There comes a time in a man's life when to get where he has to go - if there are no doors or windows he walks through a wall.
quote by Bernard Malamud
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Wistfully Watching
They explore the world
through windows,
church windows,
school windows,
two up, two down windows,
castle windows,
large windows,
small windows.
They see it all,
from blameless to guilty,
from noble to treacherous,
through windows.
From skyscraper windows,
to basement flat windows,
from paupers windows,
and palace windows
they watch, absorb, suck it in.
Later when they have grown
they will remember,
try to empathise,
rationalise
decipher the coded metaphors,
but some day
they will be demoralised
by the windows of life.
There they sit __ wistfully watching __
the children
of our times.
poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
As Said
As said I have opened
All my doors and windows
Lions snakes birds
Air rain all allowed
To come and go.
I am impartial
I am transparent
I am judicious
I salute the truth
I salute the beauty
And pious.
As said I have opened
All my doors and windows.
I catch true words
That is there
Within the seven colors
Within the rainbow
Within the life
That is going and going
Like Times honest arrow.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In The Ashes!
break out the windows,
kick down the doors!
stack all the old furniture...
and set fire to it!
the windows....
...through which we stared at life
......safe from its touch!
the doors....
....we closed in our fear
......of who we are
.......and what we see
...........in each other.
the furniture....
....we sat on and laid on
.......while the cries of the struggling
.........and the hands of the hungry
.............reached out...
the fire....
...that burns apathy with pure compassion
.......burns the lie of self till we find
.........the faces of God in the ashes!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
As Far Away.... (As Near Can Be)
there is a still joy in the night,
every sound, every movement.
when shadows come to life,
and time is forgotten.
and intimacy is restored.
one can almost taste the darkness,
the scent of trees, and grasses,
bathing in moonlight.
the dog barking in the distance,
is as near as only far can be.
somewhere lovers wrap in passioned ardor,
and children sleep in make believe wombs.
and god walks naked beneath windows,
and by locked doors, sprinkling the dust of hope.
while alone i drink in the stillness,
dying with the moths drawn to the lantern.
thinking of rain i smile, and whisper to lightning,
as far away as near can be!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Welcome Sir!
It was a fascinating night
like albino children playing in park.
I was gazing at sky.
The years have gone by one by one.
I am still walking on dead leaves
refusing the fruits.
This was me, no urge, no need,
the leather worn out but
feet are intact.
A continous civil war among the windows
suffers the grace. Stupidities of house.
You collect the garbage whole life
and when time comes to depart,
make a bonfire of your winnings.
We are ageing like wall paper
and talking to doors. The guest
is coming at last.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In This House
in this house
where you've been
what you've seen
were the windows
in this house
where you've been
what you've seen
were the doors
in this house
where you've sat
what you ate
was your food
in this house
where you've sat
what you ate
was the word
in this house
where you stood
what you could
something say
in this house
you could open
windows doors clapping wings
in this house
you could open
soul that heaven upward sings
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Writings On The Wall
The writings on the wall brother
Your life is in your hands
Its up to you to see the writings on the wall.
It looks you in the eye mister
Its time we stand up tall
Go see and understand the writings on the wall.
Strange we hold on to things that have no grace
Or power
While death holds on to us much more with every
Passing hour
And all the time you thought it would last
Your life, your friends would always be
til theyre drunk away or shot away or die away
From you.
Theres nothing that you need sister
The lord is in you all
Life is designed to see the writings on the wall.
The musics in the air mothers
You may have heard it call
To you that you may see the writings on the wall.
Be careful going home sister
Be watchful down that road
Youve got a lot of love sister
More to grow.
The writings on the wall brothers
Your life is in your hands
Its up to you to see the writings on the wall
I hope that you may see the writings on the wall.
song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Packt Like Sardines In A Crushd Tin Box
there are bomb? doors and there are revolving doors doors on the rudders of big ships and there are revolving doors there are doors that open by themselves there are sliding doors and there are secret doors there are doors that lock and doors that don't there are doors that let you in and out but never open but there are trap doors that you can't come back from
song performed by by Radiohead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I Am Not Afraid Of Emptiness
i may not have told you, but now i will tell it to you
three times,
girl, i am not afraid of emptiness
the one that walks upon you when you were once this huge
space like a Gothic church with doors like mountains and windows
like continents
the sound of emptiness reverberates like a tin cup
that falls on the iron rails of this room
it fills every nerve that coils upon itself and forms a hand gripping
for waterfalls
it closes the ears and rips every rational entries that your eyes
write in the pages of your journal
it encloses you like a mental jacket of that new patient
at ward 6,
it walls you in like you are a chair inside the congested kitchen
look, who likes the congestion of the spirits?
who likes the choking of the nicks of time?
