Traveller handwarm
the lamb in the blood a traveller moonlit
the lamb in the blood a traveller sunlit
the lamb in the womb the sky spelled cloud
the walker in the mud a traveller lightless
the walker in the mud a traveller darkless
the walker in the lamb the sky spelled step
a silent road in the traveller's book
a silent road the traveller took
a silent road after a storm
a traveller path traveller handwarm
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Related quotes
The Crooked Stick
First Traveller: What's that lying in the dust?
Second Traveller: A crooked stick.
First Traveller: What's it worth, if you can trust to arithmetic?
Second Traveller: Isn't this a riddle?
First Traveller: No, a trick.
Second Traveller:It's worthless, leave it where it lies.
First Traveller: Wait; count ten;
Rub a little dust upon your eyes;
Now, look again.
Second Traveller: Well, and what the devil is it, then?
First Traveller: It's the sort of crooked stick that shepherds know.
Second Traveller: Someone's loss!
First Traveller: Bend it, and you make of it a bow.
Break it, a cross.
Second Traveller: But it's all grown over with moss!
poem by Elinor Morton Wylie
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Traveller
Traveller
Where did you come from?
Where are you going?
What do you have in your pack?
Traveller
Who are you travelling with?
Who is your enemy?
Who is your ally?
Traveller
Are you not tired?
Are you not lonely?
Are you not giving up?
Traveller
Can you tell me
where the dangerous roads are?
Can you tell me
where the safe roads are?
Can you tell me
where the harvests are?
Can you tell me
where the springs are?
Traveller
Up to where
will you be travelling?
Untill when
will you be travelling?
For whom
are you travelling?
Traveller
Who are you? ...
Traveller
Will you take me...
with you?
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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Curse Of The Traveller
On the restless road to nowhere
Theres no certain peace it seems
Desire to keep on moving
Till the river of dreams
Is it just because someone told you
Is it just because you found
Old freedom feels uneasy when duty is around
When allegiance asks the questions
Old freedom twists and turns
And chokes on codes of honour
On the sword of no return
And its the curse of the traveller
The curse of the traveller
Got a hold of me
And it wont let you be
And in sleepless nights
Youll call her name
And feel loneliness cold to the bone
And when the daylight breaks
This old tired heart aches
To be such a long way, such a long way from home
And you long for the harbourlights
But youll never be free
Of the craving for refuge
And the call of the sea
Always wanting to sell up
But always needing to buy
So till the road leads to somewhere
And that river runs dry
Its the curse of the traveller
Aint gonna let you be
The curse of the traveller
And it sure got a hold of me
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Days Are Numbers
Chris rainbow - lead vocals
The traveller is always leaving town
He never has the time to turn around
And if the road hes taken isnt leading anywhere
He seems to be completely unaware
The traveller is always leaving home
The only kind of life hes ever known
When every moment seems to be
A race against the time
Theres always one more mountain left to climb
Days are numbers
Watch the stars
We can only see so far
Someday, youll know where you are
Remember
Days are numbers
Count the stars
We can only go so far
One day, youll know where you are
The traveller awaits the morning tide
He doesnt know whats on the other side
But something deep inside of him
Keeps telling him to go
He hasnt found a reason to say no
The traveller is only passing through
He cannot understand your point of view
Abandoning reality, unsure of what hell find
The traveller in me is close behind
Days are numbers
Watch the stars
We can only see so far
Someday, youll know where you are
Remember
Days are numbers
Count the stars
We can only go so far
One day, youll know where you are
song performed by by Alan Parsons Project
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A good traveller is one who does not know where he is going to, and a perfect traveller does not know where he came from.
quote by Lin Yutang
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In the spirit of Shabistari - 1
When I was young, I dreamed all day of travel
When I was old enough, I spent all day travelling
When I had travelled much, I called myself a traveller
Now I sit here, still and silent on the cushions
while the roses release their perfume,
the peacock cries upon the wall,
and in the courtyard, the fountain plays;
and all my travel has returned to me,
all my travelling is within me,
travel, travelling and traveller are one;
and my mind travels to places I had never imagined
and I sense the world turning on its axis,
travelling around my self.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Inscription 05 - For A Monument At Silbury-Hill
This mound in some remote and dateless day
Rear'd o'er a Chieftain of the Age of Hills,
May here detain thee Traveller! from thy road
Not idly lingering. In his narrow house
Some Warrior sleeps below: his gallant deeds
Haply at many a solemn festival
The Bard has harp'd, but perish'd is the song
Of praise, as o'er these bleak and barren downs
The wind that passes and is heard no more.
