Trekking Biblical Lands
I trek the Biblical valleys and hills
Seeking salvation in desiccated dust
Ambling along arid ancient routes
Holy signs being the holes in my boots.
I look for the light of that shaken foil
But it is a shine of the shimmering sun
The scriptures shift like sand under feet
And exhausted I fall in the desert heat.
In the land of Sodom and Gomorrah
Where angels came and vice got its Lot
Under a shady Jujube we come to halt
I eat my lunch with a pinch of salt
The Promised Land is the path of pilgrims
But I travel on the tracks of an ass
I climb not the tree of life or to paradise
But to the Exodus of a cola and ice.
In harsh parched garden of my mind
The vision I see is the cool pool of Eden
There the naked Adam and Eve embrace
Their souls entwine and naked hearts race
So fly my darling to the unseeable horizon
Blow between the bones of prophets
For here on earth and firmaments above
The only grace of the gift of God is Love.
Related quotes
Plantation Boy
Lots of people walk about proud and free
Lift up your head start looking around
Theres a brandnew feeling of liberty
Like a clear bell thats starting to sound
Plantation boy
Cmon and get going
Yesterdays chains have broken in two
Plantation boy
The new move is growing
Reaching the hills and the valleys and you
Plantation boy
Plantation boy
Lots of smiling faces for you to meet
So many hands to help you along
Just shake off the mud that weighs down your feet
If you stand tall you just cant go wrong
Plantation boy
Cmon and get going
Yesterdays chains have broken in two
Plantation boy
The new move is growing
Reaching the hills, the valleys and you
Plantation boy
Plantation boy
Years of picking cotton for little pay
Living alone in some wooden shack
Sweating in the heat of a summers day
This is all over, you wont come back
Plantation boy
Cmon and get going
Yesterdays chains have broken in two
Plantation boy
The new move is growing
Reaching the hills, the valleys and you
Plantation boy
Plantation boy
Plantation boy
Cmon and get going
Yesterdays chains have broken in two
Plantation boy
The new move is growing
Reaching the hills, the valleys and you
Plantation boy
Plantation boy
Plantation boy
Plantation boy
Wherever you may go
Reaching the hills and the valleys and you...
Reaching the hills and the valleys and you...
Reaching the hills and the valleys and you...
Reaching the hills and the valleys and you...
Reaching the hills and the valleys and you...
Reaching the hills and the valleys and you...
Reaching the hills and the valleys and you...
Reaching the hills and the valleys and you...
Reaching the hills and the valleys and you...
Reaching the hills and the valleys and you...
Reaching the hills and the valleys and you...
song performed by by Boney M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Signs
You're weighed down with regret
You can't see the road ahead
Or the burden on your back
It seems the trek will never end
The winding paths that still descend
And up above a sky washed black
You just can't bear to look at that
Chorus:
Follow the signs
Open your eyes
Read between the lines of what you see
Look into the soul of reality
Open your mind
Look at the signs
Never look back at yesterday
Keep your gaze steady on the narrow way
Now you've found the sacred tree
You kneel upon the broken wheat
You watch your burden fall away
And all the things you once sought
Now are counted less than lost
For now you see the light of day
The signs were pointing all the way
Repeat chorus
Follow the signs
Follow the signs
Open your eyes
Look at the signs
Open your mind
Follow the signs
Repeat chorus
song performed by by Michael W. Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ancient Hills Of Toora
The ancient hills of Toora are looking brown today
Yet they were lush and rather green when last I passed this way
But that was last September when the nesting birds did sing
And every where looked greener in the early days of Spring.
To those ancient hills of Toora the Seasons come and go
And where once were thousands of gum trees only a few gums grow
And the Aboriginals who lived and hunted on those hills are not around today
Time brings with it great changes and it's always been that way.
The ancient hills of Toora as old as father time
And they were millions of years old when Christ was in his prime
The oldest human on Planet Earth perhaps fifteen years with five score
But the ancient hills of Toora will exist forever more.
