Get Over Your Love
No Matter How Hard Life Seems,
There's A Light In My Dreams
Thanks To You.
My Friends Keep Asking Me Why
There's Such A Smile On My Face,
There's A Home At My Place,
Thanks To You.
I Don't Want Anything From You,
Turn On Your Motor Of Love.
Motor Of Love, Motor Of Love.
Heavenly Father Look Down From Above,
I Can't Get Over Your Powerful
Motor Of Love.
I Can't Get Over Your Love
No Matter How Lost I Feel,
I Know My Love Is Real,
Thanks To You.
You Simply Reached Out Your Hand
And Touched Me Deep In My Soul,
I Came In Out Of The Cold,
Thanks To You.
I Won't Steal Anything From You,
You Give Me More Than Enough.
Motor Of Love, Motor Of Love.
Heavenly Father Look Down From Above,
I Can't Get Over Your Powerful
Motor Of Love.
There Was A Time
When I Was Down And Counted Out,
Well I Remember I Felt So Bad
I Nearly Threw Away,
Nearly Threw Away The Keys.
Motor Of Love, Motor Of Love.
Heavenly Father Look Down From Above,
Motor Of Love, Motor Of Love.
Heavenly Father Look Down From Above,
I Can't Get Over Your Powerful
Motor Of Love.
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Motor Of Love Love
I cant get over your love
No matter how hard life seems,
Theres a light in my dreams
Thanks to you.
My friends keep asking me why
Theres such a smile on my face,
Theres a home at my place,
Thanks to you.
I dont want anything from you,
Turn on your motor of love.
Motor of love, motor of love.
Heavenly father look down from above,
I cant get over your powerful
Motor of love.
I cant get over your love
No matter how lost I feel,
I know my love is real,
Thanks to you.
You simply reached out your hand
And touched me deep in my soul,
I came in out of the cold,
Thanks to you.
I wont steal anything from you,
You give me more than enough.
Motor of love, motor of love.
Heavenly father look down from above,
I cant get over your powerful
Motor of love.
There was a time
When I was down and counted out,
Well I remember I felt so bad
I nearly threw away,
Nearly threw away the keys.
Motor of love, motor of love.
Heavenly father look down from above,
Motor of love, motor of love.
Heavenly father look down from above,
I cant get over your powerful
Motor of love.
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Lady of the Motor Car
The Lady of the Motor-car she stareth straight ahead;
Her face is like the stone, my friend, her face is like the dead;
Her face is like the stone, my friend, because she is “well-bred”—
Because her heart is dead, my friend, as all her life was dead.
The Lady of the Motor-car she speaketh like a man,
Because her girlhood never was, nor womanhood began.
She says, “To the Aus-traliah, John!” and “Home” when she hath been.
And to the husband at her side she says, “Whhat doo you mean?”
The Lady of the Motor-car her very soul is dead,
Because she never helped herself nor had to work for bread;
The Lady of the Motor-car sits in her sitting-room,
Her stony face has never changed though all the land is gloom.
Her motor-car hath gone to hell—the hell that man hath made;
She sitteth in her sitting-room, and she is not afraid;
Nor fear of life or death, or worse, could change her well-bred mien;
She knits socks in a stony way, and says, “Whhat doo they mean?”
The lady in her carriage sits, with cushions turning green—
And once it was a mourning-coach, and once it held a queen.
Behind a coachman and a horse too old to go to war,
She driveth to her “four o’clocks” and to her sick and poor.
And when the enemy bombards and walls begin to fall,
The Lady of the Motor-car shall stand above you all;
Amongst the strong and silent brave, and those who pray or shriek,
She’ll nurse the wounded from the grave and pacify the weak.
And if the enemy prevails, with death on every side,
The Lady of the Car shall die as heroines have died,
But if the victory remains, she’ll be what she hath been,
And, sitting in her motor-car, shall say: “
Whhat doo you mean?
”
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Getting A Horse
So here I am
15 and over weight
not especially pretty
but not bad;
but invisible
and I hide in gym
and the looks I get
keep me in my place.
I try for friends
but the other outcasts
like me
don't seem to want to
draw attention;
can't talk to anyone,
teachers think I'm dull
I talk to my pillow
only my cat understands me
And, of course,
I don't have a boy friend.
She:
'Ok, let go through all of this.
What do you think comes first.
Why don't you pretend that you are your best friend
What would you tell you best friend to do? '
Daughter:
'I don't know.
I would tell her to think about what she can do
or what she really likes.'
'And that is? '
'Horses'
'Horses'.
'I didn't know you liked horses.'
'They are neat.'
'Ok tell your friend what to do about liking horses.
What does she want to do? '
'She wants a horse.'
'Wants a horse
To get a horse what does she needs to do.'
'Get some money.'
