Just To See (If You're There)
hands of coal,
back bent with time...
eyes that play tricks,
and ears that need help.
pictures of memories hidden
behind lips terse and still.
stories wrapped in stories,
no one listens to anymore.
the ghosts of love walking
the floors of an empty house...
eat a little, stare out the window,
read the obituaries just to see
if you're there!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Stories
Through every window, we look out
what we see on the other side
holds many stories waiting to unfold.
Stories of great achievements
within someone’s life.
Stories of gathering love
found with in open arms.
Stories of perusing heartaches
where someone has gone away.
Stories a million fold
that surround every living thing.
Stories we are not aware of,
but happen before our eyes.
Stories to share with all
from those who can see them unfold.
The next time you look out a window
try and see what is really there,
the stories that are everywhere.
26 July 2009
poem by David Harris
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Any Street In Any Town
Look down any street
in any town across the land
at the rows of houses there.
Then you begin to wonder
what memories each house shares.
Some of happiness
where dreams have come true.
Some are of sadness
where lives have been hurt by pain.
Some with tragic stories
they never want to share again.
Each house will have many stories
of the individuals whom lived there.
Each story will be different
from all the rest.
Each leave memories
in every room they slept.
Their stories are unending
as new families come along.
22 November 2007
poem by David Harris
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The Death of a Love one
The phone call that you thought you would never get
The pain that follows when you’re faced with choices
The old pictures that haven’t been seen in years
The memories that haunt you
The tricks played by the ears
The silence that was once filled with laughter
The tears that want stop
The sleepless night
The question that will never be answered
The goodbye I love you that was never said
The empty bed that remains
The closet that is filled with old belongings
The talks, stories, and pictures that remind us of them
The sadness that comes in behind
The not know how to move on
The anniversary of the death
The flowers that represent so much
The life that is honored
The tears that come when ones name is mention
The hole that remains
The songs that reminds you of them
The life’s that is changed by the one single life that is now gone.
Dedicated to my Memaw may she rest in peace
By Hannah Howell
poem by Hannah Howell
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Re-Write The Memories
Mike:
Man
(oh yeah)
I don't know what I'm gonna say to her Rizz ya know?
(ooh yeah)
I ain't ever been through nuttin' like this
This was my heart man
(listen)
I just gotta step up and just be a man about it
Ralph:
Flashback
Time passed
then nothin's the same
Lost our
Love in
Too many games
And girl I hope that you
Forgot about
The reasons you forgave
But the memories don't seem to go away
No
Chorus:
No I never ever meant to hurt you
No I never meant to make you cry
And I wish I could erase the heartache
And turn back the hands of time
And I'm sorry that you're still reminded
Wish I could just rewrite it
Our short stories last so long
Rewrite the memories
Ronnie:
This crazy
I wish I can do it all again
Johnny:
So much
To talk about
(thats right)
But nothing to say
(nothin to say)
Cuz words are
So empty
When you feel betrayed
(when you feel betrayed)
I cant find a way
To justify
The reason I just lied
(why)
But I did it all to spare you any pain
oh yeah
Chorus:
Cause I never ever meant to hurt you
(never meant to hurt you)
No I never meant to make you cry
(never meant to make you cry)
And I wish I could erase the heartache
(heartache)
And turn back the hands of time
And I'm sorry that you're still reminded
Wish I could just rewrite it
(said Im sorry)
Our short stories last so long
(last so long)
Rewrite the memories
Ronnie:
Baby I know you hurtin
Just pick up the phone
(Get back where we used to be)
Baby just talk to me
Johnny & Ricky:
Oh baby let me hold you and rewind
And I wont make that silly mistake twice
Please hold me cuz I need you in my life
Chorus:
No I never ever meant to hurt you
No I never meant to make you cry
And I wish I could erase the heartache
(Wish I yeah, yeah)
And turn back the hands of time
(turn back the hands of time)
And I'm sorry that you're still reminded
(Im so, Im so sorry that you still reminded)
If could just rewrite it
Our short stories last so long
And I'm sorry that you're still reminded
Wish could just rewrite it
(Never meant to make you cry)
Our short stories last so long
Ralph:
Rewrite the memories
Ricky:
(Rewrite the memories)
Johnny:
(never meant to make you cry)
Ralph:
Get back where we used to be
Ricky:
(back where we used to be)
Johnny:
(I wanna turn back the hands of time)
Ralph:
If I could just rewrite it
I would just rewrite it
If I could just rewrite it
I'd rewrite our memories
Mike (Spoken):
Y'all just dont understand
(sorry)
To have somebody real close to you
(sorry for the pain)
When you lost that trust
You basically lose everything
Ralph:
Ahh suga no, no no no
song performed by by New Edition
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Into Something New
he prepares into something.
it is new, the way to throw possibly all things,
those old polo shirts
unused shoes, so many back packs,
lessen the load, and
possible empty the house
and then what you see are only floors
and walls and
then you start removing those walls
and floors and
for the last time you go down the
stairs and
with the use of an ax you break
each step
and then you say now you are ready
into something new
walking on the bridge on the river
and then
upon arriving at the other side
you burn everything
the river is the witness
sole witness
since no one is there anymore
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Music Is You
This song appears on two albums, and was first released on the back home again album, and has also been released as a live version on the an evening with john denver album.
