A Hall
The road led straight to the temple.
Notre Dame, though not Gothic at all.
The huge doors were closed. I chose one on the side,
Not to the main building-to its left wing,
The one in green copper, worn into gaps below.
I pushed. Then it was revealed:
An astonishing large hall, in warm light.
Great statues of sitting women-goddesses,
In draped robes, marked it with a rhythm.
Color embraced me like the interior of a purple-brown flower
Of unheard-of size. I walked, liberated
From worries, pangs of conscience, and fears.
I knew I was there as one day I would be.
I woke up serene, thinking that this dream
Answers my question, often asked:
How is it when one passes the last threshold?
poem by Czeslaw Milosz
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Related quotes
Faith FLower
Faith Flower
Faith Flower
Purple tendrils escape out of my sight is limited to corners and deep dark recess is hidden from the world at large considers lost as the way it is survival becomes better the more it is let go and required of faith the flower grows bidden on the road side it comes of love unsought but paid for with memory and love it grows in hearts upon the stone of the asphalt jungle is so cold a slab of pain it keeps all the homeless frozen like sides of meat in some large footlocker they moan and cry at night the wind brings me there distress the flower grows inside my heart my love threatens to make me warm it keeps me hot it glows at night eye must cover up unless someone sees my purple light to she who cares she loves me and it shows to no one but our love is kept from agony only by your faith my purple flower loves to read of faith kept in our hearts she smiles and love is kept is kept is kept the purple grows and lights the night is kept in faith and love unshown
poem by Charles Hice
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Love has many colors
Love has many colors
But the main is red
The color of a rose
A flower to show that you love him or her
A flower to say silently that your in love and its for sure
Love has many colors
But the main is red
The color of blood
Blood that warms when you see the one you love like no others do
And freezes when you see the one you love happy with out you
Love has many colors
But the main is red
The color of my eyes why I cry the most painful tears
The tears of love that is caused my most wanted fears
Love has many colors
But the main is red
The color of a kiss
There has to be more then this…..
Love has many colors
But the main is red
The same word that rhymes with words unsaid
poem by Michelle Guza
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The Garden Temple Of Paradise
Everything is beautiful at this time of day,
Following a quickening morning shower.
And the huge orange pearl that is the sun
Is just beginning to shepherd its endless power.
The spirit of divine blessings carries me,
In a vision, to the center of this sacred lush glade.
There lays a stone walkway crossing a footbridge
In a course toward stairs of rock on a rising grade.
Then immediately before me, a shrine-like temple,
With finely carved work exhibited on every side,
It appears to be the craft of the Eternal Builder himself,
To whom the fairest beauties of nature have replied.
It bestows its stately head of glittering spires to the sky,
Resting upon its noble structure of stone buttress and turrets.
The remaining stairs, I bound, and through the gilded doors,
Into the cedar and marble interior, a work of matchless merits.
The artifacts are carved to satisfy the eyes of God,
And, for amenity, a cruciform lamp high in the ceiling of the shrine.
Comprising the interior are two large and lavish units,
The nave consecrated to the body and the apse to the mind.
The golden glow of the lamp exalted the light in my eyes,
So I turned toward the door and gingerly stepped down the aisle.
With head bowed, I walked through the gilded doors,
Feeling the tender glow of the light on my back all the while.
poem by Albert Price
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Answers
I kept my answers small and kept them near;
Big questions bruised my mind but still I let
Small answers be a bullwark to my fear.
The huge abstractions I kept from the light;
Small things I handled and caressed and loved.
I let the stars assume the whole of night.
But the big answers clamoured to be moved Into my life. Their great audacity
Shouted to be acknowledged and believed.
Even when all small answers build up to
Protection of my spirit, still I hear
Big answers striving for their overthrow.
And all the great conclusions coming near.
poem by Dame Edith Louisa Sitwell
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Straight Ahead
Day by day, dream by dream.
I fight to find the way to go.
