How we drove the Trotter
Oh, he was a handsome trotter, and he couldn't be completer,
He had such a splendid action and he trotted to this metre,
Such a pace and such a courage, such a record-killing power,
That he did his mile in two-fifteen, his twenty in the hour.
When he trotted on the Bathurst road the pace it was a panter,
But he broke the poet's rhythm when he broke out in a canter -
As we were remarking the pace was a panter,
But just as we liked it he broke in a canter,
And rattled along with a motion terrific,
And scattered the sparks with a freedom prolific;
He tugged at the bit and he jerked at the bridle,
We pulled like a demon, the effort was idle,
The bit in his teeth and the rein in the crupper,
We didn't much care to get home to our supper.
Then we went
Like the wind,
And our hands
They were skinned,
And we thought
With a dread
To go over his head,
And we tugged
And we strove,
Couldn't say
That we drove
Till we found
It had stopped
And the gallop was dropped!
Then he dropped into a trot again as steady as a pacer,
And we thought we had a dandy that was sure to make a racer
That would rival all the Yankees and was bound to beat the British,
Not a bit of vice about him though he was a trifle skittish;
Past the buggies and the sulkies on the road we went a-flying,
For the pace it was a clinker, and they had no chance of trying,
But for fear he'd start a canter we were going to stop his caper
When he bolted like a bullet at a flying piece of paper -
Helter skelter,
What a pelter!
Such a pace to win a welter!
Rush,
Race,
Tear!
Flying through the air!
Wind a-humming,
Fears benumbing,
Here's another trap a-coming!
Shouts!
Bash!
Crash!
Moses, what a smash!
poem by William Thomas Goodge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
This Pace Made
You totally misinterpret,
The pace I keep.
Not one step do I make,
That is taken...
Has you in my mind to compete.
Or is there a thought given to your mission.
I have interests to pursue.
What about you?
This pace made,
Is not awaiting your notice.
Nor is this pace made,
Initiated in the origin of hesitation.
But is a motivation to focus my eyes on the prize.
With my own determination affixed to it!
To feel I am achieving 'something' that validates,
The time I've spent blessed in the appreciation of my life.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Watershed
Thought I knew my mind
Like the back of my hand
The gold and the rainbow
But nothing panned out as I planned
And they say only milk and honeys
Gonna make your soul satisfied
Well I better learn how to swim
Cause the crossing is chilly and wide
Twisted guardrails on the highway
Broken glass on the cement
A ghost of someones tragedy
How recklessly my time has been spent
They say that its never too late
But you dont, you dont get any younger
Well I better learn how to starve the emptiness
And feed the hunger
Up on the watershed
Standing at the fork in the road
You can stand there and agonize
Till your agonys your heaviest load
Youll never fly as the crow flies
Get used to a country mile
When youre learning to face
The path at your pace
Every choice is worth your while
And theres always retrospect
(when youre looking back)
To light a clearer path
Every five years or so I look back on my life
And I have a good laugh
You start at the top
Go full circle round
Catch a breeze
Take a spill
But ending up where I started again
Makes me wanna stand still
Up on the watershed
Standing at the fork in the road
You can stand there and agonize
Till your agonys your heaviest load
Youll never fly as the crow flies
Get used to a country mile
When youre learning to face
The path at your pace
Every choice is worth your while
Stepping on a crack
Breaking up and looking back
Til every tree limb overhead just seems to sit and wait
Til every step you take becomes a twist of fate
Up on the watershed
Standing at the fork in the road
You can stand there and agonize
Till your agonys your heaviest load
Youll never fly as the crow flies
Get used to a country mile
When youre learning to face
The path at your pace
Every choice is worth your while
Up on the watershed
Standing at the fork in the road
You can stand there and agonize
Till your agonys your heaviest load
Youll never fly as the crow flies
Get used to a country mile
When youre learning to face
The path at your pace
Every choice is worth your while
And when youre learning to face
The path at your pace
Every choice is worth your while
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eye Spy Fly
I spy with my eye,
A pesky little fly,
Passing me by,
To swat it I try.
As the fly picks up pace,
Around the house I race,
Continuing to chase,
Him all over the place.
This fly goes here and there,
Flying on without a care,
While my arms flap everywhere,
And hands beat at empty air.
Around the kitchen I do fumble,
As I run, I trip and stumble,
Over and over I tumble,
As the pots and pans crumble.
