En.Citatepedia^®.ro

One need not be a chamber to be haunted;
One need not be a house;
The brain has corridors surpassing
Material place.

quote by Emily Dickinson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One need not be a chamber to be haunted,

One need not be a chamber to be haunted,
One need not be a house;
The brain has corridors surpassing
Material place.

Far safer, of a midnight meeting
External ghost,
Than an interior confronting
That whiter host.

Far safer through an Abbey gallop,
The stones achase,
Than, moonless, one's own self encounter
In lonesome place.

Ourself, behind ourself concealed,
Should startle most;
Assassin, hid in our apartment,
Be horror's least.

The prudent carries a revolver,
He bolts the door,
O'erlooking a superior spectre
More near.

poem by Emily Dickinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Haunted

I sleep, I wake, just same.
Haunted.
Tears don't work.
Pain won't go.
Haunted.
Maybe its here to stay.
My bag of rocks.
Haunted.
No great purpose.
Just be my load.
Haunted.
To hold me back.
This heavy sack.
Haunted.
I wake today. Maybe time to pray.
Haunted.
This curse must go.
Hit lowest low.
Haunted.
Nightmare of my soul.
My mind. My heart
My entire being.
Haunted.
Haunted. Haunted. Haunted.
I am
The walking. The crawling. The waiting. The moving. The wailing.
The death defying.
I am
The Haunted.

poem by Lindsay Maasdorp
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This House Is Haunted

I was sitting in my room, dark and gray and crying
Someone in my life I fear was at the point of dying
A cold wind blew right up my spine, it was the break of dawn
A little voice went deep inside told me she was gone
Oh...This house is haunted
Oh...That's how I want it to be
Oh...This house is haunted
You can always stay here with me...
No more singing, no more laughing, no more sunny days
She left and took the colors with her, buried in her grave
This is where we climbed the tower, this is where she fell
Then when her young heart stopped beating, I went to hell
Oh...This house is haunted
Oh...Ha....
Oh...This house is haunted
Ho...Oh...
You float through the living room, I watch my TV
I feel you sit down on the couch right here next to me
Then I feel your lips touch mine just like we used to do
I'm so happy all alone being here with you...

song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Haunted

The yawn of an opening door,
the creak on the stairs
of someone unseen descending there.
They are the classic opening
to a ghostly tale of a haunted house
where spirits dwell down a leafy lonely lane.
Now that is in the movies or a paperback novel.
However, when we see a place that resembles that
a cold chill goes through us as if it is real.
In reality, haunted buildings
are just ordinary ones we see.
The ones you wouldn’t expect to be haunted at all.

23 July 2008

poem by David Harris
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Living In The Material World

Im living in the material world
Living in the material world
Cant say what Im doing here
But I hope to see much clearer,
After living in the material world
I got born into the material world
Getting worn out in the material world
Use my body like a car,
Taking me both near and far
Met my friends all in the material world
Met them all there in the material world
John and paul here in the material world
Though we started out quite poor
We got richie on a tour
Got caught up in the material world
From the spiritual sky,
Such sweet memories have i
To the spiritual sky
How I pray
Yes I pray
That I wont get lost
Or go astray
As Im fated for the material world
Get frustrated in the material world
Senses never gratified
Only swelling like a tide
That could drown me in the
Material world
From the spiritual sky,
Such sweet memories have i
To the spiritual sky
How I pray
Yes I pray
That I wont get lost
Or go astray
While Im living in the material world
Not much giving in the material world
Got a lot of work to do
Try to get a message through
And get back out of this material world
Im living in the material world
Living in the material world
I hope to get out of this place
By the lord sri krsnas grace
My salvation from the material world
Big ending