The ancient hills of Toora overlooking Toora Town
From the long and warm dry Summer have never looked so brown
But I recall last September decked in their wildering flowers
Those ancient hills of Toora lush and green after Spring showers.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Montserrat
Peace waits among the hills;
I have drunk peace,
Here, where the blue air fills
The great cup of the hills,
And fills with peace.
Between the earth and sky,
I have seen the earth
Like a dark cloud go by,
And fade out of the sky;
There was no more earth.
Here, where the Holy Graal
Brought secret light
Once, from beyond the veil,
I, seeing no Holy Graal,
See divine light.
Light fills the hills with God,
Wind with his breath,
And here, in his abode,
Light, wind, and air praise God,
And this poor breath.
poem by Arthur Symons
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Why does everyone think the future is space helmets, silver foil, and talking like computers, like a bad episode of Star Trek?
quote by Tracey Ullman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song Of The Chattahoochee
Out of the hills of Habersham,
Down the valleys of Hall,
I hurry amain to reach the plain,
Run the rapid and leap the fall,
Split at the rock and together again,
Accept my bed, or narrow or wide,
And flee from folly on every side
With a lover's pain to attain the plain
Far from the hills of Habersham,
Far from the valleys of Hall.
All down the hills of Habersham,
All through the valleys of Hall,
The rushes cried `Abide, abide,'
The willful waterweeds held me thrall,
The laving laurel turned my tide,
The ferns and the fondling grass said `Stay,'
The dewberry dipped for to work delay,
And the little reeds sighed `Abide, abide,
Here in the hills of Habersham,
Here in the valleys of Hall.'
High o'er the hills of Habersham,
Veiling the valleys of Hall,
The hickory told me manifold
Fair tales of shade, the poplar tall
Wrought me her shadowy self to hold,
The chestnut, the oak, the walnut, the pine,
Overleaning, with flickering meaning and sign,
Said, `Pass not, so cold, these manifold
Deep shades of the hills of Habersham,
These glades in the valleys of Hall.'
And oft in the hills of Habersham,
And oft in the valleys of Hall,
The white quartz shone, and the smooth brook-stone
Did bar me of passage with friendly brawl,
And many a luminous jewel lone
- Crystals clear or a-cloud with mist,
Ruby, garnet and amethyst -
Made lures with the lights of streaming stone
In the clefts of the hills of Habersham,
In the beds of the valleys of Hall.
But oh, not the hills of Habersham,
And oh, not the valleys of Hall
Avail: I am fain for to water the plain.
Downward the voices of Duty call -
Downward, to toil and be mixed with the main,
The dry fields burn, and the mills are to turn,
And a myriad flowers mortally yearn,
And the lordly main from beyond the plain
Calls o'er the hills of Habersham,
Calls through the valleys of Hall.
poem by Sidney Lanier
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The Song Of The Chattahoochee
Out of the hills of Habersham,
Down the valleys of Hall,
I hurry amain to reach the plain,
Run the rapid and leap the fall,
Split at the rock and together again,
Accept my bed, or narrow or wide,
And flee from folly on every side
With a lover's pain to attain the plain
Far from the hills of Habersham,
Far from the valleys of Hall.
All down the hills of Habersham,
All through the valleys of Hall,
The rushes cried `Abide, abide,'
The willful waterweeds held me thrall,
The laving laurel turned my tide,
The ferns and the fondling grass said `Stay,'
The dewberry dipped for to work delay,
And the little reeds sighed `Abide, abide,
Here in the hills of Habersham,
Here in the valleys of Hall.'
High o'er the hills of Habersham,
Veiling the valleys of Hall,
The hickory told me manifold
Fair tales of shade, the poplar tall
Wrought me her shadowy self to hold,
The chestnut, the oak, the walnut, the pine,
Overleaning, with flickering meaning and sign,
Said, `Pass not, so cold, these manifold
Deep shades of the hills of Habersham,
These glades in the valleys of Hall.'
And oft in the hills of Habersham,
And oft in the valleys of Hall,
The white quartz shone, and the smooth brook-stone
Did bar me of passage with friendly brawl,
And many a luminous jewel lone
-- Crystals clear or a-cloud with mist,
Ruby, garnet and amethyst --
Made lures with the lights of streaming stone
In the clefts of the hills of Habersham,
In the beds of the valleys of Hall.