After crashing dizzily to the ground,
With stars spinning round and round,
My head with a buzzing sound,
Where is Mr Fly to be found?
Well he looks to be well fed,
After munching on some bread,
As I nurse a lump upon my head,
Why didn’t I let him go instead?
So as he goes on his way,
To go off and play,
I turn to him and say,
Have an ever so good day!
(Written for Children In Need)
poem by Dale Mullock
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I mark the pace praying
I mark the pace praying
send up prayers continually,
avoid food and fast,
do not even eat bread or soup
and still it’s as if I am in the dark
and nothing can ever beat the misery.
I mark the pace praying
send up prayers continually,
try to wash my life clean,
do not loose my head
and still I remain blacker than burned out ash
and do not know how to stop my sin
(when I find myself I sin again) –and I mark the pace praying-
poem by Gert Strydom
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Walking the road to Emmaus
Their eyes were downcast and the pace was slow.
Why these things had happened they did not know.
On their shoulders they bore grief's heavy load
as they walked that long Emmaus road.
A stranger joined them as they walked that way.
Slowed His pace to hear what they had to say.
Step by step He walked along with them there
and then the scriptures He began to share.
Eyes restrained and holden they did not know
Who it was that joined them walking so slow.
In fellowship sweet He expounded God's word
and their hearts glowed at everything they heard.
From Moses through the Prophets He made known
of an open tomb and a heavenly throne.
They listened carefully as this Man talked
as together the Emmaus road they walked.
'Did not the Christ have to suffer', He said
'and then He was to be raised up from the dead.'
As they approached the place they were going
He acted as though He would not go in.
'The day is far spent, stay with us, ' they said
and then He entered their house and broke the bread.
At once their eyes were opened and they knew
it was Jesus, but He vanished from their view.
'Did not our heart burn within us, ' they said
then up they got and off to Jerusalem sped.
Found the disciples and said 'It is true.'
The Lord is risen and we've seen Him too.
Cotswolds
The road stretches far in front of me
Lined by Cotswold stone walls and old oak trees
Light flickering through branches like peppered stars
Reflecting slowly across the bonnet of my car
I see a pigeon flying alongside trying to keep pace
And feel the early morning sun kiss my face
What better way to make you smile
Driving through the Cotswolds mile after mile
If everything in life could be as good as this
The world would be happy and full of bliss
A sign I see says it's not far to go
20 minutes at the most if I go with the flow
The road damp after heavens opened up in a stream
Leaving a rainbow coloured sky as if made in a dream
It would be nice to stop and ponder for a while
Driving through the Cotswolds mile after mile
The end of my road is as far as I want it to be
Wherever this is, the choice is mine you see
I'm not there yet and have some distance to go
So slowly turn up the volume a notch on the radio
With fields and trees rushing past and sunroof open
Listening to the music with words sung not spoken
I like the sound, I like the rhythm and style
Driving through the Cotswolds mile after mile
My road is coming to an end - beautiful as it may be
Cotswold stone replaced by daffodils and blossom trees
Wide pavements give a feeling of peace and space
I see a lady jogging with her hair out of place
The postman putting mail through a door
Wonder if it's important, wonder who it's for?
And as the sun comes up I close my eyes and smile
Dreaming of driving through the Cotswolds mile after mile
poem by JeanJacques Evendon
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Power Displayed
As the snow fall blankets the earth, we get a glimpse of nature’s worth,
Seeing the things done only by God, when He touches the earthly sod,
With a deep cold and its chill, surrounding an area at the Creator’s Will,
With many waters in winter’s hold, God turns them to ice in all that cold.
With the snow painting a scenic view, in full vision of both me and you,
Scenes which by many are viewed, yet by some the initiator is skewed,
For The Lord is the weather changer, not one, some call Mother Nature,
As God paints with His sovereign brush, in the midst of our winter rush.
But, that pace the Lord stops fast, with both ice and snow that will last,
And for ever long as God wills it to, in altering the pace of me and you,
Friend the Lord God does the same, when using floods and heavy rain,
With just water to change the pace, of the much misguided human race.
And it’s not just a season or two, for we see His power all year through,
Within the rain, snow, wind and hail, God’s Power on earth does not fail,
But, what truly fails are men’s hearts, when from the Lord a soul departs,
Rejecting The God of all Creation, they turn to simple man’s explanation.
Yet, having no sense of Godly fear, they fail to explain why we are here,
Dismissing all thought of a Creator, they have no need to seek a Savior,
Even as He displays power on earth, they lean on man’s temporal worth,
And soon the power of The Son, will be displayed on earth for everyone.
