Related quotes: I hear in my heart,...

The Wild Ride

I hear in my heart, I hear in its ominous pulses,
All day, on the road, the hoofs of invisible horses,
All night, from their stalls, the importunate pawing and neighing.

Let cowards and laggards fall back! But alert to the saddle
Weatherworn and abreast, go men of our galloping legion,
With a stirrup-cup each to the lily of women that loves him.

The trail is through dolor and dread, over crags and morasses;
There are shapes by the way, there are things that appal or entice us:
What odds? We are Knights of the Grail, we are vowed to the riding.

Thought's self is a vanishing wing, and joy is a cobweb,
And friendship a flower in the dust, and glory a sunbeam:
Not here is our prize, nor, alas! after these our pursuing.

A dipping of plumes, a tear, a shake of the bridle,
A passing salute to this world and her pitiful beauty;
We hurry with never a word in the track of our fathers.

I hear in my heart, I hear in its ominous pulses,
All day, on the road, the hoofs of invisible horses,
All night, from their stalls, the importunate pawing and neighing.

We spur to a land of no name, outracing the storm-wind;
We leap to the infinite dark like sparks from the anvil.
Thou leadest, O God! All's well with Thy troopers that follow.

poem by Louise Imogen Guiney
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Related quotes

The Invisible Man

Im the invisible man,
Im the invisible man,
Incredible how you can,
See right through me,
When you hear a sound,
That you just cant place
Feel somethin move
That you just cant trace,
When something sits
On the end of your bed
Dont turn around
When you hear me tread.
Im the invisible man,
Im the invisible man
Incredible how you can
See right through me
Im the invisible man
Im the invisible man
Its criminal how I can
See right through you.
Now Im in your room
And Im in your bed
And Im in your life
And Im in your head
Like the cia
Or the fbi
Youll never get close
Never take me alive
Im the invisible man
Im the invisible man
Incredible how you can
See right through me
Im the invisible man
Im the invisible man
Its criminal how I can
See right through you,
Hah, hah, hah, hello,
Hah, hah, hah, hello,
Hah, hah, hah, hello-hello-hello-hello,
Never had a real good friend - not a boy or a girl
No-one knows what Ive been through - let my flag unfurl
So make my mark from the edge of the world,
From the edge of the world,
From the edge of the world,
Now Im on your track
And Im in your mind,
And Im on your back
But dont look behind
Im your meanest thought
Im your darkest fear
Put Ill never get caught
You cant shake me, shake me dear,
Im the invisible man,
Im the invisible man
Incredible how you can
See right through me
Im the invisible man
Im the invisible man
Its criminal how I can
See right through you
Look at me, look at me

song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fireworks

The humidity over the past weekend
With the southeaster wind
Are tell tale signs of a storm brewing
By Monday, night fall
The rumbling sky followed by lightning
Then the heavens poured

Thoughts of tsunami and natural disasters
Took a hold of my mind
I am a strong swimmer
But who is to say I will survive
Should the valley where I live
Be flooded

Shaking my head I focussed on the beauty
Of the event playing off
Let me embrace it
The symphony of sound
Thunder and lightning
Like fireworks!

My thought with those
Who have no proper shelter from the storm?
The horses neighing uneasily in their stalls
The dogs howling from their kennels
The felines restless eyes big ears alert
And this is how I fell asleep
Knowing that Almighty is protecting

poem by Persian Khushi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At a pan at night

In the dark night I hear horse hoofs
coming on thundering
and there are sparks
bursting from the quartz rocks.

In the sky
there’s a sickle moon
and the hairs
on my arms raise

while blue thunder
fall like shots around me
and I can smell fire and sulphur
on the wind.

For a moment
while a church bell
rings of midnight in the distance,
there’s a horse standing neighing
on its back feet.

Just one look
frightens me past being awake
when another lightning bolt
strikes down next to us
and a horse
with a man without head
passes me at great speed.

In the distance at a ruin
I see an old woman in white
with a shrill voice
cutting through the night.

