In Memoriam A. H. H. 7
Dark house, by which once more I stand
Here in the long unlovely street,
Doors, where my heart was used to beat
So quickly, waiting for a hand,
A hand that can be clasp'd no more-
Behold me, for I cannot sleep,
And like a guilty thing I creep
At earliest morning to the door.
He is not here; but far away
The noise of life begins again,
And ghastly thro' the drizzling rain
On the bald street breaks the blank day.
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Related quotes
In Memoriam A. H. H.: 7. Dark house, by which once more I s
Dark house, by which once more I stand
Here in the long unlovely street,
Doors, where my heart was used to beat
So quickly, waiting for a hand,
A hand that can be clasp'd no more--
Behold me, for I cannot sleep,
And like a guilty thing I creep
At earliest morning to the door.
He is not here; but far away
The noise of life begins again,
And ghastly thro' the drizzling rain
On the bald street breaks the blank day.
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beautiful Noise
Written by: neil diamond
What a beautiful noise
Comin up from the street
Got a beautiful sound
Its got a beautiful beat
Its a beautiful noise
Goin on everywhere
Like the clickety-clack
Of a train on a track
Its got a rhythm to spare
Its a beautiful noise
And its sound that I love
And its fit me as well
As a hand in a glove
Yes it does, yes it does
What a beautiful noise
Comin up from the park
Its the song of the kids
And it plays until dark
Its the song of the cars
On their furious flights
But theres even romance
In the way that they dance
To beat of the lights
Its a beautiful noise
And its a sound that I love
And it makes me feel good
Like a hand in a glove
Yes it does, yes it does
What a beautiful noise
Its a beautiful noise
Made of joy an of strife
Like a symphony played
By a passing parade
Its the music of life
What a beautiful noise
Comin up to my room
And its beggin for me
Just to give it a tune
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I spin in public
Waiting to cross
the street
I shuffle upon
my feets
The red hand will not
retreat
The walking guy continues
to sleep
Waiting for green
to go red
Restlessness wrestles
my head
I remember that thing
you said
'Adulthood is like
being dead.'
So I start to move with
my feets
Avoiding the curb
and the street
Spinning in circles
on concrete
remembering you
who are sweet
The red hand then
goes away
and I can now be
on my way,
but this spinning is making
my day,
so I stay on the corner
to play.
poem by John W. McEwers
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Mary Street
(s. hoffs/v. peterson)
Susanna & vicki
Times up girl now
No more excusing you
And those books you read
Oh girl, you better review
Oh oh oh, mary street
Looking out your door
Oh oh oh, mary street
Now what are you waiting for (what are you waiting for)
You thought that cool
Was in someone elses shoes and makeup
Sitting in your room
Waiting for the moment to come
Oh oh oh, mary street
Looking out your door
Oh oh oh, mary street
Now what are you waiting for (what are you waiting for)
You got no tears for
All the guys who passed you by
All the girls who shut you out
They wont recognize you now
Youre a good girl now
No more excusing you
And those books you read
Oh girl, you better review
Oh oh oh, mary street
Looking out your door
Oh oh oh, mary street
Now what are you waiting for (what are you waiting for)
Oh oh oh, mary street
Looking out your door
Oh oh oh, mary street
Oh yeah, oh yeah
song performed by by Bangles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Street Minstrel
Music will waft
On summer morning soft.
Like wind chimes,
Unwritten rhymes.
From the Minstrel's deft hand.
Some soul
Will stop and stand
Remembering a song.
In the high street throng.
Then resume
What they had planned.
Minstrel of the street.
Keeping the beat.
That slow applause
Of coins into his hat.
The notes
That he will trade.
Outside the laundromat.
To clean their soul.
With Ballads
Blues
And Rock and Roll.
Amid the noise and haste
He will try to paste
Songs.
On billboards
That don't exist.
For lips
He has never kissed.
As If
The whole world knew.
This sweet Minstrel
Was so blue.
His heart aching.
In the echoes of his ditty.
In alleyways waking
Asking for no pity.
He will play.
For a pocket of loose money.
Then steal away.
Just as the hot sun
Turns to honey.
At twilight sweet.