'Well how? '
'Maybe babysitting? '
'Sure tell your friend I have someone who needs babysitting
and she can do it to make money.'
'So I did, took a year,
but I got my horse.
some friends along the way
and a boyfriend.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mustangs Are Born Free (Monchielle)
Let wild horses run free
In mountains let them be
Release them let them go
Stop killing these horses
They are so scared you know
Let wild horses run free
Don't divide mom from baby
Wild horses to be free
Let them run in mountain
Don't take freedom away
Let wild horses run free
Let's join voices help horses
Take them where they belong
They truly need our help
Selling these horses wrong
Let wild horses run free
Since small I love horses
I grew up watch them grow
Mustangs are beautiful
They're unique smart you know.
September 24,2009
poem by Dorian Petersen Potter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Like Canadians
By A Foreigner
I like Canadians.
They are so unlike Americans.
They go home at night.
Their cigarettes don't smell bad.
Their hats fit.
They really believe that they won the war.
They don't believe in Literature.
They think Art has been exaggerated.
But they are wonderful on ice skates.
A few of them are very rich.
But when they are rich they buy more horses
Than motor cars.
Chicago calls Toronto a puritan town.
But both boxing and horse-racing are illegal
In Chicago.
Nobody works on Sunday.
Nobody.
That doesn't make me mad.
There is only one Woodbine.
But were you ever at Blue Bonnets?
If you kill somebody with a motor car in Ontario
You are liable to go to jail.
So it isn't done.
There have been over 500 people killed by motor cars
In Chicago
So far this year.
It is hard to get rich in Canada.
But it is easy to make money.
There are too many tea rooms.
But, then, there are no cabarets.
If you tip a waiter a quarter
He says 'Thank you.'
Instead of calling the bouncer.
They let women stand up in the street cars.
Even if they are good-looking.
They are all in a hurry to get home to supper
And their radio sets.
They are a fine people.
I like them.
poem by Ernest Hemingway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Old Black Tom
My dad sold black Tom our old work-horse when he had known a better day
But what happened to him after that I do not know for to say
Suppose he was slaughtered for dog meat few work-horses of old age do die
To say that all work-horses become children pets would be telling a lie
Any way old black Tom would never have been any good as a child's pet
A few nips he gave to me I never will forget
Old Tom he was surely not gentle or quiet
And given the opportunity he surely would bite
Five out of ten for him would seem a fair score
He was a good work-horse that and nothing more
Not the finest equine west of Millstreet Town
For Tom the old rogue horse no such a renown
He was sold to a horse dealer more than three decades ago
And what happened to him after I cannot say I do know.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Do Cows Not Count?
The board of
The National Horse Protection League
advertised in a newspaper that there are no vegetarians on their board.
Do cows not count? Does God love horses more than cows or pigs?
****************
US regime (unelected) wants to murder (euthanize) wild horses
Senator Craig who has resigned because of a sexual scandal
(effective with election or before) is trying to prevent horse
protection. Horse slaughterhouses have moved to Canada and Mexico
poem by O. Anna Niemus
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Election set a trend
Despite dismal performances,
The mule has been reelected
By the mixed population
Of horses and mules in the stable.
The whole mules voted for the mule.
The opponent horse lost the race.
The horses divided themselves
And voted on ideology.
The victory of the mule is
Due more to the racial backing
Than to the performance reckoning,
An ugly trend set for the first time.
08.11.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Remember Lot's Wife
One is taken and the other is left down,
One is spoken to and the other is written to,
But remember Lot's wife and learn!
For if your child ask you of fish,
Will you give him a snake? !
Then think twice before you leap.
Life is full of ups and downs but,
Be very strong always to carry on;
And like the fig tree planted in the vineyard,
be very focus on your dreams.
Red horses and black horses,
White horses and dappled horses,
And with the bay horses to write this muse;
Life is guided by the four spirits of the heavens but,
Yu've sown much and brought in a little.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hildebrand
Who was frightened by a Passing Motor, and was brought to Reason
"Oh murder! What was that, Papa!"
"My child, It was a Motor-Car,
A most Ingenious Toy!
Designed to Captivate and Charm
Much rather than to rouse Alarm
In any English Boy.
"What would your Great Grandfather who
Was Aide-de-Camp to General Brue,
And lost a leg at Waterloo,
And Quatre-Bras and Ligny too!
And died at Trafalgar!-
What would he have remarked to hear
His Young Descendant shriek with fear,
Because he happened to be near
A Harmless Motor-Car!
But do not fret about it! Come!
We'll off to Town
And purchase some!"
poem by Hilaire Belloc
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Memories Of The Irish Travellers
The travellers parked their horse drawn vans at the Shannaknock cross when I was a young boy
And recalling such good memories is a thing I still enjoy
And though their colorful Romany caravans are no longer to be seen
Good memories last a life time and we recall what has been.
