She Has Faces
She has faces up in her bedroom and they gaze down on her guarding her slumber
A black bead rosary under her pillow and when it thunders she clutches it tightly
And she hears silence is white, sound is black, the world is wrapped in a paper sack
And when I leave I close the door to this galaxy of yours
Dropping by I open a window as the breeze blows in the curtains are butterflies
And we hear the church bells ring out on a hill and all of their echoes left us singing
Silence is black, the room is bright, our world is basking in tv light
And we are laid out on the floor of this galaxy of yours
With all of your heroes waiting in paper piles laid on the floor
I push my paintbrush lightly and fill in any empty nail holes
A dresser top, a jewelry box, colored tassels tied in knots
And a porcelain girl danced a music box ballet for us
And your nightlight is a star, or a firefly, that
Leads my gaze up to the ceiling
Wondering if you think that its the sky
With all of your heroes...
Open the window slightly, pick up paper off the floor
I hold my paintbrush tightly, and fill in any empty nail holes
Open the window slightly
song performed by by Verve Pipe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Inside A Crowded Room
inside a crowded room
are litters
waste papers, mongol pencils
on the floor,
crumpled sheets of bond paper
paper glasses, and used plastic spoons
a chicken bone
dried catchup and
morsels of bread that the ants
start to take away
light has entered the slits
of the walls
this early morning
it is humid and dark
and i am bringing this white
porcelain vase
put it some water
not filling it to the brim
i have this red rose
that i pick from the garden
i put it there
i open the window
what is it? my friend
i let delight enter the crowded room
and i want it to stay there for a while.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Remembering Carlota De Pio
she walked into a desert room
where the window looks out
directly to the open galaxy
where shooting a star
is the only common game
and the only trees
she saw are open hands
without roots
the people maybe
had walked out from
there a long time ago
(but how did she really know?)
the only water there was a drop
hanged frozen
between the ceiling and the floor
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Triple Homicide
I'm glad the fighting's stopped
the house is silent
empty
this is how I like it
no yelling
no fights
no broken glass
silence
when they're both gone I'm happy
but when they come home
I go straight to my room
I try to be quiet
as I listen to music in the closet
the fight begins
there screaming
this time I hear my name
I ignore it
not wanting to join the fight
my dad bursts in yelling for me
my window left open he screams
he thinks I'm gone
I thought quickly
as my mom ran in
silence
silence
silence
my dad yells again
at my crying mom
I cry silently
as she's pulled from the room
screaming
I hear a gunshot and I jump
grabbing a pocket knife
from my jacket
the cries stop
then another shot
a loud thump
as a body falls
I climb out of the closet
knife in hand
blood pouring out my
parents bedroom door
silence
I open the door and see two
bodies on the floor
a gun in my father's hand
silence
silence
silence
then sirens
and cops coming around the corner
so I take the gun from my dad
hold it to my head
a loud pop
then
silence
silence
silence
t he cops would
call this a triple homicide
or double homicide and suicide
but I call this
a family
who needed help
poem by No Reason To Care
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Paper Pieces
Words by michelle branch
Music by michelle branch & will golden
Dada duda duda duda duda du dada duda dada
Dada duda duda duda duda du dada duda dada
Called your name today but no one answers any more,
You turned and ran away like someone came and locked the door,
Paper pieces lyin on the floor,
I fall to pieces now the coffees black and my heart is soar.
*pick me up tape me together, dadadadada-
Like paper pieces on the floor.
Dada duda duda duda duda du dada duda dada
Dada duda duda duda duda du dada duda dada
Since you left that day Ive realized my minds made up on you,
My heart is capsized and I dont know what Im gonna do.
*pick me up tape me together, dadadadada-
Like paper pieces on the floor.
Pick me up tape me together, dadadadada-
Like paper pieces on the floor,
Paper pieces on the floor :
And I call out to you,
Oh, but you turn,
Yes you turn away-
Dada duda duda duda duda du dada duda dada
Dada duda duda duda duda du dada duda dada
Called you name today but no one answers any more.
*pick me up tape me together, dadadadada-
Like paper pieces on the floor.
