Home is the wallpaper above the bed, the family dinner table, the church bells in the morning, the bruised shins of the playground, the small fears that come with dusk, the streets and squares and monuments and shops that constitute one's first universe.
quote by Henry Anatole Grunwald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Playground
I climb up, spending daylight
Slide down drunken on the other side
Some sweet girl, playing my wife,
Runs off with a boy whose bike shell ride
Playground (its a playground)
Marked by the masters and bruised by the bullies in the
Playground (its a playground)
Never stop rehearsing, rehearsing for the big square world
Bells will ring, door flings open
Hare and greyhound in the old kiss chase
Youve been caught, game has ended
Smack on kisser from her slap on face
Playground (its a playground)
Were marked by the masters and bruised by the bullies in the
Playground (its a playground)
Never stop rehearsing, rehearsing for the big square world
Watch the leaves all tear away (one by one)
Leaving you but lined like an exercise book
What did your report once say (know the one)
This boy must try harder to please
From down on his knees
Playground, playground, playground, playground, playground,
Playground, playground, playground
Brain gets bent, heart gets broken
You cant jump off once the page is turned
School is out but never over
Thats the only lesson you can learn
Playground (its a playground)
Were marked by the masters and bruised by the bullies in the
Playground (its a playground)
Never stop rehearsing, rehearsing for the big square
Playground (its a playground)
Go for the high jump if you let em push you in the
Playground (its a playground)
Theres no escaping, escaping from their big square world
You may leave school, but it never leaves you
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There At The Cave Door Of The Old Church
there at the cave door of the old church
you shall enter
move farther. move some more until you reach
the dead end corner
where the windows are little squares
lighted by the small fingers of the sun
shining all day
find our some truths of squares
lights and shadows of the past of this old church
on its window and door
have you gone to the old church in Baclayon?
have you seen this old door and window?
tell me if it is true that there are no more choices
in your life.
what they are saying is not really true.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Vacancy, For Rent
walking the streets
of a small southern town...
empty buildings, empty houses,
'vacancy, for rent'
no one moving much,
even the church parking lots
are empty.... seems like
Jesus and His disciples
packed up, and moved on...
probably looking for work!
only a sense of quiet despair,
the sound of old cars rusting,
and the howling of a dog.
just read the news:
an elderly couple, married
67 years, murder suicide...
he'd been sick, she had
alzheimer's.... afraid there'd
be no one to take care of her...
another unmarked grave,
forgotten people, abandoned
by their own government.....
another empty house that
used to be a home...
'vacancy, for rent.'
just walking the streets
of a small southern town...
church bells are ringing...
and the smell of death
hangs in the air!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Bells
And the actresses relate
To the actor who comes home late
After the plays have gone down
And the crowds have scattered around
Though the city lights and the streets
No ticket could be beat
For the beautiful show of shows
Ah, broadway only knows
The great white milky way
It had something to say
When he fell down on his knees
After soaring through the air
With nothing to hold him there
It was really not so cute
To play without a parachute
As he stood upon the ledge
Looking out, he thought he saw a brook
And he hollered, look, there are the bells
And he sang out, here come the bells
Here come the bells, here come the bells
Here come the bells
Here come the bells
Here come the bells
Here come the bells
Here come the bells
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sundays Past
On Sunday mornings you would wear a dark suit
With a tie and shiny shoes you are ready to en route
The church bells would ring calling for morning mass
While you check the weather through the window glass
A last glance in the mirror and you are on your way
You join the church goers without any further delay
Walking over uneven cobblestones in our small town
Children would jump on the sidewalks up and down
Dressed up for church everyone is wearing their best
Thinking about the priest and what they have to confess
Men lifting their dark hats as they wish a Good Morning
Then pass by the cemetery bowing heads as in mourning
The church bells now ringing louder and more demanding
Calling all sinners to mass without misunderstanding
I always knew that right then the decision was made
And it was agreed to skip church without being afraid
Through the old alley you and others took a known detour
Heading straight to the pub on the corner that is for sure
Around noon I would go to meet my father by the church
And he would talk about mass having done some research
At home my mother would just smile and shake her head
While my father gave her a wink that was hardly misread
Joking around we would eat lunch smiling with every bite
Keeping my father's Sunday secret and the world was alright
© 2011
poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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O, What A Short Story
From beginning to end it was a short tale
It follows like this, a once unspoken story
Dusk would come and we’d walk together
Down along the beach, we could stay for forever
The sand would squeeze between our toes
As we walked together, on the beach at dusk
Night would come and we’d eat together
Followed by talk of what the future would bring
A bundle of happiness, and a house together
We’d talk together, after eating dinner at night
Morning would come and we’d be off to work
What a night we’d had, but forgotten already
Fights would follow and a change would be made
We’d fight and fight, in the morning during work
By lunchtime the end would soon be near
Sick of the madness and unpredictable sadness
My bags would be packed before dinner came
I’d pack my bags, after lunch in sorrow
That dinner would be lonely, alone I’d eat
And I’d cry myself to sleep
Alone at a friends, a depression with no end
I’d finally sleep, after dinner I’d cry
My story would end at midnight that night
How could I bear to live, without my sweetheart?