“Can nothing stop you
Jan van der Meer? ”

[Reference: Die ruiter van skimmelperdpan by A.G. Visser. A legend from the second Anglo-Boer war.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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The Watcher

I think I hear the sound of horses' feet
Beating upon the graveled avenue.
Go to the window that looks on the street,
He would not let me die alone, I knew.'
Back to the couch the patient watcher passed,
And said: 'It is the wailing of the blast.'

She turned upon her couch and, seeming, slept,
The long, dark lashes shadowing her cheek;
And on and on the weary moments crept,
When suddenly the watcher heard her speak:
'I think I hear the sound of horses' hoofs-'
And answered, ''Tis the rain upon the roofs.'

Unbroken silence, quiet, deep, profound.
The restless sleeper turns: 'How dark, how late!
What is it that I hear-a trampling sound?
I think there is a horseman at the gate.'
The watcher turns away her eyes tear-blind:
'It is the shutter beating in the wind.'

The dread hours passed; the patient clock ticked on;
The weary watcher moved not from her place.
The gray dim shadows of the early dawn
Caught sudden glory from the sleeper's face.
'He comes! my love! I knew he would!' she cried;
And smiling sweetly in her slumbers, died.

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Comrades 0' Mine

If I call, will you hear me, O comrades of mine,
When the sky in the East holds the grey of the dawn,
When the soft wind is stirring the plumes of the pine
And the shadow goes gliding beneath like a fawn?
If I call, will you hear me, 0 long-ago friends,
As you pass to the stockyard with bridle on arm,
Where the song of the magpie to Heaven ascends
And the buddah-bush blooms with its delicate charm?
If I call, will you hear me? Heart calling to heart
Across the wide water, across the long years.
In the life that you live have I, too, not a part?
Do I share not its laughter, its hopes and its fears?
If my saddle hangs idle, if no more I bind
The spurs of adventure to gleam on the heel,
Along Memory's paths may I stray not and find
The beat of bare hoofs and the jingle of steel?
Where we rode shall I ride not? Through scrubs where we raced
With the rein lying loose as some favourite flew
Through the ragged grey stems, through the boughs interlaced
Have ye ridden one ride where I rode not with you?
If I call, will you hear ? - Nay; for Time will be king,
And the wind on wide water bears voices away.
The spurs as they glisten, the hoofs where they ring,
Are the servants of Youth at the dawn of the day.

poem by William Henry Ogilvie
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Shane

Written by ricky & marty wilde
I dreamed I lived the whole thing just last night
Somehow this film just seemed to get it right
I watched a gunfire under dirty western skies
The one mans vision seems to pick me up and fill my eyes
Its shane, cant you hear me calling you
Shane, if I thought that you would still be riding through
I said shane, please take me back there with you
(take me to you)
Im watching marian, as she let go
I felt I was her for a time or so
Its hard for anyone to understand her pain
You gotta see the man to understand she wouldnt change
Shane, cant you hear me calling you
Shane, if I thought that you would still be riding through
I said shane, please take me back there with you
(take me to you)
Shane (I hear it, I hear it, I hear it, joes calling)
Shane (I hear it, I hear it, I hear it, joes calling)
Shane, cant you hear me calling you
Shane, if I thought that you would still be riding through
I said shane, please take me back there with you
(take me to you)
Shane (I hear it, I hear it, I hear it, joes calling)
Shane (I hear it, I hear it, I hear it, joes calling)
Shane (I hear it, I hear it, I hear it, joes calling)
Shane (I hear it, I hear it, I hear it, joes calling)
Shane (I hear it, I hear it, I hear it, joes calling)

song performed by by Kim Wilde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Some Other Somebody

Somebody's horse has finished his feed,
Somebody's saddle is on;
But never a nigger the tracks can read,
Or know where Somebody's gone.

Over the rails and up the creek,
As soon as the sun goes down:
How is it every night this week
That Somebody's off to town?

