Space Child
Goin through pages
And lookin down lines and lines
Space of your life is only passing you by
Space child ages as he turns and faces the lie
Then after laughter was caught in his throat as he died
Fly on homeward
Worlds spinnin by brings clouds in your eye tonight
The space of your life is only passing you by
song performed by by Ufo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Tracks, Trails, Lines and pages
Tracks in forests… of woodland creatures
Trails of shooting stars in summer skies
Tracks of rockets o’er bloody battlefields
Traces of wrinkles round wizened eyes
Lines of wisdom on wrinkled faces
Lines of ants upon the floor
Lines of prose on parchment pages
Lines of carts inside the stores
Pages of life, inside old diarys
Pages dog-eared to mark the places
Pages filled with tales sad and fiery
Pages filled with empty spaces
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Taste
Im up and I can take what you give
And Im here but I dont want you to live with me
'cause all I want is a taste for free
Im down and I will drag you along and around
Until you burst into song and unwind
And leave your new life behind for a while
Cause I can see through the lines
Cause I can see through the lines
Im down and I will drag you along and around
Until you burst into song and unwind
And leave your new life behind for a while
Im out and I will stay here alone and without
Someone controlled by the phone and tv
'cause what its doing to me is fine
Cause I can see through the lines
Cause I can see through the lines
Oooh oooh
Step into space
Oooh oooh
Alter my place
Oooh oooh
That someone else made
Why I have stayed
Into things I could be
Or if I could see
Into fog that surrounds
And pins me to the ground
I can see through the lines
I can see through the lines
I can see through the lines
I can see through the lines
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
And then the paper is dirty
You start with a clean sheet of paper
Write some words, scribble, draw some lines
Some curves, sharp lines, tangent to bold
Lines, and rough sketches of faces and
Bodies, thin lines that get crooked from
End to end of this limited space,
You doodle, you get wild with so
Many lines unimaginable, senseless,
The paper finally looks dirty,
And you do not like it, you crumple
It and throw it in a waste basket,
You get another clean sheet,
And this time, you think what is
It really that you want to make
Out of this new clean sheet of paper.
You think, you ponder, and you need
More time this time not to waste
This clean, glossy sheet of paper.
I think you are doing well with your life.
You see you are supposed to be careful
Every word is delicate and every paper
Is actually accounted.
Never mind guilt, set it aside for a while.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Twenty Lines
I just read this poem about using just twenty lines,
and it brought these words to my mind.
Who are they to tell us how many lines we should use to speak?
This is America where we have a law known as freedom of speech.
Just twenty lines tell you something about my life in words.
To me that seem completely absurd.
My life is much more than just twenty lines.
Hell I am thirty nine.
And if they except me to sum up thirty nine years in twenty lines
They are complete outside their minds.
How am I suppose to tell you how I nearly died when I was child?
Or how my mother harsh words took away my smile:
In just twenty lines?
Like I said they must be out of their minds.
I guest I can do if I shorten my life.
I don't have to talk about how much I love my future wife.
But her love is the inspiration for a lot of my poems.
So to not talk about her would be wrong.
I have a lot more to say but I'm out of time.
I reach my limit of my twenty lines.
I Am A Poet Of Short Lines
I am a poet of short lines-
Of lines that are phrases,
Of lines that are small and broken-
I am a poet of short lines-
Of impatience and small breath,
Of hurrying and not taking time-
I am a poet of short lines-
Of condensation and conciseness,
Of maximum meaning in minimum space-
I am a poet of short lines
Short ones.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Primal Death
Space
Time
Space
Travel
Raining
Ai ming
Space
Time
Space
Expanding
Un iting
Increasing
Space
Time
Space
Sweeping
Restraining
Stretching
Space
Time
Space
Wrestling
Throwing
Throwi ng up
Space
Time
Space
Falling
Sinkin g
Overturning
Space
Time
Space
Whi rling
Space
Time
Space
Disturbing
Space
Time
Space
Whirring
Space
Ti me Space
Erring at
Nothing
poem by August Stramm
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Outta Space
Every day it's all the same no matter how I turn or twist my brain
I toss my body and scratch my f*ckin' mind
I bend and duck but I bounce 'gainst things all time
I'm left in this box I'm firmly and all stuck
I'm neatly tied and shelved I'm choked contained withheld
Outta space I'm growing outta space
I think I'm goin' crazy
Outta space I'm growing outta space
It's driving me crazy
Outta space I'm growing outta space
I think I'm goin' crazy
Outta space I'm growing outta space
I think I'm goin' out of my mind
I open my eyes wide to see some light
I take a breath and feel my box too tight
No matter how I press and push all day
That f*ckin' lid of mine won't give away
I'm left in this box...
