Inside my empty bottle I was constructing a lighthouse while all the others were making ships.
quote by Charles Simic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Lighthouse
The Lighthouse
By: Adam M. Snow
Come to my lighthouse;
so that I may light your way.
Come to my lighthouse;
a place for you to stay.
Where darkness hides;
the demons flees.
For I'll provide;
and you'll be at ease.
Come to my lighthouse;
for all is welcome;
even your spouse;
and those who are numb.
Come to my lighthouse;
my friend, my child.
to a place where there is no louse;
for you are also mild.
Come to my lighthouse;
so that I may light your way.
Come to my lighthouse;
a place for you to stay.
poem by Adam M. Snow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Invention consists in avoiding the constructing of useless contraptions and in constructing the useful combinations which are in infinite minority.
quote by Henri Poincare
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bottle 'O
I ain't the kind of bloke as takes to any steady job;
I drives me bottle cart around the town;
A bloke what keeps 'is eyes about can always make a bob --
I couldn't bear to graft for every brown.
There's lots of handy things about in everybody's yard,
There's cocks and hens a-runnin' to an' fro,
And little dogs what comes and barks -- we take 'em off their guard
And we puts 'em with the Empty Bottle-O!
Chorus --
So it's any "Empty bottles! Any empty bottle-O!"
You can hear us round for half a mile or so
And you'll see the women rushing
To take in the Monday's washing
When they 'ear us crying, "Empty Bottle-O!"
I'm driving down by Wexford-street and up a winder goes,
A girl sticks out 'er 'ead and looks at me,
An all-right tart with ginger 'air, and freckles on 'er nose;
I stops the cart and walks across to see.
"There ain't no bottles 'ere," says she, "since father took the pledge,"
"No bottles 'ere," says I, "I'd like to know
What right 'ave you to stick your 'ead outside the winder ledge,
If you 'aven't got no Empty Bottle-O!"
I sometimes gives the 'orse a spell, and then the push and me
We takes a little trip to Chowder Bay.
Oh! ain't it nice the 'ole day long a-gazin' at the sea
And a-hidin' of the tanglefoot away.
But when the booze gits 'old of us, and fellows starts to "scrap",
There's some what likes blue-metal for to throw:
But as for me, I always says for layin' out a "trap"
There's nothing like an Empty Bottle-O!
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Spurn Light
Afraid of the dark I could not be
For I had a light that shone on me.
It swept away my fears of night,
Scattered my demons and put them to flight.
Its cheerful beam put me at ease
As it did all those who plough the seas.
The light beamed out for miles around
Preventing ships from running aground.
Alas this light is now no more
And darkness reigns over sea and shore.
Its days are done now radar's here
To tell all ships what course to steer.
Yet still I miss that friendly light
That brought me comfort in the night.
Sailors, too, have told me they
Were sorry when it went away.
The lighthouse though does yet remain
Commanding views across the main.
Tall sentinel of Spurn, for me
It is a childhood memory.
(Re-working of a poem by a friend (Sandra
Shan) recalling her childhood memories of
an operational lighthouse that is now no
longer functional) .
poem by Pete Crowther
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An Almost Broken Glass Bottle
For a while now I've been afraid to say or show how I feel, so instead I go around telling people I'm tough, pretending to be made of steel
All of my feelings I shoved into a bottle made of glass, and as I shoved this glass bottle inside myself I prayed these feelings wouldn't last
The more of my feelings I shoved into it the fuller my glass bottle got, the only problem is once I started to shove all my feeling into it, I didn't know how to stop
Even if you were to ask me if I was okay I'd put on a smile and say I'm fine, even though deep down inside I know I'm lying
So here we are present day and despite my efforts to stop it, my glass bottle and I have started to crack and I know any minute now both of us are going to snap
No matter how much I wish it wasn't so, no matter how much all together I wish my glass bottle and I would stay, I know deep down that my almost broken glass bottle is any second gonna give way
poem by Tiger Lily Love
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Pushed and Startled
Pushed and startled,
Out from the box.