Grass is dewy, and overhead
Evening stars are bright;
And startled wallabies hear the tread
Of galloping hoofs at night.

Through the scrub and over the plain
Somebody's galloping fast;
Never a pull on the bridle rein
Till the town lights show at last.

Somebody's horse has whips o' work -
Whips o' work of late -
Since Somebody's brown was seen in town
Tied to Somebody's gate.

But the wherefore why Somebody rides,
And the track that the brown horse goes,
Only his rider (and one besides:
Some other Somebody) knows!

poem by Harry 'Breaker' Harbord Morant
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Gallop of Fire

When the north wind moans thro' the blind creek courses
And revels with harsh, hot sand,
I loose the horses, the wild red horses,
I loose the horses, the mad, red horses,
And terror is on the land.

With prophetic murmer the hills are humming,
The forest-kings bend and blow;
With hoofs of brass on the baked earth strumming,
O brave red horses, they hear us coming,
And the legions of death lean low.

O'er the wooded height, and the sandy hollow
Where the boles to the axe have rung,
Tho' they fly the foreman as flies the swallow,
The fierce red horses, my horses, follow
With flanks to the faint earth flung.

Or with frenzied hieroglyphs, fear embossing
Night's sable horizon bars,
Thro' tangled mazes of death-darts crossing,
I swing my leaders and watch them tossing
Their red manes against the stars.

But when South winds sob in the drowned creek courses
And whisper to hard wet sand,
I hold the horses, the spent red horses,
I hold the horses, the tired red horses,
And silence is on the land.

Yea, the South wind sobs among the drowned creek courses
For sorrows no man shall bind---
Ah, God! For the horses, the black plumed horses,
Dear God! For the horses, Death's own pale horses,
That raced in the tracks behind.

poem by Marie E J Pitt
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The Horses

We will fly way on high
Where the cool winds blow
Or in the sun laughing having fun
With all the people we know
If the situation should keep us separated
I know the world wont fall apart
You will free the beautiful bird
Caught inside your heart
Can you see her oh she flies so proud
Cast her wild wings over water and cloud
Thats the way its gonna be little darling
Well go riding on the horses
Way up in the sky little darling
If you fall Ill pick you up, pick you up
You will grow until you go
Ill be right there by your side
Even then a whispering wind
Will call me to you in the night
I hear all the people of the world
In my one birds cry
I see them trying every way they know
To make their spirits fly
Can you see her moonlight in her eye
Coming from under my wing
You were born to fly
Thats the way its gonna be, little darling
Well go riding on the horses
Way up in the sky little darling
If you fall Ill pick you up, pick you up

song performed by by Kenny Loggins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He Bids His Beloved Be At Peace

I HEAR the Shadowy Horses, their long manes a-shake,
Their hoofs heavy with tumult, their eyes glimmering white;
The North unfolds above them clinging, creeping night,
The East her hidden joy before the morning break,
The West weeps in pale dew and sighs passing away,
The South is pouring down roses of crimson fire:
O vanity of Sleep, Hope, Dream, endless Desire,
The Horses of Disaster plunge in the heavy clay:
Beloved, let your eyes half close, and your heart beat
Over my heart, and your hair fall over my breast,
Drowning love's lonely hour in deep twilight of rest,
And hiding their tossing manes and their tumultuous feet.

poem by William Butler Yeats
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Do Yiu Listen..Or Do U Hear

s the sun rises, , all is quite no chatter of people no cars goin by
but in this silence i hear

i hear the wind as she sings her song
i hear the birds in the sky as they fly by
this is the best silence of all
no phones ringing, no engines reviing as they race by
i hear everything in nature in its glory
can u hear it too..or can u not silence ur selfs

i hear the clouds as they roll in
its this silence that i take pen in hand
and write
u think as u read but thier is no silence
for u can hear the horses roam
u can hear the thunder off in th distance
but when we are loud we caint hear
the beauty of what surrounds
so as u read this poem silence ur mind
and next time u walk out side
silence you mouth ur mind
and u can see silence of the
of all things
then u can truly hear
as i do
and a beautfull sound to see
greyicewolf

poem by Jeff Greyicewolf
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The Dead Coach

At night when sick folk wakeful lie,
I heard the dead coach passing by,
And heard it passing wild and fleet,
And knew my time was come not yet.