Outta space...
song performed by by Quorthon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
And the Child Draws a World
the teacher asks the child to draw
The world
& the universe
And the child with his Mongol pencil
put a dot
for a start on his clean white bondpaper
(& as his fingers are clumsy
His hands still shaky)
he makes a stretch of a crooked
line
Stretching
& occupying almost all the space of the paper
To make a
Crooked circle
His world
And for his universe
He draws five little stars
crude
A crescent moon A comet moving In a blank space
A space rocket
Is drawn
On the top page in propulsion
A crooked circle The lines hardly meet At a common point
For a world
A little blank space For the universe
And where is God there?
The teacher asks him
You gave no instruction, sir. The child answered.
But He is there, the Child thinks.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Telling Stories
There is fiction in the space between
The lines on your page of memories
Write it down but it doesnt mean
Youre not just telling stories
There is fiction in the space between
You and me
There is fiction in the space between
You and reality
You will do and say anything
To make your everyday life
Seem less mundane
There is fiction in the space between
You and me
Theres a science fiction in the space between
You and me
A fabrication of a grand scheme
Where I am the scary monster
I eat the city and as I leave the scene
In my spaceship I am laughing
In your remembrance of your bad dream
Theres no one but you standing
Leave the pity and the blame
For the ones who do not speak
You write the words to get respect and compassion
And for posterity
You write the words and make believe
There is truth in the space between
There is fiction in the space between
You and everybody
Give us all what we need
Give us one more sad sordid story
But in the fiction of the space between
Sometimes a lie is the best thing
Sometimes a lie is the best thing
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
An Exhortation On Some Lines....
something is missing in your lines.
i regret to tell you that.
it does not speak well of yourself
or the world
or any moment, it is like a desert and all we have is space and
a horizon
there is even no wind to blow the sands away
i do not expect rain in the desert
but i could have seen a camel or a line of trucks or a
caravan
or even a Bedouin riding on his black horse with a scimitar
here i am again
in my worst self trying to tell you what to do so that you can be what you are
your lines are straight and too clean and that make them appear
dishonest
people love crooked lines and those that move in free directions
lines that are cold like the wind
and yet vibrant at night
not really dead, but simply grieving in silence for the loss of
someone so loved and missed.
i do not want you to change your lines, they are yours to
show,
i may be unfair wishing that your lines may be like mine
but mine are too sad and always sounding like a lover abandoned.
the beautiful lines are not clean.
they are imbued with our errors, erasures, blasting in our faces
like explosives
where shattered as we are on the fields of our disasters
only in a few seconds
we become silent spaces again.
mine are sad, and lonely and abandoned.
they are the only ones i have now, and so i must be compelled to
have them and love them
just the way they are.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What Is Written In Red
I am written in red,
I am sliding across the page of life.
I am racing across the lines of language.
I am red.
I write words,
I create lines and sentences,
I am kept in solitude
I am red.
I create paragraphs.
I create signatures.
I know what you're thinking before you speak,
I am red.
I cannot breath because I am enclosed in a capsule.
A capsule that covers the knowledge inside.
All I do is stare at pages,
All I know is pages,
I become apart of the pages,
And the pages become apart of me.
I become apart of english,
I become apart of words,
I am RED.