Uncorked inside this bottle,
To try to stop...
A blowing of a top.
Some drag their feet,
Through situations.
Fearing to meet whom they may greet.
And hating to be seen alone on public streets.
Whether tripping in or out of secret disguises.
Pushed and startled,
Out from the box.
Uncorked inside this bottle,
To try to stop...
A blowing of a top.
Beginning a mind rot...
With an unforgiving steam screaming nonstop.
Pushed and startled,
Out from the box.
Uncorked inside this bottle...
That could blow a top,
To pop-aloud!
Pushed and startled,
Out from the box.
Uncorked inside this bottle...
That could blow a top,
To pop-aloud!
And beginning of a mind rot!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Fly Trapped In An Empty Bottle Corked And Sealed
if you see
the fly trapped
inside an
empty bottle
corked and
sealed and
gasping for
breath
oh my
recall the love
of wisdom!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Picture Poem #216 (From, This is my Wasteland)
Ghost like days
by lighthouse stars
silent seas
and somewhere ships
in mist of fog
echoes
from the gone ways
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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To Be The One
Well the pills I got they ask me lets go out for a while
And the knives up in the kitchen are all too dull to smile
Yeah and the sun it tries to warn me
Boy those wings are made of wax
While the things I do to kill me
They just tell me to relax
But oh cinderella
All dressed up in all your boots and all your charms
Im not the fellow
To protect you or to keep you from all your harm
And I dont know which is worse
To wake up and see the sun
Or to be the one be the one
Be the one thats gone
And the empty bottle it misses you
Yeah and Im the one that its talking to
And with you and I just barely strangers
Im pretty much just left the fool
Damn dont the streets look empty though
Just wandering round here without you
Oh the empty bottle it misses you and Im the one its talking to
And I dont know which is worse
To wake up and see the sun
Or to be the one be the one thats gone
song performed by by Ryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Lighthouse's Tale
I am a lighthouse, worn by the weather and the waves.
I keep my lamp lit, to warn the sailors on their way.
I'll tell a story, paint you a picture from my past.
I was so happy, but joy in this life seldom lasts.
I had a keeper, he helped me warn the ships at sea.
We had grown closer, 'till his joy meant everything to me.
And he was to marry, a girl who shone with beauty and light.
And they loved each other, and with me watched the sunsets into night.
[Chorus:]
And the waves crashing around me, the sand slips out to sea.
And the winds that blow remind me, of what has been, and what can never be.
She'd had to leave us, my keeper he prayed for a safe return.
But when the night came, the weather to a raging storm had turned.
He watched her ship fight, but in vain against the wild and terrible wave.
In me so helpless, as dashed against the rock she met her end.
[Chorus]
Then on the next day, my keeper found her washed up on the SHORE.
He kissed her cold face, that they'd be together soon he'd swore.
I saw him crying, watched as he buried her in the sand.
And then he climbed my tower, and off of the edge of me he ran.
[Chorus]
I am a lighthouse, worn by the weather and the waves.
And though I am empty, I still warn the sailors on their way.
song performed by by Nickel Creek
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bottle Of Red Wine
(by bonnie bramlett and eric clapton)
Get up; get your man a bottle of red wine.
Get up; get your man a bottle of red wine.
I cant get up out of bed
With this crazy feeling in my head.
Get up; get your man a bottle of red wine.
Get up; get your man a bottle of red wine.
Get up; get your man a bottle of red wine.
You hear what I say?
Gonna love you anyway.
Get up; get your man a bottle of red wine.
I went to an all-night get together
And everyone I knew was there.
Had the love that would last forever.
Everywhere I looked, I saw you standing there.
Get up; get your man a bottle of red wine.
Get up; get your man a bottle of red wine.
I cant get up out of bed
With this crazy feeling in my head.