Music makes pictures and often tells stories
All of it magic and all of it true
And all of the pictures and all of the stories
All of the magic, the music is you
Music makes pictures and often tells stories
All of it magic and all of it true
And all of the pictures and all of the stories
And all of the magic, the music is you
Words and music by john denver
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stories About Home
I lived once in the North
And for a while, way in the South
I have some stories... that'll
Tear a man's heart out
These are the one's
I numbered ten... eleven...and twelve...
They moved so fast...
I ended living... in living Hell
But those that I numbered one thru nine...
They let the world see...why... my eyes..
My heart...
Will never again shine
I know It's hard sometimes to live
Where you can't see the sun...
Because of all that... endless rain...
I look to see.. how too... help others
Because I have lived...every kind of pain
So I write the stories...
Some are good
But often... some are very bad
They often leave hearts torn....
Spilling eyes... so sad...
And sometimes... I'll talk about the incredibly bad
But can you see the purpose...of writing
These stories... these poems...
Through the tears.... the weeping... and crying...
It's just my heart....
Trying to find a way...to move back home...
So to anyone whom read these stories. They're what I write.
They're the words of what I feel. They're the stories about wounds,
about that life, my family, about souls that never seem to heal.
They're the words of truth, they help with what I feel. For these stories
are the cause of tears...that just wont end...they're the stories that are
impossibe to bear.
They are the stoires of my family, abuse, of damage
and how love was not spared....
So many stories that'll never disappear
A soul covered with scars
Of sadness that fills a heart
That burns each time those hate words...
And abuse that breaks it apart
Clyde Grant Bryson
poem by Clyde Bryson
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Stories
when we were young stories were told
That I'd kiss you sweet like
People said there was a connection between us
Now that we're old stories are told
Of how I hold you tight
Whenever I see those people I tell them they were right
Stories will be told
From when our children are young
until they're old
About our endless love
We must have had a blessing from above
Stories will be told until we're old
Stories will be told until the end of time
Stories will be told until we're old
Stories will be told until the end of time
Until the sun won't rise
Oh
song performed by by Hanson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Captured Memories
Captured memories from the past
At the Oklahoma History Center
You’ll be surprised and impressed
The very moment you enter
It’s such a treasured museum
One you will truly enjoy
Early railroad pictures
That has so many stories
A one room school house
Really takes you back
Railroad in the early stages
So different from the Amtrak
Teepees from the past as well
Oil once called Black gold
An oh, the stories and the tales
So many to be told
So take some time and visit
The Oklahoma History Center
You’ll be so glad you did, folks
The very moment that you enter!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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This House Is Empty Now
(costello/bacharach)
These rooms play tricks upon you
Remember when they were always filled with laughter
But now theyre quite deserted
They seem to just echo voices raised in anger
Maybe you will see my face
Reflected there on the pane
In the window up above for long
In broken home
Yet this house is empty now
Theres nothing I can do
To make you want to stay
So tell me how am I supposed to live without you
These walls were lined with pictures
Remember the glass we charged in celebration
But now I fill my life up
With all that I can to deaden this sensation
Do you recognize the face
Fixed in that fine silver frame
Were you really so unhappy there
You never said
So this house is empty now
Theres nothing I can do to make you want to stay
So tell me how am I supposed to live without you
Oh, if I could just become forgetful
When night seems endless
Does the extinguished candle care
About the darkness
Its funny how the memory
Will bring you so close then make you disappear
Meanwhile all our friends must choose
Who they will favour, who they will lose
Hang the garland high, or close the door
Or throw away the key
This house is empty now
Theres no one living here
You have to care about
This house is empty now
Theres nothing I can do
To make you want to stay
So tell me how am I supposed to live without you
This house is empty now
This house is empty now
Theres nothing I can do
This house is empty now
This house is empty now
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: An Empty House Remembers
The empty house around me ticks and creaks,
A moody end to evening's gentle rains,
A brooding quiet as the daylight wanes,
The secret language empty houses speak.
What stories might this house preserve entire
In rhythmic code composed of click and groan?
Does House recall a sadness with each moan?
Is laughter stored in every plank and wire?
And how might I, a fleeting visitor,
Acquire an ear for stories trapped in time,
And wrap a tale or two in words and rhyme?
How can I tap the House's secret lore?
In silence soft the house slips off to sleep.
