In the House of Suddhoo
A stone's throw out on either hand
From that well-ordered road we tread,
And all the world is wild and strange;
Churel and ghoul and Djinn and sprite
Shall bear us company to-night,
For we have reached the Oldest Land
Wherein the powers of Darkness range.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Related quotes
Profess
A strange language!
To the spot,
With your works,
Prolix,
With your muse,
Profess,
Prolong,
And like a light in darkness!
At the X-Ray Room,
Like Miss Undercover! !
With the oldest person in your land;
But, this road leads to the Golden Gate.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Strange Land
I hold the memory of us in my hand
and drift away to a distant land
Candy trees and sherbet sand
As I hold the memory in my hand
I close my eyes and drift away
to a better happier day
A day when I could laugh away
The demons of this darker day
I drift away in a sea of dreams
where nothing is quite as it seems
Purple dragons, childhood dreams
Nothing quite as it seems
I embrace the strange new sights
flying candy Christmas lights
It's okay these child like sights
Fireworks explode in bright white light
In my head things are strange
reality is not in range
where everything is fine yet, strange
Gumballs on the firing range
I wish I could understand
Take you to this distant land
where I live each day now understand
Don't be scared of me in my strange land.
poem by Tamsin Burnett
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A World View From The Wounded And The Oppressed
i have a stone
in my hand
i do not have to polish it
since i have to throw it against the world
The world is a big face
The stone is thrown straight to its pair of eyes
That is why it is blind
it is deaf
and i do not have to throw another stone
to perfect
its indifference
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One Road
One road to happiness
One road to loneliness
The devils hand or the promised land
Which one will you choose
Life is a strange thing
It can make you happy or sad
Theres two roads that you can take
The good one or the bad
One road to happiness
One road to loneliness
The devils hand or the promised land
Which one will you choose
You may take the long road
Lots of people do
But you will find no peace of mind
Till jesus comes to you
One road to happiness
One road to loneliness
The devils hand or the promised land
Which one will you choose
If you take the bad road ,you will never see
The happiness that you would find through all eternity
One road to happiness
One road to loneliness
The devils hand or the promised land
Which one will you choose
One road to happiness
One road to loneliness
The devils hand or the promised land
Which one will you choose
song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chickenman
I am an only child
Born of the wild
Riddled to spend my time
Defending my land
You are the only one
Born in the sun
Riddled to spend your time
Defending my plan
Dead dog on the highway
Median cats are growling at me
I turn my lights on brighter
Im counting through the night ride
And its one more life for the taker
Chickenman chickenman
One more song for the maker
Chickenman chickenman
On the road to athens
I saw a dead deer on the highway
I slipped into a desert
Five prairie dogs and a rabbit
I was running down on queen street
I saw a woman on the sidewalk
(danger danger)
She was beaten by a stranger
(danger danger danger danger)
Danger danger danger
And its one more life for the taker
Chickenman chickenman
Chickenman hold my hand
One more song for the maker
Hold my hand
Chickenman
I was on the road to austin
Met a man on the highway
He sold me junk and conversation
He was wise and dirty from the weather
I said darkness into darkness
All the carnage of my journeys
Makes it harder to be living
He said its a long road to be forgiven
One more life for the taker
Chickenman chickenman
Chickenman hold my had
One more song for the maker
Chickenman chickenman
Chickenman hold my hand
I am an only child
Born of the wild
Riddled to spend my time
Defending my land
You are the only one
Born in the sun
Riddled to spend your time
Defending my plan
I went looking for a car
Found myself beneath the stars
I went looking for a girl
Found a man and his world
Chickenman chickenman
(I went looking for a car)
Chickenman hold my hand
(found myself beneath the stars)
Chickenman chickenman
(I went looking for a girl)
Chickenman hold my hand
(found a man and his world)
I am an only child
(chickenman chickenman)
(chickenman hold my hand)
Hold my hand
(chickenman chickenman)
(chickenman hold my hand)
I am an only child
(chickenman chickenman)
(chickenman hold my hand)
Hold my hand
(chickenman chickenman)
(chickenman hold my hand)
Chickenman chickenman
Chickenman hold my hand
Chickenman chickenman
Chickenman hold my hand
Chickenman chickenman
Chickenman hold my hand
Chickenman chickenman
Chickenman hold my hand
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wild Things Run Fast
He came
She smiled
She thought she had him tamed
But he was just as wild
Eating from her hand at last
Wild things run fast
In the dark
He could see
The trap that was lying in her
Sweet company
Eating from her hand at last
Wild things run fast
Winter beat the pines about
He heard the heater
Cutting in and out
While she dreamed away . . .