Click-clack, click-clack, the hoofs went past,
Who takes the dead coach travels fast,
On and away through the wild night,
The dead must rest ere morning light.

If one might follow on its track
The coach and horses, midnight black,
Within should sit a shape of doom
That beckons one and all to come.

God pity them to-night who wait
To hear the dead coach at their gate,
And him who hears, though sense be dim,
The mournful dead coach stop for him.

He shall go down with a still face,
And mount the steps and take his place,
The door be shut, the order said!
How fast the pace is with the dead!

Click-clack, click-clack, the hour is chill,
The dead coach climbs the distant hill.
Now, God, the Father of us all,
Wipe Thou the widow’s tears that fall!

poem by Katharine Tynan
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When I a householder became

EARLY in the morning, when the dawn is on the roofs,
You hear his wheels come rolling, you hear his horses hoofs;
You hear the bottles clinking, and then he drives away:
You yawn in bed, turn over, and begin another day!

The old-time dairy maids are dear to every poet's heart-
I'd rather be the dairy man and drive a little cart,
And bustle round the village in the early morning blue,
And hang my reigns upon a hook, as I've seen Casey do.

poem by Christopher Morley
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The Milkman

poem by Christopher Morley
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Walk In The Night 1

Walk in the night where you're
Not likely to be worried sick by
The pitter-patter innocent footsteps
Of the kidnapped child victims
Go into the belly of the night
And hear not the click-clank
That suddenly ends after the woman
In danger's screams have fallen silent
Enjoy the leisurely stroll under cover
Of the night and be not scarred of
The clomp of the heavy footsteps that
Follow you into the alleyways of the night
Walk into the night and do not allow
Yourself to be intimidated by
The clippety-clop sounds of the dead
Horses that you sight in the night
Step, step, step into the gentle night
Be less afraid under the ominous
Clouds of the night and you will hear
With a clear beat the plodding and
The shuffling and the tap tapping
Boots of the owners of the night as
They close in on you where you shiver
With fear where you hide

poem by Ngaka Motaung
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The farmer and his wife (Sestina)

A girl was lying down flat on her back
with a straw hat at eye height over hair,
she was sun-struck, curling and fair
with a rain cloud ominous and black
drifting in a blue sky and a small track
meandering past and it needed some repair.

Some of your makeup is in need of repair,
there’s a guitar bag slung over your back
where you walk pass the girl at the dirt track
with the strong wind frizzling through your hair
and the sky is already turning black
but the evening up to now is fair.

Slowly you walk past the local fair
with some of the stalls needing repair,
the guitar you are carrying is black
and you walk straight on, do not look back
at the whistles of some men with long hair
while home you take a narrow long track.

Watching our horses on the racetrack
you are really sexy and very fair,
our horses do parade with shining hair
you notice that the stands need some repair
and I am standing somewhat at your back
while you are dressed prettily in black.

The highway is like a ribbon that is black
where it meets the old overgrown farm track,
there are huge blue-gum trees some way back
and you agree that the price of the Lucerne is fair
where some cows graze at the pen, needing repair,
swishing with tails to drive flies from their hair.

I pull my fingers slowly through my hair
and there are streaks of grey in the black,
but the cattle are only doing fair
while my love is coming with the field’s track
that must constantly be kept in repair
and I hear her singing over my back.

There were torn out hair a long time back,
when I met my darling and she was fair,
at a fight at a track, I was in need of repair.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Once Full of Life

Hear her heart beat
Hear her heart thump
Hear her silent thoughts
Hear her silent tears
How she’s been sad for years
Hear her heart crack
Hear her heart cry
Hear her heart once full of life
Hear her beatless heart, shriveled, dark and dry.
Hear her heartbeat-slowly die

poem by Dani SCREAMS
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I Dare Not

I hear strange voices in the air.
My pulses leap, I tear my hair
In rage, rebellion, and despair;
Yet dare not speak.

