Best Rolling Along Poems
From Edinburgh’s Waverley to Kings Cross
At journey's rest before terminating chaos,
Winding through the serene countryside
Spying a glimpse of the North Sea tide,
Rolling along in my soul a rhythmic song
Dismissing the world and all that’s wrong,
At our head the streamline ‘Silver Link’
Amazing speed pressure gauge to the brink,
There I was with pad and my faithful pen
A number one hit it was way back then.
‘Mighty engine wayward theme
Piston rods ejecting steam
Vibrant alive this the motion
From city town to the ocean
Feeling now the huff and puff
Screaming whistle growls and guff
Enduring rhyme upon the track
Rhythm of the clickity clack.’
Flying Scotsman express service between
London and Edinburgh and vice versa,,
Silver Link one of the 32 A4 Pacific locomotives
that pulled the express the 396 miles non stop
at speeds of 110 to 120 mph and this the 1930's
© Harry J Horsman 2015
I sit with my feet touching the water
fascinated by a playful otter
near the river's edge, amid evergreens,
rolling along the sapphire surface sheens.
Swimming up and down propelling itself
enlightening up on a bare rock shelf.
Scattered green dwarf saplings I sit and spy
capricious. Once again and it's good-bye.
A breath, filled with, bluebells, lavender bell
blooms bright and lovely, I linger a spell.
Pink and white dance across, and hint of breeze
Plethora of weeds, brown moss grasps the trees.
I dream of pixies, and fairies behind
wild spray of tall dandelions, I'd find.
9/17/2023
An aura of ease I carry with me.
A river, I’m rolling, just rolling along.
I move with an adaptability.
An aura of ease I carry with me.
Close to the ground, yet with fluidity,
and my heart often swells with glad song.
An aura of ease I carry with me;
a river, I’m rolling, just rolling along.
I’ll move with that naturalness called ease
on the pathway to my final sea.
Should waves arise from an extra strong breeze;
I’ll move with that naturalness called ease!
When I see sky blaze a last time cerise
and feel eternity beckoning me,
I’ll move with that naturalness called ease
on the pathway to my final sea.
For Paula Swanson's Contest: "I Carry With Me"
"Mother’s Milk"
I don’t know -
what would you have me say?
Life is a gourmand perfume
rolling along on the notes of air
intoxicating musk a jubilee
music you breathe and reign in
words lactonic heaven scent
stimulating the beginning and the end
in synaesthesia the let-down presents
succulent life, a moment brief and swift
a hint of warm peppered cinnamon
with gunshot sparks recalcitrant pink
a straight shot from the heady accord first off
hard points from mother’s breast rouge the plot
we drink it all in
life is the sweetest illusion
bittersweet and burnt bent
we are all drunk to it;
before we begin,
we begin again,
we are swallowed large
into this small life
like an unknown mystery
karmic charms chime in
fragrant and in fragrant notes
recalcitrant journeys
roads less taken
sweet and bitter almonds
we hear the distant bells chime
we sign off reluctantly
to only begin it all again
Candide Diderot. ‘25
I'm borrowing a gorgeous country
I may borrow it as often as I can
I accept their courtesy and smile
I smile back and are happy to provide a helping hand
I am enjoying the sun in this sunny land
I think of autumn and the rain back home
I'm enjoying the day with all my enjoyment
I hope the day could've been much longer
I am delighted with the floral scent that fills the air
I listen to the waves rolling along the seaside
I listen to the prayer that comes from the mosque
I feel a quiet peace lowered into my body
I'm borrowing this beautiful country, just for fourteen days
I am free of thoughts, free from time ..... I'm in my paradise Turkey
Turkey - 20.09.2012
A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
They have been wandering for decades
Journeying to the land that was promised by their forefathers
A land that would seal the faith of future generations.
They rove night and day guided by a single pillar of light
Looking for the land that was just minutes within sight
But faith had them wondering and pondering
Meandering up steep hills and giant rocks
Roaming around mountain and caves
Looking for that sacred spot.
But they could not find their way home
The road that leads home was covered with tall thick giant grass
Blade as wide as the palm of my hands overshadowed the path
And the visible eyes could not perceive it
Only the spirit of God could reveal it.
Suddenly a bulldozer appears,
And a little man holding the levers
Reversed it back and forth and leveled the dense path
That leads to a dead end spot in the middle of the town.
The bulldozer could not handled the thick mass of grass
That forms little mountains on that anguished path.
Determination kept the bulldozer rolling along.
It pushed and scraped until it leveled the towering grass
That connects the main road to an asphalted road.
Without warning the bulldozer blade broke off in a circular hole
And the little man came from behind the levers and peeped into
the hole and grumbled that he has strained his back.
