My Wild Love
My wild love went ridin
She rode all the day
She wrote to the devil
And asked him to pay
The devil was wiser
Its time to repent
He asked her to give back
The money she spent
My wild love went ridin
She rode to the sea
She gathered together
Some shells for her head
She rode and she rode on
She rode for a while
Then stopped for an evenin
And lay her head down
She rode on to christmas
She rode to the farm
She rode to japan
And re-entered a town
By this time the weather
Had changed one degree
She asked for the people
To let her go free
My wild love is crazy
She screams like a bird
She moans like a cat
When she wants to be heard
My wild love went ridin
She rode for an hour
She stopped and she rested
And then she rode on
Ride, cmon
song performed by by Doors
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
The Traveller
As I rode in to Burrumbeet,
I met a man with funny feet;
And, when I paused to ask him why
His feet were strange, he rolled his eye
And said the rain would spoil the wheat;
So I rode on to Burrumbeet.
As I rode in to Beetaloo,
I met a man whose nose was blue;
And when I asked him how he got
A nose like that, he answered, "What
Do bullocks mean when they say 'Moo'?"
So I rode on to Beetaloo.
As I rode in to Ballarat,
I met a man who wore no hat;
And, when I said he might take cold,
He cried, "The hills are quite as old
As yonder plains, but not so flat."
So I rode on to Ballarat.
As I rode in to Gundagai,
I met a man and passed him by
Without a nod, without a word.
He turned, and said he'd never heard
Or seen a man so wise as I.
But I rode on to Gundagai.
As I rode homeward, full of doubt,
I met a stranger riding out:
A foolish man he seemed to me;
But, "Nay, I am yourself," said he,
"Just as you were when you rode out."
So I rode homeward, free of doubt.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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When I left home, I was going to ride around a little while and then go to my mom's. As I rode and rode and rode, I felt even more anxiety coming upon me about not wanting to live.
quote by Susan Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Hidden Heart
AS I rode out of Lochinvar
About me all the scene was fair;
The skies, with not a cloud to mar,
Were filled with fresh and dewy air,
While making song, a merry throng,
The thrushes warbled everywhere.
As I rode out of Lochinvar
Through Fairydom I seemed to go,
For round about, and near and far,
Enchanted lights began to glow;
And where I went, on what intent,
And who I was I did not know!
For lo, I met a troubadour
As I rode out of Lochinvar;
His like on earth is seen no more,
With feathered hat and gay guitar;
And loud and clear, and sweet to hear,
He sang a song of love and war.
As I rode out of Lochinvar
He sang a song I somehow knew,
The while he touched his gay guitar;
And when I asked him, 'Who are you?'
'Yourself!' he said — and bowed his head,
And vanished like the morning dew.
Though I may see him nevermore,
This much in very truth I ken,
That one, at heart a troubadour,
May seem a sober citizen,
Who sets afar his gay guitar
To seem just like his fellow men.
poem by Roderic Quinn
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He Rode On a Bus
Since he rode on a bus,
They believed him to be without powerful allies.
Since he rode on a bus,
They believed him to be limited in influence.
Since he rode on a bus,
And lived amongst the poor and not the rich...
He was disrespected more.
But only a few knew,
His worth was more than this.
Even though his funds were limited.
And since he chose to ride on a bus,
He knew he could do what he wished.
His life was not lived to acquire material possessions.
His life was lived for him...
To enjoy every bit of it.
Being there with the people,
As his experience.
And if he rode on a bus...
That was a piece of 'his' happiness.
No explanations did he have to make,
Since for him this was a perfect fit.
Unlike the others,
Who expressed pretentions...
Every chance they would get.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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~! ! ~! ! ~! ! ~! ! ~! My City
Night rode pillion* in city
Where neighbours meet;
Only in seminars
Night rode pillion in city
Where mortar of fear
Hold bricks together
Night rode pillion in city
Where only sex can be
Legally traded for hunger
Night rode pillion in city
Whose beaches have to answer?