I’d go peacefully in sleep, after taking those pills
I’d take my last breath, at midnight that night
poem by Alyssa Baker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Working Man
I am a working man
up from dawn to dusk.
I till the fields to keep my family fed.
The soil is not my right,
but a gift to me.
If I handle it with care,
crops every year it rewards me.
I am a working man
and when my day is done,
the warmth of my family
fills the place I call home.
Every morning I see
the wonders of the rising sun
and as night approaches,
I watch the moon come up.
My life is sometimes hard,
but I know satisfaction of a job well done.
It is our daily bread,
where our money comes from.
God blessed me with this land
and I look after it for him.
For I am a working man
up from dawn to dusk.
26 November 2007
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bredon Hill
In summertime on Bredon
The bells they sound so clear;
Round both the shires they ring them
In steeples far and near,
A happy noise to hear.
Here of a Sunday morning
My love and I would lie,
And see the coloured counties,
And hear the larks so high
About us in the sky.
The bells would ring to call her
In valleys miles away:
'Come all to church, good people;
Good people, come and pray.
But here my love would stay.
And I would turn and answer
Among the springing thyme,
'Oh, peal upon our wedding,
And we will hear the chime,
And come to church in time.
But when the snows at Christmas
On Bredon top were strewn,
My love rose up so early
And stole out unbeknown
And went to church alone.
They tolled the one bell only,
Groom there was none to see,
The mourners followed after,
And so to church went she,
And would not wait for me.
The bells they sound on Bredon,
And still the steeples hum.
'Come all to church, good people,' -
Oh, noisy bells, be dumb;
I hear you, I will come.
poem by Alfred Edward Housman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Church Bells
Church Bells
Once I lived in a charming English village, near
an ancient church, every Sunday morning
on my only day off, the bloody bells chimed.
Thought I saw a woman cycling to mass in
the mist, and it wasn´t Germaine Greer.
When Muslims ruled Andalusia, they tolerated
Christians, but a poet of that time -Ibn Baqi-
circa 1059 1112, wished they wouldn´t clang
bells so hard waking him up when air was cool,
sleep sweet and his Christian mistress had to
get up and go to mass. So far nothing has
changed, dear Ibn Baqi, the bells keep on tolling
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In The Small Park Aza Rd. Rechavia Thirty- Five Years Later
IN THE SMALL PARK AZA RD. RECHAVIA
Thirty- five years
Have gone by
I was alone then here
My family in America
Lonely and beginning in love.
Here now
In official old age
And not tired
My children far
And worried about-
I do what I did then
Write a small poem
And pretend
I am making my name
An eternity.
