Daydreams
I sit every day in an office, and play
With a ledger that carries my name,
And stare from the window, the clouds scudding grey
On a sky that is always the same,
The river winds down by the weed-winding bank
But is sluggish and slow in its ride,
Heading on out to the estuary, carrying
Debris, adrift on the tide.
Just about here was the place, where in fear
They once straddled the river in chains,
And called up the hundreds, with helmet and shield
To defend this poor land from the Danes,
And often I peer through the rain and the mist
And the grime on the window without,
Imagining Vikings enmeshed in the chains,
And struggling there, to get out.
The office is staffed by grey people in need
Who would like to get home to the wife,
They mutter in tones of their essence and creed
While some of us just want a life,
But Caroline Chambers is not one of these
She's a flower, sprung out of the weeds,
And I see, as she flits between coffees and teas
She's a Saxon, her coffee is mead.
She pushes the trolley that carries the swords
And the helmets, and buckler's too,
As she stands by my desk for a chat and a rest
She's defiant; she's one of the few.
As she stares out the window, I hear her declare
That she's not going to put up with this,
The Danish accountant has stolen her chair
And her venom is mouthed with a hiss.
‘I'll poison his coffee, you see if I don't, '
And her Saxon blood comes to the boil,
I get fleeting visions of lopping his head,
Or perhaps we should boil him in oil?
She wanders away and she hands out the pay
As I ravish her there in my mind,
And she stares up at me from a puddle of tea
Mutters, ‘How could you be so unkind? '
The following day I can see the affray
As the Legions march into the town,
The Roman Centurions glitter with gold
With their standards held high, not put down,
And Caroline Chambers, Welsh bonnet and dress
With a lilt in her voice, brings the teas,
She stands by the chariot of Boadicea,
Brings the Legions of Rome to their knees!
I sit every day in an office, and play
With a ledger that carries my name,
And stare from the window, the clouds scudding grey
On a sky that is always the same,
But Caroline Chambers has shared in my dreams
Though she has no idea, she's my wife,
As I live in the daydreams of coloured and grey dreams
And desperately search for a life!
23 September 2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Grey World
Grey nights in the wind,
And the grey-faced dead.
Grey hairs in my head,
And grey eyes in my mind.
Grey mists in the morn,
And grey waves that rave,
Grey mould on my grave,
And grey eyes forlorn.
Grey clouds in the sky,
And the grey world asleep,
Grey ghosts that sigh,
And grey eyes that weep.
poem by Leon Gellert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Two Grey Rooms
Tomorrow is sunday
Now theres only one day left to go
Till you walk by
Below my window
The weekends drive me mad
Holidays are oh too sad
cause you dont go
Below my window
No one knows Im here
One day I just disappeared
And I took these two grey rooms up here
With a view
When you walk by
Below my window
You look so youthful
Time has been untruthful
Heaven knows I loved you
30 years ago
Hot days your shirts undone
Rainy days you run
Oh and then you fade so fast
Below my window
No one knows Im here
One day I just disappeared
And I took these two grey rooms up here
With a view
Only when you walk by
Below my window
When you walk by
Below my window
Below my window
Hey hey
Below my window
Below my window
Below my window
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silesian Landscape
The January wind
bangs
against the window-panes,
maliciously twists
the black bones
of shivering trees,
racks
Baroque clouds
in a scudding cycle
of dreams,
under which rooks,
like cast-out
angels,
frolic,
cough up hermetic
blasphemies
on a grey day
without snow.
poem by Leo Yankevich
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Grey Wolves Grey
The Russian march is soft and slow,
Through dust and heat, or slush and snow,
When the Russian skies hang grey and low
To the frontiers far where the Russians go;
And they march to-night and they march to-day
Like the grey wolves grey, like the grey wolves grey.
Nor song nor sound their track reveals,
Save the ceaseless “clock” of the waggon wheels;
But a rift in the mist shows a glint of sun
On the long, dark shape of a toiling gun;
And they strain by night and they drag by day
To a distant goal, like the grey wolves grey.
As the horses toil at the ends of trains,
And the ends of roads on the Blacksoil Plains.
And Ivan digs in the frozen clay,
And he rolls the logs a bed to lay
For a gun that’s five hundred miles away,
But as sure to come as the grey wolves grey.
He is marching on with a purpose grand,
For brother Slav in another land;
Whose tongue, perchance, he cannot understand.—
But he knows the cry from the far-away,
And he smells the blood like the grey wolves grey.
And Ivan’s wife in her den at home,
While hunger looms and his lean wolves come—
With her grey-black bread like the Darling mud,
And her tea-bricks bound with the bullock’s blood—
She shields her cubs by night and day
Like the crouching sluts of the grey wolves grey.