But oh, not the hills of Habersham,
And oh, not the valleys of Hall
Avail: I am fain for to water the plain.
Downward the voices of Duty call --
Downward, to toil and be mixed with the main,
The dry fields burn, and the mills are to turn,
And a myriad flowers mortally yearn,
And the lordly main from beyond the plain
Calls o'er the hills of Habersham,
Calls through the valleys of Hall.
poem by Sidney Lanier
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No Need To Fear My Friend
Yes indeed, I'm going home one day very soon my dear friend,
My life on this earth is but a journey, it's definitely not the end.
Though there be wars and rumors of wars and all the earth be taken,
With my hope in The Rock of The Ages, my peace will not be shaken.
But those who know not The Lord will be taken down Satan's warpath,
Spiritually deceived they are all being led to God's final bloodbath.
But God's children have been redeemed and put on Salvation's path,
Have The Lord Jesus as their light and fear not war or the aftermath.
God's Judgment will fall on those who chose to mock and simply laugh,
But, those who chose to humbly fear The Lord will not suffer wrath.
And before God pours His Judgment down upon this wicked vile earth,
The Lord Jesus will first come to the clouds, to rapture His Church.
Friend, with many ominous signs you can be sure the end is very near,
Christians whose eyes are fixed on Jesus have nothing at all to fear.
Like the days of Noah, so it will be at the coming of The Son of Man,
Take a look friend, and see these signs today are definitely at hand.
The earth became corrupt and all the people had corrupted their ways.
The earth was filled with violence friend, and this was Noah's days.
Not woe, but The Lord's return is what we should all be anticipating,
And with joy, for He comes with Salvation to those who are waiting.
(Copyright © 04/2003)
A Rondel of Gloucestershire
Big glory mellowing on the mellowing hills,
And in the Uttle valleys, thatch and dreams,
Wrought by the manifold and vagrant wills
Of sun and ripening rain and wind ; so gleams
My country, that great magic cup which spills
Into my mind a thousand thousand streams
Of glory mellowing on the mellowing hills
And in the httle valleys, thatch and dreams.
O you dear heights of blue no ploughman tiUs,
O valleys where the curling mist upsteams
White over fields of trembhng daffodils.
And you old dusty little water-mills.
Through all my life, for joy of you, sweet thrills
Shook me, and in my death at last there beams
Big glory mellowing on the mellowing hills
And in the Uttle valleys, thatch and dreams.
poem by Frederick William Harvey
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Suspicious Signs
Say whats that thing
On your back
Well I guess its a hair
And the hair is black
I got you on the phone
You said youre all alone
I heard these boots on the floor
And I beg you baby please no more
Suspicious signs
What do I see
Suspicious signs
Suspicious signs
Now everythings so strange
Not how it used to be
I call you up at three
And you say you cant talk to me
Say whats it all about
Why do you talk that loud
I hear your fingertips
Playing with italian hips
Suspicious signs
What do I see
Suspicious signs
Suspicious signs
song performed by by Fury In The Slaughterhouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Boots
INFANTRY COLUMNS
We're foot--slog--slog--slog--sloggin' over Africa --
Foot--foot--foot--foot--sloggin' over Africa --
(Boots--boots--boots--boots--movin' up an' down again!)
There's no discharge in the war!
Seven--six--eleven--five--nine-an'-tw enty mile to-day --
Four--eleven--seventeen--thirty-two the day before --
(Boots--boots--boots--boots--movin' up an' down again!)
There's no discharge in the war!
Don't--don't--don't--don't--look at what's in front of you.
(Boots--boots--boots--boots--movin' up an' down again);
Men--men--men--men--men go mad with watchin' em,
An' there's no discharge in the war!
Try--try--try--try--to think o' something different --
Oh--my--God--keep--me from goin' lunatic!
(Boots--boots--boots--boots--movin' up an' down again!)
There's no discharge in the war!
Count--count--count--count--the bullets in the bandoliers.