The cars go by as they did then
A few cats, one child in the playground
Across from me a flag of Israel on a standard block building
Seen through the yellow- green happy color
Of the morning trees.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Language Of Love
I want your flesh and blood
And to feel your heart pumping hard
I want to tell my story to your eyes
I want to watch you react
To me baby
Maybe Im dreaming
I got to do something
We may be on the same planet
Living in different worlds
Do you speak the language of love
Living in the touch of your fingers
Are you the passionate type
Is this a natural thing
Do you speak the language of love
Second hand emotional trigger
In the devils playground
Hear the church bells ring
I speak the language of love
I speak the language of love
Shes my great obsession
And the girl likes me too
I think she has the wrong impression
She thinks I want to be friends
Maybe Im dreaming
I better do something
We might be on the same planet
But talk different tongues
Do you speak the language of love
Living in the touch of your fingers
Are you the passionate type
Is this a natural thing
Do you speak the language of love
Second hand emotional trigger
In the devils playground
Hear the church bells ring
I speak the language of love
I speak the language of love
She thinks I want to be friends
Maybe Im dreaming
I better do something
We may be on the same planet
Living in different worlds
I speak the language of love
I speak the language of love
Do you speak the language of love
Living in the touch of your fingers
Are you the passionate type
Is this a natural thing
Do you speak the language of love
Second hand emotional trigger
In the devils playground
Hear the church bells ring
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Language Of Love
I want your flesh and blood
And to feel your heart pumping hard
I want to tell my story to your eyes
I want to watch you react
To me baby
Maybe I'm dreaming
I got to do something
We may be on the same planet
Living in different worlds
Do you speak the language of love
Living in the touch of your fingers
Are you the passionate type
Is this a natural thing
Do you speak the language of love
Second hand emotional trigger
In the devil's playground
Hear the church bells ring
I speak the language of love
I speak the language of love
She's my great obsession
And the girl likes me too
I think she has the wrong impression
She thinks I want to be friends
Maybe I'm dreaming
I better do something
We might be on the same planet
But talk different tongues
Do you speak the language of love
Living in the touch of your fingers
Are you the passionate type
Is this a natural thing
Do you speak the language of love
Second hand emotional trigger
In the devil's playground
Hear the church bells ring
I speak the language of love
I speak the language of love
She thinks I want to be friends
Maybe I'm dreaming
I better do something
We may be on the same planet
Living in different worlds
I speak the language of love
I speak the language of love
Do you speak the language of love
Living in the touch of your fingers
Are you the passionate type
Is this a natural thing
Do you speak the language of love
Second hand emotional trigger
In the devil's playground
Hear the church bells ring
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dinner Bell
Ive been leaving on my things
So in the morning when the morning bird sings
Theres still dinner on my dinner jacket
til the dinner bell rings
Experimental dog*
Salivating dog
Good dog
Waiting for the dinner bell to do the bell thing (waiting for the dinner bell)
Dinner bell dinner bell ring
Ive been leaving on my things
So in the morning when the morning bird sings
Theres still dinner on my dinner jacket
til the dinner bell rings
I dont want a pizza, I dont want a piece of (experimental dog)
Peanut brittle, I dont want a pear.
I dont want a bagel I dont want a bean I wouldnt like (salivating dog)
A bag of beef or a beer or a
Cup of chowder, corn, cake, or creamed cauliflower cause Im (good dog)
Waiting for the dinner bell to do the bell thing (waiting for the dinner bell)
Dinner bell dinner bell ring
Shoulder, bicep, elbow, arm
Forearm, thumb, wrist, knuckle, palm
Middle, pinky, index, ring
Dinner bell dinner bell ding
I dont know whether Id rather be having a bottle of vinegar (experimental dog)
I dont know whether Id rather be having an egg.
I dont know whether Id rather be having an order of bacon (salivating dog)
Or whether Id rather be having a basket of garlic bread.