Every day opens a different door.
Every dream shadows the one before.
But slowly I can see
The way youve made for me.
Straight ahead, I can see your light.
Straight ahead, through the dark.
Straight ahead, theres no left or right.
Straight ahead, to your heart.
Carry on through the night,
When the road is hard to find.
Lying lights tell me to turn around.
Lying thoughts tell me Im lost not found.
But clearly I can see
Youre waiting there for me.
Straight ahead, I can see your light.
Straight ahead, through the dark.
Straight ahead, theres no left or right.
Straight ahead, to your heart.
Straight ahead, (straight ahead),
Straight ahead, (straight ahead),
Straight ahead, (straight ahead),
Straight ahead, (straight ahead).
Straight ahead (straight ahead), I can see your light.
Straight ahead, through the dark (through the dark).
Straight ahead, theres no left or right.
Straight ahead, to your heart.
Straight ahead....
song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Has Been Revealed
What has been revealed,
Has been revealed.
Even with eyes tightly closed...
What has been revealed,
Has been revealed.
Even with an upturned nose...
What has been revealed,
Has been revealed.
Even with pretensions,
Left to charade.
What has been revealed,
Has been revealed.
Even with the cool-aid made...
What has been revealed,
Has been revealed.
Even with debates...
Created for more time to waste.
What has been revealed,
Has been revealed.
Even those who protest,
Unaccepting with wishes to reject!
What has been revealed,
Has been revealed.
Even the message,
And the messenger to detest!
What has been revealed,
Has been revealed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Worries..Get Lost To My Mind's Corners!
Straining my every nerve
I search every nook and corner
and pick up and bundle up
all my worries in a huge sack.-
loading it onto my back
with extreme effort
and panting breath
reach your temple!
O..what is it?
a sack or a mountain?
who carries it on his back?
who totters in temple corridors?
Yes-
it is you.my God!
is it the worries of all peoples of this world.
which breakes your back?
O my poor God., rich with our worries!
I pity you!
My huge load of worries!
get lost to the corners of my mind!
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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Dentist Chair (Fun Poem 99)
Everyone hates the dentist
some much more than me.
Just the thought of the drill
and the light in your eyes
puts the chills up me.
One of my worst encounters
of the dentist chair came in the 1960’s
when a cold in a tooth made my face swell
on one side like a melon
and I could only drink through a straw.
They knocked me out to remove the tooth.
Having no recovery room
they put me back in the waiting room
and sat me in a chair out there.
It was the dawn of the plastic moulded ones
and the one I sat on was so slippery
I kept slipping down.
I mumbled aloud about the dentist being no good.
Some of his patients took one look at me
and decided I was right, then made a hasty exit
from the waiting room.
With the side of my face swollen to the size of a melon
I can understand why.
Another encounter with a dentist
was quite a few years later.
A different dentist with a wholly different approach.
He was having his waiting room decorated
and I was the only one there.
He came in with a Cheshire grin across his face.
“Mr Harris, do you mind if this gentleman
takes out your teeth today? ”
Being I and thinking it was a student,
I said I didn’t mind.
The dentist then said, “He is my interior decorator.”
The smile still implanted on his face.
I nearly ran out of there.
Now the third tale concerns my wife
and she fears the dentist even more than me.
She had an appointment
and when we arrived,
the surgery was closed for lunch.
We went for a little walk
and all the cars we passed had dents in the side.
“See that.” I said.
“Yes.” She replied.
“That’s what the dentist does
when he can’t get his own way.”
As we approached, a corner
there was a church on the other side.
“Why don’t you nip in there for a quick pray
that the dentist doesn’t come back? ”
She thumped me I wonder why.
As we walked back to the surgery I assured her,
that everything was going to be OK.
They calm you as soon as you walk in.
She looked at me suspiciously and asked how?
They have a big mallet just above the door
and bop you on the head as you walk in.
Your teeth fall out in the process
and the job is done.
