Related quotes: I know this old bloke...

A Dapper Old Fellow

I know this old bloke in his eighties he is such a dapper old man
A batchelor and one without children he nears the end of his life span
Always well dressed and never unhappy with a full head of silver gray hair
As he walks down the street in the morning he whistles some happy old air
He has lived a life of adventure and to distant places he's been
And all of the World's great Cities and Landmarks of note he has seen
Now too old for distant travel but in him the longing does remain
For to travel roads he has not travelled the highways and the byways again
A dapper old fellow in his eighties for years he has lived on his own
And the good and not so good times in his life he has seen and has known
But time it is running out on him and the clock on his life it ticks on
And the wanderlust it is still in him though his better days are long over and gone
Yet a happier or nicer person one hardly could wish for to meet
And he whistles with the joy of living as he slowly walks down the street.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Life’s Railway

Life is a lot like a railway
As we travel along through time
Clickety clacking along our way
A good life we seek to find

We pass through many places
Meet folks both good and bad
Have experiences along the way
Many happy but some are sad

Some of the places we travel
We never plan to return
But others stay in our memory
Good lessons we have learned

We never know what we will see
All we can do is take it day by day
Doing the very best we can
As we travel life’s exciting railway!

poem by Marilyn Lott
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Good Morning, Good Morning

Nothing to do to save his life call his wife in
Nothing to say but what a day how's your boy been
Nothing to do it's up to you
I've got nothing to say but it's o.k.
Good morning, good morning...
Going to work don't want to go feeling low down
Heading for home you start to roam then you're in town
Everybody knows there's nothing doing
Everything is closed it's like a ruin
Everyone you see is half asleep.
And you're on your own you're in the street
Good morning, good morning...
After a while you start to smile now you feel cool.
Then you decide to take a walk by the old school.
Nothing has changed it's still the same
I've got nothing to say but it's o.k.
Good morning, good morning...
People running round it's five o'clock.
Everywhere in town is getting dark.
Everyone you see is full of life.
It's time for tea and meet the wife.
Somebody needs to know the time, glad that i'm here.
Watching the skirts you start to flirt now you're in gear.
Go to a show you hope she goes.
I've got nothing to say but it's o.k.
Good morning, good morning...

song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Life

My life
Can be challenged and diffcult
We all that bad and good days
I can’t give up on myself because
It’s not going good or my way
I shouldn’t let anyone make my choices
I’m not going to listen to them
All of is nonsense and they're waste of time to me
It my decision that going happen in
My life
There is no time to lose
Life is too short to do that
You don’t realized it until something tragedy happen
I’m sick and tired of sitting at home and doing nothing all day
Staring at clock won’t make it go by fast
Time to go out there and achieve my dreams
That what I’m here for
As well have fun like partying
Wohooo come on this
My life
I’m going live this way
I will chill and enjoy the summer
I want to try new adventures and new things
I want to see what I’m good and not good at
I have no time to waste
I want to travel and see whole world
Anything is possible is you just believe it
Hey who can’t blame me
This is
My life
Not your
So live it to fullest and what’s going to happen is up to me
I’m 18 years old
It’s laid in my hand
There is going to be time when I’m down,
Other time I be all happy and good mood
There is nothing going stop me and going bring me down because they are jerk
Nothing to worry about them, but me
I have no regrets, now I finally forget the pasts and memories of you for good
I feel so good again
Summer has changes me and
My life
If you need me I’m not here right now
I’m out having good time
Seven days a week
I’m going live this way and is
My life
Times where I’m going to lose and win
Is ok I’m fine with it
I go with flow
Is rocking right now and good life I have now
My life

poem by Christina Phan
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Old Madge

Old Madge who is in her late eighties is suffering from failing sight
But her memory it is flawless and she remains lucid and bright
She has vivid memories of her childhood which she feels happy to recall
I've had a good life she will tell you but my childhood years were best of all,
Her two great grand daughters are in their mid teens she says them I often do see
They are kind and lovely young ladies they always have been good to me
Her husband Tom died ten years ago they were married for fifty years
His end it was so slow and painful and memories of him still move her to tears
But she has got on with living life she says we cannot dwell in the past
The present is all that does matter though nothing in life seems to last
She surely is an inspiration the Madges of this World are rare
And though her sight it is slowly fading she is one unburdened by care
She always is happy and cheerful and she looks younger than her age
And from her life experiences she has learned much she surely is a female sage.

poem by Francis Duggan
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A Man Young And Old: XI. From Oedipus At Colonus

Endure what life God gives and ask no longer span;
Cease to remember the delights of youth, travel-wearied aged man;
Delight becomes death-longing if all longing else be vain.