So special
Is the Minstrel
Of the street.
poem by Kevin East
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Helen and You and The ABC Cinema
In the evening after tea
of bread and jam
and a glass of milk
you went out
and met Helen
under the railway bridge
in Rockingham Street
next to the Duke
of Wellington pub
and she was waiting
there looking up
and down the street
and when she saw you
she waved and walked
towards you
where's your doll
Battered Betty?
you asked
mum's washing her clothes
and I didn't want
to bring her out
with nothing on
she said
no that wouldn't be decent
you said
where are we going?
she asked
I want to show you
the passages behind
the ABC cinema
you said
it's like a cavern
of dark passages
and once I saw a rat
running along by a wall
oh god
she said
putting a hand
to her mouth
not a rat
yes it run along
one of the walls
not sure
I want to go there
she said softly
one little rat
isn't going to hurt you
you said
besides I'll chase it away
if it comes
will you?
she said
yes of course I will
nothing is going to harm you
while I am here
you said
you showed her
the toy gun
tucked in
the inside pocket
of your jacket
she nodded
and she took
your hand
and you walked her
along and up behind
the Trocodero cinema
and onto
the New Kent Road
and you crossed quickly
before the traffic lights changed
and once you got
to the other side
you took her
to the ABC cinema
and went down beside
the cinema walls
along the dark passages
that went on beside
and behind the cinema
all the time
she gripped your hand
and now and then
her grip tightened
when she thought
she saw something
out of the corner
of her eye
what was that?
she said
stopping still
clutching your hand tight
just a piece of paper
blown by the wind
are you sure?
yes just paper
she untightened
her grip
and you both
walked on
with the sound
of traffic and voices
in the distance
and at the back
of the cinema
you came to an entrance
where two doors where
and you said
sometimes the doors are open
and you can sneak in free
she looked at you
her eyes behind
her thick lens glasses
large and innocent
is that allowed?
she asked
no
you replied
if they catch you
you get into trouble
but if you're lucky
you can get in
no trouble
you said
oh
she said
my mum wouldn't like it
if I got into trouble
we won't get in tonight
anyway
you said
the doors are locked
another time maybe
and she gripped
your hand
and her face looked shocked.
poem by Terry Collett
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(The) King Of Oak Street
Like a leaf caught in the wind he drifted a while
With no purpose or direction too his life
He tried to get himself together and pacify his mind
And forget about the things he left behind.
The cryin' woman standing helpless in his door
With a two month old baby in her arms
His little black book laying torn up on the floor
And God only knows he never meant to do her wrong.
A careless weekend on the other side of town
Has torn the king of Oak Street's Castle down
And all week long he's tried to call her but she won't let him explain
Now Sunday morning finds him walking in the rain.
He sits down in a phone booth and he prays
That she'll forgive him and she'll believe he's changed his ways
With shaking hand he deposits his last dime
And he's still praying that she won't hang up this time.
Then the sweetest voice he's ever heard says hello
Breakfast's almost ready baby, come on home
I've thought the whole thing over and I think I understand
That the king of Oak Street is just an ordinary man.
I've thought the whole thing over and I think I understand
That the king of Oak Street is just an ordinary man...
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Perfidy
Hollow rang the house when I knocked on the door,
And I lingered on the threshold with my hand
Upraised to knock and knock once more:
Listening for the sound of her feet across the floor,
Hollow re-echoed my heart.
The low-hung lamps stretched down the road
With shadows drifting underneath,
With a music of soft, melodious feet
Quickening my hope as I hastened to meet
The low-hung light of her eyes.
The golden lamps down the street went out,
The last car trailed the night behind;
And I in the darkness wandered about
With a flutter of hope and of dark-shut doubt
In the dying lamp of my love.
Two brown ponies trotting slowly
Stopped at a dim-lit trough to drink:
The dark van drummed down the distance slowly;
While the city stars so dim and holy
Drew nearer to search through the streets.
A hastening car swept shameful past,
I saw her hid in the shadow,
I saw her step to the curb, and fast
Run to the silent door, where last
I had stood with my hand uplifted.
She clung to the door in her haste to enter,
Entered, and quickly cast
It shut behind her, leaving the street aghast.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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With The Lark
Night is for sorrow and dawn is for joy,
Chasing the troubles that fret and annoy;
Darkness for sighing and daylight for song,--
Cheery and chaste the strain, heartfelt and strong.
All the night through, though I moan in the dark,
I wake in the morning to sing with the lark.
Deep in the midnight the rain whips the leaves,
Softly and sadly the wood-spirit grieves.
But when the first hue of dawn tints the sky,
I shall shake out my wings like the birds and be dry;
And though, like the rain-drops, I grieved through the dark,
I shall wake in the morning to sing with the lark.
On the high hills of heaven, some morning to be,
Where the rain shall not grieve thro' the leaves of the tree,
There my heart will be glad for the pain I have known,
For my hand will be clasped in the hand of mine own;
And though life has been hard and death's pathway been dark,
I shall wake in the morning to sing with the lark.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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The Solitary Reaper
I behold him single,
walking on the street
and his face is covered
by the long black cloak
that the evening wind
bristles against.