And I march with Ivan where’er he be,
With the foreign blood that is strong in me,
And the love and the hate that is fantasy,
Like the ghosts of a father’s memory.
With the blood that is strange to us to-day
As the strange wild blood of the grey wolves grey.
Grey wolves,
Grey wolves—
The strange wild blood of the grey wolves grey.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Thank You
My teas gone cold,Im wondering why I got out of bed at all
The morning rain clouds up my window and I cant see at all
And even if I could itd all be grey, but your picture on my wall
It reminds me that its not so bad
Its not so bad
I drank too much last night, got bills to pay
My head just feels in pain
I missed the bus and therell be hell today
Im late for work again
And even if Im there, theyll all imply that I might not last the day
And then you call me and its not so bad
Its not so bad and
I want to thank you for giving me the best day of my life
Oh just to be with you is having the best day of my life
Push the door,Im home at last and Im soaking through and through
Then you handed me a towel and all I see is you
And even if my house falls down now, I wouldnt have a clue
Because youre near me and
I want to thank you for giving me the best day of my life
Oh just to be with you is having the best day of my life
Written by d.armstrong & p. herman
song performed by by Dido
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Carolin Says II
Caroline says that I'm just a toy
She wants a man, not just a boy
Oh, Caroline says, ooh Caroline says
Caroline says she can't help but be mean
Or cruel, or oh so it seems
Oh, Caroline says, Caroline says
She say she doesn't want a man who leans
Still she is my Germanic Queen
Yeah, she's my Queen
The things she does, the things she says
People shouldn't treat others that way
But at first I thought I could take it all
Just like poison in a vial, hey she was often very vile
But of course, I thought I could take it all
Caroline says that I'm not a man
So she'll go get it catch as catch can
Oh, Caroline says, yeah, Caroline says
Caroline says moments in time
Can't continue to be only mine
Oh, Caroline says, yeah, Caroline says
She treats me like I am a fool
But to me she's still a German Queen
Ooh, she's my Queen
Queen ...
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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North
Sun beats hard
On sunset boulevard
Much harder still
In notting hill
A northwind blows
And carries me home
Carries my heart, carries my soul
When cool silks they turn to suede
When young dreams are torn and frayed
The south feels so cold and grey
Today! today the norths too many miles away
Today! today I got to get away
Im driving north
Im heading home
Im driving back
To the place I once belonged
Its all gone silent
The light begins to fade
One man unplugs
The penny arcade
A northwind blows
And carries me home
Carries my heart, carries my soul
When cool silks they turn to suede
When young dreams are torn and frayed
The south feels so cold and grey
Today! today the norths too many miles away
Today! today I got to get away
Im driving north
Im heading home
Im driving back
To the place I once belonged
One sweet bouquet
The flowers strewn
The petals scattered
Here in the north
No dreams are shattered
Im driving north
Im heading home
Im driving back
To the place I once belonged
No we dont feel angry
No we dont feel betrayed
Unlike our fathers
We dont remember better days
No we dont feel angry
No we dont feel betrayed
We just live
In this day and age
song performed by by Abc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Miracle for Breakfast
At six o'clock we were waiting for coffee,
waiting for coffee and the charitable crumb
that was going to be served from a certain balcony
--like kings of old, or like a miracle.
It was still dark. One foot of the sun
steadied itself on a long ripple in the river.
The first ferry of the day had just crossed the river.
It was so cold we hoped that the coffee
would be very hot, seeing that the sun
was not going to warm us; and that the crumb
would be a loaf each, buttered, by a miracle.
At seven a man stepped out on the balcony.
He stood for a minute alone on the balcony
looking over our heads toward the river.
A servant handed him the makings of a miracle,
consisting of one lone cup of coffee
and one roll, which he proceeded to crumb,
his head, so to speak, in the clouds--along with the sun.
Was the man crazy? What under the sun
was he trying to do, up there on his balcony!
Each man received one rather hard crumb,
which some flicked scornfully into the river,
and, in a cup, one drop of the coffee.
Some of us stood around, waiting for the miracle.
I can tell what I saw next; it was not a miracle.
A beautiful villa stood in the sun
and from its doors came the smell of hot coffee.
In front, a baroque white plaster balcony
added by birds, who nest along the river,
--I saw it with one eye close to the crumb--
and galleries and marble chambers. My crumb
my mansion, made for me by a miracle,
through ages, by insects, birds, and the river
working the stone. Every day, in the sun,
at breakfast time I sit on my balcony
with my feet up, and drink gallons of coffee.
We licked up the crumb and swallowed the coffee.