Now I wonder why she has never asked me
to go to the dentist with her again.
1 April 2009
poem by David Harris
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The Color Purple
a friend of mine is obsessed with purple
she says it's a royal color
fits for kings and queens
and she feels like a princess
on her purple hair
her purple dress
and purple bra and
purple shoes
the walls of her house are painted
the railings of the stairs
the windows
the doors are all purple now
the flowers in her garden
and the leaves of her trees
the grass
all purple too
her speech is purple too
the movies she watch are all in the shade of purple
her car turned purple too
royal color that is what she says
i tell her bluntly, ' You are boring, purple! '
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Must Have Been Sleeping
'Where are you going, ' I heard her say
As the dream took me straight to the core,
We parked at the side of a very long road
And I got out the driver's door;
'I've never known that, ' I replied, and she sat
On her hands, with the pain of surprise,
'So what you've been saying has never been true! '
The tears rose up in her eyes!
'The road has been long, the road has been wide,
I never knew where I could turn.'
'I thought you were happy with me, ' she said;
There was nothing to say in return.
'I must have been sleeping for seventeen years, '
My voice sounded foreign and coarse,
But I couldn't handle the sighs and the lies,
Or the terrible sound of - 'divorce! '
I walked to the wood at the side of the road,
And followed the pathway around,
I couldn't look back now I'd made up my mind
Though I walked unfamiliar ground,
The clearing was quiet, the birds didn't sing,
A mountain rose up in my view,
I suddenly saw there was no going back
To the comfortable life that I knew.
I cast off my shackles and took a deep breath,
To breathe in both freedom and pride,
My strength was returning, and clearer my eye,
I walked with a bounce in my stride,
The years fell away, I was thirty again,
I stopped then, and sat on a stone,
For darkness was gathering there in the gloom
With that terrible feeling - alone!
I thought of the woman I'd left on the road,
Who'd always been faithful to me,
The tears that she'd shed for a love that was dead
Made me sad, and ashamed to be free,
I thought of the comfort she'd given me when
All my world started going insane,
She'd cooked and she'd cared, and she'd loved and she'd shared
And I'd given her nothing but pain.
I turned on the track, and I made my way back
But I couldn't see where I had been,
I stumbled through thickets and walked into trees
And I fell on my knees on the green.
'I am lost, I am lost, ' I cried into the night
Then I heard her voice, dim, by a tree
And woke to her stroking my face and my brow
As I cried… She was waiting for me!
9 March 2008
poem by David Lewis Paget
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The Flower of Leaves
The Flower of Leaves, does not speak, nor sing!
She breathes intensly and plays on sweet strings
The Flower of Leaves, in spring, does not bloom,
She hangs in the heat and weeps low in gloom
The Flower of Leaves, shrouds mis'ry and pain,
Yet exudes in song warm swelling disdain
The Flower of Leaves, shades but one pale green,
Yet blossoms 'neath moonlight in silv'ry gleam
She relieves, and like Great Nature, serene,
In stormless gardens passes through unseen
Sublime as rainfall, sincere as the sea,
O Heaven, such life that blooms before me!
Who only knows that which my heart believes,
In such mystique of The Flower of Leaves!
poem by Iam notThou
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Dreamin' Again
Dreamin' Again -- Jim Croce
-----------------------------
Don't you know I had a dream last night, that you were here with me
Lyin' by my side so soft and warm
And we talked a while and shared a smile, then we shared the dawn
But when I woke up, ah my dream, it was gone
Don't you know I had a dream last night, that you were here with me
Lyin' by my side so soft and warm
And you said that you'd thought it over, you said that you were comin'
home
But when I woke up, ah my dream, it was gone
I'm not the same, can you blame me
Is it hard to understand
I can't forget, you can't change me
I am not that kind of man
Don't you know I had a dream last night, and everything was still
You were by my side so soft and warm
And I dreamed that we were lovers, in the lemon scented rain
Oh when I woke up, oh I found it again
I had been dreamin', dreamin' again
I had been dreamin', dreamin' again
song performed by by Jim Croce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Do Gray Women Blush?
