Skeleton In The Cupboard
Sometimes we run away
from things real and imaginary.
It doesn’t matter how far that we run,
a day will come
when the past catches up to you.
We always think
our skeletons in the cupboard
are always very safe.
Then one day in the future
someone will open the wrong door
and our skeleton in the cupboard
will be revealed forever more.
24 January 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Cupboard
Mother: What's in that cupboard, Mary?
Mary: Which cupboard, mother dear?
Mother: The cupboard of red mahogany
With handles shining clear.
Mary: That cupboard, dearest mother,
With shining crystal handles?
There's nought inside but rags and jags
And yellow tallow candles.
Mother: What's in that cupboard, Mary?
Mary: Which cupboard, mother mine?
Mother: That cupboard stands in your sunny chamber,
The silver corners shine.
Mary: There's nothing there inside, mother,
But wool and thread and flax,
And bits of faded silk and velvet
And candles of white wax.
Mother: What's in that cupboard, Mary?
And this time tell me true.
Mary: White clothes for an unborn baby, mother..
But what's the truth to you?
poem by Robert Graves
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Wind of Social Networking
They can't hide the skeletons kept in their cupboard any longer.
They cannot cut short their tongue of growing hunger.
The raging storm is pushing hard their closed doors.
You and I are growing stronger than ever before.
Swelling darkness behind the curtain was covered for long.
In this wind our voice catches wild fire to say it wrong.
Feared faces are looking for ways to stop the wind
Their hands are reaching your throats, be aware friend!
poem by Kingshuk Chakraborty
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Every family has a skeleton in the cupboard.
My Cupboard
Behind the Welsh Dresser,
fine china,
dinner plates
and an old vase
is a cupboard.
It is a place I store
dark secrets,
shame,
hidden love
and
old memories.
Its walls are shelved
where books
turn towards me
so as to hide their titles.
My jewels
are housed in
cardboard boxes
so as to hide
their worth.
and old photo's,
in black and white
hold my
memories
The cupboard door
is white
and the door
has panels.
You can see the
grain of the wood
through the paint
and even though
I paint it
every year,
the grain
shows through.
I've tried to reveal,
to show
and tell
my secrets,
those unmasked
truths
but somehow
I never can.
I will have to
keep the key
and even when I die
my secrets,
they will die with me.
Here is my cupboard,
my life,
my memories.
Only go there
if you dare
for the truth
will pierce your heart,
challenge your beliefs
change you
rearrange you
and
your ideas
of me.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Secrets.
No matter how open our lives
we have secrets inside our head.
Secret fears, loves, hopes and desires
we hide them in our mind
never to be revealed.
Secrets we keep only to ourselves
some are imaginary,
some are very real
only we know which is which,
but none will be revealed.
They are our secrets
and only ours to keep.
14-15 August 2009
poem by David Harris
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Song: The Road to Nowhere
To travel the road to nowhere.
The soul's dark amazon.
Eternal peace is anywhere,
the mind might set upon.
To travel the road to nowhere.
To know you're really gone.
And when you finally get there,
to find your god is Ron.
There's something in the cupboard, boy.
There's something in the dark.
There's something in the cupboard, boy,
that leaves a lasting mark.
There's something in the cupboard, boy.
Old secrets gather dust.
There's something in the cupboard, boy,
that reeks decay and must.
To travel the road to nowhere.
Reading signposts from beyond.
As self-deceit completes defeat,
a cold ghost light is shone,
on Ron. On Ron.
He learned to sham at his father's knee.
He knew the power of story.
He lived by lies and fantasies,
and dreamed of fame and glory.
So travel the road but beware,
for he drew an arcane map.
His weak and dismal followers,
could see no fatal trap.
But in his inner circle,
his worth would soon reveal.
To those that rail and cavil,
he'd crush beneath his heel.
There's something in the cupboard, boy.
The sweetest scent of musk.
There's something in the cupboard, boy,
as warm and moist as lust.
To travel the road to nowhere.
It's not the smoothest ride.
To have all faith you must defer,
to a self-referring guide.
To travel the road to nowhere.
To avoid the rush and throng.
Unravel in the space of somewhere,
and sing a specious song.
There's something in the cupboard, boy.
It's got an evil breath.
There's something in the cupboard, boy,
that toys with fear and death.
To travel the road to nowhere.
And wield your magic wand.
A shuffling prisoner of despair,
when fragile hopes abscond.
To travel the road to nowhere.
A funeral dress you don.
All truth is moulded out there,
like a Sci-Fi writer's con.