Alone I sit, in darkness vast and deep.
poem by Russell Collier
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This Is My House
I read a book
About conversation and you
I listen to
Stories that intrude on my heart again
This is my house
Welcome is here
This is my house
Welcome to me
My picture of your face
Will disappear with time
Patience in eyes
That say occupied
Quite peculiar
This is my house
Welcome is here
This is my house
Welcome to me
song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ens Qua Ens
I sleep sometimes
with the television on
tuned
to an empty channel
I don't know why
but
it can be comforting somehow
somewhen
I take a shortcut
through the campus
regardless
that it's actually further
watch lovers walking
hand in hand
I accelerate past
the road is long
I read books
listen to music
learning answers
learning songs
I am tell-stories
because there are stories
waiting always
to be told
poem by Stefan nnn
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Some Stories
some stories
about ourselves
are also the stories of
themselves
and then we write
these stories and
pretend that these are
but some short stories
from our mind
now in different names
and places
we read them and then
we wish that some of
these short stories
are not true at all
sometimes for those
we want to be
we want to believe
them to be true
wishes and hopes and
regrets, what if? what if i
chose that rather than this?
we poets write about pain
and joys and we tell sometimes
that we only fake them
deep inside we are silent
we prefer just to be left alone
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Stories
Every year has its own stories in this life,
Every month has its own stories in this life,
Every week has its own stories in this life,
Every day has its own stories in this life,
Every hour has its own stories in this life,
Every minute has its own stories in this life,
And like the muse of the mind as we grow up;
So, we are all with stories to tell in this world.
As white as snow,
As red as blood,
As balck as charcoal,
As green as the grass,
As blue as the sky;
But everybody has stories to tell in this world!
And like the muse o love in the land of beauty,
For each year has its own story.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Stories
If you were alive today
what stories woud you tell me?
Stories of what it's like without me
or of what comes after this?
Or would you hold back
all those things
and play upon my heartstrings,
then give me one more kiss?
I've often wondered if there is
a memory lane for lovers
where thought and memory covers
all our times of bliss?
If you were alive today
those stories you would bring me
would thrill me and please me
Your stories I still miss.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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My little book
blind as I was, deaf as my friend yet! have
gone as furthest as the universe, I thought
that was only a great dream of my past
laughing me seems to easy, for once I was
a little child is always a child, it was the day
where my father and mother hold me so tight,
closing my bulging eyes as they read, telling
some fabulous stories and then gradually falls
my attentive ears down to my sight and there
no more
all comes to meet my fantastic imagination,
making my childhood memories filled it all, with
what is all remembered is not what it makes, for
what ever is heard now has gone as it is done
books tells me different stories, that relates my
ways, for I taste of what is the past and today, simply
I know that hearing is not reading and reading is
always remembering
my little book paved me the way that in my little
room I will be free....read and read and read...the
only way to visit and see, of what is yesterday for
the future belongs today.....and reading always
become part of me
poem by Antonio Liao
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Love Don't Live Here Anymore
This is the house that love built
Memories of you are built in each wall
Wanting the seeds still haunt my dreams
Though Ive just heard your voice in the hall
The mirrors reflect all the heartache I feel
Smiling photographs dont seem real.
Nothings been moved, but everythings changed
Each chair isnt placed, just my lifes rearranged
The wind cries your name through each window and door
Love dont live here, love dont live here anymore.
The fire alight still glows a pale blue
The mantle is cruel holding pictures of you
Your scent lingers there, in the bed that we shared
The last plant I sent isnt bloomed
These rooms are unkind to play tricks on my mind
I can see how youve lived without me.
Nothings been moved, but everythings changed
Each chair isnt placed, just my lifes rearranged
The wind cries your name through each window and door
Love dont live here, love dont live here anymore...
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It Is Late
it is late and the sun is setting
the orange and red are diminishing
the blackness spreads like a diffusion
of our sorrow and pain
soon there will be the closing of the windows
of the house
the locking of doors of the ground floors
and some prayers mumbled from lips
to lighted candles on altars of saints
and angels
soon there will be stories
from mother
and songs too
and then in the quiet
of the stars and the moon and the sky
soon there will
be sleep
under white mosquito nets
the light from the lamp
is blown away
and we smell the smoke
coming from the
loved ones
long dead
we end the games that we play
and we are silent
we yawn and close our eyes
and now ready
as we enter the doors of
our dreams
in there
there may be chases and running too
i am sure somehow we just take a look
unspeakably
things are hazy and we do not remember
anymore
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Pictures And Memories
There's a teardrop
Falling slowly from my eyes tonight
As I think of your two arms
That used to hold me so very tight
But you're gone now
And girl I'm alone and blue
With just these pictures and memories of you
Pictures and memories
Of a love warm and true
Pictures of love we shared
And the memories of you
But your pictures can't heal my chest
Of this hurt deep inside
Pictures and memories
I feel like crying tonight
--- Instrumental ---
I may be crazy but you know sometimes
I can almost feel your touch
Those who say I should be over you
Well I guess they just never loved as much
I'd put your pictures where I can't see them
But I'd still see them in my mind
Just like your memories,
They're right here with me all the time
Pictures and memories
Of a love warm and true
Pictures of love we shared
And the memories of you
But your pictures can't heal my chest
Of this hurt deep inside
Pictures and memories
That's why I'm crying tonight
Pictures and memories
I feel like dying tonight...
song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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