The Night Begins
Lying is sweet repose behind the bedroom door
she waits for her lover at the appointed hour.
His footsteps are silent
as he creeps along the hall,
knocks upon the door and waits
for her voice to say softly come in.
Opening the door with care, he walks quietly in.
She rises to embrace him
as now for them the night begins.
The murmur of raised passions
echo from them both
as they float along on a cloud of ecstasy
into a long night of passion
that ends so abruptly
as the dawning sun awakes.
26 November 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
My Death
My death waits like an old roue
So confident, Ill go his way
Whistle to him
And the passing time...
My death waits like a Bible truth
At the funeral of my youth
We drank for that -
The passing time..
My death waits like
A witch at night
As surely as our love is right
Lets not think of that or the passing time
But whatever lies behind the door
There is nothing much to do...
Angel or devil, I dont care
For in front of that door...
There is you.
My death waits like a beggar blind
Who sees the world through an unlit mind
Throw him a dime
For the passing time...
My death waits to allow my friends
A few good times
Before it ends
Lets not think about
And the passing time..
My death waits there, between your thighs,
Your cool fingers will close my eyes,
Lets not think about the passing time.
For whatever lies behind the door
There is nothing much to do...
Angel or devil, I dont care
For in front of that door...
There is you.
My death waits there among the leaves
In magicians mysterious sleeves,
Rabbits and dogs, and the passing time...
My death waits there, among the flowers
Where the blackest shadows cowers
So lets pick lilacs
The passing time..
My death waits there, in a double bed
Sails of oblivion and my head
Lets not think about
The passing time.
But whatever lies behind the door
There is nothing much to do...
Angel or devil, I dont care
For, in front of that door...
There is you.
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Table
This table is reserved an invitation for two,
only one sits alone and the other chair is bare.
He waits and waits as the hours creep through.
Stares at the empty space and wonders where are you.
He looks at his watch as another hour ticks by,
looks at the door to see who is coming through.
He feels eyes staring, probably wondering whom
he is waiting for as the minutes turn to hours.
The empty chair remains bare
as outside the sun sets as night begins to call.
This table is reserved for two, but where are you?
He thinks of all the reasons why you could be late
for this most important date.
He has rehearsed his lines of what he purposed to say.
The box with the ring within his pocket stays.
Where are you he wonders, do you love him anymore?
The negative thoughts invaded his mind
as he waits looking at the door, just waiting for you.
Finally the waiter comes along and tells him they are about to close.
He gives one last look at the door, then gets up and goes.
The reserved table for two stands empty and bare.
Those who should have sat there are gone never to return,
and as the light go out the table stands alone and forlorn.
24 September 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Knock on a Door
Who
Who
Who knocks?
Who knocks at
Who knocks at my door?
Who knocks at my door - not chamber
Who knocks at my door - not chamber door, but door. Who knocks?
Who knocks at my door - not chamber door, but door. Who knocks? Is it a raven - a raven
Who knocks at my door - not chamber door, but door. Who knocks? Is it a raven - a raven named Nevermore that knocks, knocks at my non-chamber door?
Who knocks at my door - not chamber door, but door. Who knocks? Is it a raven - a raven named Nevermore that knocks, knocks at my non-chamber door? ... No, it's just my brother, Josh, that knocks, knocks at my non-chamber door:
It's time for dinner.
poem by Hannah Shier
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Long Flowing Robe
Cruising makes some people get uptight
But nothing beats a lonely friday night
Friday night, nothing much to do but hang around
Think I might just grab myself a cab and head downtown
And for hours, I hang around the dance hall crowd
I feel like a boor
But then I turned around and cast my eyes to the door
In a long flowing robe
She appeared at the ballroom door
I was hard-pressed to know
What I hoped she was looking for
Coming on at first may not seem right
But nothing beats a lover at first sight
What a sight, nothing can compare with simple grace
Its all right, I see it in the look upon her face
That she wants me the same way that Im wanting her
In fact maybe more
But as I take her hand
She turns and heads for the door
In a long flowing robe
She took off through the ballroom door
I was hard-pressed to know
What did she go and do that for
Friday night, nothing left to do but go to bed
Sleeping tight, when something stirring deep inside my head
Said wake up and cast your eyes to the door.
In a long flowing robe
She appeared at the bedroom door
I was hard-pressed to know
What I knew she was looking for
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Acceptance
each day she bleeds
there is pain
her mind is empty
there is no thought in there
she waits by the door
looking beyond the front road
she knows no name
she waits actually for no one
no one is coming
and she does not know where is anywhere
everyday this happens
every hour is a spirit
when the day fades
she does what routine requires her
she goes inside
closes the door behind her
she eats too little
recites her prayer and then sleeps
this happens everyday for all
the rest of her life
who is doing this to her?