In the night
It snowed
Fast tracks in the powder white
Leading out to the road
Winding from her tender grasp
Wild things run fast
Wild things run fast
Wild things run fast
What makes you run?
Wild thing
I thought you loved me
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Come Away
(g.bowser/j.jupp)
Published by chappell & co., ltd. - capac
As I walk along the lonely streets
I cant talk to the people that I meet
I see them come, and I see them go
I see them smile, and say hello
Come with me and take my hand
Ooh, fly away to another land, oh yes we will
Come with me and take my hand
Well fly away to another land
Come over here little girl
And Ill show you another world
Where we can be free to do as we want
Live our lives as we please, and say what we like, oh
Come with me and take my hand, ooh
Well fly away to another land
Come with me and take my hand, oh
And fly away to another land
Theres so many things that remain to be done
And no one has thought of a way to begin
So follow me into my life
Come with me and take my hand (and take...)
Fly away to another land (fly away to another land)
Come with me and take my hand (ooh)
Fly away to another land (fly away to another land)
Come with me and take my hand (take my hand)
Fly away to another land (oh yes we will)
Come with me and take my hand (and take my hand, take my hand)
Fly away to another land (yeah)
Come with me and take my hand
Fly away to another land
Come with me and take my hand
Fly away to another land
song performed by by April Wine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Darkness Of...
Darkness is not the darkness of night
it is the darkness of mind and soul.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of discrimination between poor and rich.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of dishonesty.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of aggravate.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is darkness of corruption.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of indiscipline.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of animosity.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of inveterate.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness of perjury.
darkness is not the darkness of night,
it is the darkness that we all brought up inside us,
so, light the lamp of light inside you...
poem by Suniya Garg
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90 North
At home, in my flannel gown, like a bear to its floe,
I clambered to bed; up the globe's impossible sides
I sailed all night—till at last, with my black beard,
My furs and my dogs, I stood at the northern pole.
There in the childish night my companions lay frozen,
The stiff fur knocked at my starveling throat,
And I gave my great sigh: the flakes came huddling,
Were they really my end? In the darkness I turned to my rest.
—Here, the flag snaps in the glare and silence
Of the unbroken ice. I stand here,
The dogs bark, my beard is black, and I stare
At the North Pole . . .
And now what? Why, go back.
Turn as I please, my step is to the south.
The world—my world spins on this final point
Of cold and wretchedness: all lines, all winds
End in this whirlpool I at last discover.
And it is meaningless. In the child's bed
After the night's voyage, in that warm world
Where people work and suffer for the end
That crowns the pain—in that Cloud-Cuckoo-Land
I reached my North and it had meaning.
Here at the actual pole of my existence,
Where all that I have done is meaningless,
Where I die or live by accident alone—
Where, living or dying, I am still alone;
Here where North, the night, the berg of death
Crowd me out of the ignorant darkness,
I see at last that all the knowledge
I wrung from the darkness—that the darkness flung me—
Is worthless as ignorance: nothing comes from nothing,
The darkness from the darkness. Pain comes from the darkness
And we call it wisdom. It is pain.
Anonymous submission.
poem by Randall Jarrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The moss that loves the stone
It is the moss that loves the stone
Most. No matter what or when, the
Moss somehow manages to stay
Even without a why, they say.
But the moss keeps on sticking
To the body of the stone that
Keeps its nonminding stiffness.
It is cold, it is hard, it is unfeeling
At all. It is the moss that keeps its
Love. It sticks with it, rain or shine.
It rolls with it. It stays with it even
In the desert, even it if means its
Own death. It is the moss that sticks
To the stone. It is its true lover.
In the river, the water has ordered
The moss to leave. It ordered the stone
To crush it. The moss cannot be
Removed. It covered the stone.
