The Dream From The Past
Every night I dream,
Thousands of hours of war,
Mother Nile emits the tale of my scar,
The Land of Sphinx and Pharoahs of the damned,
The Land of progression and the corpses were rammed,
The Nomad rose up and threw down his horse,
The galloped the golden sand with the force of Ra,
He challenged the Pharoah in the battle of might,
Last man to stand should sling other's neck in a torque,
The Nomad rose up and charged with aggression,
The defense of Pharoah flowed up in frustration,
The swings, the flings, the charges, the assaults,
Blood splattered and smeared;
A corpse fell down and Nomad rose up from the sand,
The Nomad ruled the Land of mighty Ramses and beautiful Cleopatra,
He remembers the time serving the town of Hamunapatra,
The Nomad, the Messiah fought bad and evil with the might of Osiris,
Imhotep died a death of glory,
Mummified and laid to rest,
His spirits found a new body and flowed to Peninsula,
But the scabbard was left vacant and the sword was still held high.
poem by Vikrant Jog
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Related quotes
The Nomad
Like a mirage riding on the desert sand
Like a vision floating with the desert winds
Know the secret of the ancient desert lands
you're the keeper of the mystery in your hands
Nomad rider of the ancient east
Nomad rider that men know the least
Nomad where you come from no one knows
Nomad where you go to no one tells
Undercover of the veil of your disguise
The men that fear you are the ones that you despise
No one's certain what your future will behold
You're a legend your own history will be told
Nomad rider of the ancient east
Nomad rider that men know the least
Nomad where you come from no one knows
Nomad where you go to no one tells
No one dares to even look or glance your way
Your reputation goes before you they all say
Like a spirit that can disappear at will
Many claim of things but no one's seen you kill
Nomad
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Moon and the Nomad
t is a long night.
The vehicles zoom on the highway,
Leaves ruffle,
The moon is veiled by pollutants.
The moon chokes,
Struggles to regain its serenity,
A nomad tries to purge the toxins,
The nomad knows he is somehow responsible for the discomfort.
The moon was used to purge itself from all toxins,
For the first time it needed the nomad,
The nomad was in pain too,
The moon wished to regain its tranquility to ease the nomad.
The night is long,
The nomad has a long way to go beyond the moon and the stars,
The moon is icy cold,
The toxins are consuming the moon.
poem by Susmita Biswas
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To Victoria Neale, Where Ever She Be
Victoria Neale is a true Nomad.
She walks the land on well feathered paths.
Her stride is long and bold.
Her journey wide eyed and full.
Yes, she is a mother - of children and invention.
Takes them where ever she roams.
Along the way she is not just seen,
people take notice of Victoria Neale.
Because the true Nomad is rare and on the wane.
She walks between seasons
tracing the arc of the sun
where open sky invites all those who dare.
Where those who dare skip like stones on a marble pond.
She does not follow the migration.
The wake in the prairie grass is her own.
She is driven by the solution to mystery.
There is always time for a tale.
Her story grows taller by the year,
time grows shorter by the day.
And when the sky finally closes in,
when the feathers are trampled stiff
and the marble worn away,
Victoria Neale the Nomad
will go beyond the hills time has made
and rest in the shade of grace.
poem by Ronald Shields
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Aconital Domain
Domain of a free man, the stars
remains of still deserted bars
from his imprisonment, he flies
an exaltation of soul, to skies.
a self made nomad to engrave
on his intellect, his astral wave
go forth four years, to Centauri,
nomad solitude a bluish worry..
Domain of a quill gun, a gild
Persephone's call, a rose field
Aconital expiation, another seven
reasons to immigrate to heaven.
Evocative omen and Demesne
facing of reality to forbearance,
fiddle above chaos in air fixed
a vow of my solitude and mist.
Aconital domain, deathly reason,
ferrous interpretation of treason
in a world poisonous, worth to spit
as false images indictment emit.
Impiety drools as an obtrusion
accordment of a sinful confusion
conceived rhythm to invite death,
prowess once reigned, on earth.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Moses (Bible Poems for Children)
In the land of Egypt, it came
to pass,
Jacob a wealthy man, sons did
mass.
Years passed, each became a
tribe,
A well known name, Each
worshiped God.
Pharoah the King, was afraid,
The God of Abraham, would
make him fade.
Pharoah was so very mean,
He created an awful scene.
To the river, the babies
must go,
Throw them in the waters
flow.
One Hebrew mother, found a
way,
Tuck him in a basket, float
it away.
Down the Nile River, the baby
boy went,
This child Moses, was Heaven
sent.
