Vanishing Act
my father is having to leave the house
with delicacy, easing the dead bolt open
in the dark. The house exhales him.
I'm thinking of a driving lay-up, of a girl
in homeroom, blue necklace, brown skin.
Transistor radio on my pillow, volume low.
I know some things, not enough. My eyes
are closed, I'm listening hard, that song
again, Knock down the old gray wall,
my father standing beside his car—gone,
key in his hand, snowflakes in his hair.
At dawn, an Indian head test pattern will stare
from the TV, the freezer will churn out
its automatic ice. On the windowsill
an iris in a vase will have taken
the last water into its cut stem. I will
notice it, how it is there, and had
stood there the whole time, that flower.
poem by Chris Forhan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Brown Eyed Girl
Hey, where did we go
Days when the rains came ?
Down in the hollow
Playing a new game,
Laughing and a-running, hey, hey,
Skipping and a-jumping
In the misty morning fog with
Our, our hearts a-thumping
And you, my brown-eyed girl,
You, my brown-eyed girl.
Whatever happened
To tuesday and so slow
Going down to the old mine with a
Transistor radio.
Standing in the sunlight laughing
Hide behind a rainbows wall,
Slipping and a-sliding
All along the waterfall
With you, my brown-eyed girl,
You, my brown-eyed girl.
Do you remember when we used to sing
Sha la la la la la la la la la la dee dah
Just like that
Sha la la la la la la la la la la dee dah
La dee dah.
So hard to find my way
Now that Im all on my own.
I saw you just the other day,
My, how you have grown!
Cast my memory back there, lord,
Sometime Im overcome thinking about
Making love in the green grass
Behind the stadium
With you, my brown-eyed girl,
You, my brown-eyed girl.
Do you remember when we used to sing
Sha la la la la la la la la la la dee dah
Laying in the green grass
Sha la la la la la la la la la la dee dah
Dee dah dee dah dee dah dee dah dee dah dee
Sha la la la la la la la la la la la la
Dee dah la dee dah la dee dah la
D-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d...
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oklahoma-Texas Line
Got an old dog, it don't like me much
That thing starts to bark his head off every time we touch
Sittin' on the porch listenin' to the radio
We sing every single song we know
Even the ones we don't
When she moves a little closer
She puts her hand in mine
Oh what I wouldn't give to stop the hands of time
She's got long blonde hair and deep blue eyes
I got all I ever need when at girl is by my side
Everything I love is there inside
A little brick house on the Oklahoma-Texas Line
She's got a part time job at the Tastee-freeze
She took the weekend off to spend a little bit of time with me
I got an old car we drove to the edge of town
We stopped by Old Man Millers' farm
Just to watch the world spin around
And she moves a little closer
She puts her lips to mine
Ain't funny how the good Lord out does himself sometimes
She's got long blonde hair and deep blue eyes
I got all I ever need when at girl is by my side
Everything I love is there inside
A little brick house on the Oklahoma-Texas Line
Everything I love is there inside
A little brick house with a black top drive
Big oak tree with our names carved on the side
She's got long blonde hair and deep blue eyes
I got all I ever need when at girl is by my side
Everything I love is there inside
A little brick house, little brick house on the Oklahoma-Texas Line
Oh here they come
Long blonde hair and deep blue eyes
Everything I love...
song performed by by Rascal Flatts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Half my father
Half my father
Half my mother
My mother white as a ghost
My father black as coal
In my face the mixture glows
My skin is white
Still I am a black man
By the make of my nose
My hair is curly
My eyes are gray
Within me both if them lives
My mother’s race
Did enslave
My father’s race
Was never paid.
Still within I bare the two
Am O the new American?
My father is white
My mother is Korean
They met during the war
And I was born
Their only son
By my tone of skin
And by my eyes
You can tell
That there is a divide
And by my blonde hair
It is there for you to spy
Am I the new American?
My mother is German
My father polish
I learned three languages
As I grew older
Both of them
Did love me well
And of each country did tell
That I could draw
From each well
Am I the new American?
My father is Chinese
My mother Spanish
Both crossed over the Rio Grand
I am in the make of my father
But I have my mother’s brown skin
Am I the new American?
poem by David E. Patton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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And In The House
And in the house
All is now silent
I rise and grope
In the dark, dark
And lo! Before me
A blue light I
A thin blue light
See I all a-shining
And leading me
And guiding me
Into the dark
In the long night
In to the long night!
Ah! father, father
Where are
You leading me:
The thin blue light
Now veers to here
And then to there
Now up
Now down
It plays:
And in the night
The long lone night
The seconds turn and turn!