It is loving it whole.The stone has
Become the moss, and the stone
Is gone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Birdmad Girl
This girl has got a smile
That can make me cry
This girl just burns with love
She's burning burning deep outside
Night time night time
Sets my house on fire
I'll turn into the melting man
I'll lose my life
To feel i feel desire
Oh i should feel
Like a polar bear
Like a polar bear
It's impossible
She flies outside this cage
Singing girl-mad words
I keep her dark thoughts deep inside
As black as stone
As mad as birds
Wild wild wild
And never turn away
Sends me all her love
She sends me everything
She sends me everywhere
Oh i could be
A polar bear
Oh i could be
A polar bear
But it's impossible
I try to talk
The sky goes red
I forget
So fill my head
With some of this
Some of that
Some of every word she said
Oh i should be
A polar bear
But it's imposible
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Temporary Poem Of My Time
Hebrew writing and Arabic writing go from east to west,
Latin writing, from west to east.
Languages are like cats:
You must not stroke their hair the wrong way.
The clouds come from the sea, the hot wind from the desert,
The trees bend in the wind,
And stones fly from all four winds,
Into all four winds. They throw stones,
Throw this land, one at the other,
But the land always falls back to the land.
They throw the land, want to get rid of it.
Its stones, its soil, but you can't get rid of it.
They throw stones, throw stones at me
In 1936, 1938, 1948, 1988,
Semites throw at Semites and anti-Semites at anti-Semites,
Evil men throw and just men throw,
Sinners throw and tempters throw,
Geologists throw and theologists throw,
Archaelogists throw and archhooligans throw,
Kidneys throw stones and gall bladders throw,
Head stones and forehead stones and the heart of a stone,
Stones shaped like a screaming mouth
And stones fitting your eyes
Like a pair of glasses,
The past throws stones at the future,
And all of them fall on the present.
Weeping stones and laughing gravel stones,
Even God in the Bible threw stones,
Even the Urim and Tumim were thrown
And got stuck in the beastplate of justice,
And Herod threw stones and what came out was a Temple.
Oh, the poem of stone sadness
Oh, the poem thrown on the stones
Oh, the poem of thrown stones.
Is there in this land
A stone that was never thrown
And never built and never overturned
And never uncovered and never discovered
And never screamed from a wall and never discarded by the builders
And never closed on top of a grave and never lay under lovers
And never turned into a cornerstone?
Please do not throw any more stones,
You are moving the land,
The holy, whole, open land,
You are moving it to the sea
And the sea doesn't want it
The sea says, not in me.
Please throw little stones,
Throw snail fossils, throw gravel,
Justice or injustice from the quarries of Migdal Tsedek,
Throw soft stones, throw sweet clods,
Throw limestone, throw clay,
Throw sand of the seashore,
Throw dust of the desert, throw rust,
Throw soil, throw wind,
Throw air, throw nothing
Until your hands are weary
And the war is weary
And even peace will be weary and will be.
Translated from the Hebrew by Barbara and Benjamin Harshav
poem by Yehuda Amichai
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A Frost Has Come
A frost has come this night
To visit all the land
A cold death slowly emerges
From the deep darkness
Of a long forgotten dream
The ground beneath the foot
Hardened like a tombs stone
The warm glow of street lights
Catches the shine off the icy path
Unsteady to walk upon
While the open sky above
As vast and beautiful as ever
Leaves the mind feeling small
Oh what words are wanted
To be heard and spoken
To bring company this night
To birth new life once more
In a land cold and dark
poem by Matthew Holloway
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The Company Of Lovers
We meet and part now over all the world;
we, the lost company,
take hands together in the night, forget
the night in our brief happiness, silently.
We, who sought many things, throw all away
for this one thing, one only,
remembering that in the narrow grave
we shall be lonely.
Death marshalls up his armies round us now.
Their footsteps crowd too near.
Lock your warm hand above the chilling heart
and for a time I live without my fear.
