A bullock cart from Malacca
Long and winding road
with patches and holes
The holes which sometimes
turned into small ponds,
every time
after a heavy downpour
You can no longer smell the tar
on a hot burning day
The road was too old
even the town council named it
the road to cemetery
A rural town
occupied by
Malay farmers,
rubber tapers
and pensioners
living in kampong
An enormous green paddy field
spreaded in the middle,
next to the road
Sandwiched by villager’s
Meranti wooden Atap houses.
To get to the town
walk your way
cycling
don’t miss the bus
or you have to wait
for another hour to get one
(you can take a pirate taxis that operate in odd hours)
Small streams crossed
at the center of the rice fields
The streams that supplied enough
fresh water fishes
for the villagers to consume
Vegetables are grown
like mushrooms
covering most of front and backyards
Fruits farm aplenty and became
local delights
whenever the season comes
Every house had their well,
as deep as 10 meter
with cold fresh water
being channeled from the nearby hills
The vast green land
were also scattered
with cows, goats, sheeps and buffalos
owned by the villagers.
In the evening
images of small kids
riding on buffalo's back
on the way to their homes
is a typical scene,
which needs to be captured
on films
for nostalgic reasons.
In the misty morning
where dawn had just breakout
villagers throwing
dried corns,
rice to the grounds
hungry poultry
feeds their way through.
School going kids
walked 3 miles to school,
cutting through plantations,
paddy field
for the shorten route.
The sound of azan
(calls for prayers five times a day required by Muslims)
Echoed from the surau and mosque,
could be heard across the village.
To own a vehicle is luxury
Bullock cart (wagon pulled by cows)
Was used in redundant
ferrying firewood,
rice sacks,
for shipment
to the town
sometimes ferrying villagers
to attend weddings
in the neighborhood
or just a bunch of cheerful kids
who like to have a ride
around the kampong.
I remembered
I was having a great time
taking a ride on this bullock cart
owned by grandfather,
going to town
whenever I paid him a visit.
I was 8 years old
Riding the time of my life
Befriended the bulls
Bonded
And sacred
Well, no matter how far I traveled
Having to live in big cities
Like London and New York,
The reminiscent of being part of kampong’s folk
riding the Bullock Cart
will still and forever (which I hope)
stayed remains in my mind
Thanks folks
for the memories.
poem by Sulaiman Mohd Yusof
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Related quotes
Small Town
Well I was born in a small town
And I live in a small town
Probly die in a small town
Oh, those small communities
All my friends are so small town
My parents live in the same small town
My job is so small town
Provides little opportunity
Educated in a small town
Taught the fear of jesus in a small town
Used to daydream in that small town
Another boring romantic thats me
But Ive seen it all in a small town
Had myself a ball in a small town
Married an l.a. doll and brought her to this small town
Now shes small town just like me
No I cannot forget where it is that I come from
I cannot forget the people who love me
Yeah, I can be myself here in this small town
And people let me be just what I want to be
Got nothing against a big town
Still hayseed enough to say
Look whos in the big town
But my bed is in a small town
Oh, and thats good enough for me
Well I was born in a small town
And I can breathe in a small town
Gonna die in this small town
And thats probly where theyll bury me
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our Small Town
Love going for walks around town
A small town a holler from the big city
The many old building lining the main street
Which by the way isn't main street that's a block away
From the small library to the high school a jot to get to
The sidewalks resemble the old boardwalks from yesteryear
The shops vary as the street winds to the highway
The country air blows thru the street full of manure
Good ole air, they say around here
The small diner with the local farmers dwell at
Talking of this year's events from farming to politics
The ladies at the sew shop talking gossip
It's amazing how time don't change as years pass
Every year the town picnic to the 4th July jamboree
To the harvest dance and everything in between
Small town people living the old time ways
Wishing every town was as good as it
Walking thru saying hey to neighbors all around
Can make everyday a good day
Seeing people in the park enjoying the kids play
The banner welcoming you to our small town
Small town America, loving it, living it
poem by Michael Peterson
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The Little Lady Of The Bullock Cart
Now is the time when India is gay
With wedding parties; and the radiant throngs
Seem like a scattered rainbow taking part
In human pleasures. Dressed in bright array,
They fling upon the bride their wreaths of songs-
The Little Lady of the Bullock Cart.