Even from that delight memory treasures so,
Death, despair, division of families, all entanglements of mankind grow,
As that old wandering beggar and these God-hated children know.

In the long echoing street the laughing dancers throng,
The bride is carried to the bridegroom's chamber through torchlight and tumultuous song;
I celebrate the silent kiss that ends short life or long.

Never to have lived is best, ancient writers say;
Never to have drawn the breath of life, never to have looked into the eye of day;
The second best's a gay goodnight and quickly turn away.

poem by William Butler Yeats
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New Adventures

Waking up each morning
starts a new adventure
as the day unfolds.
The miles we travel
always hold something different,
even the people we encounter.
Some are rude and arrogant,
but most are friendly
and will help a stranger
who passes their way.
Some even become
long distant friends
who you hope to meet
again and again,
as your days greet
new adventures throughout your life.

(11 July 2011)

poem by David Harris
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Words Of The Morning/Of The Distant Longing

WORDS OF THE MORNING/ OF THE DISTANT LONGING

Words of the morning
Of the distant longing
For the adventure of setting out again
For the sunlit road
And the long long way between
Where one is now
And where one will be tomorrow-

Words of the morning
For the long road
For the setting out again
Fpr the adventure of life
And the need to be somewhere different
From where one is now-

Words of the morning
For the long adventure
Inside as I sit writing this
Longing for the fresh air and the open road outside
Beyond my locked door.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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So Much Life Longing For More Life

SO MUCH LIFE LONGING FOR MORE LIFE

So much life longing for more life
Wanting to live so much
To feel to experience to know to enjoy to love.

So much life
Others have lived
So much life
I would have lived.

And the life I have lived?
More than I can know or understand
So much of it gone forever.

And all the longing and all the memories
And all the love,
Where is it now?

I have lived so much
And never lived enough
And want to live too much more
And know I will never live enough
And know I have lived so much much more
Than I will ever know again.

Life and more life,
Longing and more longing,
Life- Please God-
Not Death.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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There Is More To Life Than Hard Work

I can't say my life's been a great life that I've been there and I've done that
But I worked in pipe laying crew for Michael Kelleher in Buninyong near Ballarat
And I worked in the late eighties for a firm called C.D.L.
Jack hammering in the heat of Summer when the days were hot as hell.

101 Collins Street Melbourne I remember that address
Not that I enjoyed the work there I remember none the less
Up each morning at five thirty then to work on tram I'd go
And left that building site each evening covered in dust head to toe.

Another four years as tree clearer up by powerlines clearing trees
Operating a cherry picker for such you don't need degrees
For a Travel tower company a growing concern managed by a greedy lot
They still owe me two weeks wages something I have not forgot.

Up working mornings at five thirty between work and travel a twelve hour day
Whilst my so called bosses made their millions I took home bare living pay
Now I take it nice and easy and I'm well off now as I was then
If your bosses make their millions for you there can't be a win

I worked as tree feller in Ireland far away and long ago
In the high woods by the mountains where the peaks wear hats of snow
Most Winter days were wet and chilly up to April not much sunshine
Only sound the cold wind soughing in the larch and spruce and pine.

'Hard work never did anybody harm' to coin that phrase it took a fool
Hard work your life's bound to shorten you can overwork a mule
Hard working Joe is dead at fifty, Pete on welfare living on
Pete five years older and quite healthy he's still here and Joe is gone.

Maybe I've drudged for a few years but I'm not proud of that at all
And if my life has got one highlight such as now I can't recall
And if one tell me how hard he work I tell him my watch is slow
And I'm late for an appointment 'see you later got to go'.