There's something in the cupboard, boy.
You hear it scratch and whine.
There's something in the cupboard, boy,
both bedevilled and divine.
To travel the road to nowhere.
To follow a different sun.
To travel the road with due care,
not to end as you begun.
To travel the road to nowhere,
to life's grim denouement.
Be sighted by the cross hairs,
released from earthly bond.
To travel the road to nowhere.
Your face is drawn and wan.
Your self-belief masks hidden grief,
while the thief of time moves on.
poem by David SmithWhite
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What Mad Pursuit...
The face forever screaming, running forward
The mouth forever open always screaming,
The cardinal encased in his glass cupboard,
Forever trapped, forever haunts our dreaming.
LRH 5.20.06
Title from Ode on a Grecian Urn, John Keats
Paintings by Edvard Munch, Francis Bacon.
poem by Linda Hepner
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It Really Doesn't Matter
You say your ugly, i say it doesn't matter.
You say you have a dark past,
i say it doesn't matter.
You say theirs overwhelming responsibility,
i say it doesn't matter.
I don't believe in walking away when things get hard.
In fact they are my spark to continue my march.
Through thick and thin where to begin.
You say you don't have a way.
I say it doesn't matter.
You say that you cant give back what you would like.
I say it doesn't matter.
You say, you say oh it really doesn't matter,
I live one day at a time.
Choices will be made that will save the day
but hurt me financially.
It doesn't matter Choice will be made
that will set me back in my expectations.
It doesn't matter,
It really doesn't matter.
Its well worth it.
To see the beauty that
you have placed before me.
Oh how its worth it.
To settle down and not be looking to be found.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Tonight Is Forever
I may be wrong, I may be right
Moneys short and time is tight
Dont even think about those bills
Dont pay the price, we never will
Were out again another night
I never have enough
It will be like this forever
If we fall in love
Tonight is forever, tell me now you dont disagree
Tonight is forever, open the door, you hold the key
I may be wrong, I may be right
So dont depend, I could lie
I havent got a job to pay
But I could stay in bed all day
Then out again another night
I never have enough
It will be like this forever
If we fall in love
Tonight is forever, tell me now you dont disagree
Tonight is forever, open the door, you hold the key
Tonight, tonight, tonight, tonight
Tonight is the first night
We dont need any more when we dance
I dont think of the future tonight
Tonight is forever, tell me now you dont disagree
Tonight is forever, open the door, you hold the key
I may be wrong, I may be right
But I dont give up any night
You could say conventional
And I could claim intentional
Were out again another night
We never have enough
It will be like this forever
When we fall in love
Tonight is forever, tell me now you dont disagree
Tonight is forever, open the door, you hold the key
Tonight is forever, tell me now you dont disagree
Tonight is forever, open the door, you hold the key
Tonight
song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cupboard Love
A mouse lived in a dingy cupboard,
Not the cupboard of Old Mother Hubbard,
But a horrid closet, non the less,
Which caused him unrelenting stress,
For it was just so dark in there,
And also it had no fresh air,
Thus these two things, had made him twitch,
Furthermore, he imagined that a nasty witch,
Was coming to find him, any day,
To take his mousy life away.
The silence was so very eerie,
Nothing here was very cheery,
But he felt he wasn't here alone,
And at the moment was very prone,
To think he could sense another being
Creeping around, but he wasn't seeing
Anything is this pitch black.
He thought maybe he would go and pack,
And leave this place, go somewhere new,
Anywhere would be better, than this venue.
When suddenly, he felt a bump,
What had hit him on his rump?
A squeak rang out, and two bodies collided,
And fur met fur, and then subsided,
Into a heap, and clung together,
Hearts beating fast, hell for leather,
'My name is Pru', the body said,
'What's yours? ', 'Oh, Me, I'm simply Fred'.
'Well I'm looking for a place to stay',
'Do you have a room here, that's OK? '
'Oh, Yes indeed, move in with me',
'I think that would suit me to a T'.
'You are so sweet', she sighing said,
'I really like you, Simply Fred'.
And so two mice, went hand in glove,
Together. Is this called 'Cupboard Love? '
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Happiness, Requiem
Happiness to a broken heart,
Is like water to a tree.
So be careful from the start,
Lest all happiness should flee.
Little things somehow add up,
To something big someday.
So make sure to fill her cup,
With affectionate displays.
Don't be a fool, it just won't do,
To set her needs aside.
She needs to hear it, just like you,
About that love you have inside.
Happiness can only come,
If you open wide your door,
The little things, that seem to some,
Will add up more and more.
