The Small Lamp
the small lamp
beside the bed in the empty room,
burns strong with silence,
and waits without reason.
the pawprint of the dog
beneath the window,
identifying emptiness.
and the broom in the corner,
stands ever on guard.
the book of passage unread,
urine stained sheets.
even god almighty
cant control the wind,
that blows through the window,
and fills the room.
while babies are born,
and wars are stopped.
yet the earth waits without breath,
for the coming of love!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Window Left Open...
the vase fell to the floor,
and shattered into tiny pieces.
the broom in the corner wept.
the box in the closet drew breath sharply,
the book on the shelf turned away.
the bulb in the lamp burned out.
the spider packed up its web and left.
the empty nest fell from the tree.
rainwater gushed from the gutters.
the young boy locked in his room
crawled out the window.
the neighbor's dog barked...
god gathered her clothes,
and put on her shoes.
while warships sailed for another land.
drones killed three women on the way to market,
another baby died without having lived.
another factory shut down,
another church burned to the ground,
so many things said and unsaid.
another chapter, another book unread.
things are not what they seem.
another war on pillows fought by silence,
another day in a land untouched.
old trees pray for lightning,
old dogs wait without fear.
old photographs turn yellow and fade.
old men empty their pockets and die.
even Jesus couldnt wait this long....
they say the good die young.
the thief in the garden steals roses,
that he gives to a girl wearing glasses.
while passion weeps waiting for snow.
and leaves prepare to fall...
the vase fell to the floor,
and shattered into tiny pieces...
the moth flew through a window left open!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Passing The Time
By ginger baker and mike taylor
It is a cold winter,
Away is the songbird.
And gone is her traveller,
She waits at home.
The sun is on holiday,
No leaves on the trees.
The animals sleep
While cold north wind blows.
The snowflakes are falling,
The roof a white blanket.
Theres ice on the window pane,
She waits alone.
She sits by the fireside,
The room is so warm.
Her children are sleeping,
She waits in their home.
Passing the time.
Passing the time.
Everything fine.
Passing the time, drinking red wine.
Passing the time, drinking red wine.
Passing the time, drinking red wine.
Passing the time, everything fine.
Passing the time, drinking red wine.
Passing the time, everything fine.
Passing the time, wine and time rhyme.
Passing the time.
It is a long winter,
Away is the summer.
She waits for her traveller
So far from home.
She sits by the fireside,
The room is so warm.
Theres ice on the window,
Shes lonely alone.
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Passing The Time
By ginger baker and mike taylor
It is a cold winter,
Away is the songbird.
And gone is her traveller,
She waits at home.
The sun is on holiday,
No leaves on the trees.
The animals sleep
While cold north wind blows.
The snowflakes are falling,
The roof a white blanket.
Theres ice on the window pane,
She waits alone.
She sits by the fireside,
The room is so warm.
Her children are sleeping,
She waits in their home.
Passing the time.
Passing the time.
Everything fine.
Passing the time, drinking red wine.
Passing the time, drinking red wine.
Passing the time, drinking red wine.
Passing the time, everything fine.
Passing the time, drinking red wine.
Passing the time, everything fine.
Passing the time, wine and time rhyme.
Passing the time.
It is a long winter,
Away is the summer.
She waits for her traveller
So far from home.
She sits by the fireside,
The room is so warm.
Theres ice on the window,
Shes lonely alone.
song performed by by Cream
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cold Wind Waits
though the frost is gone, the
cold wind waits.
the robin sings while the
cold wind waits.
a gentle breeze
now blows the wheat,
but a threat of rain
will change to sleet.
the summer slips and the
cold wind waits.
though the warm wind blows, the
cold wind waits.
the traffic crawls while the
cold wind waits.
it's dark too early,
winter too soon,
light of the sun
will change to moon.
the weather turns and the
cold wind waits.
(2011-Bolingbrook, IL)
poem by Mark Money
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Love and I
My love and I live by the sea
Where the sea breeze flows in your face
Where the the fish dance
In there mind with thee
And the crabs go flamenco with there clicks
I know somtimes my love waits for me
I know that she waits for me by the sea
My love somtimes goes cold on me
but i warm her up with a bit of sauce
I know my love waits for me
I know that she waits for me by the sea
My love and I often sit
Comfortably in are seats
In the front room
watching TV
Documentries gulore
And game shows in
I know that my love waits for me
I know that she waits for me by the sea
My love who waits for me by the sea
She is Fish and Chips
YOU SEE! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
poem by Joe Sissens
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No place for a courting-candle
A girl’s voice laughing softly
cuts through the night
and enters by the room’s window
and wide awake
I (six year old child) sneak out
to find the source of the excitement.