A window across the river caught the sun
as if the miracle were working, on the wrong balcony.
poem by Elizabeth Bishop
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fallen Angel
Fool in the night on the stair
With the light by the window
Out in the jungle of life she was
Yearning to go
All of the years I've been there for the tears
She will sell you
Out in the city she search for the face
That she knew
Did you believe that a love so alive
Could be over
(CHORUS)
Caroline
Fallen Angel
Caroline
Oh oh oh
song performed by by Bee Gees from Size Isn't Everything
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Weight of the Wind
The wind carries much more than we see
It carries a lot of what makes you and me
The wind blows and carries lies
Around the world it carries cries
We don't hear nor see any of these things
We don't know or feel what the wind brings
The wind carries the wishes and dreams
The wind carries promises down streams
On it lays our secrets we hold inside
Also the love for others we try to hide
It carries so much oh how I wish to know
With all that weight how can the wind blow?
poem by Mathew Welch
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Another Day
The sun rises slowly
On another day
The eastern sky grows
Cold
Winter in water colours
Shades of grey
Something
Something holds me
Holds me hypnotized
I stare at the window
Stare at the window
Waiting for the day
To go
Winter in water colours
Shades of grey
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rainbow
I live at one of those Grey Clouds
Not really know that I am lifeless
I heard people talking about rainbow,
They’d met each other, always in a happy occasion
I wish I met the rainbow myself
Then perhaps I would know,
What the people say is not true
That there is no thing such rainbow,
That could make people’s eyes glittering
In Blue color of the sky
In Green color of the valley
In Red color of the blood
In Yellow color of the sun
I am belongs to the Grey Clouds
I Love Grey, as it is all the color I have in life
Then one day, at the ticking time of my ordinary Grey-day
I see something really bright,
With the scent of a precious flower I’d lost in the mist
For a moment I’m overwhelmed
Then I took a step further…
Away from something so beautiful, that wasn’t Grey
But the figure reveal and I stranded there
I Never learn that there are many color one’s could posses
Day goes by,
The Grey Cloud is the latest place I’d like to be
It was the rainbow…
Holding me and warm me
With a lot of bunch of dream in my empty mind
Dream I never knew
Dream I never dare to explore
The forbidden dream for my Grey outfit
I’m content with joys,
The first time I ever feel grand to face my life
My heart reflecting the color of rainbow
Blue for the peace soul
Green for the new beginning
Red for the faith
Yellow for a bright hope
Not very long
The thunder strikes,
The lightning burned my rainbow
All was Grey again
The rainbow gone away
Prefer to have a quite-smooth journey with all its color
While the thunder sent me here
Back to the Grey Clouds
poem by Niken Kusuma Wardani
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Southeast City Window
Riding out along the river
Stopping by the pines
Its nice for someone speaking, to be heard,
By heart and mind
Lying on the needle floor
The city seems so far
Moving with your eyes and smile,
Your words told who you are
Sunday grey, one window brings the morning
And your words, like dawn, have opened up my eyes
Ive been on a sleepy ride without much time for thinking
til I spent one evening by your southeast city
Window side
Baby hair a blowin
In the sunday morning air
Dreaming on another place and time,
Wish we were there
In your dreams youre far away
And Im right behind
You know, its nice for someone speaking. to be heard,
By heart and mind
song performed by by Hall & Oates
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Caroline Says I
Caroline says that Im just a toy
She wants a man, not just a boy
Oh, caroline says, ooohhh, caroline says
Caroline says she cant help but be mean
Or cruel, or oh so it seems
Oh, caroline says, caroline says
She say she doesnt want a man who leans
Still she is my germanic -
- queen
Yeah, shes my queen
The things she does, the things she says
People shouldnt treat others that way
But at first I thought I could take it all
Just like poison in a vial
Hey, she was often very vile
But of course, I thought I could take it all
Caroline says that Im not a man
So shell go get it catch as catch can
Oh, caroline says, yeah, caroline says
Caroline says moments in time
Cant continue to be only mine
Oh, caroline says, yeah, caroline says
She treats me like I am a fool
But to me shes still a german -
- queen, ooohhh, shes my -
- queen, ya ...
Queen, hey baby, shes my queen
(queen)
(queen)
(queen)
(queen)
(queen)
(queen)
(queen)
(queen)
...
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grey
Grey road stretched through grey rain.
Grey rain fell though grey mist.
Grey mist enveloped all,
all the eye could see,
all the land,
all the sky
and me.
Grey covered all,
all the way down to the sea.
Glimpsed through grey the swell of the ocean,
riding the waves a wind surfer surfing,
chopping, fighting the crests with swift motion
skirting the spray, sail unfurling.
Stopping, I stared at that sight in the mist,
oh how he came dancing over the sea,
right through the rain a state of sheer bliss,
the wondrous frolic rippling throughout me
making me tingle right down deep inside.