From a distance he looks
like a ancient priest,
or somebody trying to
get the better
of the foggy raining weather.
Something sinister is in his step
and I have seen him before
and the knowledge of it,
brings the hair on my arms to life.
I greet him like a old friend
and he smiles at me
like regular passers on the street do
and his voice is part of the wind:
“I am not coming for you, yet.”
The moonlight glitters yellow
in a crescent shape in the sky
and falls on the sickle in his hand
and death walks by,
to take away the very pulse of life
somewhere nearby
and he’s in a hurry to be in time
before destiny’s clockwork reach its mark.
Down the street
I hear a young man sobbing
in a old white house
where all the lights
are burning a soft yellow
and just for a moment,
the solitary reaper hesitates
before unnoticed
he walks through the door.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Our House
Father wears his sunday best
Mothers tired she needs a rest
The kids are playing up downstairs
Sisters sighing in her sleep
Brothers got a date to keep
He cant hang around
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our ...
Our house it has a crowd
Theres always something happening
And its usually quite loud
Our mum shes so house-proud
Nothing ever slows her down
And a mess is not allowed
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our ...
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our ...
Something tells you that youve got to get away from it
Father gets up late for work
Mother has to iron his shirt
Then she sends the kids to school
Sees them off with a small kiss
Shes the one theyre going to miss
In lots of ways
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our ...
I remember way back then when everything was true and when
We would have such a very good time such a fine time
Such a happy time
And I remember how wed play simply waste the day away
Then wed say nothing would come between us two dreamers
Father wears his sunday best
Mothers tired she needs a rest
The kids are playing up downstairs
Sisters sighing in her sleep
Brothers got a date to keep
He cant hang around
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our ...
Our house, was our castle and our keep
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, that was where we used to sleep
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our street
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Behind The Door
With trembling hand,
I knocked upon the door,
which someone had sent me to.
They told me a new life
awaits me there.
I reached out
and knocked on the door
not knowing when it opened
exactly what I’d find.
My heart beat faster,
almost racing from my chest.
I could hear footsteps
coming from within.
My hand trembled even more
as the footsteps headed towards the door.
I stood there in anticipations
as the door begins to open wide.
So far, I have not told you
who will be coming to the door.
Will it be a long lost sibling,
a future love, or even God?
I will have to let you decide,
because being a nervous person.
The suspense was killing me,
so I ran and hid, and never saw
who was it answering the door.
poem by David Harris
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The Street Giveth & The Street Taketh Away
Hey man, gotta take a stand, so you think that youve been had
Im here to bet ya, streets gonna get ya, well two out of three aint bad
Hey man, its gettin out of hand, cross your heart and hope to die
You got yours, and I got mine, Im gonna get whats comin to ya
Chorus:
cause the street giveth and the street taketh away
Where theres no blind justice, no way
Hey man, dont you understand, you can run but you cant hide
There aint no life after death, so save your breath (youre gonna)
Be a rock n roll suicide
Hey man, do you need a hand, but I aint no blessing in disguise
Feel the agony, and the ecstacy, its gonna burn right through ya
Chorus
Lifes too short, so help yourself, cause I dont walk on water
Chorus
cause the street giveth and the street taketh away (repeats out)
song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I came to live in Sophia Street
I came to live in Sophia Street,
In a little house in Sophia Street
With an inch of floor
Between door and door
And a yard you'd measure in children's feet.
When I'd been ten days in Sophia Street
I remembered its name was Wisdom Street;
For I'd learned much more
Than in all the score
Of years I clamoured for books to eat.