If--your--eyes--drop--they will get atop o' you!
(Boots--boots--boots--boots--movin' up an' down again) --
There's no discharge in the war!
We--can--stick--out--'unger, thirst, an' weariness,
But--not--not--not--not the chronic sight of 'em --
Boot--boots--boots--boots--movin' up an' down again,
An' there's no discharge in the war!
'Taint--so--bad--by--day because o' company,
But night--brings--long--strings--o' forty thousand million
Boots--boots--boots--boots--movin' up an' down again.
There's no discharge in the war!
I--'ave--marched--six--weeks in 'Ell an' certify
It--is--not--fire--devils, dark, or anything,
But boots--boots--boots--boots--movin' up an' down again,
An' there's no discharge in the war!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Altitude
I wonder
how it would be here with you,
where the wind
that has shaken off its dust in low valleys
touches one cleanly,
as with a new-washed hand,
and pain
is as the remote hunger of droning things,
and anger
but a little silence
sinking into the great silence.
poem by Lola Ridge
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While I Write and Breathe...
Every time
I hold this pen
I feel some moving spirit stir,
Like mist in distant valleys, pouring
Down from Snowdon's druid lair.
Down along
The deep Welsh valleys,
Through the blood of ancient cells,
Seeking, ever seeking knowledge,
Stored within the Book of Kells.
Late at night
I well remember
You, hunched at your crystal ball,
Gazing ever deep at shadows,
Haunting you, from times before.
Born from out
The Mabinogi,
Steeped in myth and songs unsung,
Caught your whispered Celtic tales from
Taliesin's silvered tongue.
Once you rose
In Aberavon,
Building fires before the dawn,
You, long weaned on dragon's milk
Could spell each witch, or evil-born.
When you grew
They travelled with you,
Dreams and myths and second sight,
Gypsies turned and crossed themselves
When meeting you at past-midnight.
You, who taught me
How to scribe
The signs and portents of our fate,
I hold the pen, you hold my hand
And pen the words I dissipate.
Though you've gone
To roam the valleys,
Haunt the chalets of your kin,
I see you stare from out the crystal,
Every time my gaze stares in.
Mother, you are
Old and weathered,
Long gone from this mortal shore,
Still your blood revives my palate,
Paints your colours at my core.
Paints your colours,
Chants your passions
Traces all your patterns here,
You will never be forgotten
While I write and breathe, my dear!
8 March 2008
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Metal Foil
Foil is a night and day, like metal of the hour,
It is your pain and design, a movie is made.
My foil is green and blue, but what of you?
The real guns massaged my skull with their hard action
And onto a danger my danger went, crossing borders
And perceiving dreams of a different kind.
Foil is an aluminium tool, and a grave reason for living;
The cooks of tomorrow shall undergo changes,
And my lorry of food is under foil, the foil of real direction,
The reasoning of man is such that force can never comprehend.
Concerns do decide my foil and food, the ultimate in cooking.
poem by Naveed Akram
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At Journey's End
I'll not lie down, nor sit and wait
The black-draped barge to float on by,
Nor offer up my throat, like ears of corn
To wait the sickle sigh,
Should death's bleak hooded figure call
He'll find that I have quit the town
And left no forwarding address
That he might use to track me down.
One step ahead, I'll change my name
Then dye my hair a rich dark brown,
Or failing that, I'll shave my head
And raise my brows, an inch around.
I'll grow a beard, or cut it off
If I have grown a beard before
Then take to sailing out from ports
Where Death has sallied forth once more.
I'll dress my woman in long boots
And tie her hair up out of sight,
Then we will slink from town to village
Making love by day, not night.
We'll sleep in hay ricks, fields and barns
While one keeps watch, each turn about,
So if his hood should cause alarms
We'll both be gone by morning light.
We'll trek up mountains, hills and valleys
Everywhere that he's just been,
We'll tail him as he travels onward
Scything through each village green,
And when he corners us at last
We'll drink long from a stirrup cup
And cheat him from his final scene
By leaving life, before he's up.