(Copyright ©01/2009)
An Easy Pace
I am a man who does not like rushing;
I like to take life at an easy pace.
Friends joke about it
saying a snail just overtook you.
I take no notice and just laugh it off.
If the world wants to go at a faster pace
that is all right with me.
I’ll just take my time
and always get there in the end.
I always think that if you rush about
you miss out on so much.
You see drivers on the motorway
racing along doing a ton
and I often wonder
are they out to commit suicide.
I just drive along at sixty
and that is comfortable for me.
The only thing I seem to be quick at
is when it comes to writing poetry.
With them, I dash them off
at an incredible rate.
Where most will write one a day
I can dash sometimes up to ten.
I have even been known
to do more than that occasionally,
but everything else in life
I take at an easy pace.
12 May 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Thought Of You
It actually frightens me
The though of you
Because there are countless things
That it can make me do
The thought of you can make my heart race
It can leave me restless at night
Can make me fidgety to the point where I pace
The thought of you can leave me buzzing with an unknown high
It can form a pit in my stomach
And can leave me love sick and sighing
The thought of you above all other thoughts in my mind shines
It can send shivers down my spine
And make me long for you to be mine
The thought of you can take my breath away
The thought of you from my mind never really strays
But even though the thought of you can send me flying sky high
I'm not gonna lie
I haven't forgotten my heartaching past
Which is why part of me hopes this infatuation doesn't last
But until the thought of you finally fades away
I guess I'll enjoy it
After all
Who knows how long the thought of you will be here to stay
poem by Tiger Lily Love
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Yellow Camaro
And the wheels of motion will move fine
God bless the U.S. assembly line
It's a game and you play with hi-octane
It's the pace of the race, and you are following
Right on
Yellow Camaro
Yellow Camaro
With freedom of eagles you soar high
God bless you're a mess before you try
It's a shame that you've done such a dumb thing
It's the pace of the race, and you are following
Right on
Yellow Camaro
Yellow Camaro (Oh no)
Oooh Right on
Yellow Camaro
Yellow Camaro (Oh no)
song performed by by Weezer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A lot of people run a race to see who is fastest. I run to see who has the most guts, who can punish himself into exhausting pace, and then at the end, punish himself even more. Nobody is going to win a 5,000 meter race after running an easy 2 miles. Not with me. If I lose forcing the pace all the way, well, at least I can live with myself.
quote by Steve Prefontaine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Blues Song
I’m coming home
I’m coming home
And it won’t be long
Till I lay my burden down
This burden that I carry
You know that it gave me no rest
But I kept the pace with the very best
I’m coming home
I’m coming home
My baby said that he didn’t love me
And you know that he done me wrong
When I woke up in the morning
my baby was gone
I’m coming home
I’m coming home
And it won’t be long
Till I lay my burden down
This burden that I carry
You know that it gave me no rest
But I kept the pace with the very best
poem by David E. Patton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shaken but not stirred
It was at the Pretoria show
that we went on a ride
on a roller coaster
with a spinning wheel
and Heinrich and I
got into one car.
There was a steel bar
that should lock shut
and when we pulled away
it did not.
We took the big loop
and another one
and the bar flew open
and both of us
almost flew out
and from then on
it was a nightmare ride
and I caught the six year old
with my left arm
and pressed him to me
and with the right
I hang on
to the bar
that went up and down.
The earth was flying past
at a great speed
and we almost were crushed
but I hang on
and luck was there
and no poems saved me,
maybe it was a terrified prayer
that gave me the power
to keep hanging on
while we flew like superman
and his son
and went up and down.
The boy screamed
first with terror
and then by the enjoyment
of the adrenaline
and I clung to that bar
and saw only a blur
and heard the croaking
of that big machine
and I hung on
reliving parachute jumps
in my mind.
Flying on the wind
until the machine
slowed down
to a crawling pace
and we got out
totally shaken
but not really stirred
and the boy said:
“Dad, can we do it again? ”
poem by Gert Strydom
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Free Like A Flying Demon
Im calling upon your attention
Now is the time, were talking serious redemption
Come follow me
Red light wasnt warning when I first saw her body move
I wasnt sure it was a jet stall.
I thought I had it all, now I am down and low
Memories on the wall, I have to let it go...