Do gray women blush,
when they’re feeling blue
getting a great rush
for a man who’s new?
Do they ever get,
to their extreme surprise,
suddenly most wet
when they see the size
of the man who made them
blush? The answer’s yes.
I know, because I’ve laid them.
Who are they? You must guess.
Inspired by a sexy dream I had last night, and by comments Roger Scruton makes about blushing in Sexual Desire: A Philosophical Investigation.
This was Linda’s response:
Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow
Grey is the color of cloudy skies
and they can turn black, angry,
white the color round my eyes
and red after a sangri,
but though some rinse like heaven to blue
and purple on occasions,
I'm earthbound, brown, rich soil, a hue
most lustful in persuasions.
Yet grey, red, black, brown, purple, blue
all crown a head with features
like cheeks that blanche when love's not true
or blush at lustful creatures
who like a snake with tasty fruit
ensnare the dormouse lingering
within it's cosy cave tree root
aroused by brilliant fingering!
8/18/08
poem by Gershon Hepner
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One Thing Left
My life is one big smile
As I cross off the things on my list
The splendor goes on for miles
I don't know what could be left to wish
I'm just living the dream
I do all right if you know what I mean
Chorus:
And I've closed the door
And locked it tight
And turned off every single light
Another perfect day is all but through
Now me getting over you
Is the one thing left to do
Yeah, yeah, yeah
The whole world has gone insane
The paper says so every day
And I can always feel the rain
Even when the sun's in the way
Yeah just living the dream
I wish my eyes could forget what they've seen
Chorus:
I've closed the door
And locked it tight
And turned off every single light
And walked away just like you asked me to
Now me getting over you
Is the one thing left to do
Yeah I know that it's me who's not well
But there's no one but you I can tell
Chorus:
As I close the door
And lock it tight
And turn off every single light
And walk away just like you asked me to
But me getting over you
Is the one thing left to do
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Is the one thing left to do
song performed by by Richard Marx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Loving Tree
Three women walked upon a road,
And the first said airily,
“Of all the trees in all the world
Which is the loving tree?”
The second said, “My eyes have seen
No tree that is not fair;
But the Orange tree is the sweetest tree,
The loving blood is there.”
And the third said, “In the green time
I knew a loving tree
That gave a drink of the blood-red milk,
It was the Mulberry.”
Then the first one said, “Of all the trees
No sweetest can I name;
Ask her who yonder slowly comes—
That woman lean and lame.”
Grief like a hideous suckling hung
Along her hollow breast,
Pain was upon her as she walked,
And as she stooped to rest.
“Why will you question so?” she said,
“Is it to mock at me?
For how should I, who walk in Hell,
Know of a loving tree?
“My eyes are not as woman's eyes,
They hope not east or west:
Dull Famine my bed-mate is,
And Loneliness my guest.
“ 'Tis not the most delicious flower
That leaves the scent of Spring,
Nor is it yet the brightest bird
That loads his heart to sing.
“A tree may dance in the white weather
Or dream in a blue gown,
A tree may sing as a sweetheart
To bid the stars come down:
“Some trees are slim and lovable
And some are sleek and strong,
But the tree that has the cripple's heart
Will know the cripple's song.
“The sweetest death is the red death
That comes up nakedly,
And the tree that has the foiled heart
It is the loving tree.
“While ever lip shall seek for lip,
While ever light shall fall,
The tree that has the ruined heart
Is tenderest of all.
“Oh, ye may have your men to kiss,
And children warm to hold,
But the heart that had the hottest love
Was never yet consoled.”