And in the house
The lonely house
A soundless sound
Is humming:
The light
The thin blue light
Is leading still leading
And in the night
No time is passing
No hope of dawn
Or day
Is coming:
But dark
And dark:
Yet in the night
This night
Of black
A thrill felt I
And happiness
That never felt!
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Magic Transistor Radio
He sat up in his open window
Looking quietly down at the path
A firefly flew in his room and flew right out again
Down jumped the prince
And he went again to find his radio
(magic transistor radio)
(glowing magic transistor radio)
(glowing magic transistor radio)
As he made his way he could hear something once again
(glowing magic transistor radio)
There was that transistor up on the same tree
Then from inside of it came a strange voice
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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She Lives Alone
She lives alone in a house on a hill.
Sitting in her favourite chair
alone by the window she'd sit and stare
waiting for someone to pass her by
anyone to notice the tears in her eye
She lives alone in a house on the river
Standing at the open front door
alone on the porch, she waits for an hour or more
waiting for someone to pass her by
anyone to notice the tears in her eye
She lives alone in a house in a wood
Lying in her cold single bed
still and alone, for she is dead
she was waiting for someone to pass her by
anyone to be there and say goodbye
poem by Nicola Burkett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Will One Day Go.
Sorry about
your granddad's death
Judith said
as you stood
beside her
by the pond
at the back
of the house
in the woods
the autumn sun
lighting up patches
of the water's skin
it was sudden
you said
my uncle told me
she took
your hand
in hers
and squeezed
her soft skin
on yours
her thumb
rubbing
the back
of your hand
best remember him
as he was
she said
living and smiling
not some place
lying dead
you nodded
trying
to conjure up
when you'd
seen him last
sitting in
the back garden
of his house
months earlier
talking
of his flowers
he'd grown
from seed
his white hair
moved slightly
by the breeze
he liked my new suit
you said
thought it looked smart
she kissed your cheek
and said
hold on
to things
like that
your memories
place them
in a drawer
inside your head
a jackdaw flew
across the skin
of the pond
the black and white
of wings and tail
reflected
in the water
below
what comes
from God
she whispered
whether
nature's beauty
or ones
we love
will one day
sadly go.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stranger In The House
We dont talk much
We dont make love like we used to
And I stay guarded
Ive got walls and triggers
I never thought I had
And so do you
But this is love
And thats the way we seem content to play it
I touch your clothes when youre gone
I let your scent wash over me
You cry at night and you wish just like a child
That we were how we used to be
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
And she looks like somebody from a lifetime ago
I stonewall you, you stonewall me
But we both know that
Hiding deep inside us
Lives the love that we try hard to lose
And never will
But this is war
And thats the way we seem content to fight it
I get so angry and confused cause
I want out but I want you
You cant decide between moving out or moving in
You dont know what to do
With a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
And she looks like you
And he looks like me
Is this the same girl that, I fought so hard to win
And now I fight to lose her
Now I feel that its just like skin to skin
And nerve to nerve
Strung out like wire
Is that the way we are content to live
We face off in anger
In rooms once filled with love
Looking for a chink in the armour
Where we can stab the blade
What are we thinking of
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
And she looks like somebody from a lifetime ago
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dear wife
I work so hard
I have no time for supper, breakfast, and dinner
Got a cracker and a noodle
A little solid a little hot liquid Are enough since I need a lot of time
Before my computer And this is non-stop working for the whole day
My cell phone is on silent mode and I cannot open it
I work the whole day, concentrated and straight It is eleven o’clock in the evening I arrive in the house and you say a lot of things I do not care anymore as I drag my dead tired body Towards the room and eyes half-closed I almost stepped upon your expensive porcelain vase
I lay on bed my shoes and sock still on my feet I did know anything since then Dead tired I am dead asleep.
If you are unhappy and do not like me
Find the man who is not tired, just leave me I am dead asleep.
i am just your loving husband, tomorrow i will still be your loving husband, yes tomorrow, even if you decided to go away.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Depressed Bubble
His eyes twinkled,
When water bowled along,
With a heavy heart full of grief he stood there,
Feeling out of sorts.
Thinking what would happen to his mother,
When she'll know he got a D,
Thinking what would happen to his father,
Knowing his son couldn't reach his expectations.
Hearing his father's footsteps the boy ran away,
How would he face his father,
How would he face his mother,
What would he say to them?
Only this that they shouldn't have expected much from him,
Or rather blame himself?