I dont know whether Id rather be having some pie or (good dog)
Saving my appetite cause im
Waiting for the dinner bell to do the bell thing (waiting for the dinner bell)
Dinner bell dinner bell ring
Ive been leaving on my things (Ive been leaving on)
So in the morning when the morning bird sings (the morning)
Theres still dinner on my dinner jacket (on my)
til the dinner bell does the bell thing
Dinner bell dinner bell do the bell thing
Im waiting for the dinner bell to do the bell thing (waiting for the ding)
Dinner bell dinner bell ding ding ding
Waiting for the dinner bell to do the bell thing (waiting for the ding)
Dinner bell dinner bell ding ding ding
Waiting for the dinner bell to do the bell thing (waiting for the ding)
Dinner bell dinner bell ding
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chisinau (Life poem)
Slendiforous girls in their sexy summer clothes,
Their stilettos strutter on the sticky hot streets,
Knowing you are distractible by catwalk curves,
The streets a clutteration of Volgas and Volvos.
Breakfast harpist plays muzak in the morning,
Makes my ham and eggs strangely indigestible,
And lobby designer shops jarringly bankrupt,
Tartan uniforms match carpet in the "Irish" bar.
Just another comfortabulous hotel home, again
poem by Ian Beckett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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With Bells On
Ill be home with bells on
Ill be home with bells on
Trim the tree and wrap the presents turn the christmas music on
This christmas Ill be home with bells on
Ive traveled around this country crossed the waters deep and wide
Made lots of friends and memories brought joy to others lives
Its christmas time again another year has come and gone
And I cant keep from wonderin how the old folks are at home
Ill be home with bells on
Ill be home with bells on
Trim the tree and wrap the presents turn the christmas music on
This christmas Ill be home with bells on
When the snow is on the meadow and the sleigh bells jingle bright
And the kids are singing jingle bells around the christmas lights
As daddy stokes the fire and mama puts the turkey on
There aint nothing going to slow me down this christmas Ill be home
Ill be home with bells on
Ill be home with bells on
Trim the tree and wrap the presents turn the christmas music on
This christmas Ill be home with bells on
Repeat chorus
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silver
Nirvana- Silver
Mom and dad went to a show
They dropped me off at Grandpa Joe's
I kicked and screamed, said please don't go
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Had to eat my dinner there
Mashed potatoes and stuff like that
I couldn't chew my meats too good
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
She said, well, don't you start your crying
Go outside and ride your bike
That's what I did, I killed my toe
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
After dinner, I had ice cream
I fell asleep and watched TV
I woke up in my mother's arms
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
I wanna be alone
song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Girl That I Met
I met her down streets one evening,
She was coming out of what she calls home,
Where she had left a family,
That is her responsibility,
To provide all the necessities.
She’s a mother and a father,
To the two younger girls at home,
For their parents had passed away,
About four years ago from the disease,
Then she should take care of the family.
There’s no uncles and aunts for them,
All they did was to sweep away everything,
Cars, estates, houses and everything,
Leaving the kids with concrete poverty,
And the children are now suffering.
I asked that orphaned girl how she managed,
To feed the family at her age under eighteen,
She started crying but she dared to tell me,
The story of her everyday life,
The story that keeps on torturing my mind.
She sells drugs down streets every day,
Then selling her body downtown every night,
Making sure she earns something,
To be back with at home for the family to survive,
Family needs shelter, food and clothes.
poem by Fadhy Mtanga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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That Home
There was lots of laughter
in that home
shed some briny
Tears
in that home
breakfast
lunch
and dinner
in that home
Me and my brother
in comfortable bed
in that home
Father and Mother
raised a family
best they could
in that home
now that home is gone
and
So is my childhood!
poem by Dorsey Baker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Some of the most important conversations I've ever had occurred at my family's dinner table.
quote by Bob Ehrlich
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Childless Home
i have a home, not just a house,
you may disagree, but it is a home to me.
my heart longs for it
and my body likes to sleep with it.
i have this home and you may see it
and feel it, like it is your home,
but then you may complain,
there is no sound of a child yawning,
or a kid playing with his toys,
there is none in my home, but it is the sweetest home
i ever had, a simple home, with windows and doors,
a wife serving me dinner, only for the two of us
a table, two plates, two cups,
a set of spoons, a hot soup, and a happy
conversation.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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