Pick me up tape me together, dadadadada-
Like paper pieces on the floor,
Pick me up tape me together, dadadadada-
Like paper pieces on the floor,
Paper pieces on the floor
(call me,call me, call me, call me)
Dada duda duda duda duda du dada duda dada
Dada duda duda duda duda du dada duda dada
song performed by by Michelle Branch
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sadness of The Empty Home
The light flickers on
Illuminates the empty hallway
The thud, click of a door in closing
Brings a silence to the room
A heavy sigh escapes
A look to the mirror sees only
Tired eyes looking back
A bag lain upon the small table
The light turned back off
On route to yet another room
Light creeps through the window
Allowing enough to see
The sound of a running tap
Filling the kettle for a final drink
Keys thrown upon a side
The clatter of cups and spoons
Then further silence
Now the creaking of a staircase
Another door opened
Another light flicked on
The curtains drawn to the world
Drink set beside the bed
The silence of the empty home
Fills the heart with loneliness
A television switched into life
Nothing worth watching
Just a sound there to fill
The silence and the sadness
Of the empty home
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Hope Is An Open Window
(christopher ward/tim tickner/diana ross)
Are we not more than hunger and music
Are we not more than harlequins and horns
Are we not more than color and drums
Are we not more than anger and dance
Give me courage so I can spread it over my face and mouth
Give me courage, give me courage
Give me courage, give me courage
I walk these city streets see the people there
Look into the eyes of quiet despair
And the faces tell a story that words never can
And it falls to everyone of us to try and understand
Out of kindness
One act of grace makes the world we walk a better place
Hope is an open window
Love an open door
To reach out for each other
Is what we came here for
Through an open window
We can see the way
If we hold on to each other, every day
We build walls of suspicion with bars of fears
Tell ourselves well be safe in here
I know more brings us together
Than keeps up apart
First we got to tear down these walls within our hearts
We might be strangers, we can be friends
You and I we both need to let somebody in
Hope is an open window
Love an open door
To reach out for each other
Is what we came here for
Through an open window
We can see the way
If we hold on to each other, every day
Give me courage so I can spread over my face and mouth
We are secret rivers with shaking hips and crests
Come awake in our thunder so that our eyes can see behind trees
Give me courage so I can spread over my face and mouth
Give me courage, give me courage
Give me courage, give me courage
Hope is an open window
Loves an open door
To reach out for each other
Is what we came here for
Through an open window
We can see the way
If we hold on to each other, every day
Hope is an open window
Love an open door
Gotta be there for each other
Is what we sent here for
Through an open window
We can find a way
To love one another
Hope is an open window
Love an open door
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Betrayed
I WENT back to our home to-day
That still its robe of roses wore;
My feet took the old easy way,
And led me to our door.
And you are gone and never more
Those little feet of yours will come
To meet me at the open door,
The threshold of our home.
The door unlatched did not protest:
I entered, and the silence drew
My steps towards the little nest
That once I shared with you.
There lay your fan, your open book,
Your seam half-sewn, and I could see
The window whence you used to look--
Yes, once you looked--for me.
Print of your little head caressed
Our pillow still, and on the floor
Still lay, dropped there when last you dressed,
The scarf and rose you wore.
All should have spoken of you plain,
Yet, when I bade the silence tell
Of you, my bidding was in vain,
I could not break its spell.
The silence would not speak, my dear,
Till the last level light grew dim;
Then, in the twilight I could hear;
The silence spoke--of him.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Summer Breeze
See the curtains hanging in the window
In the evening on a Friday night
A little light a-shining through the window
Lets me know everythings alright
CHORUS:
Summer breeze makes me feel fine
Blowing through the jasmine in my mind
Summer breeze makes me feel fine
Blowing through the jasmine in my mind
See the paper lying on the sidewalk
A little music from the house next door
So I walk on up to the door step
Through the screen and across the floor
Repeat chorus
Sweet days of summer, the jasmine's in bloom
July is dressed up and playing her tune
When I come home from a hard days work
And you're waiting there, not a care in the world
See the smile a-waiting in the kitchen
Food cooking and the plates for two
Feel the arms that reach out to hold me
In the evening when the day is through
Repeat chorus
song performed by by Isley Brothers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eternity, And Such...