Here is the temple ready for the rite:
The large-eyed bullocks halt; and waiting arms
Lift down the bride. All India's curious art
Speaks in the gems with which she is bedight,
And in the robes which hide her sweet alarms-
The Little Lady of the Bullock Cart.
This is her day of days: her splendid hour
When joy is hers, though love is all unknown.
It has not dawned upon her childish heart.
But human triumph, in a temporal power,
Has crowned her queen upon a one-day throne-
The Little Lady of the Bullock Cart.
Ah, Little Lady! What will be your fate?
So long, so long, the outward-reaching years:
So brief the joy of this elusive part;
So frail the shoulders for the loads that wait:
So bitter salt the virgin widow's tears-
O Little Lady of the Bullock Cart.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Inspired by Issa - your rice field, my rice field
your rice field, my rice field
the road between that leads
to our dreams in tokyo
your rice field, my rice field
the road between that leads
to our sons in tokyo
inspired
your rice field
my rice field
the same green
-Issa,1815
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Country Roads ~ White Horse Road
By White Horse Tavern, White Horse Road
In olden days wound down;
And many a waggon bore its load
And many a bullock felt the goad
From town to country town.
Thro' Ringwood on, by hill and vale,
Their patient way they went.
Until they came to Lilydale,
The olden town of Lilydale.
And teamsters paused at Lilydale,
A place of calm content.
But days of bitumen and tar
Have changed the ancient mode;
And now the speeding motor car,
Where traffic-cops and bowsers are,
Go down the White Horse Road,
Upon a smooth, broad way they sail,
Till, sudden, up and down,
The bumps begin at Lilydale,
The rocky road to Lilydale,
The holey road to Lilydale,
A very peaceful town.
Beyond the town, the bumps are past,
And vexed springs settle down;
But many an angry look is cast
And many a curse speeds backwards fast
Toward that backward town.
On to the foothills leads the trail
By smooth and pleasant ways,
But, oh, that stretch thro' Lilydale!
The sleepy town of Lilydale,
Where folk still think, in Lilydale,
In terms of bullock drays.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Hound Of Bloody Night
There were a few villagers walking around at night
They heard a Howl from the Bloody Night Woods
They had no clue what could have made such a dreadful, shuddering shriek.
But as soon as they could realize what it was
It was too late.
A few days later the remaining villagers found the last remains the ignorant villagers.
The town sheriff said a few words of prayer to the remains of the young man at the looks of it. Then to the young baby. And last the priest.
As soon as they realized it was getting dark the last of the people who stayed and were possibly the family of the people were then gone as well for they didn’t here the howl.
poem by Nico Janik
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At The Rural Side Of This World
when i step out of my door
i see a road lined with mahogany trees
an empty wide road
but not that muddy really
at this rainy season of the year
i hear the chirping of birds
and the hushing of the wind
greeting me with the coolness of
an after rain,
the grasses are still wet with dew,
the paths still dappled with water,
the pebbles glistening
to the sunlit view of
the hills which are so green and vibrant
the distant mountains shaded blue
tall and huge their tips almost touching the sky
there are no cars here just wooden sleds
pulled by the cows
of the working men
at the other side of the river nearby
some water buffaloes are restive on
cool wade in their mud holes
their tails whipping their butts
to drive away the gnats
i am waiting for the bus going to the city
the only bus for the day
and it will pass by here at eight.
on the bench opposite where i am seated
three girls are giggling
a handsome boy riding on a horse whistles
at the one with the long black hair
the sun is shining brightly on an ordinary day like this
on the rural side of this world that i have chosen to visit
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Riding To Town
WHEN labor is light and the morning is fair,
I find it a pleasure beyond all compare
To hitch up my nag and go hurrying down
And take Katie May for a ride into town;
For bumpety-bump goes the wagon,
But tra-la-la-la our lay.
There's joy in a song as we rattle along
In the light of the glorious day.
A coach would be fine, but a spring wagon's good;
My jeans are a match for Kate's gingham and hood;
The hills take us up and the vales take us down,
But what matters that? we are tiding to town,
And bumpety-bump goes the wagon,
But tra-la-la-la sing we.
There's never a care may live in the air
That is filled with the breath of our glee.
And after we've started, there's naught can repress
The thrill of our hearts in their wild happiness;
The heavens may smile or the heavens may frown,
And it's all one to us when we're riding to town.
For bumpety-bump goes the wagon,
But tra-la-la-la we shout,
For our hearts they are clear and there's nothing to fear,
And we've never a pain nor a doubt.
