The chamber-bell (chamber-clapper, or curtain lecture) is the worst sound one have in his ears.
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The chamber-bell is the worst sound one have in his ears.
Chamber
I sit on the cold chamber floor and think, I think about how things should have been and how they turned out to be
I sit on the cold chamber floor and I remember when it was just you and me, I remember all the times we shared and how nothing could compare to the way you made me feel
I sit on the cold chamber floor and I try, I try to forget all the pain that I feel
I lay on the cold chamber floor and I wait, I wait for death to come and take me away
poem by Erin Tejeda
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Chambas
Come into this chamber of my love,
For my name is Chambas and i will love you all night.
Come and see what i have for you,
Oh! My sweet lady of the night;
For this chamber of love is prepared for you only.
Come to me and enjoy this sweet chamber with me,
For history is with all of us today.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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To Knock on a Door
Who
Who
Who knocks?
Who knocks at
Who knocks at my door?
Who knocks at my door - not chamber
Who knocks at my door - not chamber door, but door. Who knocks?
Who knocks at my door - not chamber door, but door. Who knocks? Is it a raven - a raven
Who knocks at my door - not chamber door, but door. Who knocks? Is it a raven - a raven named Nevermore that knocks, knocks at my non-chamber door?
Who knocks at my door - not chamber door, but door. Who knocks? Is it a raven - a raven named Nevermore that knocks, knocks at my non-chamber door? ... No, it's just my brother, Josh, that knocks, knocks at my non-chamber door:
It's time for dinner.
poem by Hannah Shier
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He did hear the sound of the bell, but doesn't know where the clapper hangs.
And over the last ten years, after my work with the Brodsky Quartet, I had the opportunity to write arrangements for chamber group, chamber orchestra, jazz orchestra, symphony orchestra even.
quote by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Raven
[Spoken Track]
[Poe:]
Once upon a midnight dreary
as I pondered, weak and weary
over many a quaint and curious
volume of forgotten lore
while I nodded, nearly napping
suddenly there came a tapping
as of some one gently rapping
rapping at my chamber door
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered
"tapping at my chamber door
only this and nothing more."
Muttering I got up weakly
always I've had trouble sleeping
stumbling upright my mind racing
furtive thoughts flowing once more
I, there hoping for some sunrise
happiness would be a surprise
loneliness no longer a prize
rapping at my chamber door
seeking out the clever bore
lost in dreams forever more
only this and nothing more
Hovering my pulse was racing
stale tobacco my lips tasting
scotch sitting upon my basin
remnants of the night before
came again
infernal tapping on the door
in my mind jabbing
is it in or outside rapping
calling out to me once more
the fit and fury of Lenore
nameless here forever more
And the silken sad uncertain
rustling of the purple curtain
thrilled me, filled me
with fantastic terrors never felt before
so that now, oh wind, stood breathing
hoping yet to calm my breathing
"'Tis some visitor entreating
entrance at my chamber door
some lost visitor entreating
entrance at my chamber door
this it is, and nothing more."
Deep into the darkness peering
long I stood there
wondering fearing
doubting dreaming fantasies
no mortal dared to dream before
but the silence was unbroken
and the stillness gave no token
and the only word there spoken
was the whispered name, "Lenore
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Chamber Of Hell
The chamber of extreme sin is like Hell,
Going on would excite my shoulder.
This escaped, this I know, this I know,
This escaped and let Hell loose.
The chamber of horrific comfort
Expelled members of sin, those who sinned.
This sinning person wants to know why
He is a devil, but why is he something evil?
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Church-Bell
As I was lying in my bed
I heard the church-bell ring;
Before one solemn word was said
A bird began to sing.
I heard a dog begin to bark
And a bold crowing cock;
The bell, between the cold and dark,
Tolled. It was five o'clock.
The church-bell tolled, and the bird sang,
A clear true voice he had;
The cock crew, and the church-bell rang,
I knew it had gone mad.
A hand reached down from the dark skies,
It took the bell-rope thong,
The bell cried "Look! Lift up your eyes!"
The clapper shook to song.
The iron clapper laughed aloud,
Like clashing wind and wave;
The bell cried out "Be strong and proud!"
Then, with a shout, "Be brave!"
The rumbling of the market-carts,
The pounding of men's feet
Were drowned in song; "Lift up your hearts!"
The song was loud and sweet.
Slow and slow the great bell swung,
It hung in the steeple mute;
And people tore its living tongue
Out by the very root.
poem by Elinor Morton Wylie
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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 Home-Coming
This was our house. To this we came
Lighted by love with torch aflame,
And in this chamber, door locked fast,
I held you to my heart at last.
This was our house. In this we knew
The worst that Time and Fate can do.
You left the room bare, wide the door;
You did not love me any more.
Where once the kind warm curtain hung
The spider's ghostly cloth is flung;
The beetle and the woodlouse creep
Where once I loved your lovely sleep.
Yet so the vanished spell endures,
That this, our house, still, still is yours.
Here, spite of all these years apart,
I still can hold you to my heart!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Fort Lauderdale Chamber Of Commerce
(words & music by tepper - bennett)
Girls on the beaches commit a sin
They dont show yards and yards of skin
Preceding message to you has been
Through the courtesy of the fort lauderdale chamber of commerce
Maybe your yen is for tennis courts
Maybe romancing is in your thoughts
Enjoy all outdoor and indoor sports
Through the courtesy of the fort lauderdale chamber of commerce
Any male in fort lauderdale who is not pursuing a cute female
Will automatically land in jail
Thats the law in fort lauderdale
Pretty girls eighteen to twenty-three
If their technique aint what it should be
Get love instruction for free from me
Through the courtesy of the fort lauderdale chamber of commerce
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Common Thought
Somewhere on this earthly planet
In the dust of flowers to be,
In the dewdrop, in the sunshine,
Sleeps a solemn day for me.