Gardiël studies with Martin
that boards with us
and both are matriculating
because he complains
that his eyes burn
from the old paraffin lamp
that gives light
at their farm house
where there’s no electricity.
A bright electric lamp
burns in the room
hanging ten centimetres
beneath the ceiling
and big moths
fly dark brown around it
caught in flight paths.
Another table lamp
throws a bright yellow glow
that brings heat in the chilly
highveld winter.
I see them through the window
drinking coffee and eating rusks,
before both of them
again turn pages in books
and crawl into the shelter of a bush
to stay hidden from them
and suddenly somebody moves
next to me
and I see her bend
to pickup small stones
that she throws lightly
against the room’s window.
The window opens wide
and I hear them talking softly
without hearing what they say
and the girl again laughs
before she walks to the front door
that opens noiselessly.
l’Envoi
It must have been only ten minutes
before uncle Hendrik (Gardiël’s dad)
comes running along,
open the garden gate with might
almost run the front door
out of its sockets
and with a walking stick in his hand
(that is stronger than a broom)
smashes out the light in the roof,
the table lamp
and the window
in Martin’s room
and I hear lashes
with thudding sounds
fall on both boys
and the girl
screaming hysterically
while she
also get lashed
and he shouts in anger
that this is no place
for a courting-candle.
[Reference: The word uncle used here out of respect and local custom and not to point out family relationship.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Room
(chris waters/tom shapiro)
When I pull in the drive where your car used to be
It doesnt hurt me like it used to
I can walk through the door, and not wonder anymore
Where you are, like I used to
I can go down the hall, see the pictures on the wall
And not miss you
But I just cant bring myself to go into..
The room
Where I spent every night with you
And the light of the moon
Came through the window
And I held you
We were so close
And its just too soon
For me to go into the room
Id remember too much if I opened that door
And Im not sure if I could face it
The beds emptiness would remind me youre with
Someone else, and I couldnt take it
So, I sleep on the couch in our living room now
Since our love died
cause Im still not ready yet to go inside...
The room
Where I spent every night with you
And the light of the moon
Came through the window
And I held you
We were so close
And its just too soon
For me to go into the room
Where the light of the moon
Came through the window
And I held you
We were so close
And its just too soon
For me to go into the room
song performed by by Wade Hayes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Triple Homicide
I'm glad the fighting's stopped
the house is silent
empty
this is how I like it
no yelling
no fights
no broken glass
silence
when they're both gone I'm happy
but when they come home
I go straight to my room
I try to be quiet
as I listen to music in the closet
the fight begins
there screaming
this time I hear my name
I ignore it
not wanting to join the fight
my dad bursts in yelling for me
my window left open he screams
he thinks I'm gone
I thought quickly
as my mom ran in
silence
silence
silence
my dad yells again
at my crying mom
I cry silently
as she's pulled from the room
screaming
I hear a gunshot and I jump
grabbing a pocket knife
from my jacket
the cries stop
then another shot
a loud thump
as a body falls
I climb out of the closet
knife in hand
blood pouring out my
parents bedroom door
silence
I open the door and see two
bodies on the floor
a gun in my father's hand
silence
silence
silence
then sirens
and cops coming around the corner
so I take the gun from my dad
hold it to my head
a loud pop
then
silence
silence
silence
t he cops would
call this a triple homicide
or double homicide and suicide
but I call this
a family
who needed help
poem by No Reason To Care
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An Ode To Inspiration
Up above, Tchaikovsky's fluting notes are dancing,
And the empty paper waits for the first verse to be born.
While the screaming wind beats against the old window,
My thoughts are endlessly straying,
Looking for lost inspiration,
And they stray the ravines of my mind,
Like lost children searching for their dear mother,
Lost inspiration.
The heart is painfully echoing in a mute chest,
And the paper still waits for its dear tennants,
And it is as if the angry wind knows it too,
The wind that shakes the old window blinds
That painfully creak
Like the bones of an old dying man.
If I could,
I would sprinkle all roads with stars,
I would gild each stone with the rays of the sun,
If only inspiration could find its way to my home.
But how could I possibly greet it royally
In a room full of moisture, draft and smoke,
And the deafening echo of poverty,
As inspiration is royal by birth, after all.
There is grave silence down there,
And a magic harmony up there,
It is Tchaikovsky dispersing his magic notes
Down into my dark home,
As if he wants to provide a royal welcome for inspiration.
