The End and the Beginning
After every war
someone has to clean up.
Things won’t
straighten themselves up, after all.
Someone has to push the rubble
to the side of the road,
so the corpse-filled wagons
can pass.
Someone has to get mired
in scum and ashes,
sofa springs,
splintered glass,
and bloody rags.
Someone has to drag in a girder
to prop up a wall.
Someone has to glaze a window,
rehang a door.
Photogenic it’s not,
and takes years.
All the cameras have left
for another war.
We’ll need the bridges back,
and new railway stations.
Sleeves will go ragged
from rolling them up.
Someone, broom in hand,
still recalls the way it was.
Someone else listens
and nods with unsevered head.
But already there are those nearby
starting to mill about
who will find it dull.
From out of the bushes
sometimes someone still unearths
rusted-out arguments
and carries them to the garbage pile.
Those who knew
what was going on here
must make way for
those who know little.
And less than little.
And finally as little as nothing.
In the grass that has overgrown
causes and effects,
someone must be stretched out
blade of grass in his mouth
gazing at the clouds.
poem by Wislawa Szymborska
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Related quotes
Unfortunate Soul
The girl at the window
clears the glass.
Looks out and sees
the warm sweet grass.
She sees a butterfly
on the pane.
Wishes to touch it
but it doesn't remain.
It's off somewhere
and in its place
arrives the image
of her face.
She sees the tears.
Wipes her eyes,
looks out again
and sees some flies.
Knocks on the window
to shoo them away.
Returns to her gazing
for most the day.
Strapped in a chair
for many long years.
Takes pleasure daily
when nature appears.
Without the window,
nothing to see.
No flies, no grass,
no butterfly free.
Must keep it clean
or she will die.
Nothing to see
not even the sky.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Razor Love
I got to bet that your old man
Became fascinated with his own plans
Turned you loose, your mama too
There wasnt a thing that you could do.
I got faith in you, its the kind of love
That cuts clean through.
I got faith in you, its a razor love
And its true.
And you really made my day
With the little things you say
Right now Im looking through the window at a silhouette
Trying to find something I can find yet
Imagination is my best friend
Got to watch out for the greedy hand, greedy hand
Make a living like a rolling stone
On the road theres no place like home
Silhouettes on the window.
Who was it made your eyes flicker like that
Tell me baby, where do get the knack
I came to you with open arms
And I really took you down the track
Now all Ive got for you is the kind of love
That cuts clean through.
All I got for you is razor love
That cuts clean through.
You really made my day
With the little things you say
Right now Im looking through the window at a silhouette
Trying to find something I can find yet
Imagination is my best friend
Got to watch out for the greedy hand, greedy hand
Make a living like a rolling stone
On the road theres no place like home
Silhouettes on the window.
I got to bet that your old man
Became fascinated with his own plans.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Finally You Always Find Yourself Alone
it is a fact of your life
you marry
and have children
and grandchildren
and years pass by
leaving you
with wrinkles and
arthritis
bones that crack
and a brain that
does not remember
recent things
anymore
finally you find yourself alone
in your room
for they too shall find life
of their own
even your wife
has to struggle with her thoughts
and then you begin
to find
the company of God
as something
missing
long been missing
your hands are empty
your heart so hollow
you find yourself back to
where you once began
a cry and then
the silence and the sigh
now,
back to the entrance
and then
the most awaited
exit door
light slipping on the
holes of the wall inside
a dark room
ah, you are in a monologue
the air listens
like a vacuum inside a glass
less dramatic
but should be with
more glory, perhaps...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Brain Damage
The lunatic is on the grass.
The lunatic is on the grass.
Remembering games and daisy chains and laughs.
Got to keep the loonies on the path.
The lunatic is in the hall.
The lunatics are in my hall.
The paper holds their folded faces to the floor
And every day the paper boy brings more.
And if the dam breaks open many years too soon
And if there is no room upon the hill
And if your head explodes with dark forebodings too
I'll see you on the dark side of the moon.
The lunatic is in my head.
The lunatic is in my head
You raise the blade, you make the change
You re-arrange me 'til I'm sane.
You lock the door
And throw away the key
There's someone in my head but it's not me.
And if the cloud bursts, thunder in your ear
You shout and no one seems to hear.