Grope in the night to find me and embrace,
for the dark preludes of the drums begin,
and round us round the company of lovers,
death draws his cordons in.
poem by Judith Wright
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The Horror Of The War
Of night How long time it has been you and me were best friends
I can't imagine even you've changed your face
How long time every day wiped away my pain
But last night even you became a strange
Oh night you were my best friend
Even you became so cruel how strange
What's wrong the world all have changed
Ah world humanity from you is lost how a unbearable reality
The horror of the dreary war surrounding everywhere rendering sullen vain strain
Everywhere the sounds of the bombs
The mortality voice of war is shouting through the darkness of the night covering. All around
Oh night what a horror I can't bear all this pain the ugly sound of the guns and bombs what's wrong with the world
The voices of bombs through the gloomy night are destroying me inside
The echoes of terrible woes of the war are gazing at the dark like a devil
Everywhere no sign of life
No sign of humanity at the darkness is lost
What a unbearable heart pain the world is lost
I heard her voice at the dark
She was there all alone
All her lover ones have had gone
At the darkness through the ugly silent of the might
I heard her voice she were there all alone
Has she lost her mind she was crying and talking with her dead mother what a unbearable heartache
She was calling everyone looking for help
Oh poor girl humanity is dead even her father refused to come there
And told her just wait till the morning ill be there
What a world I can't bear living all these heartache
I know tomorrow will be so late
Just praying for her to be found when tomorrow comes
Oh god you may help her to stay alive
Oh you night even you changed your face
I know after today nothing will be the same even our friendship is dead.
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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Old Australian Ways
The London lights are far abeam
Behind a bank of cloud,
Along the shore the gaslights gleam,
The gale is piping loud;
And down the Channel, groping blind,
We drive her through the haze
Towards the land we left behind,
The good old land of 'never mind',
And old Australian ways.
The narrow ways of English folk
Are not for such as we;
They bear the long-accustomed yoke
Of staid conservancy:
But all our roads are new and strange,
And through our blood there runs
The vagabonding love of change
That drove us westward of the range
And westward of the suns.
The city folk go to and fro
Behind a prison's bars,
They never feel the breezes blow
And never see the stars;
They never hear in blossomed trees
The music low and sweet
Of wild birds making melodies,
Nor catch the little laughing breeze
That whispers in the wheat.
Our fathers came of roving stock
That could not fixed abide:
And we have followed field and flock
Since e'er we learnt to ride;
By miner's camp and shearing shed,
In land of heat and drought,
We followed where our fortunes led,
With fortune always on ahead
And always further out.
The wind is in the barley-grass,
The wattles are in bloom;
The breezes greet us as they pass
With honey-sweet perfume;
The parakeets go screaming by
With flash of golden wing,
And from the swamp the wild-ducks cry
Their long-drawn note of revelry,
Rejoicing at the Spring.
So throw the weary pen aside
And let the papers rest,
For we must saddle up and ride
Towards the blue hill's breast;
And we must travel far and fast
Across their rugged maze,
To find the Spring of Youth at last,
And call back from the buried past
The old Australian ways.
When Clancy took the drover's track
In years of long ago,
He drifted to the outer back
Beyond the Overflow;
By rolling plain and rocky shelf,
With stockwhip in his hand,
He reached at last (oh lucky elf!)
The Town of Come-and-help-yourself
In Rough-and-ready Land.
And if it be that you would know
The tracks he used to ride,
Then you must saddle up and go
Beyond the Queensland side,
Beyond the reach of rule or law,
To ride the long day through,
In Nature's homestead, filled with awe
You then might see what Clancy saw
And know what Clancy knew.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A-Roving
WHEN the sap runs up the tree.
And the vine runs o’er the wall,
When the blossom draws the bee,
From the forest comes a call,
Wild, and clear, and sweet, and strange,
Many-tongued and murmuring
Like the river in the range—
’Tis the joyous voice of Spring!
On the boles of grey, old trees,
See the flying sunbeams play
Mystic, soundless melodies—
A fantastic march and gay;
But the young leaves hear them—hark
How they rustle, every one!—
And the sap beneath the bark
Hearing, leaps to meet the sun.
Oh, the world is wondrous fair
When the tide of life’s at flood!
There is magic in the air,
There is music in the blood;
And a glamour draws us on
To the distance, rainbow-spanned,
And the road we tread upon
Is the road to Fairyland.
Lo! the elders hear the sweet
Voice, and know the wondrous song;
And their ancient pulses beat
To a tune forgotten long;
And they talk in whispers low,
With a smile and with a sigh,
Of the years of long ago,
And the roving days gone by.
poem by Victor James Daley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Old Australian Ways
The London lights are far abeam
Behind a bank of cloud,
Along the shore the gaslights gleam,
The gale is piping loud;
And down the Channel, groping blind,
We drive her through the haze
Towards the land we left behind --
The good old land of `never mind',
And old Australian ways.
