Started to Fly
Every morning I try to travel some red dirt roads
I always listen closely to what they have to say
Normally red dirt roads are very safe to travel
Until one morning a motorcycle started my way
My guiding voice said this may be your end
You my friend have traveled your last mile,
All of a sudden the motorcycle started to fly
As it flew over my head, all I could do is smile
poem by John McCornack
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His Red Dirt Life
So many red dirt roads he’s traveled
Along his long red dirt life
Children born and raised with
His charming red dirt wife
A home was built and furnished
Upon his red dirt land
He’s done the very best he could
Always taking a red dirt stand
Red dirt roads that lead up to
A bridge to the other side
He tries to go right with the flow
Along life’s red dirt ride
And during that ride it seems
There are some pot holes in the road
But he just keep pluggin’ along you see
Just carrying his red dirt load
The streams and valleys continue
Until the end of his red dirt time
And when the sun beats down on him
He loves to see that red dirt shine!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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A Red Dirt Windmill
There are so many wonderful things
You’ll see in a red dirt world
Like windmills of all sizes
Their blades just whirl and whirl
The pasturelands are brilliant
As you see cattle roam around
And still you hear the noises
Of a windmill sort of sound
Delightful old country homes
Built many years ago
Surrounded by red dirt roads
They help the world to flow
Wild flowers growing ‘long side
Those ambling roads so red
That I could travel all day long
Until time to go to bed
If you’ve never been on red dirt
Or seen a Red Dirt Windmill
Just try it and see what you think
You are in for quite a thrill!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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Early Morning Snore
It starts of just before four am
with a put, put, put of an old Volkswagen,
and then descended into
a motorcycle engine on idle
with a tick-a-tick-a-tick
before revving up a notch
into an motorcycles engines roar.
Hence, my other half was at it again
with her early morning snore.
Like everyone, she denies that she ever snores.
Each morning like a regular alarm clock,
she starts her snoring engine
and I quickly vacate the bed,
it is my only escape to peace,
away from a motorcycle engine
roaring inches from my head.
One day I got out my portable Dictaphone
and started recording her,
when I played it back
she said I had recorded out in the street somewhere.
Now I am an early riser,
and who wouldn’t be
with a motorcycle engine roaring
just inches away from your ear.
12 December 2009
poem by David Harris
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Roads We Travel
There are many roads we travel
And probably most we leave behind
We continue to walk ahead of us
New fresh roads we want to find
And sometimes we wonder
If we took the best road we could
If we could erase them and start over
We often think perhaps we would
Some roads we travel often though
Off and on throughout the years
They get worn and sad and weary
And we shed so many tears
But we try to put them behind us
And trudge bravely on ahead
Trying very heard to not look back
But find great new roads instead
So no matter where we’ve been
As our lives we continue to unravel
We all just try to do our best
With the many roads we travel!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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Red Dirt Cowgirl
Nature grows the weeds and grasses
The wind whips the horse's mane.
They travel, horse and a pretty cowgirl
Through a land that starts with Maine
There is no trail that they follow
No red dirt roads to be seen
Here they travel, horse and rider
Upon the endless fields of green
Is this real, or is this make believe
The horse glides on through the night
Searching ever searching for red dirt
With a neon moon providing the only light
Is this real, or is this make believe
Will a red dirt road become a reality
We look toward the western sky
And feel the sweat as the wind rushes by
There on a distance horizon... Wow!
Is that fabulous red dirt road ever so proud
Just across a few more fields and streams
Is that ultimate answer to our many dreams
poem by John McCornack
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Red Dirt Cows
Inquisitive cows in a red dirt pasture with a train car
It is a special sight to enjoy even when you travel far
It seems almost like going home for I have been told
Therefore will continue to travel on this red dirt road
By looking left, looking right, and maybe southwest
Wih my digital camera ready to photograph the best
And if the creeks continue to stay within their banks
I will find more red dirt for which I will give thanks
poem by John McCornack
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0305 Dylan (1)
the motorcycle leans
the motorcycle swerves
...the motorcycle just don't
give a damn
about anything
(Robert Zimmerman,1960)
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The road not taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
poem by Robert Frost (1916)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Broken Bridges, Broken roads
BROKEN BRIDGES, BROKEN ROADS:
I'm crossing broken bridges,
to travel broken roads.
Where they will take me,
I don't exactly know.
Nothing here to stop me,
so down this road I go.
I will follow the rivers,
where ever they may flow.
Meet me out there,
where our roads and bridges cross.
I'll bring what i can,
consider the rest a loss.
I will meet you there,
at whatever cost.
Together,
We will cross broken bridges,
to travel broken roads.
where they will take us,
I don't exactly know.
poem by Amber Swiney
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Motorcycle Mama
Motorcycle mama
Wont you lay your big spike down
Motorcycle mama
Wont you lay your big spike down
I always get in trouble when you bring it round
Motorcycle mama
Wont you lay it down.