Im free like a flying demon, no more of them filthy lies
Just free like a flying demon, this is the day of my life
Im free like a flying demon, no more of them filthy lies
Just free like a flying demon, this is the day of my life
Why cant you see into the future?
Youre going to get hurt by someone who wont suit ya
They call it your destiny
But I am pretty sure now
That one whos lonely cant get hurt / is getting stronger
I thought I had it all, now I am down and low
Memories on the wall, I have to let it go...
Im free like a flying demon, no more of them filthy lies
Just free like a flying demon, this is the day of my life
Im free like a flying demon, no more of them filthy lies
Just free like a flying demon, this is the day of my life
Someday it might just work but this aint that time
This grounded flight is taking off, Ill leave you behind
Im free like....a demon....no more of them filthy lies
Just free like....a demon....this is the day of my life
Im free like....a demon....no more of them filthy lies
Just free like....a demon....this is the day of my life
Im free like a flying demon, no more of them filthy lies
Just free like a flying demon, this is the day of my life
Im free like a flying demon, no more of them filthy lies
Just free like a flying demon, this is the day of my life
song performed by by E-type
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Pain to Clear to Me
I see the pain in this world
The pain of ages so far away
I see the pain of lives been twirled
The world's too much for them today
For when a friend is so lost
All you see is the pain
His happiness dulled by the frost
Of thinking the same thought in the rain
Wondering why in the world you're gone
A question clear on his face
For wondering when he did you wrong
While he locks his door so he can pace
Back and Forth, Back and Forth
The answer to far off to hear
Back and Forth, Back and Forth
Not from the pain, but from the fear
The fear of thoughts where you disappear
So come home now from the long road you've found
Come back to him and you will see.
It's not too late to turn around
For what he wants is himself to be
The one you wrap your arms around
He fights a battle atop the mound
To follow your voice, the only sound
He says music is what sound feels like
A saying as wise as true
But for him it needs not be this pike
The pain of loosing you
That's pierced his heart and left it bleeding
The one that's turned his sun to rain
The pain of you and him no longer meeting
Of having to go to pace again
So come home now from where you've been
Come home now, Come back to him.
poem by John Dillenger II
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The Open Steeplechase
I had ridden over hurdles up the country once or twice,
By the side of Snowy River with a horse they called 'The Ace'.
And we brought him down to Sydney, and our rider, Jimmy Rice,
Got a fall and broke his shoulder, so they nabbed me in a trice,
Me, that never wore the colours, for the open Steeplechase.
'Make the running,' said the trainer, 'it's your only chance whatever,
Make it hot from start to finish, for the old black horse can stay,
And just think of how they'll take it, when they hear on Snowy River
That the country boy was plucky, and the country horse was clever.
You must ride for old Monaro and the mountain boys today.'
'Are you ready? said the starter, as we held the horses back.
All ablazing with impatience, with excitement all aglow;
Before us like a ribbon stretched the steeplechasing track,
And the sun-rays glistened brightly on the chestnut and the black
As the starter's words came slowly, 'Are, you, ready? Go!'
Well I scarcely knew we'd started, I was stupid-like with wonder
Till the field closed up beside me and a jump appeared ahead.
And we flew it like a hurdle, not a baulk and not a blunder,
As we charged it all together, and it fairly whistled under,
And then some were pulled behind me and a few shot out and led.
So we ran for half the distance, and I'm making no pretenses
When I tell you I was feeling very nervous-like and queer,
For those jockeys rode like demons; you would think they'd lost their senses
If you saw them rush their horses at those rasping five-foot fences,
And in place of making running I was falling to the rear.
Till a chap came racing past me on a horse the called 'The Quiver',
And said he, 'My country joker, are you going to give it best?
Are you frightened of the fences? does their stoutness make you shiver?
Have they come to breeding cowards by the side of Snowy River?
Are there riders in Monaro?, 'but I never heard the rest.
For I drove The Ace and sent him just as fast as he could pace it
At the big black line of timber stretching fair across the track,
And he shot beside The Quiver. 'Now,' said I, 'my boy, we'll race it.
You can come with Snowy River if you're only game to face it,
Let us mend the pace a little and we'll see who cries a crack.'
So we raced away together, and we left the others standing,
And the people cheered and shouted as we settled down to ride,
And we clung beside The Quiver. At his taking off and landing
I could see his scarlet nostril and his mighty ribs expanding,
And The Ace stretched out in earnest, and we held him stride for stride.