'Ned the basher' at his local like to sing his praises loud
And boast of the hard work he's done to an uninterested crowd,
He's proud to show his work callouses he must have an empty life
But he never once did mention how he often beats his wife

There is more to life than hard work, work to live but not to die
And if you labour hard poor fellow life you never can enjoy
If your boss is making millions and you take home bare living pay
Maybe you should have a re-think and perhaps give the job away.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Marvellous Travel

I travel with my eyes,
Watching those silently cry,
Asking themselves the question why,
Someone left them without saying goodbye;

I travel with my thoughts,
I travel with my pen;
To write about children, women and men;

I travel with my voice,
I travel with my hope,
That something new, would spring into my horoscope,
Whether in Asia, America or Europe,
There'll always be something interesting to scope;

I travel to many different places,
Mix with many races,
Identify tribesmen by their faces,
And little girls by their laces,

I travel without money,
So, please listen to my testimony,
The good, the bad and even the ugly,
Every experience is worth life's journey,

For I'll always be marvelled,
When ever I travel.

poem by Joshua Fernandez
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way Of Life

Now spiritualism is a big part of my life
It doesn't come to us all so how lucky am I
I'm honerd and humble to be chosen for this
I don't take it for granted just as a gift

Now I try to meditate every day
To connect with the spirits high above me
I'm never alone there always near by
When ever I need them I don't need to try

The way I see life is different you see
As the spirit lives on in you and in me
Not everybody believes in the things I do
We all have free will and that includes you

The people I help and the people I meet
From all walks of life some poor and some rich
The feeling you get with emotions so high
Reunited with loved ones from days gone by

Just remember this life-force inside you and me
Has been here before, for eternity
You travel your journey on this path that is set
And if you don't complete it you'll travel it again

So remember this poem when living your life
Be kind to each other, give love and give light
Because living your life should be exciting you see
And living it twice would be a wast to me

By kevin Glenn
20-09-2010

poem by Kevin Glenn
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The Travelerz

I travel with my eyes,
Watching those silently cry,
Asking themselves the question
why,
Someone left them without
saying goodbye;
I travel with my thoughts,
I travel with my pen;
To write about children, women
and men;
I travel with my voice,
I travel with my hope,
That something new, would
spring into my horoscope,
Whether in Asia, America or
Europe,
There'll always be something
interesting to scope;
I travel to many different places,
Mix with many races,
Identify tribesmen by their faces,
And little girls by their laces,
I travel without money,
So, please listen to my testimony,
The good, the bad and even the
ugly,
Every experience is worth life's
journey,
For I'll always be marvelled,
When ever I travel.

poem by Akingbehin Daniel Murphy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Weirdo

As he happily walks down the street
Clapping his hands and shuffling his feet,
Smiling at the people as they walk by
While nodding is head and telling them hi.
Many people laugh and call him a name
So he turns around and walks away in shame,
He knows that he is different and his mind is slow
But why he asks himself, 'am I such a weirdo'.

He meets a pretty woman so he tries to flirt
She laughs at him and gives him more pain to hurt,
She tells him there is something wrong with him
And that he is odd and different than other men.
So he gives her a flower and he sadly walks home
As that is his only solitude when he is alone,
He wonders why she enjoy giving him pain and woe
Then he hates himself; for being such a weirdo.

He dreams nightly that he is like everyone else
But then when he awakes he knows he is himself,
He looks in his mirror and notices what he sees
A very good person that enjoys being happy.
He lives that life until the day that he dies
Never hurts or uses anyone or lived by lies,
God looks and judges that very mans soul
He then says to him, 'son you were never a weirdo'.