I said get up right now, oh oh.
I said get up right now.
Feel so bad this morning; got a terrible headache in my head.
Do me a favor, baby, do me a favor please.
Please get up; get your man a bottle of red wine.
Get up, get up; get your man a big big bottle of red wine.
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In An Empty Box
This poem was written by my Great Niece Kitty Cotton aged 12 years.
If there is nothing in an empty box,
what do you do?
You use an amazing thing called
imagination.
In a corner of the empty box was,
A long lasting friendship.
A pattern with no end.
A light that will never go out.
In a corner of the empty box was,
A devil, red as blood.
An ongoing argument.
A heart with no love.
In a corner of the empty box was,
A charming prince waiting for his love.
A shimmering diamond, with an everlasting twinkle.
A sea with dancing waters.
As there are only four corners of a box,
this is the last one, and in that corner there was,
A patch of growing love.
A mind with no thoughts.
A bottle with a secret message inside.
There is always a middle of an empty box,
and in the middle there was,
a smaller box.
Which held every thought anyone could think.
© Kitty Cotton
(Ernestine Northover)
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In An Empty Box
This poem was written by my Great Niece Kitty Cotton aged 12 years.
If there is nothing in an empty box,
what do you do?
You use an amazing thing called
imagination.
In a corner of the empty box was,
A long lasting friendship.
A pattern with no end.
A light that will never go out.
In a corner of the empty box was,
A devil, red as blood.
An ongoing argument.
A heart with no love.
In a corner of the empty box was,
A charming prince waiting for his love.
A shimmering diamond, with an everlasting twinkle.
A sea with dancing waters.
As there are only four corners of a box,
this is the last one, and in that corner there was,
A patch of growing love.
A mind with no thoughts.
A bottle with a secret message inside.
There is always a middle of an empty box,
and in the middle there was,
a smaller box.
Which held every thought anyone could think.
© Kitty Cotton
(Ernestine Northover)
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Satisfied
This summer time I have no fury
No chance of sinking sailing ships
If time stood still Id take aim and fire
For you
For every ocean there must be shore
On which I stand with restless toes
When everything I look for in myself is in you
I feel a little more than empty
But I wanna feel more than full
Its a pity all I have
Is just enough to keep you satisfied
This knot can come undone no matter how we try to keep it tied
Inside this bottle theres a message
You may be drinking way too much
If I had the strength to take the weight of you I would
I feel a little more than empty
But I wanna feel more than full
Its a pity all I have
Is just enough to keep you satisfied
This knot can come undone no matter how we try to keep it tide
Something high it keeps me here
Something that keeps us together
You keep me dry despite the weather
I dont need to feel this way
For you but I do end up feel satisfied
Its a pity all I have
Is just enough to keep you satisfied
This knot can come undone no matter how we try to keep it tied
Its a pity all I have
It just enough to keep you satisfied
This knot can come undone no matter how we try to keep it tide
Its a pity all I have
Is just enough to keep you satisfied
This knot can come undone no matter how we try to keep it tied
song performed by by Natalie Imbruglia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Way Home
The long and lonely Ocean dark and silent,
The only thing that shines is the lighthouse,
Long and narrow and shows the way home,
The kids are happy to hear the horn of the ship,
Daddy’s almost home,
Daddy sees the lighthouse, he’s happy and joyous,
The light shines bright that shows the way home,
The long and narrow building,
The lighthouse,
Oh the lighthouse,
Thank God we’re almost home
poem by Jessica Losoya
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Jetsam
Foaming wave... aftershave
Plastic comb, brittle bone
Bottle top, building block
Wooden spar, plastic car
Thermos top, can of pop
Salt-stained shoe, tin of glue
Tennis racket, empty packet
Car tyre, coil of wire
Pram wheel, rubber seal
Tar-blacked stone, fir cone
Rusty lid, twisted grid
Chipboard, orange cord
Empty and faded
Bottle of bleach
Almost forgotten
On winter beach
poem by Taimour Arshad Ali
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Empty
I looks outside and see that everything is perfect
Except for me Ill always be the one who sits and stares
And now its killing me, its just killing me
I feel so empty inside
cause Im a freak in your eyes
I feel so empty inside
And its killing me
I look outside and see that everything is different
Youll never see inside of me, inside just who I am
And now and then youre just my friend,
Someone I could talk to
And its killing me, its just killing me
I feel so empty inside
cause Im a freak in your eyes
I feel so empty inside
And its killing me
I--Im outside and looking in
I look into your eyes and see that you are perfect
Except for me, except for me
I feel so empty inside
cause Im a freak in your eyes
I feel so empty inside
I feel so
I feel so
I--i feel so empty inside
song performed by by Unloco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Comfort Of A Drunken Mind
Lipstick on an empty glass
A Memory of a smile
In my time, don’t you know?