Go Traveller on thy way, and contemplate
Glory's brief pageant, and remember then
That one good deed was never wrought in vain.
poem by Robert Southey
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Truth
"Truth," said a traveller,
"Is a rock, a mighty fortress;
Often have I been to it,
Even to its highest tower,
From whence the world looks black."
"Truth," said a traveller,
"Is a breath, a wind,
A shadow, a phantom;
Long have I pursued it,
But never have I touched
The hem of its garment."
And I believed the second traveller;
For truth was to me
A breath, a wind,
A shadow, a phantom,
And never had I touched
The hem of its garment.
poem by Stephen Crane
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Tower Of A Nation
A tower seizes the thoughts of a traveller,
Once again, tragedy strikes those below;
The traveller invites repeatedly the men on top
To a duel, and this meant war for them.
The tower embarked on a mission
To view the travels of a nation;
The nation has the tours of a whole nation,
Feeling the duels of travellers
But the travel is over now that you request
A seizure.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Old Town Types No. 4 - Our Mr. Trim
Mr Trim, commercial traveller, is in town again,
'Our Mr Trim,' you know, debonair and neat;
Landed here this morning on the ten-thirty train;
Can't you hear him laughing there, half down the street?
A bland man, a breezy man, a man to take the eye;
With his trolly load of sample tins, his big leather bags.
Men say he's popular; ladies say, 'Oo, my!'
John George Augustus Trim, traveller in bags.
Mr Trim, the traveller, oh, very well-dressed,
Very much the lah-de-dah; handsome, too, at that;
Flowing, braided frock-coat (material the best)
Pantaloons of shepherd's plaid, tall shiny hat;
Curly set of 'sideboards,' big silk moustache,
Diamond on finger and a rolling eye of brown.
'Oo, such a one!' the ladies say. 'Such a shameless mash,'
And hearts are all a-flutter when our Mr Trim's in town.
Mr Trim, the traveller, drinking with the boys,
'Heard the latest yarn, lads? Got it at the club.'
'He's such a card, that Mr trim! Listen to that noise!
Such a fav-rite with the fellers,' says the lady at the pub.
Mr Trim, with customers, 'putting out a line,'
Feeding them with flattery, indulging every whim.
'Oh, better say two dozen. Shall I book it for you? Fine . . .'
A useful fellow,' says The Firm - 'Our Mr Trim.'
Mr Trim, the traveller, married rather well
Squatter's daughter, up the north - heaps and heaps of cash.
Put it in a wholesale house, so the gossips tell;
Stuck it for a dozen years, and then went smash.
Mr Trim is knocking round somewhere still they say,
Frock coat and shepherd's plaids drooping, like his hope;
Slightly down-at-heel and bald, cuffs inclined to fray
John George Augustus Trim, traveller in soap.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The Listeners
'Is there anybody there?' said the Traveller,
Knocking on the moonlit door;
And his horse in the silence champed the grasses
Of the forest’s ferny floor:
And a bird flew up out of the turret,
Above the Traveller’s head:
And he smote upon the door again a second time;
'Is there anybody there?' he said.
But no one descended to the Traveller;
No head from the leaf-fringed sill
Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes,
Where he stood perplexed and still.
But only a host of phantom listeners
That dwelt in the lone house then
Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight
To that voice from the world of men:
Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair,
That goes down to the empty hall,
Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken
By the lonely Traveller's call.
And he felt in his heart their strangeness,
Their stillness answering his cry,
While his horse moved, cropping the dark turf,
'Neath the starred and leafy sky;
For he suddenly smote on the door, even
Louder, and lifted his head:—
'Tell them I came, and no one answered,
That I kept my word,' he said.
Never the least stir made the listeners,
Though every word he spake
Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house
From the one man left awake:
Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup,
And the sound of iron on stone,
And how the silence surged softly backward,
When the plunging hoofs were gone.
poem by Walter de la Mare
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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0012 Basho on Robert Frost
Icy evening road
Lonely traveller
Good choice!
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The hard road turns the traveller into the same dust that he has to swallow.
Birth-Day Ode 03
And wouldst thou seek the low abode
Where PEACE delights to dwell?
Pause Traveller on thy way of life!
With many a snare and peril rife
Is that long labyrinth of road:
Dark is the vale of years before
Pause Traveller on thy way!
Nor dare the dangerous path explore
Till old EXPERIENCE comes to lend his leading ray.