All of a sudden two men with machetes appeared
And start copping around several mounds
Close to that very spot potato vine sprouted
With blossom forming an archive in the air
potatoes ready for reaping hangs from
vines that juxtapose with blossoms.
Be quiet!
The machete man exclaimed
Stop chopping!
He peered at vines and leaves above
And discovered that the abandoned path is guarded
By a gigantic wasp nest with thousands of wasps standing guards.
They hang from branches and form clusters
that appear as brown potatato blossom
Laying wait in silence to attack their preys
in the patch of bush that surround the mounds.
But they were exposed and dismantled
just before the break of dawn.
©2014 Christine Phillips
There was a day on TV
Where westerns were all the rage
You could take your pick
From your TV paper page
Together our masked hero the Lone Ranger
With Tonto kept outlaws in a spin
Have Gun Will Travel was the card
For black dressed professional gunfighter Paladin
Wagon Train kept rolling along
Seth Adams the leader
Flint McCullough chief scout
Old Charlie Wooster was the feeder
Rawhide kept the cattle moving
Gil and Randy kept control
In Dodge City it was Gunsmoke
Marshall Matt Dillon was key role
On the ponderosa it was Bonanza
Where Ben Cartwright was the boss
With his family of three boys
Adam, little Joe and Hoss
Wells Fargo was the stagecoach
Where Jim Hardie was the star
Now these are only some
For they were many more by far
They were the Virginian and the Rifleman
Laramie, Maverick and Cheyenne
The High Chaparral not to mention alias Smith and Jones
These made us all a fan
Cowboys where are you?
Memories of you is our lot
On TV we can’t see
Is this our last shot?
poetgord@2013
I come whence I go the Lord alone knows like this wheel in the sky this a true rose without recognition rolling along done in the green Him alone life belongs in the dry what will be done prophesied weeping for love His children despised marred until latter rain received with one drop again we must first believe new life resurrection no longer weeds with a certain dwelling place which is free these three agree so are we in this earth drinking all we can until the new birth - by john Beam based on Anastatica The rose of Jericho. A resurrection plant is any plant with the habit of reviving after seeming to be dead or of seeming to revive when being in fact dead.
My dog was gripping my leg,
as I hung my coat on a peg.
Along came the cat.
Brown, furry and fat.
Rolling along like an egg.
How long has it been since your last poem?
It's sounds like a priest inquiring about confession.
What corners do I dare not look around?
Why the starvation?
We drop out and then feel this dying inside.
Rolling along with this death.
Words carry as much as you'd like them to.
I can feel myself climbing up the rope now.
(Though there is no rope.)
I need those platforms in the sky,
To know they're there in case I fly.
Clouds, do have their fun;
rolling along on waves of air,
how they love to present challenges.
A favorite game of cloud-charades,
made harder for us humans
by morphing hints.
Spirits love charades with clouds;
my late sister, an artist,
loves to paint angels in the clouds;
she waits for me to look upwards and
decipher her messages.
Cotton candy bears are never grumpy;
they happily morph,
into favorite pets or cartoon characters,
just to evoke a smile.
Working cloud-puzzles,
feeds the muse and heals writer’s block.
God created clouds,
to fuel imaginations.
Without clouds, what would initiate
the dreamers dreams?
Without dreamers…well…
thank Heaven for clouds.
Often the third wheel between two people
Rolling along the median of life
The epicenter of two separate goals
Neither lane resembling my own
The wheel that no one wanted to steer
Loneliness on the road of several
Rolling along the median of life
thunder
rolling along
the alleys of sky
meeting with lightning striking force
a zap
A bead of red rolls down my arm,
an eloquent prayer, a scream.
Alive in a way the arm is not
coming awake in a dream.
A drop of swirling living cells,
abandoning a foundered host,
drawing a line on the curve of meat,
segregating machine from ghost.
Cousins drop from a fluttering lid,
another line following a tear,
rolling along a wrinkly nose,
washing away horror, sorrow and fear.
life turned liquid
flesh to dust
aspirations unmet
iron will to rust
either
[ caught between galaxy and quark
a trivial flame in the dark
nothing cares that a mind was here
the flicker of a trivial spark ]
or
[ as my eyes dim, and drop finds drop
your voice, Erin, fills my mind
your hand reaching out to help me forth
horror sorror fear left behind ]
The maps are spread before us now.
Shall reckless abandon intercede?
We'll sail to every shore somehow.
Go wherever the oceans lead.
Preordained to find you here.
As soul mates share a bucket list.
Guided by joy and without fear.
Blowing through the morning mist.
Just like Noah, sturdy and strong.
Discoveries waiting to be freed.
Armed with merely words and song.
Rolling along not taking heed.
On pockets of land we take our rest.
As moonbeams smile and light our way.
We could be east or maybe west.
We'll just keep sailing come what may.
for Frank's contest "Love in a Far Off Place"