The wagon is weak and the roadway is rough,
And tho' it is long it is not long enough,
For mid all my ecstasies this is the crown
To sit beside Katie and ride into town,
When bumpety-bump goes the wagon,
But tra-la-la-la our song;
And if I had my way, I'd be willing to pay
If the road could be made twice as long.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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South Of The Border
Tom johnston
Theres a town south of the border
South of el paso they say
Where the nights are long and the winds are warm
And the women they love to play
In an old adobe tavern
Mescal flows like water
And rita will dance on your table so fine
You are bound to place your order
I dont have to think about it
I dont have to wonder
Where Im going to ride tonight
Ill be riding down the highway south of the border
As I ride into town and the dust settles down
And the mariachi music is playing
I buy me a room from a guy named luis
Its just up the stairs and its waiting
Downstairs rita is dancing
Just the way her mother has taught her
So I settle down for the show and a beer
And wait for that mothers daughter
I dont have to think about it
I dont have to wonder
Where Im going to ride tonight
Ill be riding
When the morning comes and I wake up
To the sounds of the people below
Theres a note on my bed that is easily read
Buenos dias and a kiss when you go
As I ride out of town with my face to the sun
And the dust is trailing behind
Soon Ill go back to this sleepy old town
Back where I know I can find
I dont have to think about it
I dont have to wonder
Where Im going to ride tonight
Ill be riding down the highway south of the border
song performed by by Doobie Brothers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shyness is a blessing
i am shy
so is god's land
stripe it bare
and in no time
you find it hard
to cross even a path
without some obstacles
grass, shrubs and growth
in a frenzy to cover up exposure
shyness is a human endowment
from there modesty grow
from there rises civilisations and culture
like land that trades each inch of its barendess
with rice, flowers and fruits
inspired by
A little road not made of man,
Enabled of the eye,
Accessible to thill of bee,
Or cart of butterfly.
If town it have, beyond itself,
'T is that I cannot say;
I only sigh, -no vehicle
Bears me along that way.
Emily Dickinson
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One Road
Time...is the enemy of a young mans dreams
Im stranded...in the heartland, or so it seems
Im hitching a ride for a chance at the good life
Ill have my own place. out on fifth avenue
Im leavin this time gonna walk on that fine line
Ill be the first one who finally breaks through
One road to the promised land
I have to get there any way I can
One road to the promised land
Gonna find out just who I am
Freedom...do you know what I mean
Flatlands...are all Ive ever seen
Stuck in a small town where you live, then you die
Aint nothin but fools workin nine until five
Ill sleep in the subways till I get what I need
Im not gonna stay here, just lie here and bleed
One road to the promised land
Im gonna get there any way I can
One road to the promised land
Show the world just who I am
One road to the promised land
I thought by now Id be a different man
One road to the promised land
Guess I found out...just who I am
song performed by by Toto
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Smalltown
When youre growing up in a small town
When youre growing up in a small town
When youre growing up in a small town
You say, no one famous ever came from here
When youre growing up in a small town
And youre having a nervous breakdown
And you think that youll never escape it
Yourself or the place that you live
Where did picasso come from
Theres no michelangelo coming from pittsburgh
If art is the tip of the iceberg
Im the part sinking below
When youre growing up in a small town
Bad skin, bad eyes, gay and fatty
People look at you funny
When youre in a small town
My father worked in construction
Its not something for which Im suited
Oh, what is something for which you are suited
Getting out of here
I hate being odd in a small town
If they stare let them stare in new york city
As this pink eyed painting albino
How far can my fantasy go
Im no dali coming from pittsburgh
No adorable lisping capote
My hero, oh, do you think I could meet him
Id camp out at his front door
There is only one good thing about small town
There is only one good use for a small town
There is only one good thing about small town
You know that you want to get out
When youre growing up in a small town
You know youll grow down in a small town
There is only one good use for a small town
You hate it and youll know you have to leave
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ennis
Ennis will forever be enshrined in my mind,
A small mark on the map from another place and time.
Memories dimmed by many years as though cut with a knife,
First seventeen years of love and laughter in my life.
In a town bowed down by poverty struggling to survive,
Back lanes of half-door houses waiting someone to arrive.
Narrow winding streets full of friends and farmers’ horses,
Pompous priests dressed in black who always walked on water,
And girls in long green dresses that came down below their knees,
Moving past on bicycles; boys waiting for a breeze,
And cows moving slowly herded down towards the water,
Where their blood will fill the Fergus from the houses of slaughter.