And if the band you're in starts playing different tunes
I'll see you on the dark side of the moon.
song performed by by Pink Floyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There Shall Be No Blank Space Of This Jalousy
she broke a piece
of the window, a plank of glass
and the cat gets in at night
and sleeps on my favorite sofa
i never like this
i don't like a blank space where a cat slips in
and takes a portion of my sofa
this is strictly prohibited in my world
today the plank of glass is delivered
and there is no emptiness left along the lines of this
space
where the wind is free to
to get in and then move out like nothing happened
between the cat and the sofa.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Mower's Song
My Mind was once the true survey
Of all these Medows fresh and gay;
And in the greenness of the Grass
Did see its Hopes as in a Glass;
When Juliana came, and she
What I do to the Grass, does to my Thoughts and Me.
But these, while I with Sorrow pine,
Grew more luxuriant still and fine;
That not one Blade of Grass you spy'd,
But had a Flower on either side;
When Juliana came, and She
What I do to the Grass, does to my Thoughts and Me.
Unthankful Meadows, could you so
A fellowship so true forego,
And in your gawdy May-games meet,
While I lay trodden under feet?
When Juliana came , and She
What I do to the Grass, does to my Thoughts and Me.
But what you in Compassion ought,
Shall now by my Revenge be wrought:
And Flow'rs, and Grass, and I and all,
Will in one common Ruine fall.
For Juliana comes, and She
What I do to the Grass, does to my Thoughts and Me.
And thus, ye Meadows, which have been
Companions of my thoughts more green,
Shall now the Heraldry become
With which I shall adorn my Tomb;
For Juliana comes, and She
What I do to the Grass, does to my Thoughts and Me.
poem by Andrew Marvell
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On & On (Mersey Song)
Out through the foggy window there just to see the eyes of my future children
looking back at me back through the foggy window
on and on miles pass years turn over
on and on there from that rolled down window ponies run free
cradled protectively there in the greenery somewhere I keep this picture
on and on miles pass years turn over
on and on for all the roads we've travelled
and all the bridges burned I was thinking out loud the ways
of the world that all seem so constant how few
of the lessons we really have learned.
out through the foggy window frozen in frame capturing passing pictures
life's last refrain, memories ashes scatter
on and on miles pass years turn over
on and on
song performed by by 10000 Maniacs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Head Souns Like That
The metal jangles as the key turns
Unlock the door, wipe my feet clean
Oh my head sounds like that
The oil is spitting in the saucepan
I squeeze this sponge and let the cat out
Oh my head sounds like that
Oh my head
Oh oh oh
Oh oh oh
The waters dripping in the hallway
The guy next door, he knocks his wall down
Oh my head sounds like that
The knife it scrapes across the burnt brown toast
The freight train rumbles pass my window
Oh my head sounds like that
Oh my head
Oh oh oh
Oh oh oh
Oh oh oh
Around the axis we all spin
To determine whats left out and whats left in
Whats left out and whats left in
Whats left out and whats left in
Whos left out and whos left in
Whos left in
The moments come and go like water
I try to hold them but theyre fading
Oh my head sounds like that
Oh my head
Oh oh oh
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dragging And Biting
Drag and bite, drag and bite
The man with the mirror;
His hand carries a labour
To hold the whole glass-object.
Kick the stretched woman,
Into oblivion as the avoidable has
Occurred.
May the bites of eternal length
Suspend the whole of existence.
My offence matches the other pains,
Many defend me.
Dragging a corpse into the golden chamber
Is like butter-and-bread and all
Of its nutrients.
The grave became a worried look,
Internal discomfort concerned it,
With rivers of blood or milk
To enter and wade.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On & On
Music by 10,000 maniacs - lyrics by mary ramsey
Out through the foggy window there
Just to see the eyes of my future children
Looking back at me
Back through the foggy window
On and on
Miles pass years turn over
On and on
There from that rolled down window
Ponies run free cradled protectively
There in the greenery somewhere
I keep this picture
On and on
Miles pass years turn over
On and on
For all the roads we've travelled
And all the bridges burned
I was thinking out loud the ways of the world
That all seem so constant
How few of the lessons we really have learned.