That blue shadow is watching me now,
As if saying:
'Inspiration is of royal birth,
You will find it in the dark, below a stone,
In the company of the darkest shadow,
At the very heart of loneliness;
You don't have to take the stars down from the sky for it,
Or bait it with gold
So it would find its home.
Giving in to your heart is enough, brother,
And inspiration shall find its home! ...'
poem by Walter William Safar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Sadness of The Empty Home
The light flickers on
Illuminates the empty hallway
The thud, click of a door in closing
Brings a silence to the room
A heavy sigh escapes
A look to the mirror sees only
Tired eyes looking back
A bag lain upon the small table
The light turned back off
On route to yet another room
Light creeps through the window
Allowing enough to see
The sound of a running tap
Filling the kettle for a final drink
Keys thrown upon a side
The clatter of cups and spoons
Then further silence
Now the creaking of a staircase
Another door opened
Another light flicked on
The curtains drawn to the world
Drink set beside the bed
The silence of the empty home
Fills the heart with loneliness
A television switched into life
Nothing worth watching
Just a sound there to fill
The silence and the sadness
Of the empty home
poem by Matthew Holloway
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T.b. Sheets
Now listen, julie baby,
It ain't natural for you to cry in the midnight.
It ain't natural for you to cry way into midnight through,
Until the wee small hours long 'fore the break of dawn,
Oh lord, huh uh ha. ha.
Now julie, an' there ain't nothin' on my mind
More further 'way than what you're lookin' for.
I see the way you jumped at me, lord, from behind the door
And looked into my eyes.
Your a little star struck innuendos
Inadequacies an' foreign bodies,
And the sunlight shining through the crack in the window pane
Numbs my brain,
And the sunlight shining through the crack in the window pane
Numbs my brain, oh lord.
Ha, so open up the window and let me breathe.
I said open up the window, shh shh shh shh shh and let me breathe.
I'm looking down to the street below, lord, i cried for you,
Ha ha, i cried, i cried for you, ha ha. oh, lord.
The cool room, lord is a fool's room.
The cool room, lord is a fool's room.
And i can almost smell your t.b. sheets
And i can almost smell your t.b. sheets
On your sick bed.
I gotta go, i gotta go
And you said, "please stay, i wanna, i wanna,
I want a drink of water, i want a drink of water,
Go in the kitchen get me a drink of water."
I said, "i gotta go, i gotta go, baby."
I said, "i'end, i'll send somebody around here later.
You know we got john comin' around here later
With a bottle of wine for you, baby - but i gotta go."
The cool room, lord is a fool's room,
The cool room, lord, lord is a fool's room, a fool's room.
And i can almost smell your t.b. sheets,
I can almost smell your t.b. sheets, t.b.
I gotta go, i gotta go.
I'll send around, send around one that grumbles later on, babe.
We'll see what i can pick up for you, you know.
Yeah, i got a few things gotta do.
Don't worry about it, don't worry about it, don't worry.
Huh uh, go, go, go, i've gotta go, gotta go, gotta go, gotta go,
Gotta go, gotta go, huh uh, all right, all right, huh huh huh.
I turned on the radio,
If you wanna hear a few tunes, i'll turn on the radio for you.
There you go, there you go, there you go, baby, there you go, huh.
You'll be all right, too, huh huh, ha ha, yeah.
I know it ain't funny, it ain't runny at all, baby,
Always laying in the cool room, man, laying in the cool room,
In the cool room, in the cool room.
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am Not Your Broom
Now broom, you must now sweep for me
The dust it fills my room
No, john, I will not sweep for you
For I am not your broom
What nonsense are you speaking, broom
My words you must obey
Another life awaits me and
Im leaving you today
I am not your broom
I am not your broom
Ive had enough, Im throwing off
My chains of servitude
I am not your broom
I am not your broom
No longer must I sweep for you
For I am not your broom
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Storeroom
I love you, without caring whom you love.
My hands below the belt, or my hands above
in the arms of other men,
or in my bed again.
It's just a man,
Taking what he needs,
From the store room,
Store room, store room.
I love to see you sitting there upon your throne,
your preachers all around you
being bored, and your prophet straight and tall.
And yet they'll undermine it all.
Just a man, just a man,
taking what he needs,
from the store room,
store room, store room.
Yeah, Shakespeare said it all, then he said no more
and he left me feeling just like a two bit whore.
Well the silence broke my heart, but yes
I spread my legs apart.
It's just a man ...
?????
?????
The hermit in the Wild,
the parent in the child.
Just a man ...