No one.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Loud Is The Cry Of War
Loud is the cry of war
Many people shall it smite
Opening up death's dark door
Our people shaken to the core
As we feel our enemies bite
Loud is the cry of war
Many soldiers now implore
If this battle was worth the fight
Opening up death's dark door
Many hearts lie broken and torn
An Endless number of sleepless nights
Loud is the cry of war
Crowded will be heaven's shore
As the dead now take their heavenly flight
Opening up death's dark door
Although we won, we lost much more
As empty cries echo through the night
Opening up death's dark door
Loud is the cry of was
poem by Cat Winder
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At The Veranda
her hair is black and curly
and she is so tight
and young and you
do not speak to her
as she waits for
her lover at
the veranda of
this house
you stand on a door
half open where your
eyes take the
luxury of looking
at her
she blushes and
pretends
that she is scrolling
a name in her
cell phone
you pretend you
look at the stars
crowding a black
cloud up
the silent sky
she steals a look at you
she wants you
but she is here
at the master's
bedroom
and her name
has always been
fear
he looks at her again
and winks
in the mirror beside
her
'she is fast asleep' he said.
she has no answer
she smiles.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mother Of A Miners Child
She is my flower
And she blooms for the one who loves her best
The miners stop to watch as she walks
They know her love is not for sale
She will never fail me cause I know
I watch her grow
And the mother of a miners child
Waits for me beside the kitchen door
She is my light
In this place where the darkness never ends
Shell guide me where the tunnels twist and bend
Shes the only one who listens when I tell her
I got less than I can spend
She knows the pace
Oh mother of a miners child
Was away the coal dust from my face
When the night shifts done
Shell be waiting by the table when I come
Searchin for another dream to chase
Oh mother of a miners child
I know that you still think about the day
When well be movin on
Remember dear old daddy and
The promise that I made to carry on
Sometimes I smile
In the cage where the cables softly hum
Id curse that old straw boss to the bone
But the mother of a miners child
Is waiting for her paycheck to come home
Come saturday
And he is just a miners boy
I hope that he will find a better way
She is my flower
And she blooms for the one who loves her best
The miners stop to watch as she walks
They know her love is not for sale
She will never fail me cause I know
I watch her grow
And the mother of a miners child
Waits for me beside the kitchen door
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fame
when you pursue it
when you claim that you need it badly
it simply closes its door from you
airtight
when you finally give up pursuing it
when you too lock your door
and stay inside it for good
it knocks and insists that you take it
you peep by your window
it waits there and so silly that you
look at it
with full pity
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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All In A Days Work
Written by dennis deyoung, glen burtnik
Lead vocals by glen burtnik
She wakes up from a dream, checks the mirror for reality
She says come on girl, its all in a days work
Gets herself dressed just in time, disappears on the 8:05
Oh the whistle blows and its all in a days work
til she calls it a day
Oh she smiles as he glances up from the swimsuit issue
Oh she sighs as he walks away into the downtown day
Day after day night after night
Loneliness creeps in her window
She locks the door, turns off the light
Rehearsing a kiss on her pillow, she cries
Its all in a days work
Turning pages while the memories pass
Familiar faces from her senior class
How the years go by when its all in a days work
Dearest ruby, hope you reach your star
Dont ever change, stay as sweet as you are
And when a teardrop falls she calls it a days work
She calls it a day
Oh she waits by the telephone for the call he promised
Oh its late
She puts her heart away for another day
Day after day night after night
Loneliness creeps in her window
She locks the door, turns off the light
Rehearsing a kiss on her pillow, she cries
All in a days work
song performed by by Styx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Reconciliation
on slow
calculated steps
shall you approach
a door
you knock
there is no hesitation
for a reconciliation
on a remorse
pain shall be
forgotten
and then the door
shall open
the embrace waits
tears fall.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One Knock Two Knocks
One knock, Two knocks
Who's at the door?
Come out once more
One knock, Two knocks
Who's at the door?
Come out and see for sure
A world melts, as one developes
A world ends, as one begins
One Knock, Two knock
Who's at the door?
Open it once more
One Knock, Two knock
Who's at the door?
Come closer and it just might poor
Devastation has come to me.
I hear it like the knocking
The ground is rocking
Given the eyes of a blind man I once again can see
With wings I rise and soar.
Thoughts with clarity I explore
Got to get a better view, maybe from an enormous mountain up so high
Focus on the crystal ball, reading a fortune from the sky
Oh such, such pretty pretty ball
Just let it fall, down to a place full depravity, and derogation
With one Revelation after another they come
knocking knocking on my door
Will I answer, oh will I answer
Only if I must
And its forever open with one fell gust
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song of the Night Woman
Empty footsteps click across
the wet sidewalk, faceless people pass.
Cabs honk by and splash the feet
where hookers cuss at the curbs of streets.
Empty footsteps come to call
at the creaking doorway down the hall.
In a room that hisses of pungent mold,
the plaster crumbles from mildewed walls.
She waits in a tattered robe of white
on an unkept mattress in the night.
Through the window she hears the worried dog call.
A cat picks up his pointless howl.
He holds on in wild embrace,
he comes a man without a face.