For their wet look
Night rode pillion in city
Where green n white hangs in shame
Rest brazenly flutter
Night rode pillion
Holy are the whores and
righteous are hounded
Night rode pillion in city
Where pillion riding is banned
Night rode pillion in city
Where I mooched sex
From my wife dressed in outage
Night rode pillion in city
Which gulped my love
Without a burp
Night rode pillion in city
Where mothers are kept collateral
To buy some text msgs and gas:
So that night may clandestinely
Ride pillion
* On of the commonest of Karachi’s sight and sounds is a motorbike. It would invariably have a young rider with his friend pillion riding. Pillion riding is a source of entertainment for majority of youth who prowl the city street overnight on their two-wheeler be it a religious, cultural or national occasion or an electrical outage. It is a most usual vehicle for street crimes like drive by shooting, cell phone/car snatching etc. Wrote this during outage when some thousand miles away someone’s “ceiling swam in shadows black when seen through hollow moisture laden eyes.
poem by Frank Lisa IndiRa Francesca Roger Platt Cornish Ma
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I'm a lonely cowboy part one
A LONELY COWBOY, PART ONE
I'm a lonely cowboy, riding all alone,
I'm a lonely cowboy, no love to call my own,
I ride the lonely canyons and the mountains all day long,
looking for the cattle, and singing my lonely song,
no matter where I wander, no matter where I roam,
no matter where I'm riding, I still have no home,
no one to care about me, no one to hold my hand,
I'm just a lonely cowboy, I'm just a lonely man,
I talk to my only companion, I tell him how I feel,
that I want a sweetheart, I want a love thats real,
then he lets out a nicker to say he understands,
that I'm a lonely cowboy, I'm a lonely man,
it's the kind of life I'm living, the kind of life I've had,
it's why the songs I'm singing always seem so sad,
one day she will find me, the one I'm looking for,
then my life of sadness will finally all be o'er.
someone to share the sorrow, someone to share the joy,
someone to fill the emptiness, in this lonely cowboy,
I rode up in Montana, down in Texas too,
I'm going to keep on drifting, till I find a love thats true,
I rode in Colorado, and in Kansas just as well,
I rode in Nebraska my life a lonely hell,
I rode in Arizona and in New Mexico,
then in Oklahoma till I finally had to go
I rode in Wyoming, I rode in old Utah,
I rode in Missouri, now I'll go to Arkansas,
maybe I'll find her in the mountains
or in the high plains,
the woman that I've been needing, to take away my pain,
there will be no other, in this heart of mine,
I know I'll love her only, until the end of time.
written by Harry Bryant
4/16/03 7: 30: 53 AM �
all rights reserved
poem by Harry Bryant
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A White Horse Of The Most Magical Kind
She rode a white horse,
rode it for sanity;
galloped and cantered
with rhythmic consistency,
walked for a while
along glistening streams
and trotted through dark woods
with the darkest of dreams.
Bridled with a need to express
she rode east and rode west,
never stopping or ceasing her quest,
until she reached
the most beautiful shore,
of a beach of white sand
with a moon in the sky
that reached with its moonlight
into her heart, that had cried.
She dismounted the horse
and danced on the sands
with stars in her eyes;
pure love in her hands.
She looked at her horse
praised it and said
'a horse such as you
is a magical find
a horse that's named poetry
is the most wonderful kind.'
poem by David Taylor
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Different Sunset.
Kempton was one of your
Best friends at school he
Was a year older than you
And having had polio it left
Him with a limp and when
He ran it seemed as if he was
Riding an imaginary horse
And to keep up with him
You had to ride one too.
Your horse was brown
And ordinary but his was
White like the one the Lone
Ranger rode and when you
Both came out of the movies
You rode off into the sunset
Together you trying to keep
Up with him as he rode ahead.
You envied his small collection
Of knives. His father brought
Them back from the WW2 taken
From dead Germans and they
Were laid out in his bedroom
Like a small treasure trove big
And small ones and your eyes
Ran over them bound down
With an inner envy. All you had
Was a small penknife which you
Bought out of pocket money
You’d earned running errands
And kept in the loop of your jeans
Where the belt went through.
Kempton rode off into another
Bright sunset from you in 1961.