And the Christian Brothers School where Brother Brien taught,
No such thing as freedom especially freedom of thought.
We learned everything in Gaelic in the very ancient script,
Letters from the Book of Kells or some ancient warrior’s crypt.
Where are the guys I knew so well; stole by emigration?
Or shied from skirts that only hurt and joined some congregation.
And now the town is filled with cars and strangers wall to wall,
A noisy rush of foreigners in a one-way traffic crawl.
And people don’t have the time to talk or gossip half the day.
They’re in a hurry, got to scurry, got to make their pay.
And traffic lights with tourist types looking out from buses,
This madness of modern times, I wonder ‘bout the pluses.
poem by James Bredin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ennis July 8th,2012
Ennis will forever be enshrined in my mind,
A small mark on the map from another place and time,
Memories dimmed by many years as though cut with a knife,
First seventeen years of love and laughter in my life,
In a town bowed down by poverty struggling to survive,
Back lanes of half-door houses waiting someone to arrive.
Narrow winding streets full of friends and farmers' horses,
Pompous priests dressed in black who always walked on water,
And girls in long green dresses that came down below their knees,
Moving past on bicycles; boys waiting for a breeze,
And cows moving slowly herded down towards the water,
Where their blood will fill the Fergus from the houses of slaughter.
And the Christian Brothers School where Brother Brien taught,
No such thing as freedom, especially freedom of thought,
We learned everything in Gaelic in the very ancient script,
Letters from the Book of Kells or some ancient warrior's crypt,
Where are the guys I knew so well; stole by emigration?
Or shied from skirts that only hurt and joined some congregation.
And now the town is filled with cars and strangers wall to wall,
A noisy rush of foreigners in a one-way traffic crawl,
And people don't have time to talk or gossip half the day,
They're in a hurry, got to scurry, got to make their pay,
And traffic lights and tourist types looking out from buses,
The madness of these modern times; I wonder 'bout the pluses.'
poem by James Bredin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Moonbeam Rider
Ride
Ride on
Ride the sunrise
To higher ground
Ride
Ride on
Ride the hog high
You're glory bound
Ride
Ride on
There is no time
You're moving on
Ride
Ride on
There is a sign
Another town
Bad muckin' luck and misery
All is forgotten memories
Trouble and time left way behind
Trouble and time, a thousand crimes
And all the things you will regret
And all the things you can't forget
There's no reason to be ashamed
For your many ill-gotten gains
And the Moonbeam shines on the Chrome
Ride
Ride on
Don't you realize
What's going on
Ride
Ride on
The road to the stars
You're riding on
Did you ever live in this world?
Were you ever within your world?
Ride on and on until you're gone
Do you believe you now are free?
Do you believe you're born to be
The Moonbeam Rider in the sky
The Moonbeam Rider in the sky
song performed by by Voivod
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nobody Gets Off In This Town
Nobody gets off in this town
Trains dont even slow down
My high school sweethearts married and gone
They met on a bus to san antone
The greyhound stops! somebody gets on
But nobody gets off in this town
Nobody gets off in this town
Old folks round here wear a frown
Now let me see if I can set the scene
Its a one-dog town and hes old and mean
Theres one stop light but its always green
Nobody gets off in this town
Nobody gets off in this town
High school colors are brown
They cant drag main because it kicks up dust
Their cars and their dreams are all starting to rust
The high school dances are always a bust
Nobody gets off in this town
Nobody gets off in this town
They oughta just tear it down
Cause in the winter you freeze and in the summer you fry
Utility bills the only thing that gets high
Id go for a drink but this county is dry
Nobody gets off
Nobody gets off
Nobody gets off in this square old merry-go-round
No, nobody gets off in this town
song performed by by Garth Brooks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Walke to Digress
In front of entrance
We berjejal queue up
Going to peron
Awaiting cart come
Each and everyone orderlyly
Awaiting cart come
Ushering to target town
Each
Us also that black waiting' train
Come from west
Going to east
When cart come
With the its black smokestack
voice of iron Wheel fiddle
By rel is steel sticking out length
Forwards we stand up
I develop; builded from long fantacy
When that smooth radius his arms
Sticking out handckerchief
Vanishing sweat in my face
We will immediately leave taking
When cart whistle sound boisterous
Parting sign immediately come
Ushered by a white smoke of in between the steel wheel
What start to rotate, moving
Bringing wagon to target town
Menggapai Expectation
My Hand wave from window
From wagon which start fast quickly
My heart is solid, as stuffed up
In this town is we have to leave taking
Going to land of promise
Chance determined
Especial
Prasetya,7.5.2008
poem by Prasetya Utama
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ennis Once Upon A Time
ENNIS ONCE UPON A TIME
BY
JAMES BREDIN
Ennis will forever be enshrined in my mind,
A small mark on the map from another place and time.
