Spring Sleep
Pillow low quilt warm body smooth and steady
Sunshine room door cloth not open
Still have young spring air taste
Often brief arrive sleep at come
The pillow's low, the quilt is warm, the body smooth and peaceful,
Sun shines on the door of the room, the curtain not yet open.
Still the youthful taste of spring remains in the air,
Often it will come to you even in your sleep.
Related quotes
Remembering The Smell Of Youth
smooth pillow, warm blanket,
a woman's body so white
and calm
light is shun by the door of the room
on closed silk curtains by the window
i still taste the youth in spring
its perfume still remaining in the air
late at night, the same smell
comes even in my sleep
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Alone On A Stormy Night
flashes of lightning
roaring thunder
heavy rains and
flooded highways
the street lights are off.
there is total darkness
the strong straight light of the car
guides me towards home.
i park the car beside the
the house. I get out and
open the front door.
winds blowing stronger
the veranda is drenched
the gutter with leaves
overflows with water.
i open the door of my room.
undress myself and wipe my body.
i am dry. Silent. Uncomplaining.
i am finally alone.
I decided not to argue. Not to think.
Relax. Sleep. Dream.
Too much reason, too many arguments
When what i need is only this pillow
This blanket,
A window closed. A safe house.
A glass of water perhaps. But later.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Outside331’sSleep
Don’t open your eyes yet not until I explain last night I went to bed with Sleep last night I fell for Sleep last night Sleep unclothed me left me naked in a room painted black I couldn’t see Sleep because Sleep was dark too and the room was black and the foreground blended in with the background I couldn’t tell what was far and what was close I became frustrated because Sleep was either hiding inside the room or the room was hiding behind Sleep neither were being fair to my eyes who wanted to play hide and go Sleep I hide inside the room and Sleep seeks I said where are you Sleep I can’t see you my eyes can’t find you Sleep I said I wanted to fall inside you brought me into this black room and I am trying to wrap myself around you won’t you come inside of me you won’t stage scenes in my eyes created with color everything is black one long stretch Sleep are you moving and I can’t see you or are you standing still and I can’t feel you are here Sleep you are silent Sleep I feel alone Sleep I want you to be inside me if you take me to a black room and make me go to bed are your eyes open I can’t see you did you leave is Sleep here Sleep am I inside you explain Sleep explain did you open your eyes Sleep are my eyes open Sleep are you outside me Sleep you took me to bed and left me Sleep I can’t open my eyes until you are back inside me I can’t see Sleep when you’re not inside me open your eyes Sleep do you see me inside you explain last night am I still inside Sleep?
(12-13-07)
poem by Chelsea Trescott
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Spring Sunshine
After all the chills and winter blues,
The staying warm and staying in,
Meetings indoors for outside is cold,
Then comes the spring sunshine,
The sun breaks in like a door open wide,
With the burst of sunlight,
That lasting and warm,
Bringing smiles back on peoples faces,
While in the chilling season it brings,
Us all to hibernate and stay in,
Not getting out much as weather is cold,
Until the spring sunshine brings us back outdoors,
It is the time for new growth,
It is the time for new beginnings,
It is the time for buds to bloom,
It is the time for nature to sound its sounds of nature again,
For all the while when we shelter from the chills,
Winter is chilling,
And springs getting ready,
For all the new beginnings,
Brought forth from the old,
Of last seasons blossoms,
Spring will bring new growth from its roots,
And bloom again with spring sunshine rays,
Spring will start again,
And a new year to begin it with,
That starts with first,
The spring sunshine,
Of first days of spring,
That brings the smile back,
To all our faces,
With warm sun rays,
Of spring sunshine.