Pharoah's daughter came to
bathe,
Saw the baby, began to rave.
What a beautiful baby boy,
He will be my pride, and joy.
Moses grew, a strong young man,
Became famous, throughout the
land.
poem by Heather Burns
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Whereever I May Roam
Wherever I May Roam
...and the road becomes my bride
I have stripped of all but pride
so in her I do confide
and she keeps me satisfied
gives me all I need
...and with dust in throat I crave
only knowledge will I save
to the game you stay a slave
rover wanderer
nomad vagabond
call me what you will
but I'll take my time anywhere
free to speak my mind anywhere
and I'll redefine anywhere
anywhere I may roam
where I lay my head is home
...and the earth becomes my throne
I adapt to the unknown
under wandering stars I've grown
by myself but not alone
I ask no one
...and my ties are severed clean
the less I have the more I gain
off the beaten path I reign
rover wanderer
nomad vagabond
call me what you will
but I'll take my time anywhere
I'm free to speak my mind anywhere
and I'll never mind anywhere
anywhere I may roam
where I lay my head is home
but i'll take my time anywhere
free to speak my mind
and I'll take my find anywhere
anywhere I may roam
where I lay my head is home
carved upon my stone
my body lie, but still I roam
wherever I may roam
song performed by by Metallica
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Slave's Dream
Beside the ungathered rice he lay,
His sickle in his hand;
His breast was bare, his matted hair
Was buried in the sand.
Again, in the mist and shadow of sleep,
He saw his Native Land.
Wide through the landscape of his dreams
The lordly Niger flowed;
Beneath the palm-trees on the plain
Once more a king he strode;
And heard the tinkling caravans
Descend the mountain-road.
He saw once more his dark-eyed queen
Among her children stand;
They clasped his neck, they kissed his cheeks,
They held him by the hand!--
A tear burst from the sleeper's lids
And fell into the sand.
And then at furious speed he rode
Along the Niger's bank;
His bridle-reins were golden chains,
And, with a martial clank,
At each leap he could feel his scabbard of steel
Smiting his stallion's flank.
Before him, like a blood-red flag,
The bright flamingoes flew;
>From morn till night he followed their flight,
O'er plains where the tamarind grew,
Till he saw the roofs of Caffre huts,
And the ocean rose to view.
At night he heard the lion roar,
And the hyena scream,
And the river-horse, as he crushed the reeds
Beside some hidden stream;
And it passed, like a glorious roll of drums,
Through the triumph of his dream.
The forests, with their myriad tongues,
Shouted of liberty;
And the Blast of the Desert cried aloud,
With a voice so wild and free,
That he started in his sleep and smiled
At their tempestuous glee.
He did not feel the driver's whip,
Nor the burning heat of day;
For Death had illumined the Land of Sleep,
And his lifeless body lay
A worn-out fetter, that the soul
Had broken and thrown away!
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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The Sojourner
Are your herds all dead
That you walk the street alone?
And do you have your own bed
When the toiling day is done?
City nomad without his herd
Wanderer, pilgrim of the mind
Wont you rest your tired head
You herdsman of a kind?
Were your ancestors cattle rearers
Who sought where grasses were green?
But you have mingled with the city dwellers
Leaving your herds either dead or lean
Tell me, city nomad
Why did you leave your father's way
And choose the city, tis' sad
That you roam the streets day by day
Or are you of the gypsy race
And your clan, minstrels and magicians?
Who wander from place to place
Sleeping and waking in caravans
Foxes have holes, and bird the trees
Do you have any to call your home?
Some live in houses, some in tents
Why do choose the streets to roam?
I am but a sojourner in every city
Seeking my God and the crown
And may he lead me to that heavenly city
A better place to call my own! !
poem by Okonkwo Osamedua. Allen
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The Fairy Tale
My life starts and stops with you.
You made me realize u were my luckiest find.
I never imagined life to be so beautiful.
It became once you started making way into my mind.
Smiles kept eluding me very often,
Happiness kept playing hide and seeks every now and then,
I had been wondering about aimlessly like a nomad,
I kept searching for that elusive diamond among plentiful pebbles.
It was worth being a nomad
It was worth a wander,
My boulevard came to an end at last,
I felt as if I’ve got what I thought,
Though diamonds loose their shine with time,
But u seem to glitter almost every time,
Though diamonds cost a hefty sum,
You have been a priceless one.
I had never dreamt of what I’ve got now,
But I’ll forever cherish whatever I have now,
My saddest thoughts started changing into sweetest dreams,
My lonely valley started blooming with beautiful greens.