RANDY L. McCLAVE

poem by Randy McClave
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I Envy The Migratory Birds

I envy the migratory birds their freedom from Country to Country they fly
Their wings take them to distant places they travel thousands of miles by sky
Their life span is a brief span but they travel far and wide
Above the timeless oceans and miles of countryside
They live an average of thirty Seasons in time not a lengthy span
But they see more of the World than the most trvelled woman or man
I envy them their freedom they fly thousands of miles every year
From the coldness of the Artic to the warm Southern Hemisphere
They are the feathered wanderers they fly from pole to pole
The travel bug is in them till age of them takes toll
In the cool chill of the morning above the southern shore
They fly northwards towards their Artic breeding grounds twelve thousand miles or more
From the warm Southern Hemisphere they are born to migrate
They fly over many time zones and time for them doesn't wait.

poem by Francis Duggan
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The Magic of the Breeze – 32 I used to travel by train

I used to travel by train
Previously too – The travel
At night, the distant lights
The stars in sky, hopeful dreams
The sound of thundering wheels
Singing a song to the rhythm
Of the beat of the heart of steel
The rush of the wind
Standing by the door
I used to think what means all this
The fury and sound, the very travel
The people I used to meet or travel with
No one has been able to erase the sadness
Or ease the pain I feel when traveling
I used to feel all alone by the door
And life speeding by towards the end.
I have enjoyed my travel too
In groups with friends now far apart
I remember days gone by never to come
But, however long the distance
I used to stand at least half the time.
With you I now sit and enjoy
It is no longer a pain
Before travel was business
Travel was necessary and unavoidable
It was an escape sometimes
Just the act of traveling – running away
But, I always had to come back
And face life alone, just alone.
Now, you have shown me
The other side of travel by train
The train is still the train
The people, crowd all are the same
But yet not the very same,
You and I, no one else I see
Time, with it all people, the crowd
Are frozen in time and none exists
Other than just the two of us
I myself am in a dream till the end
Drinking the air and feeling
The breeze and you fill each cell
I no longer think, I only wait
To feel the brush of your touch
And the kiss of the breeze!

poem by Angelina Pandian
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The Old Rhyming Poet

In his early eighties his best days long gone
But the gray haired old poet he keeps penning on
Though many see him as of another time
Sixty years as a poet and still writing in rhyme.

Though not seen as a mentor to the young poets of the town
He once was the Regional Poet Laureate and he knew of renown
When rhyme it was popular a long time ago
And his hair was as dark as the wing of a crow.

Not hard to tell he's known a far better day
The old rhyming poet that the years have left gray
It has been more than five decades since he was in his prime
Eventually we all become victims of time.

In time as in life few things do seem to last
And verses that rhyme are now seen as of the past
But to him to stop writing would be living a lie
And he will be a poet till the day that he die.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Young Zed Next Door

Patrick and Fleur have a baby daughter Arabella a little sister for young Zed next door
And he's so happy with his new born sibling and he himself still so young only four
And when you ask him how's his baby sister with a happy smile he answers she is good
These are the happiest days he will remember the foundation to a good life a happy childhood.

A fair haired boy with a cheerful disposition in years from now doubtless he will recall
His happy days in Watt street in Wonthaggi for good childhood memories are the best of all
His life journey may take him from Wonthaggi and he yet may live in a Land far away
But the miracle of the birth of Arabella through his life span with him destined to stay.

Young Zed next door is learning about Nature how birds and bees take nectar from the flowers
The honeyeaters sing in the back garden and magpie blows his flute in Spring's green hours
In Nature's garden natural growth is vibrant and blossoms bloom after the brief Spring showers
And childhood like Spring is such a time of beauty children's lives so spiritual when compared to ours.

I envy Zed his joy and innocence of childhood his young and happy soul full of sunshine
Long years ago and in a different country such joy and happiness was also mine
In Spring the World around me full of beauty and the lark was carolling in the clear blue sky
And wild brown bees out busy gathering nectar buzzing above the fields of Lisnaboy.

Young Zed next door is full of life and vigour he's such a cheerful and a happy boy
And the miracle of the birth of his young sister Arabella is
a thing he will look back on and enjoy
And in years from now these times he will remember though from Wonthaggi he may live far away
For happy childhood memories are the best of memories and through our life span with us tend to stay.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Get to Stepping and Adventure Your Life

Travel on!
My brothers.
Travel on...
My sisters, fathers, mothers.
And others who recover,
From disturbance they discover.

Travel on...
All you people under steeples,
Who can not get off your knees.
As your backs are burden with such guilt,
To plead forgiveness endlessly.

Travel on...
To see your life as it should be.
Unlimited with happiness!
Believe it and receive.