eternity, and such...
the stain in the coffee cup,
the holes in the old man's underwear.
the rough tongue of a stray cat,
the shadow moving in the alley.
the trail left by the snail,
paper cups blown by the wind.
the blood left on the highway,
the dog dead in the ditch.
the glass shattered on the floor,
the stink of the body
three days after...
the limb torn from the tree
by the memory of storm.
your pillow, my hat,
a shot of brandy in an empty room.
the sound the heart makes...
when no one can hear!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Through The Veil for Dave Walker
there's a light
in the window
of the house
forgotten by time;
a book on the table,
unopened.
footprints on the floor
covered with dust.
a cup in the sink
half-empty.
the wind blows
curtains grey with time....
whispering, whispering....
names that cannot
be heard.
voices, echoes,
creaking the floor.
a book of photographs
on the closet floor.
walking through the mist,
the fog and the shadows,
touching small particles
of being left like gifts....
lives unwrapped into mine!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Inside The Hotel Room In Hongkong
IF YOU SEE me here inside my hotel room
in Hongkong
you will not perhaps believe
that in such a short time of our separation
I am now looking
at our pictures
the one where we simply sit on the train
going to Baclaran
on the busy day
where we were looking at the other side of the window
taken by that stranger
upon our request
still strikes me
there was something in your eyes
that gives the premonition
something in the misty window
speaks about the unexpected twist
of a sad story
a plot that i have not mastered well
perhaps because
i was too trusting
the stupid man falls in love again
with a woman still possessing the full senses
of her world
i have decided to tear this picture
into tiny pieces of paper
my hands like a shredding machine
i open the window of this hotel
and let the tiny shreds of your face
be blown by the wintry wind
from the 13th floor.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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As I Wait For For You
and then our minds met at a point
of convergence
i waited for you in a room without a number
a place without a name
a space where only us know what & how to fill
i am naked
you want the whole truth and so i am naked
in this room without a number, a place without a name
a space, where only our self-manifested emptiness know how & what to fill
when you arrive do not call my name
be so soft and gentle with your feet
do not even say your name as
i have also left my name somewhere else
and it is only i who knows it
i lose my identity
that is how i want to spend my short moment with you
i am naked
i only have my face, my skin and my flesh my bones my whole body
not my soul
do not knock
just push the door
it is left open throughout the nights of my waiting
i have intended it that way
so when you arrive and i am still asleep with my dreams and desires
of you
do not disturb the silence and sweetness of my sleep
just whisper your desire for love so sweet to my ears
touch the surfaces of my skin and caress with your soft fingers the smooth lines of my face
place your head just beside my tight chest
for there you shall hear the sounds of all my desires
and then my love we begin the sharing of our hidden truths
we shall dance in our nakedness
we shall make love real
we shall open the shutters of this closed window
we let the slits of light from outside the night get inside us and put some
warmth on the empty pores of our skins
we bring light to the darkness of our lives
we put fire to those eyes that refuse to close and die
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Two Side Of The Moon
Laser, breathing on my window
Two strings, beating out of time
Koto, warning of the danger
Wake up, is your head still mine?
Now they give you reasons
To fight for love
Thats enough
In a paper world
Thats enough
Said the chinese girl
Thats enough
Another city falls
Just because were two sides of the moon
Data, streaming through my window
Chrome stars, whispering their lies
Black sky, hides approaching stranger
Reach out, two should now be one
Disregard the reasons
And look above
Thats enough
In a paper world
Thats enough
Said the siamese girl
Thats enough
Another city falls
Just because were two sides of the moon
song performed by by Asia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Window Left Open...
the vase fell to the floor,
and shattered into tiny pieces.
the broom in the corner wept.
the box in the closet drew breath sharply,
the book on the shelf turned away.
the bulb in the lamp burned out.
the spider packed up its web and left.
the empty nest fell from the tree.
