Related quotes: When the tea is brought...

When the tea is brought at five o'clock And all the neat curtains are drawn with care, The little black cat with bright green eyes Is suddenly purring there.

quote by Harold Monro
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes

Milk For The Cat

When the tea is brought at five o'clock,
And all the neat curtains are drawn with care,
The little black cat with bright green eyes
Is suddenly purring there.

At first she pretends, having nothing to do,
She has come in merely to blink by the grate,
But, though tea may be late or the milk may be
sour,
She is never late.

And presently her agate eyes
Take a soft large milky haze,
And her independent casual glance
Becomes a stiff, hard gaze.

Then she stamps her claws or lifts her ears,
Or twists her tail and begins to stir,
Till suddenly all her lithe body becomes
One breathing, trembling purr.

The children eat and wriggle and laugh;
The two old ladies stroke their silk:
But the cat is grown small and thin with desire,
Transformed to a creeping lust for milk.

The white saucer like some full moon descends
At last from the clouds of the table above;
She sighs and dreams and thrills and glows,
Transfigured with love.

She nestles over the shining rim,
Buries her chin in the creamy sea;
Her tail hangs loose; each drowsy paw
Is doubled under each bending knee.

A long, dim ecstasy holds her life;
Her world is an infinite shapeless white,
Till her tongue has curled the last holy drop,
Then she sinks back into the night,

Draws and dips her body to heap
Her sleepy nerves in the great arm-chair,
Lies defeated and buried deep
Three or four hours unconscious there.

poem by Harold Monro
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Faith

A wall
Gray and tall,
And a sky of gray,
And a twilight cold;
And that is all
That my eyes behold.
But I know that unseen,
Beyond the wall,
On a lawn of green
White blossoms fall
In the waning light;
And beyond the lawn
Curtains are drawn
From windows bright.
And within she moves with her gracious hands
And the heart that loves and that understands,
Waiting to succour poor souls in need,
And to bind with her blessing the hearts that bleed.

I know it all, though I cannot see;
But the tired-out tramp,
Dirty and ill,
In the evening's damp,
In the Spring's clean chill,
Knows not that there
Is the heart to care
For such as I and for such as he.
He slouches along, and sees alone
The gray of the sky and the gray of the stone.

Lord, when my eyes see nothing but grey
In all Thy world that is now so green,
I will bethink me of this spring day
And the house of welcome, known yet unseen;
The wall that conceals
And the faith that reveals.

poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If We Can See Through The Dark

Stretch on the bed and lie on the side,
Curtains drawn and lights off,
Can see the illuminating switches,
red, yellow and green tinted,
remotes have eyes and easy to pick up,
the hands of clock can be seen,
the gap between the railings,
the light tries to escape,
down under the sliding door,
the naughty rays peep at me.
I am not in pitch dark,
still I can see the objects,
near and around me,
but when you stand under,
bright day light,
I can not see what you think,
How you manipulate,
How your forked tongue, '
speak different languages,
to different people
at different places.
Keeping venom at heart,
speak as a saint.
Mocking at our poverty,
you cherish at our generosity.
Men come and women go,
Woman come and man go,
What a spectacular political play,
No director and script needed,
perfectly staged in every other country.

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Orpheus In The Underworld

Curtains of rock
And tears of stone,
Wet leaves in a high crevice of the sky:
From side to side the draperies
Drawn back by rigid hands.

And he came carrying the shattered lyre,
And wearing the blue robes of a king,
And looking through eyes like holes torn in a screen;
And the distant sea was faintly heard,
From time to time, in the suddenly rising wind,
Like a broken song.

Out of his sleep, from time to time,
From between half open lips,
Escaped the bewildered words which try to tell
The tale of his bright night
And his wing-shadowed day
The soaring flights of thought beneath the sun
Above the islands of the seas
And all the deserts, all the pastures, all the plains
Of the distracting foreign land.

He sleeps with the broken lyre between his hands,
And round his slumber are drawn back
The rigid draperies, the tears and wet leaves,
Cold curtains of rock concealing the bottomless sky.

poem by David Gascoyne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Until The Silence Reigns

and so it happens
the clock strikes seven

you dream about curtains
catching flames
the house screams
and you discover you
are but a wall of this
structure

you look at the clock
on your side
it is seven

but seven what?
you get up from bed
and proceed to the CR
wash your face
feeling like a wall still
you rub the soap
and feel your cheek
you slap it

you feel like a wall
and the curtains continue to burn themselves
the house scream at its loud voice
you are still this wall
and you do not really care

to ash from ash
and to ash you shall return

there is no hurry no fright no panic
let death come with grace

the wall is flat and inanimate
let the curtains burn let the house scream
until the silence of the ash reigns