poem by Lesbia Harford
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The Street Only Knew Your Name
Your street, rich street or poor
You should always be sure of your street
There's a place in your heart,
When you know from the start
And you can't be complete without a street
Keep movin' on, just like a train
Sometimes you gotta look back to the street again
Would you prefer all those castles in spain
Or a view of the street from your window pane
When you were young, so young
So very very young
When you were young, so young
So very very young
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name, oh your precious name, precious name
There was walter and joy, kate and roy
All hung around the corner lamplight
Get together sing some songs
Like boppin' the blues - you make me feel alright
That was long before fortune and fame
No such thing as a star when you've played that game
Everyone knew who everyone was
There was no preference in the street no, no
When you were young, so young
So very very young
When you were young, so young
So very very young
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name, oh your precious name
And you walked around in the heart of town
Listening for that sound
And you walk around in the heart of town
Listening for that sound
Blue suede shoes, it was the blue suede shoes
When you were young, so young
So very very young
When you were young, so young
So very very young
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Behind The Door
Behind the door of every house,
In every street, in every town
A story is unfolding
A story is unfolding of love and hate
The most of us wait of hopes and fears
Of smiles and tears of dreams
That lies a moldering
Behind the door of every house,
In every street, in every town
The stage is set for playing
The stage is set for playing
And I call crime and punch your mime
Sweet romance, a rich will dance
Characters are playing
Behind the door of every house,
In every street, in every town
The people are a waiting
The people are a waiting
To bare and die, the years go by
The wedding spree the cruelty
And still they go on mating
And to the one the only one
Remember when the need of man
Is greater again
The prayers take off ascending
All filled of love to the one above
Asking for asking for asking for asking for
A happy ending a happy ending a happy ending
song performed by by Cher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On The Street
On the street
On the street
O, O, On the street
On the street
O, O, On the street
[Everybody dance]
[Watch for the difference]
On the street
{Breaking on broadway]
O, O, On the street
[Shaking on sunset strip]
On the street
[Like nobody booming supporting that]
Da, da, da, da, da ...
On the street
On the street
Dancing
On the street
On the street
Dancing
Dancing
On the street
On the street
[Twisting on the turnpipe]
Dancing
On the street
On the street
On the street ...
Da, da, da, da, ...
Dance on the street ...
song performed by by Madonna
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Running For My Life
Running
Down the hall
The bell is ringing
I’m late for class
I’m late for life
Running
From this thing
This big, black, ugly
Swirling, shifting, changing thing
This thing that is everything
But is thin as air
Is really nothing at all
Running
From this thing
This thing I call “The Black”
That chases me
Seemingly
For all eternity
Running
From my past
Passing right by the present
Into my future
Into one of these doors
The doors that line the hall
The hall of life I’m running down
Running because I’m late
Running for my life
Running
Past these doors
One of them is the right door
The door through which I must go
Oh, how do I know
Which key on the jingling ring in my hand
Opens the door to my future?
The door to everything
I’ve ever wanted to do
Or be
The one door through which
That thing
The Black
Cannot follow me
Oh, look
Up ahead
That might be it
That door just screams my name
(But they won’t like that door –
It doesn’t fit their mold)
So what?
Who cares?
It’s my life
It’s my future
That door is me!
Now I’m
Searching
For the key.
Lockerbie Street
Such a dear little street it is, nestled away
From the noise of the city and heat of the day,
In cool shady coverts of whispering trees,
With their leaves lifted up to shake hands with the breeze
Which in all its wide wanderings never may meet
With a resting-place fairer than Lockerbie street!
There is such a relief, from the clangor and din
Of the heart of the town, to go loitering in
Through the dim, narrow walks, with the sheltering shade
Of the trees waving over the long promenade,
And littering lightly the ways of our feet
With the gold of the sunshine of Lockerbie street.
And the nights that come down the dark pathways of dusk,
With the stars in their tresses, and odors of musk
In their moon-woven raiments, bespangled with dews,
And looped up with lilies for lovers to use
In the songs that they sing to the tinkle and beat
Of their sweet serenadings through Lockerbie street.
O my Lockerbie street! You are fair to be seen--
Be it noon of the day, or the rare and serene
Afternoon of the night-- you are one to my heart,
And I love you above all the phrases of art,
For no language could frame and no lips could repeat
My rhyme-haunted raptures of Lockerbie street.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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The Law
How many times did you call me
And I knew it was late
I left everybody
But I never went straight
I dont claim to be guilty
But I do understand
Theres a law, theres an arm, theres a hand
Theres a law, theres an arm, theres a hand
Now my hearts like a blister
From doing what I do
If the moon has a sister
Its got to be you
Im going to miss you forever
Tho its not what I planned
Theres a law, theres an arm, theres a hand
Theres a law, theres an arm, theres a hand
Now the deal has been dirty
Since dirty began
Im not asking for mercy
Not from the man
You just dont ask for mercy
While youre still on the stand
Theres a law, theres an arm, theres a hand
Theres a law, theres an arm, theres a hand
I dont claim to be guilty
Guiltys too grand
Theres a law, theres an arm, theres a hand
Theres a law, theres an arm, theres a hand
Thats all I can say, baby
Thats all I can say
It wasnt for nothing
That they put me away
I fell with my angel
Down the chain of command
Theres a law, theres an arm, theres a hand
Theres a law, theres an arm, theres a hand
Theres a law, theres an arm, theres a hand
song performed by by Leonard Cohen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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