Quotes about travelling
I Made No Sound
deep in the thoughts I thought
I should be travelling
I should be travelling
travelling for long
but I made no sound
deep in my heart I knew
I should be travelling
I should be travelling
travelling far
but I made no sound
deep in the feet each move there moved
I should be travelling
I should be travelling
travelling forever
but I made no sound
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Trvelling down the memory lane
Travelling down the memory lane
is not all black 'n white.
Travelling down the memory lane
is not all lacking light.
Travelling down the memory lane
is not eye filled with tears.
Travelling down the memory lane
brings fresh and soothing air.
Travelling down the memory lane
is college, fun and friend.
Travelling down the memory lane
is full of curves and bends.
Travelling down the memory lane
is a test of time and mind
Travelling down the memory lane
is a joy of it's kind.
[...] Read more
poem by Spandan Bhattacharyya
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Travelling Man
The lights of the motel shine on to me
This is the land of the brave, sad and the lonely
The last rides
Coming to me I can feel it
A new life
Screaming out and I cant miss it
Travelling man
Travelling man
You get away if you can
My bodys shaking, my bodys tired
Hookers to the left of me, killers on the inside
The last train
Left this station long ago
The headlights
Shine like diamonds in the snow
Like a travelling man
Im a travelling man
Run away if you can
Cruel world keeps turning Im dead on my feet
From the blue icy mountains to white city heat
[...] Read more
song performed by Simple Minds
Added by Lucian Velea
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Dream-March
'Wasn't it a funny dream!--perfectly bewild'rin'!--
Last night, and night before, and night before that,
Seemed like I saw the march o' regiments o' children,
Marching to the robin's fife and cricket's rat-ta-tat!
Lily-banners overhead, with the dew upon 'em,
On flashed the little army, as with sword and flame;
Like the buzz o' bumble-wings, with the honey on 'em,
Came an eerie, cheery chant, chiming as it came:--
_Where go the children? Travelling! Travelling_!
_Where go the children, travelling ahead_?
_Some go to kindergarten; some go to day-school_;
_Some go to night-school; and some go to bed_!
Smooth roads or rough roads, warm or winter weather,
On go the children, tow-head and brown,
Brave boys and brave girls, rank and file together,
Marching out of Morning-Land, over dale and down:
[...] Read more
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Saltbush Bill
Now is the law of the Overland that all in the West obey --
A man must cover with travelling sheep a six-mile stage a day;
But this is the law which the drovers make, right easily understood,
They travel their stage where the grass is bad, but they camp where the grass is good;
They camp, and they ravage the squatter's grass till never a blade remains.
Then they drift away as the white clouds drift on the edge of the saltbush plains:
From camp to camp and from run to run they battle it hand to hand
For a blade of grass and the right to pass on the track of the Overland.
For this is the law of the Great Stock Routes, 'tis written in white and black --
The man that goes with a travelling mob must keep to a half-mile track;
And the drovers keep to a half-mile track on the runs where the grass is dead,
But they spread their sheep on a well-grassed run till they go with a two-mile spread.
So the squatters hurry the drovers on from dawn till the fall of night,
And the squatters' dogs and the drovers' dogs get mixed in a deadly fight.
Yet the squatters' men, thought they haunt the mob, are willing the peace to keep,
For the drovers learn how to use their hands when they go with the travelling sheep;
But this is the tale of a Jackaroo that came from a foreign strand,
And the fight that he fought with Saltbush Bill, the King of the Overland.
Now Saltbush Bill was a drover tough as ever the country knew,
He had fought his way on the Great Stock Routes from the sea to the big Barcoo;
[...] Read more
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Wasted Years
Wasted years been brainwashed by lies
Oh yes I have
Oh wasted years
Im talking about wasted years
Oh Im not seeing eye-to-eye
I just cant see the things I should see
Wasted years, baby
I was taking the wrong advice
I know you was, I know you was
And I was too
All alone Im travelling
Travelling through these wasted years
For so long, so long, so long I was
Oh, I must have gained some wisdom
Down through the years I did
Somewhere along the way
Oh yes, I did, oh yes I did
Thets why there cant be no more
No more
No more wasted years today
[...] Read more
song performed by Van Morrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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Time Travel
Time Travel
Walking slowly quickly threw the desert looking
wanting water finding sand
finding sand but wanting water looking quickly
travelling in time
time travelling
making way to way of time
making tao to tao of time
day is gone nite is ici
cold is here to stay love is cold
and gone away
time travelling
travelling in time
finding sand but wanting water quickly looking
wanting water finding sand
Walking slowly quickly threw the desert looking
For ewe love.
Time.
poem by Charles Hice
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In the spirit of Shabistari - 1
When I was young, I dreamed all day of travel
When I was old enough, I spent all day travelling
When I had travelled much, I called myself a traveller
Now I sit here, still and silent on the cushions
while the roses release their perfume,
the peacock cries upon the wall,
and in the courtyard, the fountain plays;
and all my travel has returned to me,
all my travelling is within me,
travel, travelling and traveller are one;
and my mind travels to places I had never imagined
and I sense the world turning on its axis,
travelling around my self.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Traveller
Traveller
Where did you come from?
Where are you going?
What do you have in your pack?
Traveller
Who are you travelling with?
Who is your enemy?
Who is your ally?
Traveller
Are you not tired?
Are you not lonely?
Are you not giving up?
Traveller
Can you tell me
where the dangerous roads are?
Can you tell me
where the safe roads are?
[...] Read more
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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Saltbush Bill's Second Flight
The news came down on the Castlereagh, and went to the world at large,
That twenty thousand travelling sheep, with Saltbush Bill in charge,
Were drifting down from a dried-out run to ravage the Castlereagh;
And the squatters swore when they heard the news, and wished they were well away:
For the name and the fame of Saltbush Bill were over the country-side
For the wonderful way that he fed his sheep, and the dodges and tricks he tried.
He would lose his way on a Main Stock Route, and stray to the squatters' grass;
He would come to a run with the boss away, and swear he had leave to pass;
And back of all and behind it all, as well the squatters knew,
If he had to fight, he would fight all day, so long as his sheep got through:
But this is the story of Stingy Smith, the owner of Hard Times Hill,
And the way that he chanced on a fighting man to reckon with Saltbush Bill.
'Twas Stingy Smith on his stockyard sat, and prayed for an early Spring,
When he started at sight of a clean-shaved tramp, who walked with a jaunty swing;
For a clean-shaved tramp with a jaunty walk a-swinging along the track
Is as rare a thing as a feathered frog on the desolate roads out back.
So the tramp he made for the travellers' hut, to ask could he camp the night;
But Stingy Smith had a bright idea, and called to him, "Can you fight?"
"Why, what's the game?" said the clean-shaved tramp, as he looked at him up and down;
[...] Read more
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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