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
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Afraid To Sleep
We slept in this room together but now youre gone
And its so quiet I turn the tv on
We lived in this room together we painted the walls
Now time doesnt stand still
It crawls
And Im afraid to sleep
Cuz if I do I dream of you
And dreams are always deep
On the pillow where I weep
I never realized how much I was in love with you
Until you started sleeping with someone new
Last night I dreamed again and you were there
You kissed my face you touched my hair
And Im afraid to sleep
Cuz if I do I dream of you
And dreams are always deep
On the pillow where I weep
Lying alone in the darkness with a memory in my head
Theres a big hole where my heart is
And a lonely feeling rollin round my bed
And Im afraid to sleep
Cuz if I do I dream of you
Im afraid to sleep
Cuz if I do I dream of you
And dreams are always deep
On the pillow where I weep
On the pillow where I weep
Im afraid to sleep.
song performed by by Dido
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sleep? Date Written 05/02/2008
I should sleep, my neck it tells me so
But there within the cold quilt I'm alone.
I should sleep and leave this vile machine now
But it calls me to caress its keys once more.
I don't sleep the way I really ought to
My words they need insomnia to live.
I don't sleep and my life becomes a muddle
But there's nothing I can do to right this wrong.
I need sleep, my body's hungry for it
For I know that in the morning I'll be tired.
I need sleep for a dream of someone near me
But it won't fill the space that's empty by my side.
I won't sleep and my eyes will become blackened
And my body will yearn for tender touch.
I won't sleep for I'm running out of time here
And life is precious time never recouped.
poem by Clare McWilliams
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The Allegory Of The Cycle Of Doors
and so there is this door that appears before you
and you open it
and then when you enter the room
another door appears
this is the cycle of doors that keep on appearing and you
keep on opening
but the room still appears from a distance
always distant
from your eager feet to enter
you say to enter the room i must please the door
but the room moves away just the same
and the door tells you
to keep the room
you have to burn it and when the room is burned
the door finally disappears
and then both the door and the room shall tell you
now be happy
for you now have a house of your own
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Room Is Your Room Now
i
my room is your room now
and my arms yours too
my lips are ready for your
warm kiss and you may
have them as yours
ii
for this house is your house
my body is your body
for my love is your love
and my longing is your longing too
iii
this is my heaven and it is yours too
all the angels sing for you
and they also sing for me
iv
you and me in this loneliness
you and me in this hapless mess
v
so i am a tree, a house, arms, lips and body
so i am heaven, room, and window and door
so i am open for you and so you are here with me
you are my guest and i am your host
there is no reason for you to be angry
and if you happen not to like it here
you may leave early the next morning
and please you do not have to say an angry word
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Pillow
I try to get comfortable in my bed
But there's always something wrong
with the pillow ‘neath my head.
It's either too warm or sometimes too cold.
I turn it, pummel it
Then toss it aside instead.
But then I miss it and can't decide
Shall I grab it again
Or count to ten?
How can I sleep with no support?
My neck gets stiff. My eyes won't close
And all because of the pillow I chose.
Maybe I need a silk pillowcase,
one that's fringed with fancy lace.
Or maybe it's not the pillow to blame.
Maybe it's my head that's not the same.
It's filled with words and melodies
That makes my pillow hard to please.
I'll try to get comfortable again tonight.
It's my head on that pillow
or a pillow fight.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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In The Farm
i want to spell
freedom for her
we are two here
in this farm
where coconuts
are old and tall
where the grass
spreads like crazy
where the spring
of water does not
cease pouring from
the slit of the earth
this morning
i go to the nearby
river naked
and sensing that
she has only the
pillow in bed
she follows me
and there she
undresses herself
naked like me and
she spells freedom
perfectly: cool
and smooth to our
skin, too warm in
our hearts, peaceful
and private world.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Great Sleep
the great sleep has decended.
the night's chill is the only comfort.
the warm complacent bed to caress.
the delightful pillow waiting for my dreary head.
the luxury sheets to engulf the tired, defective body.
nothing truely matters when asleep.
but does anything truely matter?
should it?
'sleep, love, sleep.'
i'll lie here only a few minutes more.
nothing can get worse.
or can it?