But the pace was so terrific that they soon ran out their tether,
They were rolling in their gallop, they were fairly blown and beat,
But they both were game as pebbles, neither one would show the feather.
And we rushed them at the fences, and they cleared them both together,
Nearly every time they clouted, but they somehow kept their feet.
Then the last jump rose before us, and they faced it game as ever,
We were both at spur and whipcord, fetching blood at every bound,
And above the people's cheering and the cries of 'Ace' and 'Quiver',
I could hear the trainer shouting, 'One more run for Snowy River.'
Then we struck the jump together and came smashing to the ground.
Well, The Quiver ran to blazes, but The Ace stood still and waited,
Stood and waited like a statue while I scrambled on its back.
There was no one next or near me for the field was fairly slated,
So I cantered home a winner with my shoulder dislocated,
While the man who rode The Quiver followed limping down the track.
And he shook my hand and told me that in all his days he never
Met a man who rode more gamely, and our last set-to was prime.
Then we wired them on Monaro how we chanced to beat The Quiver,
And they sent us back an answer, 'Good old sort from Snowy River:
Send us word each race you start in and we'll back you every time.'
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Night Hunt
In the morning, in the dark,
When the stars begin to blunt,
By the wall of Barna Park
Dogs I heard and saw them hunt
All the parish dogs were there,
All the dogs for miles around,
Teeming up behind a hare,
In the dark, without a sound.
How I heard I scarce can tell--
'Twas a patter in the grass--
And I did not see them well
Come across the dark and pass;
Yet I saw them and I knew
Spearman's dog and Spellman's dog
And, beside my own dog too,
Leamy's from the Island Bog.
In the morning when the sun
Burnished all the green to gorse,
I went out to take a run
Round the bog upon my horse;
And my dog that had been sleeping
In the heat beside the door
Left his yawning and went leaping
On a hundred yards before.
Through the village street we passed--
Not a dog there raised a snout--
Through the street and out at last
On the white bog road and out
Over Barna Park full pace,
Over to the Silver Stream,
Horse and dog in happy race,
Rider between thought and dream.
By the stream, at Leamy's house,
Lay a dog -- my pace I curbed --
But our coming did not rouse
Him from drowsing undisturbed;
And my dog, as unaware
Of the other, dropped beside
And went running by me there
With my horse's slackened stride.
Yet by something, by a twitch
Of the sleeper's eye, a look
From the runner, something which
Little chords of feeling shook,
I was conscious that a thought
Shuddered through the silent deep
Of a secret -- I had caught
Something I had known in sleep.
poem by Thomas MacDonagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wind on the Hill
No one can tell me,
Nobody knows,
Where the wind comes from,
Where the wind goes.
It's flying from somewhere
As fast as it can,
I couldn't keep up with it,
Not if I ran.
But if I stopped holding
The string of my kite,
It would blow with the wind
For a day and a night.
And then when I found it,
Wherever it blew,
I should know that the wind
Had been going there too.
So then I could tell them
Where the wind goes...
But where the wind comes from
Nobody knows.
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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Walking West
Anyone with quiet pace who
walks a gray road in the West
may hear a badger underground where
in deep flint another time is
Caught by flint and held forever,
the quiet pace of God stopped still.
Anyone who listens walks on
time that dogs him single file,
To mountains that are far from people,
the face of the land gone gray like flint.
Badgers dig their little lives there,
quiet-paced the land lies gaunt,
The railroad dies by a yellow depot,
town falls away toward a muddy creek.
Badger-gray the sod goes under
a river of wind, a hawk on a stick.
poem by William Stafford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ohio
Took a bus straight to baltimore
On the way he took a nap
Dropped off a note that said Im giving this note back
Ps- theres a lot going on underneath
Theres roots theres pipes, theres drainage leaks
Youre on, youre wrong, ohio
Truly sorry, I see clearly
Calmly crashing, I pace faster than anyone
Hinges rusting, they swing louder than anything
Truly lonely this place is flatter than it seems
Im upset and I leave the doors wide open
Our hearts are used up, cracked and dry
Pulled the scabs off of regrets
We havent learned to eat our conscience yet
Truly sorry, I see clearly
Hardy hoping, I spend it all on game machines
Calmly crashing, I pace and I figure out again
One hand clapping, awake but napping
Rows of lights to illuminate lines
Why dont they turn them off and let us see night
Drove crazed grooming my lies
You cant look in on one way eyes, ohio
song performed by by Modest Mouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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