Out through the foggy window frozen in frame
Capturing passing pictures life's lastrefrain,
Memories ashes scatter
On and on
Miles pass years turn over
On and on.
song performed by by 10000 Maniacs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On On
Music by 10,000 maniacs - lyrics by mary ramsey
Out through the foggy window there
Just to see the eyes of my future children
Looking back at me
Back through the foggy window
On and on
Miles pass years turn over
On and on
There from that rolled down window
Ponies run free cradled protectively
There in the greenery somewhere
I keep this picture
On and on
Miles pass years turn over
On and on
For all the roads weve travelled
And all the bridges burned
I was thinking out loud the ways of the world
That all seem so constant
How few of the lessons we really have learned.
Out through the foggy window frozen in frame
Capturing passing pictures lifes lastrefrain,
Memories ashes scatter
On and on
Miles pass years turn over
On and on.
song performed by by 10000 Maniacs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Some Last Questions
What is the head
A. Ash
What are the eyes
A. The wells have fallen in and have
Inhabitants
What are the feet
A. Thumbs left after the auction
No what are the feet
A. Under them the impossible road is moving
Down which the broken necked mice push
Balls of blood with their noses
What is the tongue
A. The black coat that fell off the wall
With sleeves trying to say something
What are the hands
A. Paid
No what are the hands
A. Climbing back down the museum wall
To their ancestors the extinct shrews that will
Have left a message
What is the silence
A. As though it had a right to move
Who are the compatriots
A. They make the stars of bone
poem by William Stanley Merwin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In The Way Back Then
Seven years ago,
I went back to Canada
after forty-two years.
I walked down a road
to show my wife where I used to live.
The road was built on rolling hills
and as I came over one,
I knew instantly where I was.
Things had changed
in those forty-two years,
some would say
it was unrecognisable
from what I used to know,
but as soon as I started down the hill
things came back like yesterday.
It was as if I had never been away.
Memories of my childhood
instantly sprang to mind.
I found myself seeing things
not as the now,
but there were changes
from the way back then.
The memory flashes
brought a smile to my face
as I could visualise
all the friends I knew then,
the funny incidents that over my life
in the way back then.
All too soon, time
has a way of taking things back
and my memory reclined them
to the back door of my mind.
30 April 2008
poem by David Harris
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The Second Part: Misleading An Idea Like A Blind Man
my left hand touches the right side of my neck
rubbing it and then slides its fingers to my ear
i open my mouth to signify that i long for sleep
i put my hands on top of my unwashed hair
the day's schedule is hectic like the way a juggler pleases our eyes
i open my mouth letting the wall see my egg white
teeth and then i close my mouth again
sipping air inside my lungs
my eyes are like heavy clouds low to the ground
becoming fog to the grass
i am sleepy
but i do not want to sleep
i am teasing time since it has no
underwear
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cardinal Ideograms
A mouth. Can blow or breathe,
be a funnel, or Hello.
A grass blade or a cut.
A question seated. And a proud
bird's neck.
Shallow mitten for two-fingered hand.
Three-cornered hut
on one stilt. Sometimes built
so the roof gapes.
A policeman. Polite.
Wearing visored cap.
O unrolling,
tape of ambiguous length
on which is written the mystery
of everything curly.
A step,
detached from its stair.
The universe in diagram:
A cosmic hourglass.
(Note enigmatic shape,
absence of any value of origin,
how end overlaps beginning.)
Unknotted like a shoelace
and whipped back and forth,
can serve as a model of time.
Lorgnette for the right eye.
In England or if you are Alice
the stem is on the left.
A grass blade or a cut
companioned by a mouth.
Open? Open. Shut? Shut.