Not he who comes with lanthorn light
Shall guide thy groping pace aright
With faltering feet and slow;
No! let him rear the torch on high
And every maze shall meet thine eye,
And every snare and every foe;
Then with steady step and strong,
Traveller, shalt thou march along.
Tho' POWER invite thee to her hall,
Regard not thou her tempting call
Her splendors meteor glare;
Tho' courteous Flattery there await
And Wealth adorn the dome of State,
There stalks the midnight spectre CARE;
PEACE, Traveller! does not sojourn there.
If FAME allure thee, climb not thou
To that steep mountain's craggy brow
Where stands her stately pile;
For far from thence does PEACE abide,
And thou shall find FAME'S favouring smile
Cold as the feeble Sun on Heclas snow-clad side,
And Traveller! as thou hopest to find
That low and loved abode,
Retire thee from the thronging road
And shun the mob of human kind.
Ah I hear how old EXPERIENCE schools,
"Fly fly the crowd of Knaves and Fools
"And thou shalt fly from woe;
"The one thy heedless heart will greet
"With Judas smile, and thou wilt meet
"In every Fool a Foe!"
So safely mayest thou pass from these,
And reach secure the home of PEACE,
And FRIENDSHIP find thee there.
No happier state can mortal know,
No happier lot can Earth bestow
If LOVE thy lot shall share.
Yet still CONTENT with him may dwell
Whom HYMEN will not bless,
And VIRTUE sojourn in the cell
Of HERMIT HAPPINESS.
poem by Robert Southey
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Two Large Lorries (Fun Poem 88)
Two large Lorries turned up today
to take the portable outhouses away.
Two slate grey outhouses
that stood for the season
in case any desperate traveller
needed somewhere to sit.
They came with a crane
and hoisted them away.
Once they are gone,
any desperate traveller
will have to hang on
or dive behind a bush to sit
because two large Lorries have taken
the portable outhouses away today.
25 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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Wayside Flowers
Pluck not the wayside flower,
It is the traveller's dower;
A thousand passers-by
Its beauties may espy,
May win a touch of blessing
From Nature's mild caressing.
The sad of heart perceives
A violet under leaves
Like sonic fresh-budding hope;
The primrose on the slope
A spot of sunshine dwells,
And cheerful message tells
Of kind renewing power;
The nodding bluebell's dye
Is drawn from happy sky.
Then spare the wayside flower!
It is the traveller's dower.
poem by William Allingham
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The Three Strangers
Far are those tranquil hills,
Dyed with fair evening's rose;
On urgent, secret errand bent,
A traveller goes.
Approach him strangers three,
Barefooted, cowled; their eyes
Scan the lone, hastening solitary
With dumb surmise.
One instant in close speech
With them he doth confer:
God-sped, he hasteneth on,
That anxious traveller….
I was that man — in a dream:
And each world's night in vain
I patient wait on sleep to unveil
Those vivid hills again.
Would that they three could know
How yet burns on in me
Love — from one lost in Paradise —
For their grave courtesy.
poem by Walter de la Mare
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Inscription 02 - For A Column At Newbury
Art thou a Patriot Traveller? on this field
Did FALKLAND fall the blameless and the brave
Beneath a Tyrant's banners: dost thou boast
Of loyal ardor? HAMBDEN perish'd here,
The rebel HAMBDEN, at whose glorious name
The heart of every honest Englishman
Beats high with conscious pride. Both uncorrupt,
Friends to their common country both, they fought,
They died in adverse armies. Traveller!
If with thy neighbour thou should'st not accord,
In charity remember these good men,
And quell each angry and injurious thought.
poem by Robert Southey
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Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, frisking along;
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, bleating a song;
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, wearing fur-coat,
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, looking so bright!
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, eating green grass,
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, let me first pass,
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, grazing so nice,
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, what a surprise!
One of my first Children's Rhymes
poem by John Celes
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Who will Burst, Bubble or World?
O, traveller, you are not at any deadend,
The world of beauty is not lost,
The paradise neither gained nor lost,
Only you are a traveller,
Busy in going here and there,
Doing this and that,
Thinking changing scenes
changed by you
Standing below you say Sun to Move,
Clouds and birds to fly,
Sitting on the shore you order,
Waves to subside,
May be you are
Speck of a star, divine spark, yet look at all are same,
Who has to obey you,
Is it your body and mind obey you first,
Or the whole world?
Change yourself, watching your own,
The bubble when bursts,
Nothing going to change,
Look at the soap bubble,
All colours of rainbow found,
or look at the spreading oil dropp on water,
But when time comes who will burst, bubble or the world?
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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