I loved their colorful pinto horses with white patches through the brown
On March the first they bought and sold them at the horse fair in Millstreet Town
In the early sixties the increase on automobile traffic brought an end to the horse drawn van
And jeeps and motor vans became the transport of the born to wander clan.
At the cross road around their camp fire on a starry Winter's night
They played their tunes and sung their songs under the pale moonlight
And something lost forever that won't be found again
And only the fond memories of the past now does remain
Of Ireland in the fifties and the early sixties long before I reached my prime
When the travellers travelled in their horse drawn vans that is going back in time
They added so much colour to the green old countryside
As the byroads of the County they travelled far and wide.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Auto Mechanics Mentality
on a crystal clear blue
morning day
passers by, hear clinging and clanging
of ratchets and rotors turning
on main street
in the borough of Emmaus, PA.
greased up mechanics faces
filled in dirt and grime
repair limping cars and trucks
round' bout' inspection time
only a customers hope
that the bill not be too high
for these days of despair
would make a car and truck driver
simply sigh
yet a man named Dan
at Hendricks motor sales
will tell no tales
just honesty and truth
where big mahoff car dealers
fail
poem by Matt Mondschein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Only Queen
May flowers roam the kingdom of mine,
Judging the beauty from the monstrosity,
Like the comparison we have developed
Inside our souls, the souls we have discovered.
Discover my soul in my kingdom,
The horses wipe their hooves in honour of me.
Walking is finally allowed,
Nobody is dismissed,
And no one starves or wilts,
Not even the flowers
Or the animals of all this kingdom of mine.
Please enter the inner sanctuary
To receive me as my queen,
Deliver me unto Paradise.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Hatred In You
Dappled horses,
Bay horses,
Red horses,
Black horses,
White horses;
However, you boasted against us all with your mouth!
Because of the hatred in you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Sonnet: A Weird Workplace
The carriage looks so fabulous indeed:
And drawn by steeds and horses, superbly
On roads in tough terrain with rather greed;
They do it sub-consciously but ably!
The passengers are from far-off places,
And some are picked from road-side on the way;
A few wear masks of poverty on faces;
Only a few are truly made to pay.
The drivers change too frequently at times;
Some do not know the horses, roads at all;
They sleep both day and night in changing climes;
They do not care if horses stop or fall.
The carriage has to be repaired often;
The hearts of drivers will never soften!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 12-28-2008
poem by John Celes
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Stallions Hope
I believe that horses can heal,
I believe that their hearts feel all that we feel,
I believe that the joy from riding is real,
I believe that horses really can heal.
I see children riding and smiling with joy,
I see happy healthy girls and boys,
I see hope for life and wonder renewed,
I see love for the children coming to you.
I see dreams for the kids, who once were lost,
I see helping hands, no matter the cost,
I see friends for kids, who once were tossed,
I see children laughing and no longer lost.
I do believe that horses can heal,
I believe that horses make recovery real,
I believe being sober is a much better deal,
I really believe that horses can heal.
And I know that this land, its buildings and stones,
Insures that our children are never alone,
Insures that our horses and children are one,
Insures that their lives will finally be won.
Yes I do believe that horses can heal.
That recovery hope and dreams are real,
That God and love can make a child whole,
That all of this is the Stallions Hope role.
poem by Sandra Osborne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Our Conquering Swords
Our conquering swords shall marshall us the way
We use to march upon the slaughter'd foe,
Trampling their bowels with our horses' hoofs,
Brave horses bred on the white Tartarian hills.
My camp is like to Julius Caesar's host,
That never fought but had the victory;
Nor in Pharsalia was there such hot war
As these, my followers, willingly would have.
Legions of spirits, fleeting in the air,
Direct our bullets and our weapons' points,
And make your strokes to wound the senseless light;
And when she sees our bloody colours spread,
Then Victory begins to take her flight,
Resting herself upon my milk-white tent--
But come, my lords, to weapons let us fall;
The field is ours, the Turk, his wife, and all.
poem by Christopher Marlowe
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Victory was not mine
The victory was yours.
And it still is victory belongs to you.
Victory was not mine.
You hurt me you hurt me.
You've scared me.
And yet the victory is yours.
You still continue to beat me.
You torture me every day.
Even though you raped me.
You still win.
And the victory is yours.
Its not fair you have the victory.
When you are evil personalised.
You are the peice of scum
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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Who Is Who
water you are the motor of nature.who are the clouds without you.who is snow without you. Water you are motor of nature.plants need you for them to stay alive.yes animals need plants to stay alive, but who will stay alive without water. water the engine of life.look the sahara she has lost all her plants and animals she needs water to live again.
poem by George mwandu
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