His father called out his name,
He couldn't bare the pain,
It was the third time his hard work had went in vain,
The boy thought of nothing,
And while the father reached,
He was horrified for he saw blood stains on the floor,
And no sign of his child.
Teardrops wetted his clothes,
And all that he cited was,
Did you came to see me,
Or did you wished me to go with just tears in my eyes and blood on my hands.....
Written on 10/20/10
poem by Ayesha Riaz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My access to music when I was growing up was through pirate radio, you know, transistor radio under the pillow, listening to one more and then 'just one more' until your favourite track comes on.
quote by Robert Palmer
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Misty Water Woman
I was driving round, as the sun went down
When I came upon a lake, the sign said misty water
And standing there, with wet and tangled hair was a girl
She said her name was bo, she was a farmers daughter
I said get in, Ill take you home, you must be cold
Misty water woman
You never get to her
Misty water woman
You never get to touch her
And feel her near
It began to storm, and our talk grew warm
Till I stopped the car outside a cold and lonely place
I said were here
But she had disappeared
And on the seat was a pool of tears
And a handkerchief of lace
I did not see her leave
I was amazed
Misty water woman
You never get to her
Misty water woman
You never get to touch her
And feel her warm
I sped into the house,
It took her father and her mother to straighten me out
What was it all about
Please let me know
She looked sad, and he looked mad
And he said, yes youre right, once we had a daughter
Her name was bo, but that was long ago
Years have gone since she drowned at misty water
And the way he took it, took me by surprise
Misty water woman
You never get to her
Misty apparition
You never get to touch her
And feel her near
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Krishnakali
In the village they call her the dark girl
but to me she is the flower Krishnakali
On a cloudy day in a field
I saw the dark girl's dark gazelle-eyes.
She had no covering on her head,
her loose hair had fallen on her back.
Dark? However dark she be,
I have seen her dark gazelleeyes.
Two black cows were lowing,
as it grew dark under the heavy clouds.
So with anxious, hurried steps,
the dark girl came from her hut.
Raising her eyebrows toward the sky,
she listened a moment to the clouds' rumble.
Dark? However dark she be,
I have seen her dark gazelle-eyes.
A gust of the east wind
rippled the rice plants.
I was standing by a ridge,
alone in the field.
Whether or not she looked at me
Is known only to us two.
Dark? However dark she be,
I have seen her dark gazelle-eyes.
This how the Kohldark cloud
rises in the northeast in Jaistha;
the soft dark shadow
descends on the Tamal grove in Asharh;
and sudden delight floods the heart
in the night of Sravan.
Dark? However dark she be,
I have seen her dark gazelle-eyes.
To me she is the flower Krishnakali,
whatever she may be called by others.
In a field in Maynapara village
I saw the dark girl's dark gazelle-eyes.
She did not cover her head,
not having the time to feel embarrassed.
Dark? However dark she be,
I have seen her dark gazelle-eyes.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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The New Knowledge
Early September, days are getting shorter and evenings longer;
the breeze that blew had pockets of cold air, a reminder of
things to come. Dawn when I got up looked into the mirror
and saw my father’s aged face. Lucid now and for once fully
conscious I had been asleep for forty years and lost the time
between youth and old age. In a foreign country and I could
no longer remember how I got here, or how to leave.
I pressed fingers to my cheeks, in quiet despair, finger marks
on inelastic skin that only slowly faded. Father, why did you
let me sleep so long, how can I now recapture my adult years?
A rumbling through the house, a picture in the living room
fell off the wall; it was of my mother and she looked so young.
The intensity of my reawaken consciousness overwhelmed me,
walls fell and naked I stood in the ruins of my unlived life
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Dear Father
Why did you part me from yourself, dear father, why?
You've given houses with two stories to my brothers,
And to me, a foreign land? Why dear father, why?
We (daughters) are just cows tied to your peg,
Will move on to where ever you drive us to, dear father.
We are just flower-buds of your garden,
And are asked for, in every household, dear father.
We are just birds from your cage,
Will fly off when its dawn again, dear father.
I've left at home, alcoves full of dolls;
And parted from my buddies too, dear father.
When my palanquin passed beneath the terrace,
My brother fainted and fell, dear father.
As I remove the curtain from the palanquin,
I see we've reached the beloved's house, dear father.
Why did you part me from yourself, dear father, why?
poem by Amir Khusro
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Daddy Please Don't Hurt Mommy
A little girl stood crying as the father beat the mother,
next to the girl stood her older sister, and older brother.
Alcohol was the demon that drove the beating hand,
the mother bruised, and sobbing cowards from the man.
Why does daddy do that thought the little girl?
Oh how I hate my father, he's the worst person in the world.