BY: Takisha Fields
poem by Kiesha fields
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Laughter Turns To Tears
Makeup on your shoulder silence in the air
Tonight those telltale signs are everywhere
As you lay beside her talkin' in your dreams
The game is up and laughter turns to tears
Every time you phone her with a dumb excuse
She starts to think that she's outgrown her use
You'll be home by midnight workin' late it seems
The penny drops and laughter turns to tears
Do you think she's crazy
Don't you think she knows
Do you think she's taken in
Don't you think it shows
When laughter turns to tears
Laughter turns to tears
You can send her roses say she's lookin' great
You can talk of love but it may be too late
You may think she's jokin' as her laughter teems
But with tears
And laughter turns to screams
chorus
Now it won't be easy
Finding words to say
how you really feel inside
You take the game away
When laughter turns to tears
Laughter turns to tears
One day it's gonna shake you up
Take you by surprise
Someday it's gonna wake you up
Tears in your eyes
When laughter turns to tears
Laughter turns to tears x2
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
A Paper Rose
Each time pen and line
brush the page
it is with you in mind;
all these years
you've been
reader to my writer-
you and I
giving life
to what starts as
mere blank pages-
and end as
our shared experience.
I can feel you;
hear you breathing
and lay
down each
night
renewed
for you have
read
between my lines
written and
I
received
your resonances
come back
to my ear-
these reciprocities
tracking
the journey
we each
together
have taken-
our lines entwining.
No greater bond
than the bond
of reader and that written;
no love more timeless
than that shared
in the missive
shaped
by two
interchanging
in this journey
through
life's space.
No gratitude greater
than mine.
Capture here then
to be clear
the
paper rose
this writing
is
because
its lines form
a rose
which will
last
down the years
forever read
forever written.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Acting is probably the greatest therapy in the world. You can get a lot stuff out of you on the set so you don't have to take it home with you at night. It's the stuff between the lines, the empty space between those lines which is interesting.
quote by Robert Carlyle
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
In Between The Lines
In between the lines
as we go about our lives
we often seem to think
no one loves no one cares
In between the lines
we drag our weary feet
and often think who cares
and shuffles mindless
to the beat
In between the lines
we search for gloom & doom
we come up with outrageous stories
that we plant between the lines
In between the lines
we throw caution to the wind
making out the lies
to be a bitter truth
so just bare in mind
what’s just been said
we always learn life’s mystery’s
in between the lines
poem by Kaila George
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
If you take a book of a thousand pages on the Second World War, in which 50 million people died, the concentration camps occupy two pages and the gas chambers ten or 15 lines, and that's what one calls a detail.
quote by Jean-Marie Le Pen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Parallel Lines
in our world
parallel lines do not meet
be surprised
in their world all lines meet
and then dissolve as
dissipated light
all becoming one
space, opening
into a new world of
antimatter where
death and life
hate and love fusing as
One.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Who You Are To Me
if you read these lines this morning
these lines that miss you
these lines that say i love you
these lines are dying to touch you
to hug and kiss you
these lines that know every inch of you
if you read these lines well enough
then you know who i am
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
If You Read These Lines This Morning
if you read these lines this morning
these lines that miss you
these lines that say i love you
these lines that are dying to touch you
to hug and kiss you
these lines that know every inch of you
if you read these lines well enough
then you know who i am
i, who is nothing to you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
0304 Drawing space
See this whitish sheet - now mellowing to a shade
of precious ivory - gently revealing in the finest lines of silver-point
two lovers whose whole air of innocence
makes them angelic, as if their ardent gaze
joined souls not bodies;
though those bodies, beautiful, transparent,
she all gauze, her dress
moved by the lightest breath of air as if it would
return her to the air; her breasts, to innocence itself;
he, every muscle of proud chest under pleated jerkin
joining his dancing legs to ardent eyes
consumed in adoration for what he barely dares,
her beauty and its innocence
this silver-point might be from Botticelli, or
a well-trained student in the master’s mind
glancing over and across the studio
at what the master, the magician,
conjures out of space and out of mind;
the then white vacant sheet
undifferentiated space as if
it were Creation waiting the command
to be itself;
there’s magic still to come, and space itself
yet to be brought alive. See these lines;
they are not bounding bodies, but the space itself;
on one side of this line, the air alive with happening that’s invisible,
the other side, her space we call her body;
all her life enclosed in what the artist sees –
awakening of love; see in the space
between her outstretched hand and his,
about to join with lightest touch in dance,
- electricity - before mankind knew such a thing or named;
and in this space, there’s love divine.
and see the space between their eyes: why,
in that space, their lives, the present, past, the future;
their minds, their hearts, their souls
hover all expressed and yet invisible;
from emptiness the artist has found space;
from space, from line, drawn as the first time, love.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!