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Little by little, one travels far.

quote by J.R.R. Tolkien
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The Winners

("The Story of the Gadsbys")

What the moral? Who rides may read.
When the night is thick and the tracks are blind
A friend at a pinch is a friend, indeed,
But a fool to wait for the laggard behind.
Down to Gehenna or up to the Throne,
He travels the fastest who travels alone.

White hands cling to the tightened rein,
Slipping the spur from the booted heel,
Tenderest voices cry " Turn again!"
Red lips tarnish the scabbarded steel,
High hopes faint on a warm hearth-stone--
He travels the fastest who travels alone.

One may fall but he falls by himself--
Falls by himself with himself to blame.
One may attain and to him is pelf--
Loot of the city in Gold or Fame.
Plunder of earth shall be all his own
Who travels the fastest and travels alone.

Wherefore the more ye be helpen-.en and stayed,
Stayed by a friend in the hour of toil,
Sing the heretical song I have made--
His be the labour and yours be the spoil.
Win by his aid and the aid disown--
He travels the fastest who travels alone!

poem by Rudyard Kipling
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True Love Travels On A Gravel Road

(words & music by frazier - owens)
How many girls choose cotton dress worlds
When they could have satins and lace
And stand by her man, never once letting shade touch her face
How many hearts could live through all the winters
Weve known and still not be cold
True love travels on a gravel road.
Love is a stranger and hearts are in danger
All through streets paved with gold
For true love travels on a gravel road.
Down through the years weve had hard times and tears
But they only helped our love grow
And well stay together no matter how strong the wind blows
Not once have I seen your blue eyes filled with envy
Or stray from the one that you hold
Oh true love travels on a gravel road.
Love is a stranger and hearts are in danger
All through streets paved with gold
For true love travels on a gravel road.
Yeah, true love travels on a gravel road. mmmm
True love travels on a gravel road.
True love travels on a gravel road.

song performed by Elvis Presley
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True Love Travels On A Gravel Road (Takes 6,7)

How many girls choose cotton dress worlds
When they could have satins and lace
And stand by her man, never once letting shade touch her face
How many hearts could live through all the winters
We've known and still not be cold
True love travels on a gravel road.
Love is a stranger and hearts are in danger
All through streets paved with gold
For true love travels on a gravel road.
Down through the years we've had hard times and tears
But they only helped our love grow
And we'll stay together no matter how strong the wind blows
Not once have I seen your blue eyes filled with envy
Or stray from the one that you hold
Oh true love travels on a gravel road.
Love is a stranger and hearts are in danger
All through streets paved with gold
For true love travels on a gravel road.
Yeah, true love travels on a gravel road. Mmmm
True love travels on a gravel road.
True love travels on a gravel road.

song performed by Elvis Presley
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The Traveller

Reply to Rudyard Kipling’s ‘He travels the fastest who travels alone.’

Who travels alone with his eye on the heights,
Though he laughs in the day time oft weeps on the nights;

For courage goes down at the set of the sun,
When the toil of the journey is all borne by one.

He speeds but to grief though full gaily he ride
Who travels alone without love at his side.

Who travels alone without lover of friend
But hurries from nothing, to naught at the end.

Though great be his winnings and high be his goal,
He is bankrupt in wisdom and beggared in soul.

Life’s one gift of value to him is denied
Who travels alone without love at his side.

It is easy enough in this world to make haste
If one live for that purpose – but think of the waste;

For life is a poem to leisurely read,
And the joy of the journey lies not in its speed.

Oh! vain his achievement and petty his pride
Who travels alone without love at his side.

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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This River

Reflections in the water, flowing,
Directions for the way, its knowing,
Connections with the breeze that’s blowing,
As this river travels on.

Confusion as the birds do flutter,
Intrusion and some shrews do scutter,
Profusion of flies, fish do splutter,
As this river travels on.

Creation of wealth there to be seen,
Location perfect, beauty serene,
Elation, sparkling aquamarine,
As this river travels on.

poem by Ernestine Northover
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She's Saving Me

we were sitting round a dying fire
somebody lit incense
somebody lit a cigarette
and passed a bottle around
it was just strawberry season
backbreaking pickers in the patches
everythings burning down to ashes
and down to the ground
she's saving me
i don't even think she knows it
it's a strange way to show it as distant as
last nights dream unravels
she's saving me
i'm a very lost soul
i was born with a hole in my heart
the size of my land locked travels
i try to put it aside
but it's too much bigger than me
there's a big brown hawk in the tree
lighting and leaving
and there's tea leaves tossing
heads up pennies in my pocket
dead star like a rocket
the arc of my grieving
she's saving me
i don't even think she knows it
its a strange way to show it
as distant as last nights dream unravels
she's saving me
i'm a very lost soul
i was born with a hole in my heart
the size of my land locked travels
the sky pours out biblical rain
then days so still the beauty gives you pain
the heatwave kills the green
and she remains unseen
but colors up my dreams
with all things blooming
this is not all there is
it's not a kingdom
it's not an angry god
it feels like her
it feels like no fear
it feels like no doubt
it feels like inside out
the ashes stir
she's saving me
i don't even think she knows it
such a strange way to show it as distant as
last nights dream unravels

[...] Read more

song performed by Indigo Girls
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An Old Tyre (Fun Poem 79)

Someone had discarded an old tyre.
It was all battered and worn.
As I stared at it, I wondered
of what journeys it had been on.
How far had it gone,
and if it had seen
some interesting places on its travels around?
That old tyre discarded on the ground.
When I think of the travels
we make in our car each day,
I bet that old tyre would have a lot to say.
However, it is abandoned,
no use to anyone.
When I looked the next day and the tyre was gone.
Overnight it must have stood up
and rolled along on more travels I presume.
Therefore, this ends the tale of an old tyre,
which was discarded on the ground.