song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Haunted

(jeff barry / bobby bloom)
Ooh, hoo
I cant eat right
I cant sleep nights
Oh, honey look at what youve done to me
Life is nowhere
And its no fair
cause youve got me by the memory
Oh, now I feel you near me
And see your face
In my dreams
Every hour all night through
Oh, Im haunted
Yes Im haunted, haunted by you
There aint no doubt
I cant get out
Of this trouble that youve got me in
If I hurt you
Didnt mean to
Oh, and Im sorry
Aint the word Ive been
And if you dont come back to me pretty soon
I dont know what Im gonna do
cause Im haunted
Yes Im haunted, haunted by you, woah, oh
Oh, I just cant forget you
cause you haunt me everywhere I go
Oh Im begging you
Dont say no
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no
And if you dont come back to me pretty soon
I dont know what Im gonna do
cause Im haunted
Said Im haunted,ooh, haunted by you
Oh, haunted by you
Haunted by you
Haunted by you-hoo
Haunted by you
Oh, haunted by you
Baby, haunted by you
Ooh, by you

song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love Is Haunted

when i go to the haunted house
my love is there
but instead
the door was locked
like the ghost is here
but it's not there
the house has her
but i don't know where she is

i looked as many times as i can
then i saw an ghost girl and
she chased me just like in a horror movie
and there she was my love
but she was trapped.

thy found us and we were trying to hide thy
and we escape from the house and i will say this
that love has always been haunted even in a horrorify
house.

poem by Yoam Rafael Sanfielreyes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ghostly House

You need language of ghosts
To communicate with spirits that impose on us.

You crave for the very food our ghosts need.
Come with the religion of yours to distract them.

For it pray and they will go away, for all eternity!
Your House is Haunted. Be so wary!
Even call the police, and they will never enter your home.

Your House is Haunted. It needs some policy to rid it of evil and despair.
You House needs some care. It requires the life to adjust. You must.
If ghosts are about then leave the house and complain.
Nobody listens except the Priest, and he is not around.
Go to the doctor, and feel doom in abundance. The ghosts do not win.
Good Luck!

poem by Naveed Akram
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The House with Nobody in It

Whenever I walk to Suffern along the Erie track
I go by a poor old farmhouse with its shingles broken and black.
I suppose I've passed it a hundred times, but I always stop for a minute
And look at the house, the tragic house, the house with nobody in it.

I never have seen a haunted house, but I hear there are such things;
That they hold the talk of spirits, their mirth and sorrowings.
I know this house isn't haunted, and I wish it were, I do;
For it wouldn't be so lonely if it had a ghost or two.

This house on the road to Suffern needs a dozen panes of glass,
And somebody ought to weed the walk and take a scythe to the grass.
It needs new paint and shingles, and the vines should be trimmed and tied;
But what it needs the most of all is some people living inside.

If I had a lot of money and all my debts were paid
I'd put a gang of men to work with brush and saw and spade.
I'd buy that place and fix it up the way it used to be
And I'd find some people who wanted a home and give it to them free.

Now, a new house standing empty, with staring window and door,
Looks idle, perhaps, and foolish, like a hat on its block in the store.
But there's nothing mournful about it; it cannot be sad and lone
For the lack of something within it that it has never known.

But a house that has done what a house should do,
a house that has sheltered life,
That has put its loving wooden arms around a man and his wife,
A house that has echoed a baby's laugh and held up his stumbling feet,
Is the saddest sight, when it's left alone, that ever your eyes could meet.

So whenever I go to Suffern along the Erie track
I never go by the empty house without stopping and looking back,
Yet it hurts me to look at the crumbling roof and the shutters fallen apart,
For I can't help thinking the poor old house is a house with a broken heart.

poem by Joyce Kilmer
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Rooms

we all live in hutches, rooms
familiar and unfamiliar
brightly lit, dark, mysterious
unknown and gloomy
they punctuate each and
every of our thoughts
our voice echoes each and
every chamber, some distinctly,
some meekly, some warmly
some coldly, some lost between
winding dark and lit corridors

we choose to dwell in
reassuring rooms but they all
soon suffocate us with drudgeries
our attention turn to those sealed,
which we love to think a divinity sits,
who makes sure we follow through
every word of his scripts written in
the light of every chamber sealed
with the spirit of our breaths

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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All Hallows Even