At this wakeful hour of midnight
I behold it dawn in mist,
And I hear a sound of sobbing
Through the darkness -- hist! oh, hist!
In a dim and murky chamber,
I am breathing life away;
Some one draws a curtain softly,
And I watch the broadening day.
As it purples in the zenith,
As it brightens on the lawn,
There's a hush of death about me,
And a whisper, "He is gone!"
poem by Henry Timrod
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Silent Confession
The hands that write what lips would dare not say
and eyes that mock what mind would dare to play
of nights lost in the deepest thoughts of him
that dares to say the holiest name of names.
Yet in his chamber near to mine...
I hear what ears would dare not hear -
those sounds which canst my conscience bear
for sins flown by the air.
My soul had wished to clasp the sinner from the sin
to forsake the sneer mockeries of evil I had seen
in my deepest thoughts of him,
that dares to say the holiest name of names.
I cease to recall the priest's chamber near to mine
and tried so hard to let my hands betray
to write what lips would dare not say.
poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
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The Heart
Each heart has a somber chamber
where Melancholic days are stored.
Those never to be forgotten
Times baptized with life’s anointing tears.
Passing years of joy and sorrow
Both have found their place in the heart.
Though diametrically opposed
Each holds permanent residence.
When joyful manifestations
Dance to the beat of happiness
Sorrow waits in its sad chamber
For inevitability.
When it arrives joy surrenders
Uncomplaining into limbo.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Sound Of The Bell
Found a place where we can talk
I found a way to reach a little ground
Keep your castle in my sandbox
Build it up so we can burn it down
Anyway I love my man
Love to keep him spinning round and round
Keep him feeling love for my hand
Any way to turn him inside out
I dont wanna go down like the sunlight
I dont wanna go out like the moonlight
I dont wanna be found at the sound of the bell
The sound of the bell
The sound of the bell
Meet me up and down again
Every time is sweeter than the last
Once you get a taste of impact
Youre always hungry for the crash
I dont wanna go down like the sunlight
I dont wanna go out like the moonlight
I dont wanna be found at the sound of the bell
The sound of the bell
The sound of the bell
And this is everything
I have loved
Yeah, I have loved
Break...
My...
Heart...
Down, I dont wanna go down like the sunlight
I dont wanna go out like the moonlight
I dont wanna be found at the sound of the bell
The sound of the bell
The sound of the bell
I dont wanna go down like the sunlight
I dont wanna go out like the moonlight
I dont wanna be found at the sound of the bell
The sound of the bell
The sound of the bell
Yeah...
(I dont wanna be found in the sunshine
I dont wanna be dim like a night light
I dont wanna be down like the sunlight
I dont wanna go out like the moonlight...)
song performed by by Veruca Salt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Untitled
When his heart is growing bitter and his hair is growing grey,
And he hears the debt-collector knocking several times a day,
And the shrill voice of the Missus, blame, reiterate, accuse—
Then the poet who was famous feels inclined to damn the muse— .....
When he hears a sudden rapping—rapping at his chamber door,
Then he knows it's no good trying to write poems any more,
Then he bursts from out his chamber and he grabs his battered hat,
And he cadges Two Bob somewhere and gets beered up on his pat.
poem by Henry Lawson
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A Single Cigarette Sucked Down
just a single cigarette sucked down shrinking
chemical cocktail includes Hydrogen Cyanide
gas chamber poison does not make you a Jew...
your cig choice chosen quantities
slow time lit cannot
compare to agony clawing gas...
chamber walls holocaust
smokers time dying in mass
numbers global can recant...
your cig choice chosen quantities slow time lit cannot!
compare to agony clawing gas chamber walls holocaust!
smokers time dying in mass numbers global can recant!
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Chamber Over The Gate
Is it so far from thee
Thou canst no longer see,
In the Chamber over the Gate,
That old man desolate,
Weeping and wailing sore
For his son, who is no more?
O Absalom, my son!
Is it so long ago
That cry of human woe
From the walled city came,
Calling on his dear name,
That it has died away
In the distance of to-day?
O Absalom, my son!
There is no far or near,
There is neither there nor here,
There is neither soon nor late,
In that Chamber over the Gate,
Nor any long ago
To that cry of human woe,
O Absalom, my son!
From the ages that are past
The voice sounds like a blast,
Over seas that wreck and drown,
Over tumult of traffic and town;
And from ages yet to be
Come the echoes back to me,
O Absalom, my son!
Somewhere at every hour
The watchman on the tower
Looks forth, and sees the fleet
Approach of the hurrying feet
Of messengers, that bear
The tidings of despair.
O Absalom, my son!
He goes forth from the door
Who shall return no more.
With him our joy departs;
The light goes out in our hearts;
In the Chamber over the Gate
We sit disconsolate.
O Absalom, my son!
That 't is a common grief
Bringeth but slight relief;
Ours is the bitterest loss,
Ours is the heaviest cross;
And forever the cry will be
'Would God I had died for thee,
O Absalom, my son!'
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Pham
A night rose passes time with night marigold.
Both rode with linh Bell.
On storms and shores.
They rode on chariots risen on a rivulet.
While blue wheels on the storm.
Rain washed the sea tile.
Dawn dermis curl, mid day to wake.
Captain rose charioted by lemon jewels.
Ridding wheels fastened in limerick whip.
Linh bell belly.
Whip lashed to the neck of night lily.
And bending in upper diatima.
Chamber of love.
Going to earth to adventure of dreams.
Read and ride linh and bell.
Take the riddle.
Bell is a eater.
Water is a oil to tickle,
Skinning to be eaten.
Thus the poetry without rhymes
Lihn is a friend
poem by Ebi Robert
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