14 May 2008

poem by David Harris
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The Task: Book IV. -- The Winter Evening

Hark! ‘tis the twanging horn o’er yonder bridge,
That with its wearisome but needful length
Bestrides the wintry flood, in which the moon
Sees her unwrinkled face reflected bright;—
He comes, the herald of a noisy world,
With spatter’d boots, strapp’d waist, and frozen locks;
News from all nations lumbering at his back.
True to his charge, the close-pack’d load behind,
Yet, careless what he brings, his one concern
Is to conduct it to the destined inn,
And, having dropp’d the expected bag, pass on.
He whistles as he goes, light-hearted wretch,
Cold and yet cheerful: messenger of grief
Perhaps to thousands, and of joy to some;
To him indifferent whether grief or joy.
Houses in ashes, and the fall of stocks,
Births, deaths, and marriages, epistles wet
With tears, that trickled down the writer’s cheeks
Fast as the periods from his fluent quill,
Or charged with amorous sighs of absent swains,
Or nymphs responsive, equally affect
His horse and him, unconscious of them all.
But O the important budget! usher’d in
With such heart-shaking music, who can say
What are its tidings? have our troops awaked?
Or do they still, as if with opium drugg’d,
Snore to the murmurs of the Atlantic wave?
Is India free? and does she wear her plumed
And jewell’d turban with a smile of peace,
Or do we grind her still? The grand debate,
The popular harangue, the tart reply,
The logic, and the wisdom, and the wit,
And the loud laugh—I long to know them all;
I burn to set the imprison’d wranglers free,
And give them voice and utterance once again.

Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast,
Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round,
And, while the bubbling and loud hissing urn
Throws up a steamy column, and the cups,
That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each,
So let us welcome peaceful evening in.
Not such his evening, who with shining face
Sweats in the crowded theatre, and, squeezed
And bored with elbow points through both his sides,
Outscolds the ranting actor on the stage:
Nor his, who patient stands till his feet throb,
And his head thumps, to feed upon the breath
Of patriots, bursting with heroic rage,
Or placemen, all tranquillity and smiles.

[...] Read more

poem by William Cowper
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In my travels

To this day of brilliant bright lights, I reminisce of all the memories made in my travels warm and cold
I have never written these words scattered across the landscapes of my free hand of sweet verse and prose
In my travels I have paved ways to my future thoughts amiable, like the splendor melody from a sweet old rose
I have seen the future through the power of my free imagination, and a glimpse of my eternity in great fold
Sometimes I sit and wonder if one day I will become a person I dream of in my designs and in my own marvels
My reality born through this very cold experience and the warm future I see, in the shadows of my travels

poem by Sicelo Sithole
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Mail-Box

As you arrive in the morning
To your office, my dear
And check your mails
Without doubt you know
I’ll be there for you
Waiting to give you
The mail of the day.

May be a poem
Or a prose -
A quote or a photo
That touches me…
And I would wish to
Share with you.
Or as ever before
Like I write everyday
My Diary of yesterday.

You may read in a hurry
As you always do
For you may have
Many other
Errands to run to.
Yet, my dear
Let me say it to you
That all my letters
And words to you
Are written with care
And the precious time
That I love to spend
Writing to you…

It’s been like this
For the past many years
And I hope it would be
For many, many years
When you open your
Mail-Box
And find in it
Amongst all your mails
A letter from me.
Everyday, every morning
For all those years
Till the day you retire
From your daily
Commuting…
To that very same Office
Of your 20 years.

[...] Read more

poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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The Traveling Wind

I feel a breeze of wind
It is as soft as a baby
It travels along the land
It comforts the grass that beetles, ants, and grasshoppers make their way through
Ants continue to make their home that is only but dirt to humans
Dirt to ants is a brick to build a home
The breeze of wind continues to travel
The black and orange bird looks for food
It chirps around
It pecks in the grass
The bird finally travels away along with the wind
All is quiet but the crying of the leaves that are sticking out of the ground
Their hands, which are thorns, are reaching out to be comforted
The traveling wind goes and comforts them
Th wind travels elsewhere

poem by Pamela Mote
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Down to Gehenna or up to the Throne, He travels fastest who travels alone.

quote by Rudyard Kipling
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The Inner Light

Without going out of my door
I can know all things of earth
Without looking out of my window
I could know the ways of heaven
The farther one travels
The less one knows
The less one really knows
Without going out of my door
You can know all things of earth
With out looking out of my window
You could know the ways of heaven
The farther one travels
The less one knows
The less one really knows
Arrive without travelling
See all without looking
Do all without doing

song performed by Beatles
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He travels fastest who travels alone.

American proverbs
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The news of a good deed travels far, but the news of a bad one travels even farther.

Polish proverbs
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He travels fastest who travels alone, and that goes double for she. Real feminism is spinsterhood.

quote by Florence King
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Down to Gehenna, or up to the Throne, He travels the fastest who travels alone.

quote by Rudyard Kipling
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Against my will, in the course of my travels, the belief that everything worth knowing was known at Cambridge gradually wore off. In this respect my travels were very useful to me.

quote by Bertrand Russell
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Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it.

quote by Terry Pratchett
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He travels the fastest who travels alone.

quote by Rudyard Kipling
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