Some people swore that the house was haunted
Rarely seen during bright sunlight
It was a case of a ghost that flaunted
Felines and weak constitutions given fright

Creaky doors and windows black
These gave the house old ailments and distrust
Inside floors wait, interior cracks
While the hinges, nails, fixtures red-rust

Dusk does play its fancy lace up under the rafters
Dark winds blowing and shadows lurk
Offering tricks of bleak disaster
The house cat-naps restless in the murk

Some People swore that the house was haunted
A fall winter's breeze did come to haunt
A frayed lace curtain was better the fact
Nothing was ever the same after that

poem by Cer Cruz
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Before the beginning and after the end

Before the beginning of time and space.
Before the onset of the human race.
He was there, The Triune One
The Father, The Spirit and The Son.

Before photonic light began to sparkle.
Before the first sub atomic particle.
He was there, The Almighty One
The Father, The Spirit and The Son.

Before the material universe began.
Before the footsteps of the first man.
He was there, The Omnipresent One
The Father, The Spirit and The Son.

After all material things cease to be
and photonic light fades into history.
He will be there, The Omniscient One
The Father, The Spirit and The Son.

From everlasting to everlasting.
All things surpassing and outlasting
For He is The Omnipotent One
The Father, The Spirit and The Son.

poem by Royston
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Living In A Haunted Heart

I stumbled in and I fell straight asleep in the chair
Swear I did
Woke with a start and I thought I saw you floating by
Swear I did
The fixtures and furnitures the same
As the second you walked out the door
But here in my head you put a ghost train
And I cant go round any more
And I hear the passengers scream
Im living in a haunted heart
And I tell myself its all a bad dream
Im living in a haunted heart
Too proud to beg you to come back
One more drink, the fairground fades to black
Every night
Days last for years til the dark, like a bear,
Puts his claws around my brain
Smack! bang on time, with your laugh, you walk in
Through the walls around my brain
The curtains and carpets are the same
As the day you dissolved in thin air
Now here I go queueing for the horror ride
Knowing I dont have the fare
And I hear the passengers scream
Im living in a haunted heart
And I tell myself its all a bad dream
Im living in a haunted heart
Too proud to beg you to come back
As the ghost train rattles round its track,
Every night
I cant exorcise you or cause you to reappear
But if you want to know what nothing looks like
Well just peel back my chest and take a look inside here
The fixtures and furnitures the same
As the second you walked out the door
But here in my head you put a ghost train
And I cant go round any more
And I hear the passengers scream
Im living in a haunted heart
And youre shaking me apart at the seams
Im living in a haunted heart
My reality is pushed past extremes
Im living in a haunted heart
And I tell myself its just a bad dream
Im living in a haunted heart
Too proud to beg you to come back
One more drink, the fairground fades to black.

song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Musical Chamber

I TRUST that my friends will remember,
Whilst I these my pleasures display,
Resort to my musical chamber,
The laurel crown'd desert in May.

Resort to this chamber at leisure,
Attend it by night and by day;
To feast on the dainties of pleasure,
Which cannot be stinted in May.

This place is both pleasing and moral,
A chamber both lovely and gay,
In the shade of a ne'er fading laurel,
Whose grace in December is May.

Abounding with every fine story,
While time passes hurrying away,
This place is a banquet of glory,
Which rings with the ditties of May.

The chamber of Chatham and Dolly,
A place of a comical play,
Gave place unto Love's fine folly,
The birds and sweet flowers of May.

Here Venus attends with her lover,
Here Floras their suitors betray,
And uncommon secrets discover,
Which break from the bosom of May.

Here ever young Hebe sits smiling,
The wonders of youth to portray,
Excluding old age from defiling
The lads and the lassies of May.

Call by, little stranger, one minute,
Your joy will reward your delay;
Come, feast with the lark and the linnet,
And drink of the waters of May.

Walk in, little mistress, be steady,
You 'r welcome a visit to pay;
All things in the chamber are ready,
Resolve to be married in May.

poem by George Moses Horton
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The Haunted Chamber. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Third)

Each heart has its haunted chamber,
Where the silent moonlight falls!
On the floor are mysterious footsteps,
There are whispers along the walls!