The mother now alone in the bedroom with a razor above her wrist.
'Please mommy don't do it, ' the youngest child did persist.
The father starves the mother, three days in a row,
the little girl hates her father, yet the father is too drunk to know.
Is alcohol the problem or does there exist more?
The little girl's answer comes from her sobbing mother lying hurt on the cold, hard floor.
poem by Velmar Pewee Hale Johnson
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Earthquakes
So many so small go on day and night
under your feet you barely notice.
A big bang sounds like someone in the upstairs apartment
knocking over their refrigerator, and you ask,
Why knock over your refrigerator?
while friends turn pale and head for the doorjambs.
No, no, it's just some guy
going ape-shit in his kitchen, you insist.
Maybe he's drunk. You're so good at making up explanations,
you miss the moments things shift
for real, red tulips beginning to wilt in their vase,
their lipstick mouths puckering like dowagers,
or the way a marriage curdles like milk left out too long.
You're standing on sand,
(you're always standing on sand,)
but its not the same sand as a wave ago,
everything has swept in and out,
regardless of whether you believe in death
who says, Alright, fine, don't believe in me,
or who doesn't say anything at all,
just goes about his death business,
loosening lovers arms from around each other's necks,
liberating teeth from their gums.
The yellow and brown crumpled gloves
of last year's fig leaves
lie abandoned in front of your house,
flaking detritus someone has to sweep up
and touch, someone has to notice and mourn.
poem by Alison Luterman
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Our Father
Oh daddy please,
Take me with you
Where you going
Oh daddy please,
Come find the time,
Come watch us growing
Oh daddy please,
Dont leave theres so
Much that we want to
Know before you go
Im in need of someone
To tie my shoe,
Or take hold of my hand
When I become afraid
And whose footsteps
Will I follow into,
Daddy please,
Dont run away
Our father
Far father
Well let me tell you bout
Our father
Far farther away...
Oh daddy please,
I pray every night
The doors will open
Oh daddy please,
This house is just
A broken home,
Left all alone
song performed by by Extreme
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Alms
My heart is what it was before,
A house where people come and go;
But it is winter with your love,
The sashes are beset with snow.
I light the lamp and lay the cloth,
I blow the coals to blaze again;
But it is winter with your love,
The frost is thick upon the pane..
I know a winter when it comes:
The leaves are listless on the boughs;
I watched your love a little while,
And brought my plants into the house.
I water them and turn them south,
I snap the dead brown from the stem;
But it is winter with your love,
I only tend and water them.
There was a time I stood and watched
The small, ill-natured sparrows' fray;
I loved the beggar that I fed,
I cared for what he had to say,
I stood and watched him out of sight:
Today I reach around the door
And set a bowl upon the step;
My heart is what it was before,
But it is winter with your love;
I scatter crumbs upon the sill,
And close the window, —and the birds
May take or leave them, as they will.
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Come Home, Father!
'Tis The
SONG OF LITTLE MARY,
Standing at the bar-room door
While the shameful midnight revel
Rages wildly as before.
Father, dear father, come home with me now!
The clock in the steeple strikes one;
You said you were coming right home from the shop,
As soon as your day's work was done.
Our fire has gone out our house is all dark
And mother's been watching since tea, --
With poor brother Benny so sick in her arms,
And no one to help her but me. --
Come home! come home! come home! --
Please, father, dear father, come home. --
Hear the sweet voice of the child
Which the night winds repeat as they roam!
Oh who could resist this most plaintive of prayers?
"Please, father, dear father, come home."
Father, dear father, come home with me now!
The clock in the steeple strikes two;
The night has grown colder, and Benny is worse
But he has been calling for you.
Indeed he is worse Ma says he will die,
Perhaps before morning shall dawn; --
And this is the message she sent me to bring
"Come quickly, or he will be gone." --
Come home! come home! come home! --
Please, father, dear father, come home. --
Hear the sweet voice of the child
Which the night winds repeat as they roam!
Oh who could resist this most plaintive of prayers?
"Please, father, dear father, come home."
Father, dear father, come home with me now!
The clock in the steeple strikes three;
The house is so lonely the hours are so long
For poor weeping mother and me.
Yes, we are alone poor Benny is dead,
And gone with the angels of light; --
And these were the very last words that he said
"I want to kiss Papa good night." --
Come home! come home! come home! --
Please, father, dear father, come home. --
Hear the sweet voice of the child
Which the night winds repeat as they roam!
Oh who could resist this most plaintive of prayers?
"Please, father, dear father, come home."
poem by Henry Clay Work
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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