The dollars down from cold embrace,
she turns to the window to hide disgrace.
The empty echo leaves the hall
of shadowed footsteps as they fall.
Away and further into dark,
two lovers embrace in the park.
LaClaire Mitchell-Nzerem (Cader Publishing, first pub (review magazine July 27-July 16,1990 pg.11) .
poem by LaClaire mitchell nzerem
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Echo Of Your Footsteps
Every night I hear
the echo of your footsteps,
across the wooden floor.
They seem to be leading
out to the front door.
It happens every night,
since the day you left,
they are there to haunt me,
reminding me
what I should have done.
I should have begged
for your forgiveness,
for the mistakes I made.
Hoping you would forgive me,
and in my arms stayed.
But I didn’t,
and your gone now.
All I have is an empty heart,
memories I did collect,
and the lonely echo of your footsteps.
13 June 2007
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Silent Night...
Silent night, our discovery night
When concentration was limited to our world
The passion was embraced by the night
And we spoke our minds without a spoken word.
Silent night, our wanton night
A night of sneaky, invisible touches
Your touch illuminated an emotional light
Especially your sweet, silent smooches.
Silent night, when we had our sweet fight
How could I forget that sweet harassment?
When your kisses took me to a greater height
And your embrace gave me a life imprisonment.
Silent night, a night so long
We interacted with just our hands
Your full-lips tickled my searching tongue
With your smooches, love confirmed my plans.
Silent night, our special night
It wasn’t by money, but by might
Crying in silence, we were drowned in delight
With silent kisses, we maximized our silent night.
poem by Vyktor Ekott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Buddhist Lesson # 2
enlightment,
the act of opening,
like a rosebud,
like a mother,
opening the door...
like a child
opening a present,
like a woman
opening to a man....
opening...
all the hidden chambers,
every door to every
secret kingdom of the soul.....
opening the box that holds
your secret thoughts, desires....
opening...
the door of the cage,
letting the winged breath fly....
opening....
your heart to itself,
and to all hearts beating....
opening....
the vault of conceptions,
the entrance to the tomb
of past lives and memories....
opening...
your hands to the world
as if it were your neighbor,
and you, it's home!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dear Goodfew, Regarding the Poems I Sent
Don't worry about reading them.
If good enough they will keep.
If bad they will linger like old garbage
placed outside a neighbor's door
in the middle of the night only to
wrap tightly around when opening
a morning door to leave for work,
pushed back, turned off, sour,
5 flights of breathless descent
cursing the occupant in 5A.
The front door slams behind.
Stepping into sunlight and shadow
the day is won, has worn away the
mal-odors of morning. Burn now
instead to live, to leave a strong
rot when put out a lover's door
because of laziness,
a partial rejection hung upon a knob.
poem by Warren Falcon
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Cats
Cats, who needs them?
My cat sleeps all day and leaves the house in the evening,
but before going it changes from an indolent being that
likes to be stroked to a cooler creature that prefers to be
left alone; it treats me as a tiresome stranger and waits
for me to open the door. Should I be outside and see it,
the cat acts as if it doesn’t know me and runs away if I call
its name. In the morning it waits for me to open the door
to let it in, a jovial feline that gently curls up on the sofa
But there are nights when it is raining, or windy when it
doesn’t want to go out then it likes to sit on my desk just
watching me use the key board on the computer, often it
walks on the board wondering what it is about. But I can’t
bring myself to be as rude to the cat as it often is to me...
like I should be its bloody slave.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Unforgiven 2
Lay beside me, tell me what they've done
Speak the words I want to hear, to make my demons run
The door is locked now, but it's open if you're true
If you can understand the me, than I can understand the you.
Lay beside me, under wicked sky
Through black of day, dark of night, we share this pair of lives
The door cracks open, but there's no sun shining through
Black heart scarring darker still, but there's no sun shining through
No, there's no sun shining through
No, there's no sun shining
What I've felt, what I've known
Turn the pages, turn the stone
Behind the door, should I open it for you?
What I've felt, what I've known
Sick and tired, I stand alone
Could you be there?, 'cause I'm the one who waits for you
Or are you unforgiven too?
Come lay beside me, this won't hurt I swear
She loves me not, she loves me still, but she'll never love again
She lay beside me, but she'll be there when I'm gone
Black heart scarring darker still, yes she'll be there when I'm gone
Yes, she'll be there when I'm gone
Dead sure she'll be there!
What I've felt, what I've known
Turn the pages, turn the stone
Behind the door, should I open it for you?
What I've felt, what I've known
Sick and tired, I stand alone
Could you be there?, 'cause I'm the one who waits for you
Or are you unforgiven too?
(Solo)
Lay beside me, tell me what I've done
The door is closed, so are your eyes
But now I see the sun, now I see the sun
Yes now I see it!
What I've felt, what I've known
Turn the pages, turn the stone
Behind the door, should I open it for you?
What I've
song performed by by Metallica
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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