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Eyes

Eyes are blue
Eyes are green
Eyes are true
Eyes are mean

Eyes are bright
Give the light
Eyes are black
Like the night

Eyes are cold
Eyes are warm
Eyes are angry
Like a storm

Eyes are kind
Eyes are blind
Eyes are evil
Eyes of devil

Eyes are hungry
Eyes of walls
Eyes are empty
Eyes of dolls

Eyes are loving
Eyes are charming
Eyes are lying
Truth denying

Eyes are haughty
Eyes are naughty
Eyes are naïve
To all they believe

Eyes are strained
A fear remained
Eyes without hope
Ready for the rope

Eyes are vulnerable
Eyes that gamble
Eyes are sensitive
Eyes are attentive

Eyes are stubborn
Eyes are submissive
Eyes of a new born
Eyes are pensive

Loving eyes are true
Black, brown or blue
My eyes are green
A lot they have seen

©Larisa Rzhepishevska
January 11th,2011

poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Green, Green, and More Green

There is green everywhere,
even in peoples' hair.Some
on hands, some on shirts.
There is green everywhere!

Green, green, and more green.
I think I'm going crazy over green.
If you don't wear green you get pinched,
then you'll start to itch.
So many people are obsessed with green.
Green Spring, green air.Green feet, green wheat, green meat.
Green isn't very neat!

poem by Autumn Howard
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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November Sunset

About five o clock,
the warm November day
just stops.

Bright afternoon
slams into evening
not even pausing
for twilight.

Blue sky
dims quickly
to violet,

but over ragged black canyons
the orange sun
lingers

and suddenly bursts
into astonishing gold.

Blithely ascending
the bright crescent
claims the cool
velvet night.

poem by Steven Federle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Suddenly

Orbison/melson
Suddenly, my heart stood still
Suddenly, the sight of you gave me a thrill
Suddenly
Suddenly, i see you everywhere
Suddenly, all at once i seem to care for you
Suddenly
So suddenly i found you
To think you were near all the time
I've often been around you
I don't know how i could have been so blind
Suddenly, my world is new
Suddenly, suddenly there's only you
Suddenly
So suddenly i found you
To think you were near all the time
I've often been around you
I don't know how i could have been so blind
Suddenly, suddenly you're my dream come true
Suddenly, suddenly there's only you
So suddenly

song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My awesome amazing rainbow sock

Sitting on my bright green clock
Just waiting for a walk
Is my amazing rainbow sock
It will just sit there and mock
Like an mean old jock
As still as a rock
On my bright green clock
But it I will never walk
I only have one amazing rainbow sock

poem by Samantha Garnett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Some Silence Hanged Wordless Between Us

Next to a silver river, a clear stream
you were dreaming against a willow,
with a small smile, silent and satisfied
as if something great happened in the past
when your bright eyes suddenly caught mine,
words hang silently between us.

In your eyes light sparkled like stars,
a leave fell and glided away
when suddenly a plover called from the marsh
with others answering from far away
when your bright eyes suddenly caught mine,
words hang silently between us.

Where the water flows endlessly
you got quickly to your feet,
your glance went deep into my soul
and we could not evade our feelings,
when your bright eyes suddenly caught mine,
words hang silently between us.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Clock Keeps Ticking

I want alone to be
I want to drown in lonely sea
But the clock keeps ticking

I want to stop
I want to forever halt
But the clock keeps beating

I want to run
I want far away from land
But the clock keeps pursuing

I want to hide
I no more want to think of fight
But the clock keeps shouting

I want to rest
I want in dream hibernate
But the clock keeps breaking

I want to sing
I want to strengthen the spring
But the clock keeps shaking

I want to only follow
I no longer want to know
But the clock keeps pumping

I want to hurt
I don’t care if I should hate
But the clock keeps moving

poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Asylum

My tears are blue,
My eyes, Purple, green and black-
Yours, I do not know the color of-
I may have met you before in some dark alley-
Your eyes are shut as you sleep- You, I do not know.
All eyes are upon me now- Orange, blue and yellow-
The sky is green and clouds are maudlin-
Blood falls from eyes of sorcerers,
Tears, blue as deep sea water- falling from my eyes,
My eyes are purple, green and black.
Trapped inside a place unknown-
Unknown to my spirit's heaven-
Locked inside this devil's paradise- I cannot fathom reality.
I weep blue tears, combining with the blood
Pouring from the ceiling so dank and dark-
Turning purple and magenta, in hue-
Your lips are red- red as rage,
My hair is dark and dark as is Satan's advocate's
Please somebody rescue me!
My tears are blue, my eyes,
Purple, green and black- the color of yours
Still remains a mystery- When shall you awaken?
Only in good time, my friend, only in good time-
The face of the clock on the wall is orange - Its hands lost in space-
I am lost and beside myself- while you sleep-
We are locked inside of an asylum- I heard-
You are sleeping, still as the locked door before us-
I wonder, are you dreaming or are your dreams turning to nightmares-?
My ears are ringing, I am blue- they just told me through the keyhole that
I am locked inside the world of my delusions?
Through your eyes I could read your thoughts but
Your eyes are closed as you sleep- and my eyes, are closed to the world.
Colors and more colors before me, my tears are blue,
I am blue-please release me from my pain.
I know I have been told in time I will be but the clock upon the wall
Has no feelings-just decorating this chamber of hell with
Its bright orange face as my blue tears fall
Onto the urine stained floors of this confinement-
My soul dissolves into nothingness, while blood drips from the ceiling-and
I wonder- do they make keys that unlock minds from the cells of their delusions?
Somebody just painted my world black and I am doomed to be trapped here
Forever…

poem by Claudia Krizay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Remember me! ! !