6 March 2009
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Forever in Boots
Swimming costume, bib and tucker
Stonewashed jeans or three-piece suits
Never going to be, a tidy looker
I am the man, forever in boots
Funerals, parties or weddings
Working days or evening pursuits
Planting flowers in their beddings
I am the man, forever in boots
I want to be forever in boots
I wear boots on land or sea
I can be a miserable old coot
If you hide my boots from me
In the ring wearing boxing boots
On a horse in my riding boots
At the riverside in Wellington boots
Happy to be the man, forever in boots
Man forever in boots
Seeks woman, to be his puss in boots
For country hikes, in walking boots
Eternal happiness, both; forever in boots
poem by Michael Micmac Mccrory
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Spanish Boots
(beck, stewart, wood)
I used to work and take a salary
In a hole up near a foundry
But it did not take me too long
To get my boots on a so long!
Long spanish boots on a so long!
I took a day job in bethlehem
I nearly threw in the towel then
But it did not take me too long
To get my boots on a so long!
High spanish boots on a so long!
Dig it
I took a spanish haberdashery
Restored with 15th century tapestry
But oh, mr. nesbitt got the best of me
So I strapped on my boots and said so long!
Laced up my high boots and so long!
Goodbye
... am on a job you see
cause my old boots they mean too much to me
Leather boots are just a mystery
Put on my boots and said so long!
High spanish boots on and so long!
Put on my boots and said so long!
Those old spanish boots
Put on my boots and said so long!
High spanish boots
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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President Lincoln's Proclamation Of Freedom
IT shall flash through coming ages;
It shall light the distant years;
And eyes now dim with sorrow
Shall be clearer through their tears.
It shall flush the mountain ranges;
And the valleys shall grow bright;
It shall bathe the hills in radiance,
And crown their brows with light.
It shall flood with golden splendor
All the huts of Caroline,
And the sun-kissed brow of labor
With lustre new shall shine.
It shall gild the gloomy prison,
Darken'd by the nation's crime,
Where the dumb and patient millions
Wait the better coming time.
By the light that gilds their prison,
They shall seize its mould'ring key,
And the bolts and bars shall vibrate
With the triumphs of the free.
Like the dim and ancient chaos,
Shrinking from the dawn of light,
Oppression, grim and hoary,
Shall cower at the sight.
And her spawn of lies and malice
Shall grovel in the dust,
While joy shall thrill the bosoms
Of the merciful and just.
Though the morning seemed to linger
O'er the hill-tops far away,
Now the shadows bear the promise
Of the quickly coming day.
Soon the mists and murky shadows
Shall be fringed with crimson light,
And the glorious dawn of freedom
Break refulgent on the sight.
poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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Through A Peek-hole
From high up on the hill
Goddess Durga oversees
The three intercepting canals
And the mighty river
Tears of an ancient
Personal sorrow
Flow into the river...
The surrounding hills
Jutting into the river
Stood mute witnesses
To those dark shady nights
Absorbing the muffled
Helpless innocent protestations
Why did the Goddess
Prefer to turn a deaf ear
Contrary to her image
Of squelching the evil?
Night after night
The much favourite sky
Would take an awkward bow...
Decades of flow
Didn't seems to change anything!
Everything's just the same;
The canals and the river and the Goddess
Only the hills look a tad arid
The sky continues to cling to the hills
But the tears of a personal sorrow
Now flow into the sea
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Here I Come-4
Holy holy is He
So merciful
Lion and King
Wonderful Counselor
Holy holy
Holy holy is He
Holy holy is He
Forever holy.
Most High God
Holy holy
Prince of Peace
Mighty Redeemer
King of Kings
Most High God
Holy holy
Holy holy is He
Holy holy is He
Forever holy.
Take my sins
As far as the east
Is from the west
Purge me
With your precious blood
Shelter me
From the storms
Cover me
With your glory
Holy holy
Holy holy is He
Holy holy is He
Forever holy.
You are so holy
You went to the cross
For me
So holy
You bled for me
So holy
You paid a price
I could not pay
Holy holy
Holy holy is He
Holy holy is He
Forever holy.
poem by Buxton Shippy
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