You think of him now and then
Riding into a different sunset
A young boy amongst old men.
poem by Terry Collett
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Mostly it would be those who rode in a particular even would hang out with those who rode in the same event.
quote by Chris LeDoux
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The King
They rode right out of the morning sun--
A glimmering, glittering cavalcade
Of knights and ladies and every one
In princely sheen arrayed;
And the king of them all, O he rode ahead,
With a helmet of gold, and a plume of red
That spurted about in the breeze and bled
In the bloom of the everglade.
And they rode high over the dewy lawn,
With brave, glad banners of every hue
That rolled in ripples, as they rode on
In splendor, two and two;
And the tinkling links of the golden reins
Of the steeds they rode rang such refrains
As the castanets in a dream of Spain's
Intensest gold and blue.
And they rode and rode; and the steeds they neighed
And pranced, and the sun on their glossy hides
Flickered and lightened and glanced and played
Like the moon on rippling tides;
And their manes were silken, and thick and strong,
And their tails were flossy, and fetlock-long,
And jostled in time to the teeming throng,
And their knightly song besides.
Clank of scabbard and jingle of spur,
And the fluttering sash of the queen went wild
In the wind, and the proud king glanced at her
As one at a wilful child--,
And as knight and lady away they flew,
And the banners flapped, and the falcon too,
And the lances flashed and the bugle blew,
He kissed his hand and smiled.
And then, like a slanting sunlit shower,
The pageant glittered across the plain,
And the turf spun back, and the wildweed flower
Was only a crimson stain.
And a dreamer's eyes they are downward cast,
As he blends these words with the wailing blast:
'It is the King of the Year rides past!'
And Autumn is here again.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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A Sorta Fairytale
on my way up north
up on the ventura
i pulled back the hood
and i was talking to you
and i knew then it would be
a life long thing
but i didn't know that we
we could break a silver lining
and i'm so sad
like a good book
i can't put this day back
a sorta fairytale
with you
a sorta fairytale
with you
things you said that day
up on the 101
the girl had come undone
i tried to downplay it
with a bet about us
you said that-
you'd take it
as long as i could
i could not erase it
and i'm so sad
like a good book
i can't put this day back
a sorta fairytale
with you
a sorta fairytale
with you
and i ride along side
and i rode along side
you then
and i rode along side
till you lost me there
in the open road
and i rode along side
till the honey spread
itself so thin
for me to break your bread
for me to take your word
i had to steal it
and i'm so sad
like a good book
i can't put this day back
a sorta fairytale
with you
a sorta fairytale
with you
i could pick back up
whenever i feel
down new mexico way
something about
the open road
i knew that he was
looking for some indian blood and
find a little in you find a little
in me we may be
on this road but
we're just
impostors
in this country you know
so we go along and we said
we'd fake it
feel better with
oliver stone
till i
almost smacked him -
seemed right that night and
i don't know what
takes hold
out there in the
desert cold
these guys think they must
try and just get over on us
and i'm so sad
like a good book
i can't put this
day back
a sorta fairytale
with you
a sorta fairytale
with you
and i was ridin' by
ridin' along side
for a while till you lost me
and i was ridin' by
ridin' along till you lost me
till you lost
me in
the rear
view
you lost me
i said
way up north i took my day
all in all was a pretty nice
day and i put the hood
right back where
you could taste heaven
perfectly
feel out the summer breeze
didn't know when we'd be back
and i
song performed by by Tori Amos from Scarlet's Walk
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Vision of Youth
A horseman on a hilltop green
Drew rein, and wound his horn;
So bright he looked he might have been
The Herald of the Morn.
His steed was of the sovran strain
In Fancy’s meadows bred—
And pride was in his tossing mane,
And triumph in his tread.
The rider’s eyes like jewels glowed—
The World was in his hand—
As down the woodland way he rode
When Spring was in the land.
From golden hour to golden hour
For him the woodland sang.
And from the heart of every flower
A singing fairy sprang.
He rode along with rein so free,
And, as he rode, the Blue
Mysterious Bird of Fantasy
Ever before him flew.
He rode by cot and castle dim
Through all the greenland gay;
Bright eyes through casements glanced at him:
He laughed—and rode away.