'let's not think,
sleep, sleep.
sleep is all you are useful for.'
don't i know it.
'sleep, love, sleep.'
you are my comfort, my salvation.
will things ever get better?
'wait, darling, and things will be alright.
everything will be alright.
you just haven't earned it yet.'
baby, don't i know it.
sigh, don't i know it.
'sleep, sleep.'
poem by Wibble TheFisch
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Sleeping on a Night of Autumn Rain
Cold cold 3rd autumn night
Peaceful leisure one old man
Lie late lamp go out after
Sleep beautiful rain sound in
Ash long warm bottle fire
Fragrance increase warm quilt cover
Sawn clear cold not rise
Frost leaf full level red
It's cold this night in autumn's third month,
Peacefully within, a lone old man.
He lies down late, the lamp already gone out,
And beautifully sleeps amid the sound of rain.
The ash inside the vessel still warm from the fire,
Its fragrance increases the warmth of quilt and covers.
When dawn comes, clear and cold, he does not rise,
The red frosted leaves cover the steps.
The Home-Coming
This was our house. To this we came
Lighted by love with torch aflame,
And in this chamber, door locked fast,
I held you to my heart at last.
This was our house. In this we knew
The worst that Time and Fate can do.
You left the room bare, wide the door;
You did not love me any more.
Where once the kind warm curtain hung
The spider's ghostly cloth is flung;
The beetle and the woodlouse creep
Where once I loved your lovely sleep.
Yet so the vanished spell endures,
That this, our house, still, still is yours.
Here, spite of all these years apart,
I still can hold you to my heart!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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In The Warm Room
In the warm room
Her perfume reaches you.
Eventually youll fall for her.
Down youll go
To where the mellow wallows.
In the warm room
Shell touch you with your mammas hand.
Youll long to kiss those red lips,
But when you do
Itll feel like kicking a habit.
Shell tell you that shell stay,
So youd better barricade the way out.
Shell tell you shes true.
Shell tell you she loves you.
Shes waiting in that warm room.
In the warm room
She prepares to go to bed.
Shell let you watch her undress,
Go places where
Your fingers long to linger.
In the warm room
Youll fall into her like a pillow.
Her thighs are soft as marshmallows.
Say hello
To the soft musk of her hollows.
Shell tell you that shell stay,
So youd better barricade the way out.
Shell tell you shes true.
Shell tell you she loves you.
Shes waiting in that warm room.
In the warm room.
Shes waiting in that warm room.
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Licking The Drops Of Reality From Your Feet
there is free ride
to the fantasies of another
you do not oppose an image
you follow the dictate of color and scent
you arrive at wonderlands
and be met by fairies
it is the other that needs it
not you
you bring the camera and
take shots of impressions
in fantasy time is limited
remember Cinderella
the flying horse takes you
back home
you comfort fantasy
it is crying
then you walk towards a door
that opens you towards home
your feet are hurt on the nails
on the floors protruding
you bleed and lick the blood
from your toes
you taste reality and like it
you open the door of your room
blood drops and stains all over
you know what sleep is from now on
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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As I Wait For For You
and then our minds met at a point
of convergence
i waited for you in a room without a number
a place without a name
a space where only us know what & how to fill
i am naked
you want the whole truth and so i am naked
in this room without a number, a place without a name
a space, where only our self-manifested emptiness know how & what to fill
when you arrive do not call my name
be so soft and gentle with your feet
do not even say your name as
i have also left my name somewhere else
and it is only i who knows it
i lose my identity
that is how i want to spend my short moment with you
i am naked
i only have my face, my skin and my flesh my bones my whole body
not my soul
do not knock
just push the door
it is left open throughout the nights of my waiting
i have intended it that way
so when you arrive and i am still asleep with my dreams and desires
of you
do not disturb the silence and sweetness of my sleep
just whisper your desire for love so sweet to my ears
touch the surfaces of my skin and caress with your soft fingers the smooth lines of my face
place your head just beside my tight chest
for there you shall hear the sounds of all my desires
and then my love we begin the sharing of our hidden truths
we shall dance in our nakedness
we shall make love real
we shall open the shutters of this closed window
we let the slits of light from outside the night get inside us and put some
warmth on the empty pores of our skins
we bring light to the darkness of our lives
we put fire to those eyes that refuse to close and die
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Nice Sleep
At your
Sleeping time...