rainwater gushed from the gutters.
the young boy locked in his room
crawled out the window.
the neighbor's dog barked...
god gathered her clothes,
and put on her shoes.
while warships sailed for another land.
drones killed three women on the way to market,
another baby died without having lived.
another factory shut down,
another church burned to the ground,
so many things said and unsaid.
another chapter, another book unread.
things are not what they seem.
another war on pillows fought by silence,
another day in a land untouched.
old trees pray for lightning,
old dogs wait without fear.
old photographs turn yellow and fade.
old men empty their pockets and die.
even Jesus couldnt wait this long....
they say the good die young.
the thief in the garden steals roses,
that he gives to a girl wearing glasses.
while passion weeps waiting for snow.
and leaves prepare to fall...
the vase fell to the floor,
and shattered into tiny pieces...
the moth flew through a window left open!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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What You Do Not Expect....
you are on your
way to the tenth floor
go inside
the room and closed
the door
open the window
and get some fresh
air from
the sea
you sit on the
window sill
and the people
down the street
go panicky
you are whistling
a song
and all the while
they are praying
that you do not
jump
from that
high....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Stars, Stripes and Paper Dolls
Stars, stripes and paper dolls
Sometimes most prominent inside
My troubled mind,
That sordid spirit had
Locked the door to humanity-
I was none but a child-
Too many dreams
Snakes at my bedside-
My delusional world
Alive last night,
This morning and at
Noon, every night-
Walking the tightrope day by day
Some child lashing out at me, spit in my face-
None but a child myself-it frightened me-
I became a prisoner inside the world of my dreams-
Locked inside with a platinum key-
Fell one day down the elevator slats-
Closed the door on humanity, I did-
Stars, stripes and paper dolls-
Each had a name-
Intruders from a different galaxy, or perhaps
Some other universe-
I never saw that child again- I had shut the whole world out-
A snake wrapped about my mother’s severed hand-
It hardly mattered; she was close by, protecting me-
Locked inside a world I had
Fabricated for my self alone-
Sitting cross legged on the carpet, staring at the ceiling-
They threatened to take me away last night-
Today, tomorrow, noon and at night-
Stars, stripes and paper dolls-
I played as a child of fourteen-
It didn’t matter- they knew the truth, but I didn’t, so
I cried no tears- I hear rain falling outside my window-
My door is unlocked momentarily-
I ride my proud stallion into the night-
Losing insight and finding my dreams-
Stars, stripes and paper dolls- always there for me-
Today, tomorrow and at night- and
I never found the key.
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Juanita / Kiteless / To Dream Of Love
Your rails. youre thin.
Your thin paper wings.
Your thin paper wings.
In the wind. dangling.
Your sun. fly high.
Your window shattering.
Your rails. youre thin.
Your thin paper wings.
Sugar box. sugar boy.
Riding in. riding in.
Sugar box. sugar boy.
Handheld candle. sugar boy.
Your rails. youre thin.
Your thin paper wings.
Your thin paper wings.
In the wind. dangling.
Your sun. fly high.
Your window shattered in the wind.
Your coca cola sign rattling.
Resonator.
Homeless trees. gathering.
Outside your window bootleg babies call
To you and lie among the mosquitoes.
That summers fever coming.
Cats are gathering outside your window.
Homeless trees. bootleg babies calling
To you. lie among. lie among the mosquitoes.
Your rails. youre thin.
Your thin paper wings.
Get up in your sun. fly high.
Dangling. dangling.
Your window shattered in the wind.
The sun on your coca cola sign.
Your rails. your thin
Paper wings. paper wings.
Resonator ...
There is a sound on the other side of this wall.
A bird is singing on the other side of this glass.
Footsteps. concealed.
Silence is preserving a voice.
Walking in the wind at the waters edge
Comes close to covering my rubber feet.
Listening to the barbed wire hanging.
There is a sound on the other side of this wall.
A bird is singing on the other side of this glass.
Footsteps. concealed.
Silence is preserving a voice.