The women three walked on their way,
Their shamed eyes could see
How well the tree with the foiled heart
Is still the loving tree.
poem by John Shaw Neilson
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The Gospel Of St Jude
I have walked down this road you call love
It is hard and its shallow stony ground
I have built with these hands some great fortune
But my heart still beats a hollow sound
Oh yea, still now my tears remain
With all my dreams embraced
I am told there is peace drawn from wisdom
But no rest only answers have I found
Oh yea, still now my tears remain
With all my dreams embraced
song performed by by Omd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Pill Box
I woke up early this morning
And didn’t know what day it was
Until I walked to the kitchen
And spotted my pill dispenser
Sitting on the oaken table
Placed there by my loving wife
Before my angel left for work;
Looking at the seven day-marked
Cells just piqued me at that moment:
To think at this phase of my life
A pill box was my calendar.
I looked at the empty cells marked
“S”, “M” and “T” and realized
This morning has to be Wednesday.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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A Walk Within A Dream
I saw a building old as days
With countless rooms laid within
Walls with cracks and ivy rose
From the earth before me
Slowly I entered that place
Air ran heavy, thick to my lungs
With each taken step
I walked the rooms and halls
Some bare stripped of life
Others as though never touched
Some like a memory kept
Where instruments of music
Lay dust covered, silent
Still brought a song to thought
I saw paintings and pictures
Rich in a veil of colour
Like all the seasons held at once
A beauty found, celebrated
Then a sadness felt
In the shadowed halls
Empty with a loneliness
Another room had windows
Where a wind whistled through
I heard a birdsong carried
It passed in a second step
I thought no more of it
I descended and climbed stairs
Became lost and yet found
I knew this place well
However strange it came to me
Yes I knew this place
I felt the walls, ageless
I smelt the air, familiar
The ground beat to a pulse
A rhythm only I knew
On this my first visit
To that building which once rose
I felt at home, comforted
I looked back became held
As though I had never moved
The entrance still behind me
In spite of all the rooms and halls
Which I had walked
In spite of every step I counted
Numberless, countless, endless
I remained unmoved
Yet moved still moved
My eyes closed I felt myself pulled
Away from that old building
The rooms and walls
The cracks and the climbing ivy
That whistling wind
The music and colour
I awoke and thought
Had I walked a dream
Built upon my heart, soul, mind
Had I just walked myself
No answers came
I lay awake lost in thought
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Dream Sequence
Every voyage
I have attempted
Is interior
What I saw I didn't see clearly
But a dream of self discovery
In featureless green slimed statues
I saw my own failures
The impossible dream of sagacity
That in the end
All knowledge turns into idiocy.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Fire Dream
A dazzling fire white flash
Illumines deep into my night sky.
I stare in amazed awe...
As timidly I wonder,
Am I - is anyone - ever ready to die?
A question without answer,
Perhaps the answer is without reason
And therefore cannot find expression.
Death - like this blinding light - stands before me, blazing.
Neither can be denied;
By way of such pondering
I find closer to the light I am drawn,
Or it to me -
At the lights center now I see
A spot fading just low enough for recognition,
It is the size and shape of an ordinary door.
Curiosity driven by desire to understand
Holds at bay my fear of daunting death,
So I move further into the great light,
Toward the doorway -
This closed door seems to beg me to open
- open it or myself I am uncertain -
Three feet from it's threshold I see
It is a door of burning cold-fire,
The knob solid gold...
Without lock.
From beyond the door I now hear music
- very good music -
My desire intensifies!
As does the rhythm of my heart beats,
Slowly I reach, and then grasp
The golden knob...
I awake!
Lying in bed, in the darkness of night,
Shaking, my mind roils,
Vexing, what had it all meant?
And where, and why, had it went?
A felicitous vagary; an arduous vision;
I do not know for certain.
Only this from my enigmatic dream
Do I comprehend:
Death does truly await me,
Perhaps though it is not to be quite so feared
As I once believed.
There may even be great joy and surprise
On the other side of that effulgent doorway.
I can only but trust God
To, someday, open it for me,
It is not mine to do. And
For that,
I am exceedingly grateful.
poem by Smoky Hoss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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