And mine at times is haunted
By phantoms of the Past
As motionless as shadows
By the silent moonlight cast.

A form sits by the window,
That is not seen by day,
For as soon as the dawn approaches
It vanishes away.

It sits there in the moonlight
Itself as pale and still,
And points with its airy finger
Across the window-sill.

Without before the window,
There stands a gloomy pine,
Whose boughs wave upward and downward
As wave these thoughts of mine.

And underneath its branches
Is the grave of a little child,
Who died upon life's threshold,
And never wept nor smiled.

What are ye, O pallid phantoms!
That haunt my troubled brain?
That vanish when day approaches,
And at night return again?

What are ye, O pallid phantoms!
But the statues without breath,
That stand on the bridge overarching
The silent river of death?

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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The Edison Museum

The edison museum, not open to the public
Its haunted towers rise into the clouds above
Folks drive in from out of town
To gaze in amazement when they see it
Just outside the gate I look into the courtyard
Underneath the gathering thunderstorm
Through the iron bars, I see the black maria
Revolving slowly in its platform
In the topmost tower, the lights burn dim
A coiling filament glowing within
The edison museum, once a bustling factory
Today is but a darkened cobweb covered hive of industry
The tallest, widest and most famous haunted mansion in new jersey
Behind a wooden door, the voice of thomas alva
Recites a poem on a phonograph
Ghosts float up the stairs, like silent moving pictures
The loyal phantoms of his in house staff
A wondrous place it is, there can be no doubt
But no one ever goes in, and no one ever goes out
The edison museum, not open to the public
Its haunted towers rise into the clouds above it
The oldest, greatest and most famous haunted mansion in new jersey

song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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So, immediately after that, I got a commission to write a piece for chamber orchestra, and in working on the material I discovered it was possible to incorporate the Buddhist teachings into the music, so that's what I started to do.

quote by Joseph Jarman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bad Brain

I used to be an A student
I never used to complain
I used to be a truant
But I'm still the same
Bad bad brain
Bad bad brain
I used to go to parties
I used to drink champagne
Now I'm beginning to feel the strain
Bad bad brain
I used to be in show biz
I used to have fortune and fame
I used to have pleasure and pain
I used to have a name
Bad bad brain
Now I'm on the Bowery
I can't remember my name
Bad bad brain
Bad bad brain
Bad bad brain...bad bad brain...

song performed by by Ramones from Road To Ruin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Earthbound Soul

This spirit roams the vacant corridors,
searching for something that’s uppermost,
in his mind.
Disturbing the air, causing a chilly
atmosphere, strange, eerie, a ghost
of humankind.
Continuously on his quest, he has
haunted these aisles for centuries,
decades and years.
He cannot leave this sphere until he has
solved all his trials and laid to rest
his wretched fears.

Earthbound soul, no respite ever, nowhere
to go until released from torment
and despair.
How long will he have to wander hour
after hour, with discontent, in an
endless nightmare.
This spirit roams the vacant corridors,
in pursuit of another. He’s
a despiser.
Battle without end, perpetual
exploration. The other is no
compromiser.

Possessed, this apparition, floating about,
no sound, just a silent
aura of unease.
Will he still be suspended in his
no man’s land, unable to move on.
Abhorrer in crises.

poem by Ernestine Northover
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Hell In House

It's Friday morning
i wake up from my death
i star scream
because i saw blood in the floor
i put my t-shirt and my shoes
and i got from house i got away from

I want to get away from this
to get away from my hell the hell of house
is the most dangerous place

i start to scream
i get away from this hole
i get away from house (house)
i run away from this street
this town
i start to get away from this life and rest in peace
i wish i have and one more chance

I want to get away from this
to get away from my hell the hell of house
is the most dangerous place
and now i wish
i want a really want
to trade this life from an another (another, another)
another place another year another country
please i don't want this!

I want to get away from this
to get away from my hell the hell of house
is the most dangerous place

poem by Sp9ke Draco
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