Young girls vied for my attention
Always posing, Heartbreaker to women was I.
God, I will never see her smile again
Her voice silent to me
Inside I am a flower without rain
A musician without music
My love waits in a queue,
Full of fools, and whiskey bottles
Ahhh another drink
Yes tomorrow, will be better
I remember her stare,
Sitting on that chair,
That damn chair.
Drink Darling?
My Blossom of the night,
A smooth talker me.
I broke her dreams
Now Petals on a stormy sea
I remember her scent
Now washed away on the hurricanes breath
Called Whisky
Ahh another drink, she won’t leave me?
Damn that empty chair
To bed, the morning will bring her back
The bottle sleeps
And the sandman paints his illusions
Dreams invulnerable to reality
The glow of dawn, incinerates these imposters
Fabricated in the monsoon of a drowning brain
Cornflakes and Barley wine, a man’s breakfast
What now, a snifter I think and another thought?
Love has left this empty chair
Where dreams and happiness dwelt
Where futures were planned
And where love flowed, intoxicating our lives.
Still, the empty glass remains.
Ahh, another drink, and another illusion to comfort my soul
The bottle is my love now,
And the empty chair, my sentence.
That damned empty chair
Ahh did I tell you, once I was a heartbreaker?
Come Share a drink with me friend?
poem by Steven Cooke
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A Face With No Future
I look in the mirror,
and what do I see?
A face with no future,
stares out at me.
On the table, a glass and a bottle,
of my favourite poison.
When I was young,
I drank to be alive.
Now all I do,
is drink to survive.
My eyes bloodshot,
filled with vacant stare.
My face goes unshaven,
but what do I care?
My bottle is now empty,
quickly replace with one full.
Soon it will be empty,
just like this fool.
Family and friends fled.
My eyes were blind.
All they could see,
was another drink,
in front of me.
My legs get unsteady.
I stagger instead of walk.
A bottle wrapped in paper,
gripped tightly by my hand.
My clothes grow dirty,
as days and nights combine.
A smile is frozen,
on this face of mine.
My arm flex out,
when I stumble to the ground.
Faces look down at me,
expressions display my waste.
I just hold my smile,
as I lay there in their midst.
At least my bottle,
didn’t break,
on my fall from grace.
Time for another drink,
raise bottle to my lips.
Liquid trickles down my throat,
and still my smile remains,
as silly as it can be.
The faces disappear.
Everyone has gone now.
Like family and friends,
they all desert.
I lay there on my own.
For no one wants to take,
a drunk home.
25 Jan 2007
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bottle
Life long bottle partner
Feeding bottle at childhood
To Ganga jal(Holy water of river Ganga)
Bottle at deathbed
Water bottle at schooldays
Cold drinks bottles
And liquor bottles at adulthood
And blood bottles at hospital bed.
Lifelong bottle partner
Lifelong bottle partner
Our life our soul is in a bottle
This body is bottle
And it is life partner.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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