You listened 2 my songs,
You danced to my tunes,
You listened calmly to my endless queries,
You listened to me as if I was narrating tale of fairies.
The fairy tale was short lived,
It came to an abrupt and tragic end,
The fairy went to heavens for a long leave,
The fairy's prince was left in a lonely lane.
Loneliness started creeping again
But never did I feel alone,
Your sweet memories were running in my vein
You made your presence felt whenever I was alone.
I've lost the fairy diamond now,
I’ve got nothing to lose more,
I have lost my luckiest find now,
I don’t want to find another anymore.
poem by Jameel Ahmed Ansari
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I think my being such a nomad let me into acting. I was always having to create a new image whenever we moved.
quote by Aidan Quinn
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Singapore morning
A shedding of rain
bathes this city’s eyes
Before a spreading sun
poem by Nomad Omnia
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Wherever I May Roam
(whispered) ...and the road becomes my bride
...and the road becomes my bride
I have stripped of all but pride
so in her I do confide
and she keeps me satisfied
gives me all I need
...and with dust in throat I crave
only knowledge will I save
to the game you stay a slave
rover wanderer
nomad vagabond
call me what you will
but I'll take my time anywhere
free to speak my mind anywhere
and I'll redefine anywhere
anywhere I may road
where I lay my head is home
(whispered) ...and the earth becomes my throne
...and the earth becomes my throne
I adapt to the unknown
under wandering stars I've grown
by myself but not alone
I ask no one
...and my ties are severed clean
the less I have the more I gain
off the beaten path I reign
rover wanderer
nomad vagabond
call me what you will
but I'll take my time anywhere
I'm free to speak my mind anywhere
and I'll never mind anywhere
anywhere I may roam
where I lay my head is home
but i'll take my time anywhere
free to speak my mind
and I'll take my find anywhere
anywhere I may roam
where I lay my head is home
carved upon my stone
my body lie
song performed by by Metallica from Metallica
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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See it coming
Maybe
It's because
I'm tired -
Past loss -
Opening my heart
To the kill shot.
poem by Nomad Omnia
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A nomad I will remain for life, in love with distant and uncharted places.
quote by Isabelle Eberhardt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Do not be a nomad
Do not be a nomad
Do something in the forest.
Trust deficit
Killer of midnight.
O my friend come and see
I am yours and you are mine.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Desert Of Mills
The close horizon became from the desert of mills,
The bronze dunes worked hard in the storm of sand.
This absolutely became the edge of the world,
To signal a light for never land crept on this flower
Causing signatures of splendour, petals opening.
Parallel lines forked in different ways,
In the middle of actresses and actors,
Touch taunted the mistresses of the desert-wind.
Staring into the scene of distant echoes,
A proposition suggested food and drink
For the nomad of the scene, a real way of knowing.
The mills turned according to dust and weather,
Feeding the metallic men with their monster.
poem by Naveed Akram
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A Rose To Remember....
i am reading about the death of a rose
i am reflecting about
death of freedom
it is all about a rose, a wilting rose, a brown rose,
a dry rose
each petal falling softly on the ground
a dry ground full of sand and pebbles
all footprints covered
abandoned, i am talking
about the death of a rose, the death of the freedom of the rose
the death of freedom, the rose of death, the freedom of death,
is it you now that i talk about? that i must remember?
have i met you before when i was but a thorn, a worm, a leaf?
was i the sand
a pebble, the wind? will you be a rose forever?
is there death in you?
i feel the wind, i smell the rose,
there is no death....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Glory of Man and Horse
Oh, the glory of the charge!
Man and horse to battle
Never an army too large
To stand in their way
Oh, the glory of the plains!
Man and horse to conquer
Battling wind and rains
To tame the far, far west
Oh, the glory of the sand!
Man and horse to test
Over the hot, dry land
To try their strength
Oh, the glory of the race!
Man and horse to run
Galloping a fearsome pace
To win that golden cup
poem by Horse Poet
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Glory of Man and Horse
Oh, the glory of the charge!
Man and horse to battle
Never an army too large
To stand in their way
Oh, the glory of the plains!
Man and horse to conquer
Battling wind and rains
To tame the far, far west
Oh, the glory of the sand!
Man and horse to test
Over the hot, dry land
To try their strength
Oh, the glory of the race!
Man and horse to run
Galloping a fearsome pace
To win that golden cup
My Childhood
I lost my youth in search of my childhood
Nomad, I became, walking under the wood,
Now preparing to mingle into the mud
I cry 'O' Heaven, Don't stop, my ugly mood/
poem by Aftab Alam Khursheed
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