Happiness is the reward,
You work for all your days.
So start stocking up your cupboard,
And be quick to mend your ways.
poem by Juan Olivarez
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Real And Unreal...
in the imaginary garden
the real toads are croaking
in that imaginary room
a real person is
thinking
in that imaginary thought
some real things
are broken.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fixing A Hole
I'm fixing a hole where the rain gets in
And stops my mind from wandering
Where will it go
I'm filling the cracks that ran through the door
And kept my mind from wandering
Where will it go
And it really doesn't matter if i'm wrong
I'm right
Where i belong i'm right
Where i belong.
See the people standing there who disagree and never win
And wonder why they don't get in my door.
I'm painting my room in the colourful way
And when my mind is wandering
There i will go.
And it really doesn't matter if
I'm wrong i'm right
Where i belong i'm right
Where i belong.
Silly people run around they worry me
And never ask me why they don't get past my door.
I'm taking the time for a number of things
That weren't important yesterday
And i still go.
I'm fixing a hole where the rain gets in
And stops my mind from wandering
Where it will go.
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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She Has Skeletons In Her Closet
She doesn't want to admit who she is
Cause she has too many skeletons in her closet
She doesn't know that she's on a self-destructive path
But she doesn't even know it
She wanted to keep the relationship going,
but no one informed her it was over before it started
Cause she's not aware of her skeletons anymore
She thinks ignoring them will make them go away
Boy is she misinformed, but she didn't get the notice
She's gonna have a rude awakening
I wish i could be there to help her through it
But she fucked that one up
She had a clue but then she took a wrong turn
She's going to have a hard life
and no one can help her
(4-3-05)
poem by Brandi Young
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Chocolate Cake
I love chocolate cake.
And when I was a boy
I loved it even more.
Sometimes we used to have it for tea
and Mum used to say,
'If there's any left over
you can have it to take to school
tomorrow to have at playtime.'
And the next day I would take it to school
wrapped up in tin foil
open it up at playtime
and sit in the corner of the playground
eating it,
you know how the icing on top
is all shiny and it cracks as you
bite into it,
and there's that other kind of icing in
the middle
and it sticks to your hands and you
can lick your fingers
and lick your lips
oh it's lovely.
yeah.
Anyway,
once we had this chocolate cake for tea
and later I went to bed
but while I was in bed
I found myself waking up
licking my lips
and smiling.
I woke up proper.
'The chocolate cake.'
It was the first thing
1 thought of.
I could almost see it
so I thought,
what if I go downstairs
and have a little nibble, yeah?
It was all dark
everyone was in bed
so it must have been really late
but I got out of bed,
crept out of the door
there's always a creaky floorboard, isn't there?
Past Mum and Dad's room,
careful not to tread on bits of broken toys
or bits of Lego
you know what it's like treading on Lego
with your bare feet,
yowwww
shhhhhhh
downstairs
into the kitchen
open the cupboard
and there it is
all shining.
So I take it out of the cupboard
put it on the table
and I see that
there's a few crumbs lying about on the plate,
so I lick my finger and run my finger all over the crumbs
scooping them up
and put them into my mouth.
oooooooommmmmmmmm
nice.
Then
I look again
and on one side where it's been cut,
it's all crumbly.
So I take a knife
I think I'll just tidy that up a bit,
cut off the crumbly bits
scoop them all up
and into the mouth
oooooommm mmmm
nice.
Look at the cake again.
That looks a bit funny now,
one side doesn't match the other
I'll just even it up a bit, eh?
Take the knife
and slice.
This time the knife makes a little cracky noise
as it goes through that hard icing on top.
A whole slice this time,
into the mouth.
Oh the icing on top
and the icing in the middle
ohhhhhh oooo mmmmmm.
But now
I can't stop myself
Knife -
1 just take any old slice at it
and I've got this great big chunk
and I'm cramming it in
what a greedy pig
but it's so nice,
and there's another
and another and I'm squealing and I'm smacking my lips
and I'm stuffing myself with it
and
before I know
I've eaten the lot.
The whole lot.
I look at the plate.
It's all gone.
Oh no
they're bound to notice, aren't they,
a whole chocolate cake doesn't just disappear
does it?
What shall 1 do?
I know. I'll wash the plate up,
and the knife
and put them away and maybe no one
will notice, eh?
So I do that
and creep creep creep
back to bed
into bed
doze off
licking my lips
with a lovely feeling in my belly.
Mmmmrnmmmmm.
In the morning I get up,
downstairs,
have breakfast,
Mum's saying,
'Have you got your dinner money?'
and I say,
'Yes.'