who likes a light imprisoned in its own flames
burning itself upon itself like a candle consuming both of its ends?
who like the mezzanine filled with letters that you keep
containing love stories of suicide and escape?
look upon your face too crowded with your senses?
it is a forest with trees killing each other for an ounce of light
roots upon roots and leaves upon leaves this world is too crowded
with unraveling thoughts
i am not afraid of emptiness
i like my windows opening all the days of my life
i like doors without locks
stairs without rails, houses without walls and roofs
i live in open space and yes right here inside my heart
i thrive in its empty spaces without the nerves and the veins
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Pull / Pulk Revolving Doors
There are barn doors
And there are revolving doors
Doors on the rudders of big ships
And there are revolving doors
There are doors that open by themselves
There are sliding doors
And there are secret doors
There are doors that lock
And doors that dont
There are doors that let you in
And out
But never open
But there are trapdoors
That you cant come back from
song performed by by Radiohead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Animation
thunder assumes life
of the male genitalia ruling the evening
the houses are the recipients of its fury
the bliss of the other strikes
the roofs of those who remain indifferent
to its invasion
there are sounds of moaning of the wind
but the windows know how to pretend
that they are all dead
lightning tries to provide the electricity
of the lapses
but the doors like the windows
also know how to pretend
like the house.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Pull Pulk Revolving Doors
There are barn doors
And there are revolving doors
Doors on the rudders of big ships
We are revolving doors
There are doors that open by themselves
There are sliding doors
And there are secret doors
There are doors that lock
And doors that don't
There are doors that let you in
And out
But never open
But they are trapdoors
That you can't come back from
song performed by by Radiohead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Mirror Mirror on the Wall
*couldn't find Two Souls Intertwined so here*
Mirror, mirror on the wall. Sit and watch me take my fall.
Reflect the world right back to me and mock me against it all.
Mirror, mirror on the wall. It’s not as it should seem.
The truths are lies the lies are truth and I can’t even scream.
Mirror, mirror on the wall. You lie straight to my face.
Though the picture may be clear my mind you slowly erase.
Mirror, mirror on the wall. You’re complexion is smooth and cold.
But beneath that reflecting beauty lies something worse than bold.
Walls that see my every move; that hear my every word.
Can you hear my heart beat quicken like a tiny caged bird.
Windows that show the freedom. Out there beyond my world.
What you paint is like the mirror; deceiving at every turn.
Mirror, mirror on the wall. You see what’s in my hand.
Walls that know my secrets. I think you know my plan.
Windows that show my freedom. Shall I toss her out of you?
Face that reflects with a glimmer. Is this what you choose?
Eyes that stare back at me. I do not recognize.
The walls, the mirror, the windows too are all out for my demise.
Mind that’s been corrupted. Stare upon thy face.
If I destroy this ‘home’…shall I to be erased?
Mirror, mirror on the wall. You have seen me take my fall.
Mirror, mirror on the wall. You were never there at all.
poem by Vanessa Kingsley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Settling Fog
“Save, save, save me from the brutal hands, ”
The cries emerged early in the foggy morn,
In the month of December in frosty cold.
Then a volley of bullets was fired,
The cries instantly became silent;
The neighboring windows, the doors opened,
They seemed like black holes in the thick fog;
The lookers’ images appeared like phantoms,
Then smelling stinking smell of the foul game,
They shut tight the windows, the doors,
No one came to rescue the victimized being,
For the fog was settling before the sun rose.
poem by Shahida Latif
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Looking Out Of Windows
Looking out of windows,
Wondering what life holds...
May offer some enchantment.
Hoping that the wind blows,
Away from closed doors...
Eliminates taking chances.
And one dedicated to waste,
Can say they chased...
A hectic life with a hectic pace.
And one dedicated to waste,
Can say they chased...
All troubles away before they're faced.
Looking out of windows,
Wondering what life holds...
May offer some enchantment.
Hoping that the wind blows,
Away from closed doors...
Eliminates taking chances.
And one dedicated to waste,
Can say they chased...
All troubles away before they're faced.
And one dedicated to waste,
Can say they chased...
A hectic life with a hectic pace,
Although they feel inside they're safe.
Looking out of windows,
Wondering what life holds...
One feels safer but still has a taste,
Of life!
AND...
What it's like to live.
Looking out of windows,
Wondering what life holds...
One feels safer but still has a taste,
Of life!
AND...
What it's like to live.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sad Lisa
She hangs her head and cries on my shirt.
She must be hurt very badly.
Tell me whats making you sadly?
Open your door, dont hide in the dark.
Youre lost in the dark, you can trust me.
cause you know thats how it must be.
Lisa lisa, sad lisa lisa.
Her eyes like windows, tricklin rain
Upon her pain getting deeper.