That misty image ripped all grey apart
a glorious vision of freedom untied,
returning tremendous joy to my heart
filling me up, bringing tears to my eyes,
emerging from grey a great love of life.
poem by Diana Rosser
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At The Window
Every morning, as I walk down
From my dreary lodgings, toward the town,
I see at a window, near the street,
The face of a woman, fair and sweet,
With soft brown eyes and chestnut hair,
And red lips, warm with the kisses left there.
And she stands there as long as she can see
The man who walks just ahead of me.
At night, when I come from my office down town,
There stands a woman with eyes of brown,
Smiling out through the window blind
At the man who is walking just behind.
This fellow and I resemble each other -
At least so I'm told by one and another,
(Though I think I'm the handsomer by far, of the two,)
I don't know him at all, save to 'how d'ye do, '
Or nod when I meet him. I think he's at work
In a dry-goods store as a salaried clerk.
And I am a lawyer of high renown,
Having a snug bank account and an office down town, -
Yet I feel for that fellow an envious spite,
(it had no other name, so I speak it outright.)
There were symptoms before; but it's grown I believe,
Alarmingly fast, since one cloudy eve,
When passing the little house close by the street,
I heard the patter of two little feet,
And a figure in pink fluttered down to the gate,
And a sweet voice exclaimed, 'Oh, Will, you are late!
And, darling, I've watched at the window until -
Sir, I beg pardon! I thought it was Will! '
I passed on my way, with such a strange feeling
Down in my heart. My brain seemed to be reeling;
For, as it happens, my name, too, is Will,
And that voice crying 'darling, ' sent such an odd thrill
Throughout my whole being! 'How nice it would be, '
Thought I, 'If it were in reality me
That she's watched and longed for, instead of that lout! '
(It was envy that made me use that word, no doubt,)
For he's a fine fellow, and handsome! -(ahem!)
But then it's absurd that this rare little gem
Of a woman should stand there and look out for him
Till she brings on a headache, and makes her eyes dim,
While I go to lodgings, dull, dreary and bare,
With no one to welcome me, no one to care
If I'm early of late. No soft eyes of brown
To watch when I go to, or come from the town.
This bleak, wretched, bachelor life is about
(If I may be allowed the expression) played out.
Somewhere there must be, in the wide world, I think,
Another fair woman who dresses in pink,
And I know of a cottage, for sale, just below,
And it has a French window in front and - heigho!
I wonder how long, at the longest, 'twill be
Before, coming home from the office, I'll see
A nice little woman there, watching for me.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Long River
Where the long river flows
It flows by my window
Where the tall timber grows
It grows round my door
Where the mountains meet the sky
And the white clouds fly
Where the long river flows
By my window
Theres a tiny bird that calls
And he calls by my window
Theres a lonely tear that falls
And it falls round my door
But when the sun is high
Theres no time to cry
Where the long river flows
By my window
Now if only you could see
The closin of the day
If only you could be
Where the dawn breaks away
By the white cascade
Oh down in the glade
Where the long river flows
By my window
Well when this land was made
It was made full of wonder
But one womans love
I cant understand
And Id give it all to you
If her love were true
Where the long river flows
By my window
Where the long river flows
By my window
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Filemon
Early in the morning
before the first coffee cups are set
and the first brew is made
Filemon arrives.
At a time I see him
riding a big black bicycle
and how he struggles
to get all the parcels
to the post office.
Later he drives a blue-grey station wagon
from which he carries a load of parcels
and never there’s a difference of a cent
on the money that he banks
and even when he’s doing his work
to the best of his ability,
a decision is made
that he must stay a messenger
and have to drive people and parcels around.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Grey, Grey Sky
Someday I will ride the great bird
Into the sky, into the grey
And will take a bright secret of mine
Into the grey, grey sky.
And the light will come, piercing my eyes
Out of the sky, out of the grey
Come blinding and searing these eyes
Out of the grey, grey sky.
And I will find comfort in this
In the wide sky, in the wide grey
In the painful dark brightness of light
Light of the grey, grey sky.
My secret will fly away home
Into the sky, into the grey
And the great bird will follow it there
Into the grey, grey sky.
And I will be riding that bird
Bird of the sky, bird of the grey
And I will come home once again
Home to the grey, grey sky.
But for now I am weighted, earthbound
One of the mud, one of the ground
And I write this sad song to sad sound
Girl of the pavement sighs.
poem by Grace Hutton
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Voice of my Soul
I want to hear the silence
that brings peace on my mind,
I want to hear the songs
that play deeply in my soul
I want to walk on rainbow
and holds the hope of dreams
I want to hear the pouring water
that shades my tears away,
I want to hold the oceans
and feels I owned the world.
I want to stare the sunset
that brings for another day
I want to feel the morning sunrise
that shows the beauty of life
I want to ride on clouds
that lift my spirit free
I want to hear the wave from shore
that brings joy in my heart
I want to love and be loved,
I want to live for life....
poem by Cheryl Aldea
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