The world with sunshine was aflood,
And glad were maid and man,
And through his throbbing veins the blood
In keen, sweet shudders ran.
His steed tossed head with fiery scorn,
And stamped, and snuffed the air—
As though he heard a sudden horn
Of far-off battle blare.
Erect the rider sat awhile
With flashing eyes, and then
Turned slowly, sighing, with a smile,
“0 weary world of men!”
For aye the Bird of Fantasy
Sang magic songs to him,
And deeper and deeper still rode he
Into the Forest Dim.
That rider with his face aglow
With joy of life I see
In dreams. Ah, years and years ago
He parted ways with me!
Yet, sometimes, when the days are drear
And all the world forlorn,
From out the dim wood’s heart I hear
The echo of his horn.
poem by Victor James Daley
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Bars Of The County Jail
Gather you all and listen here
Ill tell you a tale if you lend me an ear
I rode a horse through many a town
But the devil rode me down to the ground
I was to marry a very rich girl
I loved her as only I can
But the father was shot and his gold was stoled
And now Im the devils man, na na na
And now I sing a tail of woe
Through the bars of the county jail
I walked into the room one night
I found her mother and gun
Well the man was dead and I kneeled and cried
The sheriff ran in and said Im holding you, son
Through the day I sing and play
For time is on my side
But when the moon and stars come out
I lay me down and cry
For the saviour mar I lied
Now I will not have a ride
Beside the window the scaffold was made
On the morrow I will hang
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Cowboy Song
Pushin horns werent easy like the movie said it was
And I dont recall no dance hall girls
Or hotel rooms with rugs
You worked hot and tired and nasty
Rode your ponys head too low
There were all the nights you couldnt sleep
cause it was too damn cold
And youd sing strawberry roan and little joe
Like the time we hit the river
And the rains began to fall
And the water was risin so damn fast
We thought itd drown us all
We lost a lot of steers that day
And four to five good mounts
But when all the boys rode into camp
We knew thats what counts
And we sang, yippie ti yi yay and amazing grace.
Or the night they broke behind us
And then took us by surprise
I whistled out to bonner, I seen the terror in his eyes
And he rode for all his horse would ride
And I know he done his best
But he crossed over jordan ridin dunny to his death
And we sang bringing in the sheaves and the rugged cross
So when you see the cowboy, hes not ragged by his choice
He never meant to bow them legs
Or put that gravel in his voice
Hes just chasin what he really loves
And whats burnin in his soul
Wishin to God that hed benn born a hundred years ago
Still singin strawberry roan and little joe
song performed by by Garth Brooks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Girl On A Motorbike.........
She rode a powerful
Motorbike, crossed
Two countries in europe
Inside one hour,
Parked the bike
Near a public garden,
Walked to the bench,
To be hugged
By a forty year old,
Her lover and professor,
Laid on the bench
At seven in the morning,
Made mad love with him,
Stood up, buckled her
Windcheater and rode
Away back to her college
Which she did for four years
Almost every day
Till she did her graduation.
Ravikran Arakkal
poem by Ravikiran Arakkal
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The Charge Of The Light Brigade
HALF a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
'Forward, the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns!' he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
'Forward, the Light Brigade!'
Was there a man dismay'd ?
Not tho' the soldier knew
Some one had blunder'd:
Their's not to make reply,
Their's not to reason why,
Their's but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.
Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro' the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reel'd from the sabre-stroke
Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death,
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.
When can their glory fade ?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wonder'd.
Honour the charge they made!
Honour the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred!
.
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Mary Lemaine
Jim Duff was a ‘native,’as wild as could be;
A stealer and duffer of cattle was he,
But back in his youth he had stolen a pearl—
Or a diamond rather—the heart of a girl;
She served with a squatter who lived on the plain,
And the name of the girl it was Mary Lemaine.
’Twas a drear, rainy day and the twilight was done,
When four mounted troopers rode up to the run.
They spoke to the squatter—he asked them all in.
The homestead was small and the walls they were thin;
And in the next room, with a cold in her head,
Our Mary was sewing on buttons—in bed.
She heard a few words, but those words were enough—
The troopers were all on the track of Jim Duff.
The super, his rival, was planning a trap
To capture the scamp in Maginnis’s Gap.