Don't use...
Very high pillow...
Use very low
And soft pillow...
It is comfort for...
Nice sleep...
With out nick ache...
And good blood cerculatin
For your brain...
Sumall pillow help...!
Giddness
And B.P.
For your self
Without use pillow...s
Is good...
For not only your sleep
At your's help health also....
Ok...
Take nice sleep...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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The Door I Open To Close
The door I open to close behind me,
Would be less routine...
If I knew,
You'd be awaiting in a room...
To greet me like you use to do.
With a barrage of pent up sentiments.
The door I open to close behind me,
Welcomes me with a peaceful silence...
I did not always find,
When remembering those times...
I wondered where you were,
And that disturbed me.
Today,
When I open that same door to close...
After missing you,
And going through those adjustments we made...
I think of us not having enough trust,
And so willing to give up.
When all I wanted was just five minutes...
To myself.
And you could never understand why.
The door I open to close behind me,
Would be less routine...
If I knew,
You'd be awaiting in a room...
To greet me like you use to do.
Sometimes now I wish,
I had given you ten minutes.
Since that's all you wanted from me to listen.
I'm all ears now,
Wanting to hear your voice!
But you made a choice to leave.
And I can not blame you for choosing to.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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L8,2212
There is a door which you open
you enter, and then it closes you
behind you
forever,
there is no force here,
but only volition,
you enter it
with all the warnings,
that the
possibility that it will close forever
has been told to you
over and over
again,
somehow, you do not make it a problem
you like a closed door, and you hate it
when it opens,
you love it when it is closed forever,
the room is nice
there is a certain loveliness
in there,
it has shiny floors,
it has a bright ceiling,
the lights are lovely,
like stars
in an open dark sky
the air is fresh,
the walls are comfortable
who wants to take an exit?
no one.not you.
when the door knows this, it will open
forever,
it decides to open for you
and it will tell you to go out and be
an outsider again and
be gone
for good,
you insist that you own this room now,
that a closed door is not a serious matter
and there is no way that you have to
go out
or be ousted,
the door has a stair with strong hands
and it will drag you out
it will pull your hair and drag your body
like hell
the door has learned its lesson
when the room is not a prison to someone else
there is no use keeping him there forever
for in truth the reason of the door's
existence
is to make you feel the prison and to suffer
and you know your lesson too well
there is no prison to a mind that is an open window
there is no suffering
to a lover of suffering
you see, it takes a little reverse psychology
for closed doors to open
for men to know that suffering is not suffering
at all
when one loves is tripping
when one thinks
otherwise
when one loves whatever happens
when one accepts
the one that is there and not look for something
that is always missing
why go for the unreachable?
why suffer for long?
life is life, and death is death
you are here, grab this here.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Prison Door (Clangs Open)
the prison door clangs open,
the man in me set free.
with nothing left
but the clothes on my back,
and feet that know
the way home...
rain begins to fall
with the coming of night.
i seek shelter beneath a bridge.
staring into the blackness
i see, i think i see...
one solitary star.
a star that tastes like bread,
and meat scorched by the flame.
that feels like warm blankets,
clean sheets, the bare skin of a woman.
a light that pours, invades a room,
and fills the room with living.
water drips down my face,
mixes with tears...
my fists open and close,
my mind the same.
and all the sounds of the night
become the sounds of breathing.
the prison door clangs open,
the body carried on a stretcher.
the lights flashing turn off,
no more need to hurry.
the driver stares blankly,
tires whisper prayers on wet roads!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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