Though my love wants to relieve her.
She walks alone from wall to wall.
Lost in a hall, she cant hear me.
Though I know she likes to be near me.
Lisa lisa, sad lisa lisa.
She sits in a corner by the door.
There must be more I can tell her.
If she really wants me to help her.
Ill do what I can to show her the way.
And maybe one day I will free her.
Though I know no one can see her.
Lisa lisa, sad lisa lisa.
song performed by by Cat Stevens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Stop Your Peeping Through Those Keyholes
Stop that peeping through those keyholes.
Open the windows and doors you've closed.
And take advantage of the time,
Bestowed upon you...
To stretch your mind.
Do this...
And you are certain to grow.
Stop your peeping through those keyholes.
Get fresh air and let yourself be exposed.
To all that is offered,
Beyond suspicions you guess..
And from rumors heard with gossip proposed.
Follow you must...
Each rising Sun.
From dawn 'til noon...
Until the dusk of twilight,
Invites nightfall that comes.
Stop that peeping through those keyholes.
Don't welcome your troubles,
To undo a happiness...
To chase away on the run.
Stop that peeping just to peek.
Stop that peeping just to peek.
Stop your peeping through those keyholes.
Stop that...
Peepng through those keyholes.
Open your windows and doors shut closed.
Stop that...
Peepng through those keyholes.
And take advantage of a life unlived.
One you have yet to accept.
Or come to know.
Stop your peeping through those keyholes.
And live a life to live to be bold.
Stop your,
Peeping through those keyholes.
And live a life to live that is proudly told.
Stop that peeping just to peek.
Stop that peeping just to peek.
Stop that peeping before you're too old.
Stop that,
Peeping through those keyholes.
And live a life to live to be bold.
Stop your,
Peeping through those keyholes.
And live a life to live that is proudly told.
Live a life to live that is proudly told.
And live a life before you're too old.
Stop that,
Peeping through those keyholes.
And live a life to live to be bold.
Stop your,
Peeping through those keyholes.
And live a life to live that is proudly told.
Live a life to live that is proudly told.
And live a life before you're too old.
Stop your,
Peeping through those keyholes.
And live a life before you're too old.
Stop your,
Peeping through those keyholes.
And live a life before you're too old.
Stop your,
Peeping through those keyholes.
And live a life before you're too old.
Live life before you're too old.
Stop your peeping through those keyholes.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Spring Song
ALL winter through I sat alone,
Doors barred and windows shuttered fast,
And listened to the wind's faint moan,
And ghostly mutterings of the past;
And in the pauses of the rain,
'Mid whispers of dead sorrow and sin,
Love tapped upon the window pane:
I had no heart to let him in.
But now, with spring, my doors stand wide;
My windows let delight creep through;
I hear the skylark sing outside;
I see the crocus, golden new.
The pigeons on my window-sill,
Winging and wooing, flirt and flout,--
Now Love must enter if he will,
I have no heart to keep him out.
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Some Things Do Hurt
some things shall hurt
they are designed for that purpose
by some people
these architects of pain
but we shall not be swayed
into the ways of the curse
and degradation
let them draw the plan
and let them construct what they
want to
they will make doors that lock
when we get in
and we shall have to look for ways
ourselves to get out
from their schemes
they will make windows that will only close
and not open and we shall look for
holes where we can take in air
and breathe
we shall be their pawns
and the experimental guinea pigs of their
pains and distress
they may laugh for a while
and drink to our fate
they may proclaim that they are winning
to their pre-conceived notions
of what they believe as our own
stupidity and gullibility
we shall wait for the time
and that is what we are also designed to do
we shall wait when they all fall asleep
drunk to their evil ways
for soon this darkness will turn the table
and side with us
and we shall have the time to open the windows
and summon the moon to hear our pleas
to unlock the doors and summon the sun
to brighten our twilights of woes
we escape and we shall see that house of pain burned
to ashes
now it is our time
the last laugh, our freedom, our revenge.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Editing Bukowski, Without His Permission
i
Long walks at night-
that's what good for the soul:
peeking into windows
watching tired housewives
trying to fight off
their beer-maddened husbands.
ii
(i am a minimalist, how about removing the last line,
ok, i will try)
Long walks at night-
that's what good for the soul:
peeking into windows
watching tired housewives
trying to fight off
iii
(hey, how about removing the first line,
the long walks are not really necessary,
ok)
that's what good for the soul:
peeking into windows
watching tired housewives
trying to fight off
iv
(hmm
why not remove the third and fourth,
it sounds good to me...
yeah, i will)
that's what good for the soul:
watching tired housewives
v
(what about using only one word
to make the poem
very brief?
ok.. i will leave the most important one)
-nothing follows-
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!