Memories dimmed by many years as though cut with a knife,
First seventeen years of love and laughter in my life.
In a town bowed down by poverty struggling to survive,
Back lanes of half-door houses waiting someone to arrive.
Narrow winding streets full of friends and farmers' horses,
Pompous priests dressed in black who always walked on water,
And girls in long green dresses that came down below their knees,
Moving past on bicycles; boys waiting for a breeze,
And cows moving slowly herded down towards the water,
Where their blood will fill the Fergus from the houses of slaughter.
And the Christian Brothers School where Brother Brien taught,
No such thing as freedom especially freedom of thought.
We learned everything in Gaelic in the very ancient script,
Letters from the Book of Kells or some ancient warrior's crypt.
Where are the guys I knew so well; stole by emigration?
Or shied from skirts that only hurt and joined some congregation.
And now the town is filled with cars and strangers wall to wall,
A noisy rush of foreigners in a one-way traffic crawl.
And people don't have the time to talk or gossip half the day.
They're in a hurry, got to scurry, got to make their pay.
And traffic lights with tourist types looking out from buses,
This madness of modern times, I wonder ‘bout the pluses.
OCT 31ST,2012
poem by James Bredin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cold Iron Bound
by Bob Dylan
I'm beginning to hear voices and there's no one around
Well, I'm all used up and the fields have turned brown
I went to church on Sunday and she passed by
My love for her is taking such a long time to die
I'm waist deep, waist deep in the mist
It's almost like, almost like I don't exist
I'm twenty miles out of town, in cold irons bound
The walls of pride are high and wide
Can't see over to the other side
It's such a sad thing to see beauty decay
It's sadder still, to feel your heart torn away
One look at you and I'm out of control
Like the universe has swallowed me whole
I'm twenty miles out of town in Cold irons bound
There's too many people, too many to recall
I thought some of 'm were friends of mine; I was wrong about 'm all
Well, the road is rocky and the hillside's mud
Up over my head nothing but clouds of blood
I found my world, found my world in you
But your love just hasn't proved true
I'm twenty miles out of town in cold irons bound
Twenty miles out of town in cold irons bound
Oh, the winds in Chicago have torn me to shreds
Reality has always had too many heads
Some things last longer than you think they will
There are some kind of things you can never kill
It's you and you only, I'm been thinking about
But you can't see in and it's hard lookin' out
I'm twenty miles out of town in cold irons bound
Well the fats in the fire and the water's in the tank
The whiskey's in the jar and the money's in the bank
I tried to love and protect you because I cared
I'm gonna remember forever the joy that we shared
Looking at you and I'm on my bended knee
You have no idea what you do to me
I'm twenty miles out of town in cold irons bound
Twenty miles out of town in cold irons bound
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Take Me Down
Someday Im gonna pack up
And then Im goin back up
To that place where sentimental feelings arouse
Where the grass is so green
And the air is so clean
That when the wind is right you can even smell the cows
Take me down (take me down)
To that good old slo town
Where time shifts into neutral
And idles away
Take me down (take me down)
To that good old slo town
Ive got to get back
To that city today
If youre new in town
Then youll wanna look around
But you dont know where to begin
Well, theres bubble gum alley
And the local car rally
Not to mention the toilets at madonna inn
Take me down (take me down)
To that good old slo town
Where time shifts into neutral
And idles away
Take me down (take me down)
To that good old slo town
Ive got to get back
To that city today
Its not much of a hassle
To drive up to hearsts castle
And its not too far from pismo beach or morro rock
You can visit downtown at your leisure
Because for your shopping pleasure
The stores never close down until five oclock
Take me down (take me down)
To that good old slo town
Where time shifts into neutral
And idles away
Take me down (take me down)
To that good old slo town
Ive got to get back
To that city today
Take me down (take me down)
To that good old slo town
Where time shifts into neutral
And idles away
Take me down (take me down)
To that good old slo town
Ive got to get back
To that city today
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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