The narrow ways of English folk
Are not for such as we;
They bear the long-accustomed yoke
Of staid conservancy:
But all our roads are new and strange,
And through our blood there runs
The vagabonding love of change
That drove us westward of the range
And westward of the suns.
The city folk go to and fro
Behind a prison's bars,
They never feel the breezes blow
And never see the stars;
They never hear in blossomed trees
The music low and sweet
Of wild birds making melodies,
Nor catch the little laughing breeze
That whispers in the wheat.
Our fathers came of roving stock
That could not fixed abide:
And we have followed field and flock
Since e'er we learnt to ride;
By miner's camp and shearing shed,
In land of heat and drought,
We followed where our fortunes led,
With fortune always on ahead
And always further out.
The wind is in the barley-grass,
The wattles are in bloom;
The breezes greet us as they pass
With honey-sweet perfume;
The parakeets go screaming by
With flash of golden wing,
And from the swamp the wild-ducks cry
Their long-drawn note of revelry,
Rejoicing at the Spring.
So throw the weary pen aside
And let the papers rest,
For we must saddle up and ride
Towards the blue hill's breast;
And we must travel far and fast
Across their rugged maze,
To find the Spring of Youth at last,
And call back from the buried past
The old Australian ways.
When Clancy took the drover's track
In years of long ago,
He drifted to the outer back
Beyond the Overflow;
By rolling plain and rocky shelf,
With stockwhip in his hand,
He reached at last, oh lucky elf,
The Town of Come-and-help-yourself
In Rough-and-ready Land.
And if it be that you would know
The tracks he used to ride,
Then you must saddle up and go
Beyond the Queensland side --
Beyond the reach of rule or law,
To ride the long day through,
In Nature's homestead -- filled with awe
You then might see what Clancy saw
And know what Clancy knew.
A.B. (Banjo) Paterson
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When Night Seems Long
Its a long night
When sun closed her eyes
Refusing to share her rays
Bidding daylight bye
Allowing darkness in her stead
Its indeed a long night
When cloud gets darker
Silence becomes king
Leaving streets alone
Without soul on the lanes
Its a long night
As tiny creatures sound louder
When lonely paths are tread
Without any company
And rivers of water
Rolled down the cheeks
Without any one to comfort.
Its still a long night
When all roads are blocked
When friends disown you
And you rolled like a stone
Down from the hilltop
The night seems longer
As relatves abandon you
Confidantes switch camps
Leaving you bare naked
You feel the ground opens
And swallows you up
Although the night seems long
It will soon fade away
Sun's uprise will come again
Clouds will become brighter again
So, never give up
When the night seems long
poem by Babatunde Aremu
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Eyes Of A Child
The Eyes of a Child, so innocent and pure
A Child's heart is full of song
Take their tiny hands,
And lead them to the light
As Adults we see the pain in the world,
And sometimes it don't seem right.
But through the Eyes of a Child
The World seems magical
There's a sparkle in their eyes,
They've yet to realise,
The darkness in their soul.
..the Beauty of their smile
Adventurous and wild.
Life is kinda gay,
but it doesn't seem that way,
Through the Eyes of a Child.
So, don't give up
Even when the road seems long
Just find that child inside you
You've got to find you.
Spread your wings and fly, to the brightest star
If ya want, I can even get my friend Steve to detail your car
for about twenty bucks.
Through the Eyes of a Child
The World seems magical
There's a sparkle in their eyes,
They've yet to realise,
The darkness in their soul.
The Beauty of their smile,
Adventurous and wild.
Sure, life is kinda gay,
but it doesn't seem that way,
Through the Eyes of a Child.
Got an eye on my hand!
I've got an eye on my hand!
I've got an eye on my hand!
But still i cant find you!
An eye on my hand!
Where have you gone girl?
An eye on my hand!
I'm coming up behind you.
Eye on my hand!
Don't turn around now,
Cause I'm right there,
I'm coming up behind you!
Through the Eyes of a Child
The World seems magical
There's a sparkle in their eyes,
We've yet to realise,
The bastards they really are!
The Beauty of their smile,
Adventurous and wild.
Sure, life is kinda gay,
But it doesn't seem that way,
Through the Eyes of a Child.
Sure, life is kinda gay,
but it doesn't seem that way,
Through the Eyes of a Child.
song performed by by Michael Mcdonald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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