‘I’ve warned him before, and I’ll do it again;—
I’ll save him to-night,’ whispered Mary Lemaine.
No petticoat job—there was no time to waste,
The suit she was mending she slipped on in haste,
And five minutes later they gathered in force,
But Mary was off, on the squatter’s best horse;
With your hand on your heart, just to deaden the pain,
Ride hard to the ranges, brave Mary Lemaine!
She rode by the ridges all sullen and strange,
And far up long gullies that ran through the range,
Till the rain cleared away, and the tears in her eyes
Caught the beams of the moon from Maginnis’s Rise.
A fire in the depths of the gums she espied,
‘Who’s there?’ shouted Jim. ‘It is Mary!’she cried.
Next morning the sun rose in splendour again,
And two loving sinners rode out on the plain.
And baffled, and angry, and hungry and damp,
The four mounted troopers rode back to the camp.
But they hushed up the business—the reason is plain,
They all had been ‘soft’ on fair Mary Lemaine.
The squatter got back all he lost from his mob,
And old Sergeant Kennedy winked at the job.
Jim Duff keeps a shanty far out in the west,
And the sundowners call it the ‘Bushranger’s Rest.’
But the bushranger lives a respectable life,
And the law never troubles Jim Duff or his wife,
poem by Henry Lawson
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The Border Town
An old caballero with his worn out sombrero
came riding into town.
The town had been banished. Everyone vanished.
It seems there was no one around.
The buildings were broken. No words were heard spoken.
Everyone now was all gone.
He'd once had a wife here and children with life here.
The banditos had come, killed and rode on.
He'd been away. He'd gone hunting that day
and returned to the grisly sight.
He'd buried his wife and his bambinos three
and rode away into the night.
He lived with the thought that he could have fought
if only he had been there.
The thought had ruined him and it consumed him
It was more than he could bear.
The shot from the gun was heard by no one.
He died right next to their grave.
He'd prayed to his God to forgive him
and that his soul He would save.
.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Pretty Peggy-o
As we rode out to fennario, as we rode on to fennario
Our captain fell in love with a lady like a dove
And called her by a name, pretty peggy-o.
Will you marry me pretty peggy-o, will you marry me pretty peggy-o
If you will marry me, Ill set your cities free
And free all the ladies in the are-o.
I would marry you sweet william-o, I would marry you sweet william-o
I would marry you but your guineas are too few
And I fear my mama would be angry-o.
What would your mama think pretty peggy-o,
What would your mama think pretty peggy-o,
What would your mama think if she heard my guineas clink
Saw me marching at the head of my soldiers.
If ever I return pretty peggy-o, if ever I return pretty peggy-o
If ever I return your cities I will burn
Destroy all the ladies in the area-o.
Come steppin down the stairs pretty peggy-o,
Come steppin down the stairs pretty peggy-o,
Come steppin down the stairs combin back your yellow hair
Bid a last farewell to your william-o.
Sweet william he is dead pretty peggy-o, sweet william he is dead pretty peggy-o,
Sweet william he is dead and he died for a maid
And hes buried in the louisiana country-o.
As we rode out to fennario, as we rode out to fennario
Our captain fell in love with a lady like a dove,
And called her by a name, pretty peggy-o.
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Faces Of Death
Rode a motorbike in the rain
rode it wild and fast
soon as now I shall feel the pain
when I shatter like crystal glass.
I’m so tired I’m so tired
clouds race across the sky.
I saw a man I saw a man
a man about to die.
I’ve lived too long lived too long
too much I’ve seen have I.
As broken he lay dying
alone on an alien shore
the birds all stopped singing
till after, he would breathe no more.
Silence sharp profound
until rain fell like tears,
upon the ground.
Sheltering the peace he wears
a soothing healing sound
washing away anguish of cruel years.
To those who gave
understanding beauty love.
A blessing that will save
the end is not the grave.
To those who crushed or killed
the blood of innocence
cries loud and shrill.
This is no secret not to know
in humility teach and show.
In the hall of recorded memories,
restitution judgment is at hand.
Every act, anywhere, ever done,
conscience imposes on the man.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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