'And don't forget to take some chocolate cake with you.'
I stopped breathing.
'What's the matter,' she says,
'you normally jump at chocolate cake?'
I'm still not breathing,
and she's looking at me very closely now.
She's looking at me just below my mouth.
'What's that?' she says.
'What's what?' I say.
'What's that there?'
'Where?'
'There,' she says, pointing at my chin.
'I don't know,' I say.
'It looks like chocolate,' she says.
'It's not chocolate is it?'
No answer.
'Is it?'
'I don't know.'
She goes to the cupboard
looks in, up, top, middle, bottom,
turns back to me.
'It's gone.
It's gone.
You haven't eaten it, have you?'
'I don't know.'
'You don't know. You don't know if you've eaten a whole
chocolate cake or not?
When? When did you eat it?'
So I told her,
and she said
well what could she say?
'That's the last time I give you any cake to take
to school.
Now go. Get out
no wait
not before you've washed your dirty sticky face.'
I went upstairs
looked in the mirror
and there it was,
just below my mouth,
a chocolate smudge.
The give-away.
Maybe she'll forget about it by next week.
poem by Michael Rosen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hills
Everyday we climb hills
real and imaginary.
Some are steep
and hard to climb,
others are gentle
and there we take our time.
However, whatever hill we climb,
it is always easier
once we’ve reached the top
and come down the other side
23 January 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Photograph is concerned with the power that the past has to interfere with the present: the time bomb in the cupboard.
quote by Penelope Lively
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Every Door We Open
Every door we open
broadens our view of life.
We learn a little more
trouble and strife.
We learn a little more
of how to love and be loved
with every door we open
as we travel though out our life.
15 January 2008
poem by David Harris
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Students, study you must
Wake up and work
To let your destiny wake up
Read your book to keep up
Your high spirits and take up
The challenges knocking up
At the door of your dormant destiny.
Open this door, open up,
By riding on the horse for mutiny,
All set to search for oasis
By study, study and study,
In the desert of the endless lessons
As the clock ticks without passion!
Let the destiny not sleep
With books sleeping in the cupboard
Let opportunities not flee
And you make excuses like Mother Hubbard!
Let time not take you,
But you be the time taker,
Read to be a runner
Or the failure will take you!
poem by Jasleen Khanuja
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Skeletons
(ian hunter/darrel bath/honest john plain)
(transcribed by adrian perkins; corrections by colin ford)
Bimbo, flirts, sluts in skirts - muscles brightly glisten
Conversation's full of filth - let's all have a listen
Oh dear oh dear we live in fear
Media bulbs a poppin'
If you're bent, they're on your scent
There can be no stoppin'
Peroxide blondes, vagabonds, into 'eavy metal
Your hair looks like its been done by a dyke with a score to settle
Mud needs raking, photos taken of your murky past
Haunts you, taunts you, love it don't you
Hey hey the gang's all here
Pimps 'n' pervs, straights 'n' queers
Enquiring minds want to sneer at the skeletons in your closet
Sunday morning in the park,
Down the pub or in the bath
We'll all have a good old laugh
At the skeletons in your closet
Skeletons in your, skeletons in your, skeletons in your closet
Skeletons in your, skeletons in your, skeletons in your closet
It's bloody marvellous - innit?
It's bloody marvellous - innit?
Juicy bits, saucy snips, there's gold in them there gutters
Blue rinse mob on the job, curtains all a-flutter
It's cheapo culture, bleeding ulcers, burnt out by the score
Lurid tales never fails to shock you to the core
Kinky boots 'n' rubbber suits,
It's all going on next door!
Caught you, taught you, love it don't you
If you've had your face re-done
If you spank your girlfriend's bum
We can all join in the fun
At the skeletons in your closet
What's the world coming to?
Ain't we got nothin' better to do?
To spend all day sifting through
The skeletons in your closet
Hey hey the gang's all here
Pimps 'n' pervs, straights 'n' queers
Enquiring minds want to sneer
At the skeletons in your closet
Skeletons in your, skeletons in your, skeletons in your closet
Skeletons in your, skeletons in your, skeletons in your closet
Skeletons in your, skeletons in your, skeletons in your closet
Skeletons in your, skeletons in your, skeletons in your closet
Skeletons in your, skeletons in your, skeletons in your closet
Skeletons in your, skeletons in your, skeletons in your closet
Skeletons in your, skeletons in your, skeletons in your closet
Skeletons in your, skeletons in your, skeletons in your closet
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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