Remember me every year when the summer comes again
When the sun shines above golden and bright
Like your heart
I know how you feel
Remember me!

Did you remember those summer days?
You will Smile and your eyes that i adore
Those green eyes will glow more bright then the sun above
And the angels will fly above while you smile
Those green eyes like those green days
How i loved those eyes take care of those eyes and
Remember me!

Remember me every year when the winter days come again
And when its a lovely raining day
While the drops of rain runs trough your hair
To slip and make love on your soft skin
Remember me!

Remember me every time that you meet
Those poor kids on the corner of the streets
Or an old man and alone people on the road
I know what you will feel
Those eyes will tear
Remember me!

poem by Sossi Khachadourian
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Clock-O'-Clay

In the cowslip pips I lie,
Hidden from the buzzing fly,
While green grass beneath me lies,
Pearled with dew like fishes' eyes,
Here I lie, a clock-o'-clay,
Waiting for the time o' day.

While the forest quakes surprise,
And the wild wind sobs and sighs,
My home rocks as like to fall,
On its pillar green and tall;
When the pattering rain drives by
Clock-o'-clay keeps warm and dry.

Day by day and night by night,
All the week I hide from sight;
In the cowslip pips I lie,
In the rain still warm and dry;
Day and night and night and day,
Red, black-spotted clock-o'-clay.

My home shakes in wind and showers,
Pale green pillar topped with flowers,
Bending at the wild wind's breath,
Till I touch the grass beneath;
Here I live, lone clock-o'-clay,
Watching for the time of day.

poem by John Clare
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bed Bed Bed

The day is done
The sun is down
The curtains have been drawn
And darkness has descended over everything in town
The covers have been turned and I've got my pajamas on
I've had my fun
I've stretched and yawned and all is said and done
I'm going to bed
Bed bed bed bed bed
I've done so many things today
There's nothing left to do
I ate three meals, I rode my bike, I hung out with my friends
I did my chores, I watched TV, I practiced the guitar
I brushed my teeth, I read my book, and then I sat around
I'm going to bed
Bed bed bed bed bed
Moo
Moo
Moo
Moo
Oh it's pointless staying up for even twenty seconds more
When everything has happened and there's nothing else in store
The thing is now to lay my head down, close my eyes, and snore
And so to bed directly I go
The day is done
The sun is down
The curtains have been drawn
And darkness has descended over everything in town
The covers have been turned and I've got my pajamas on
I've had my fun
I've stretched and yawned and all is said and done
I'm going to bed
Bed bed bed bed bed
Bed
Bed bed bed bed bed
I'm going to bed
Bed bed bed bed bed bed bed bed bed

song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Witches' Glen - An Auld Tale

Gather aroon the ingle nuek
For ae eerie tale I'll tell -
'Boot a glen whar a witchy spook
Cast folk in her terrible spell.
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.

Warlocks an witches dance at night
When the full-moon turns its ken!
Thunder rides on a bolt of light
The deil's in the witches' glen!
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.

Auld trees hang o'er the twisted wynd
An' blot oot the licht o' day;
An there, there's staring eyes tae find
A stranger wha's lost their way.
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.

Frae Grennan wood she hailed an flew
A flash thru the black night wind
Come witchin hour everyin knew
She'd get a' the folks wha sinned.
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.

They burned her on Kirkmaiden hill
An' they bound her on a stake:
She chanted spells that made 'em ill
An' they pray'd for Jesus' sake.
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.

When ere ye walk the witches' glen,
Whar branches stretch oot like hands
Tak' Bible, cross an' say, Amen!
An' heed the guid Lord's commands.
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she's still there tae be seen.

poem by Patrick Scott Hogg
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Eyes Of Green And Gray

Eyes of green and gray
i wish you'd look my way
smile for me today
O eyes of green and gray

Eyes of black and white
of sorrow and delight
i behold every sight
through eyes of black and white

Eyes as hard as stone
so cold and all alone
lost without a home
with eyes as hard as stone

Eyes of green and gray
it's here i want to stay
and never look away
from eyes of green and gray

poem by Sergey Sibikovsky
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Margate

The curtains in the bedroom
are drawn close
and you lie
in semi-darkness.

Through the open window
I can smell the sea
and hear waves breaking
beyond the road.

The wind pulls at the curtains
and every now and then
the white beach
and the blue ocean peeps in.

We came to Margate
for a holiday at the sea
to bathe is shallow waters
to swim with the surf,

to have some fun
and tan in the hot sun,
but darkness hangs
like a shroud over you

while the white beach,
the bright blue sky
and the dark blue ocean waits
on us to come.