Im runnin, Im runnin, Im runnin
Down the proud highway
Yeah, Im runnin, Im runnin, Im runnin
Down the proud highway
And as long as I keep movin
I wont need a place to stay.
Motorcycle mama
Wont you lay your big spike down
Motorcycle mama
Wont you lay your big spike down
I always get in trouble when you bring that round
Motorcycle mama
Wont you lay it down.
Well Im here to deliver
I hope you can read my mail
I just escaped last night
From the memory county jail
I see your box is open
And you flag is up
My message is ready
If theres time enough.
Motorcycle mama
Wont you lay your big spike down
Motorcycle mama
Wont you lay your big spike down
I always get in trouble when you bring it round
Motorcycle mama
Wont you lay it down.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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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
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These Roads
Walking thru these streets
meeting crossroads of hope and some of loss
will i take the right road
will i venture into the curves and bumps carved into the foundation formed from years of repetitive travel
I am not the only one who travels these roads
passing by with tears in their eyes are ones who travel with hope in their hearts to find that glimpse of happiness and sanity in for which they look
I must indure my sentance of weary travel
my friend we shall not travel this road alone
take my hand for we shall walk this road together till we reach the end.
poem by Amanda Testino
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These Roads
Walking thru these streets
meeting crossroads of hope and some of loss
will i take the right road
will i venture into the curves and bumps carved into the foundation formed from years of repetitive travel
I am not the only one who travels these roads
passing by with tears in their eyes are ones who travel with hope in their hearts to find that glimpse of happiness and sanity in for which they look
I must indure my sentance of weary travel
my friend we shall not travel this road alone
take my hand for we shall walk this road together till we reach the end.
poem by Amanda Marie Testino
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Harbinger Of Fate
In the roads we travel,
our destination is always
a tiny speck on the horizon
where it meets the greeting dawn.
Many of the roads we travel down
a harbinger of fate waits for us there
to change our destiny
from the one we have chosen.
They stand a hitchhiker
along the lonely miles
waiting for us to stop
to give them a lift.
Stopping will be our fate decided
before our destination met.
poem by David Harris
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Roadways
Roads are making sense to the citizenry,
Can they travel long distances?
Can thoughts enter a ghastly mind
Which melts under the sun, in the brain?
Roads will enthuse the community at large
And affect their moods and climate of opinion.
Shall we certainly reject the injured?
They, the leprosy, are against roads.
But we are the fit to celebrate the country
By going to it, by managing safety on the roads.
Each road is greatly admired and minds are helped
By the heat of the sun and all it emits.
poem by Naveed Akram
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It's A Hard Road
I jumped on the train
I left this old town
I escaped the rain
I'm no longer down
The wheels start to turn
My worries are gone
I have lots to learn
About the trail that I'm on
As I look around
I see my new friend
I know I am bound
To travel till the end
I'll travel south and I'll travel north
I'll travel east and I'll travel west
I just want to find the road that is best
The train it did slow
I'm in a new place
The moonlight does glow
On my tired face
It's time for me
To try and find a bed
It's time for me
To rest my weary head
Morning is here
There's sorting to do
I'll sound sincere
With my goodbye to you
I'll travel south and I'll travel north
I'll travel east and I'll travel west
I just want to find the road that is best
It's time to move away
I'm not satisfied
I've spent many a day
Finding a place to reside
There's a town on my mind
It's just down the track
No need to find
A way to get back
The train I will get
Sitting at the station
The future is set
I feel anticipation
I'll travel south and I'll travel north
I'll travel east and I'll travel west
I just want to find the road that is best
poem by Liam Hughes
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My travels in the hell
It is hard and so teadius travel to me
though my travel is a nice car
The roads, I ve travelled seems as hell
Just a road with out green trees in the sides
Only wheeled animels flown here and there and
exhausting a large volume of black smoke
No flowers, and the musics of little sky singers
only the roarings of metallic wilds, I heard
One second, I stopped and
felt this travel as the travel in the hell
poem by Sakthi Ravichandran
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Bedside Manner
Standing by your bed,
I watch you read the dreams,
Dreams I’ve wished and bled.
And I wonder how you live,
Holding thought within your head.
Daring to travel roads,
Down paths I fear to tread.
Still I wait to watch you in motion,
While I can only stand by your bed.
Watching you read my dreams,
Dreams I’ve wished and bled.
And I wonder how I’ve lived,
Forever holding these thoughts within my head.
Scared to travel paths,
Roads you’ve built with stead.
How I wish to lay with you, upon that bed.
poem by David Harrison
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Travel Mode
I went to Wal Mart this morning
My very favorite store
I looked around the parking lot
Before I went through the door
There were semi’s parked there
And many travel trailers as well
Motor homes pulled in for the night
By the time the darkness fell
My heart started beating fast
But it’ll be next year before I can load
My 33’ trailer for another vacation
And get back into the travel mode!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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