poem by May Swenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rolling In The Deep
There's a fire starting in my heart
Reaching a fever pitch, it's bringing me out
the dark
Finally I can see you crystal clear
Go 'head and sell me out and I'll lay your
ship [shit] bare
See how I leave with every piece of you
Don't underestimate the things that I will
do
There's a fire starting in my heart
Reaching a fever pitch
And it's bringing me out the dark
The scars of your love remind me of us
They keep me thinking that we almost had
it all
The scars of your love, they leave me
breathless
I can't help feeling
We could have had it all
(You're gonna wish you never had met me)
Rolling in the deep
(Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep)
You had my heart inside of your hand
(You're gonna wish you never had met me)
And you played it, to the beat
(Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep)
Baby, I have no story to be told
But I've heard one on you
And I'm gonna make your head burn
Think of me in the depths of your despair
Make a home down there
As mine sure won't be shared
(You're gonna wish you never had met me)
The scars of your love remind me of us
(Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep)
They keep me thinking that we almost had
it all
(You're gonna wish you never had met me)
The scars of your love, they leave me
breathless
(Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep)
I can't help feeling
We could have had it all
(You're gonna wish you never had met me)
Rolling in the deep
(Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep)
You had my heart inside of your hand
(You're gonna wish you never had met me)
And you played it, to the beat
(Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep)
We could have had it all
Rolling in the deep
You had my heart inside of your hand
But you played it, with a beating
Throw your soul through every open door
You'll pay me back in kind and reap just
what you sow (woah)
(You're gonna wish you never had met me)
We could have had it all
(Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep)
We could have had it all
(You're gonna wish you never had met me)
It all, it all, it all
(Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep)
We could have had it all
(You're gonna wish you never had met me)
Rolling in the deep
(Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep)
You had my heart inside of your hand
(You're gonna wish you never had met me)
And you played it to the beat
(Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep)
We could have had it all
(You're gonna wish you never had met me)
Rolling in the deep
(Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep)
You had my heart inside of your hand
(You're gonna wish you never had met me)
But you played it
You played it
You played it
You played it to the beat.
poem by Pawan Kumar 'Meonlafesta'
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Woman
this must be a woman
, she is supposed to be an old woman
in her ragged..printed cotton cloth..plain...cheap
but clean
she is carryı ng something in her big heavy sack
on shoulder
it must be valuable for her
what is it
no one knows
no one guesses
but it must be something
she is weary of carrying...may be her life
but what is it
how old is she
spring is near..ahead
some trees are early blossommed
look at the plum tree over there
in her bridal
the woman looks at some dry bushes
some flowers are already bloomed
will the bushes green too
the old woman cannot sigh even her grief
oh...anatolı an woman
how many troubles you bear
is it the end ofthe green road now
though you are alone
you coped wı th them
you were just there
sitting on the wall of your shelter as home
relaxing...resting
alll the years on your shoulder
bending your back years the heavy years
where have you gone
where were tyou walking to
or intended to
years heavy years
were you a spirit or a a sacred holy ghost
haunting my dreams
poem by Metin Sahin
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Drag Him To The Roof
They keep looking through the window
A cathode glaze across their eyes
Now that Ive been betrayed
I must be well behaved...
Ill drink corruption with their lies.
Why was I hiding out?
What am I running from?
Why are they waiting?
Have I always been the choosen one?
Drag him to the roof
Just push me over
Ive got no better place to be
Drag hime to the roof
Lets get it over...
Its a perfect day to punish me.
I wish that lady would defend me
I cant abide by all the laws
Ill buy the magistrate, cant be a second late...
I anxiously await his call.
Who made this jigsaw puzzle?
Wholl put the pieces back?
Wholl come and get me when I have fallen through the cracks?
Drag him to the roof
Just push me over
Ive got no better place to be
Drag hime to the roof
Lets get it over...
Its a perfect day to punish me.
song performed by by Toto
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Streets Of Arklow
And as we walked
Through the streets of arklow
Oh the color
Of the day wore on
And our heads
Were filled with poetry
And the morning
A-comin on to dawn
And as we walked
Through the streets of arklow
And gay perfusion
In gods green land
And the gypsys rode
With their hearts on fire
They say we love to wander,
Lord we love,
Lord we love to roam...
And as we walked
Through the streets of arklow
In a drenching beauty
Rolling back til the day
And I saw your eyes
They was shining, sparkling crystal clear
And our souls were clean
And the grass did grow
And our souls were clean
And the grass did grow
And our souls were clean
And the grass did grow
And as we walked
Through the streets of arklow
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life Is So Beautiful
i step out as the door opens
the rain just stop its downpour
it is cold and the flowers are wet
and the grass glisten with drops
of water on its blade
the red rooster jumps from a tree
and flirts with a gray hen
i look to the sky and then
around the nearby hills
some birds fly towards the trees
a carabao grazes on the plain
deep within me i still want
more years, more years.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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