Silver chain. thrown away. broken wing.
song performed by by Underworld
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The secondary school announced the result of a list of successful candidates
Went down to the playground, principal had a talk.
Walked in a hard step, took a deep breathe.
Our class teacher gave us the result paper,
Everyone was silent,
No any voice, No any noise,
I can only hear thousand of breathing sound.
Hold tightly, ready to open,
3...2...1...,3...2... I can’t,
I am not brave enough to open it.
It was going to be ok.
I think for a while,
Closed my eyes,
My excitement came to my heart, but sadness was waiting for me.
I slowly opened the paper finally gradually.
Opened my eyes slowly,
Wahl! My tears went through my both eyes.
I don’t want to go to this school,
I was thinking, oh well… I can apply for another school, may be it worked.
My class teacher was convincing me to go to this school,
My mother was thinking the solution for me.
I went out to the school door, took a slowly walk,
I really didn’t know what I can do,
Worrying, deeply anxious and struggling,
I tried to think about the advantage of this school.
Yes! I pick this school. I‘ll do well!
poem by Jenkin Tsui
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A Paper Boat On A Murky River
on your hand is a paper boat
you made last night
on a rainy day like this
you put on a gray rain coat
the river rises
perfect for your scheme
you put the boat gently
on the brown water
white paper boat
carried by this murkiness
your hands push
the paper boat leaves
tonight you sleep on
the wooden floor
it is mahogany brown and you
become the paper boat
sailing inside your dream
the floor becomes the big river
your thoughts become the wind
your eyes become two moons
the room is as dark as the night
the dream is so alive like a mother's song.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Two Poems for Nicaragua
Return to sender (Managua, Nicaragua Postal Service) I
Turn at the corner known as “gallo más gallo”
2 blocks toward the lake, and at Doña Blanquita the Belle’s house
look to the right and up a little
as toward the sky and then lower your gaze to the tree charred
in the earthquake, right there where
Don Francisco props himself up in the window to talk
with Pedro Xavier and that Gloria girl,
at the next house take just three steps,
knock on the door where there’s always a rocker,
and deliver these poems and this letter, please.
And if nobody takes them or the person whose name
is written on the envelope is no longer living,
return to where you came from.
Go slow, looking over your shoulder,
who knows if the address is right,
and perhaps someone will ask you, Mr. Mailman,
who are you looking for to these many hours in this neighborhood
in Managua?
Return to sender (Managua, Nicaragua Postal Service) II
For Pablo Salomone
Pablo, the Argentine guerrilla fighter, made his way with his Uzi,
one afternoon in 1978 or 1979 in Managua,
hotter than blazes,
on a slip of paper he had the address of his contact.
He knew nothing about Managua, only a map, and that
slip of paper with the address of Comandante Gloria,
19, chocolate-colored.
As the young Argentine ran along, crouching between trees and houses,
the address was right there on the slip of paper:
“When you come to the corner of the bar “Los Olvidados, ”
continue on for three blocks, careful with the poet Guillermo’s gate
that can trip you up if you don’t see it,
go on to the right and pass by three yellow houses with grillework,
make no noise when you walk through the ironwork gate
where there are three mango trees
and across from there you’ll see a wall painted red and black
with some bullet holes made by Somoza’s sons of bitches,
on the corner is your contact’s house,
in the window there will be a vase with a single flower
you should whistle the ballad “Nosotros” for a good while.
If the vase disappears, knock on the door three times.”
It’s been several centuries since then. The world travels down a different path.
The whole socialist camp has crumbled. Pablo didn’t die in that
1979 war. He still has that slip of paper of his contact
with Comandante Gloria. He recently visited a different Managua
and looked for that very address.
The house was in the same spot, except that on the wall painted red and black,
with the same Somoza National Guard bullet holes,
there was now a mural with the photo of the self-same comandante Daniel Ortega,
the presidential candidate, backed by Somoza’s party.
The very same dynasty of the Somozas’ who ordered
the killing of that girl while the teen-age Argentine guerrilla
whistled a ballad one blistering hot afternoon.
(Both Poems Translated from Spanish by W. Nick Hill)
poem by Javier Campos
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