I am for right, my foes for wrong,
But they are legion, they are strong,
And I am one amid the throng,
Alone and weak.

What ear would hear me if I cried?
What comrades rally to my side?
What force have I to stem the tide?
What right have I?

Though I should plunge in flood and flame,
Though I should suffer shame and blame,
The world would triumph all the same —
And I should die.

Why should I join the hopeless fray?
Why should I waste my little day?
Oh, why should I be called to pay
So vast a price?

* * * *
6.

Have courage, craven soul of mine!
The light within thee is divine,
And others need to see it shine,
Let that suffice.

Others beside thee quake and quail
Before the terrors that prevail;
Thy captive kindred faint and fail
As well as thou.

But when thy lifted front they see,
They will take heart and soar with thee;
It is thy help to set them free
They wait for now.

Give to those silent sufferers each
What inspiration he can reach;
Give righteous treason honest speech,
That all may hear.

10.

This god of custom that we dread,
This social code that weighs like lead,
What is it worth, when all is said?
What is't to fear?

11.

When with a faithful eye one sees
That they whose will we live to please,
Crush right with might for love of ease,
And selfish greed.

12.

When infinite night and silence lower
O'er such brief span of human power,
These poor conventions of an hour
Seem poor indeed.

13.

Be brave, my soul! The world may frown,
And its brute fashions bear thee down,
But Truth will swim, whate'er may drown,
And Truth will live.

14.

Be bold to speak at Truth's behest,
And, though thou suffer without rest,
Yet still thy gain shall be the best
That life can give.

poem by Ada Cambridge
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I Heard The Night Whisper Again

I HEARD THE NIGHT WHISPER AGAIN

I heard the night whisper again
I waited for words.
The darkness came
And the words with them.

Night is now the poem
And darkness the destiny.
I hear silence
And a deep calling from another distant world.

Outside all white light denies night its meaning
Inside- the changes of life mean-
Abstraction no longer makes sense.

I hunger to hear my words spoken
But they are blank as dust as dust as the fallen page as the night that never stops happening- the infinite darkness

I hear and I hear but where are you who hear also?

poem by Shalom Freedman
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Galloping Days

Galloping, galloping, galloping horses
Weave thro' our dreaming in burgeoning Spring;
There's sun in our hearts and there's sun on the courses,
And paeans of hope Winter's threnody forces
Over the hill-tops; for joy is a-wing.
Joy is a-wing, and the galloping rhythm
Mingles, alack, with a ruefuller rune,
For winners may rug but the losers run with 'em,
On the galloping, galloping tune.

Galloping, galloping, galloping gladly
Round the white railing and on to the turn,
While keeping in time to it, urgently madly,
Pulses are racing, ecstatic'ly, sadly;
Eyes to the thundering eagerly yearn,
Voice, upraising, are praising, are pleading,
Mid rackets gay jackets flash by and are gone.
Then the field in the sunlight, retreating, receding,
Goes galloping, galloping, galloping on.

Galloping, galloping, galloping; streaming
Now in green distances, seeming to crawl,
Like miniatures moving, like manikins seeming,
While o'er hedge and hollow a bland sun is beaming
Casting a benison over it all.
They run to the 'Distance.' The horses! The horses!
They gallop! They gallop! They turn for the 'Straight!'
They gallop, the hoses! Who nurses remorse is
A runagate cringer to galloping Fate.

Galloping, galloping, galloping ever,
Tho' cheering is over, they gallop amain;
Tho' fact and fond fancy reluctantly sever,
The round of that ultimate, straining endeavor
Still buffets and bludgeons and beats on the brain.
They gallop - Wake up, man! What profits regaining?
Luck lurks in the offing. On, on with the dance.
Aw, tear up your ticket! The sun is still shining.
The next race is starting. Who foots it with Chance?

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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