Oh my love, let us unpin you,
???? you done, bringing more:
the mother and the father, the daughter and the son.
But should one refuse to come, it does not subtract the sum
It's just a man ...
It's not a (due?) of burning pounds that ruins your mind
like a spoon that you turn and you turn and you don't unwind,
Though these wars that you did not stop,
they don't tear your sleep apart.
It's just a man ...
???? that keeps you up,
What a (moon?) coming like a headlight through the window
Not the thumbnail of a screen, (?)
No best way to dream (?)
It's just a man ...
Now the woman by your side is she awake?
But there's nothing you want to give her,
and there's nothing that you really want to take.
You don't even try to prove that the noisy neighbor's making love. (?)
It's just a man ...
I love you without caring whom you love ...
song performed by by Leonard Cohen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Empty Spaces
In a room long left vacant, he sits at the window looking out, cobwebs adorn the room like Christmas decorations. The window glass dirty from neglect.
In his reverie he hears the joy now past, sounds of fun and laughter. Long gone but not forgotten.
A movement in the corner of his eye, a glimpse of a reflection in the window pane, but he learnt long ago not to focus on them as they would vanish.
Darkness falls and the moon rises over the garden and casts it glow on her face, she has returned to him again this evening to bestow her smile on him, her lips move, no sound, but words perfect, fall upon his ears.
Without him turning she stands beside him, slips her hand in his, just to let him know.
poem by Robert Green
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White Room
I can see her at her windows watching
Locked away inside her skin
I can see her but I cant get to her
She wont come out, and she wont let me into
The white room (shes living in)
Lying alone til she comes undone
In the white room
She burns for the real thing
But it wont come
In her head is the same obsession
And all the bottles and pills wont heal her heart
She heard his last confession
Every word just tears her apart
In the white room (locked away)
Doing time til her time is done
In the white room theres so much to say
But the words wont come
Come back to the land of the living
When you gonna break that chain
Theres much too much that youre leaving
And youre never gonna stop the rain
In the white room
Waiting for the call that never comes
In the white room, she waits
Look at something long enough youll find
That the splinters and the cracks begin to show
Ill be the first in line when the walls start falling
And she lets go of
The white room (its late)
Living alone only makes you numb
In the white room
She burns for the real thing but it wont come
Come back to the land of the living
When you gonna break that chain
Theres much too much that youre leaving
And youre never gonna stop the rain
In the white room (shes living in)
Doing time til her time is done
In the white room she burns
In the white room (its late)
Lying alone till she comes undone
In the white room she waits
In the white room...
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Unattended!
you speak of love with an absent voice,
stumbling numbly down the stairway
to the basement where desire rumored lurks.
the man on the screen trills of wars,
and crimes committed beneath white shirts.
and the sweet Jesus prayers of the unemployed,
cut crack rocks on bare tables.
even the dog mourns the heated silence,
while turnips boil in a touch-me-not pot.
death taunts the branch against your window,
the broom stands unattended!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gary Granada’s definition of a house
A shanty of cartons as walls
Some tin for roof
Several cuttings of tin
And some worn out rubber tires
To keep the tin roofs
In place
Ten persons reside there
Too crowded
Smell of dead fish
Smell of decayed fish
And dried urine
Rodent and human urine
Hotter than the
Temperatures of
An Arizona desert
Patches of wasted wood
Planks of leftovers
Undefined window frames
There is no comfort
Room or living
Room or bed or
Sala
Every floor
Every patch
Is a bed, a room,
A kitchen
All in one
For ten people or more
Is this what you call a house?
Gary Granada is singing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Montserrat
Peace waits among the hills;
I have drunk peace,
Here, where the blue air fills
The great cup of the hills,
And fills with peace.
Between the earth and sky,
I have seen the earth
Like a dark cloud go by,
And fade out of the sky;
There was no more earth.
Here, where the Holy Graal
Brought secret light
Once, from beyond the veil,
I, seeing no Holy Graal,
See divine light.
Light fills the hills with God,
Wind with his breath,
And here, in his abode,
Light, wind, and air praise God,
And this poor breath.
poem by Arthur Symons
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Her Hands Are Stronger Now
she greets you by the door. She knows you are coming.
Her heart pounds for you.
She shows the room. It looks for you for many years.
Now she brags the room is alive.
she opens the window and lets the air
and the trees know that you are here finally.
they all talk about you know.
they nod, you are no longer a dog.
Or a parakeet.
The chair opens its arms for you.
You take your seat.She asks you if you miss coffee.
Black coffee, without sugar.
You look around. There is nothing changed here.
20 years ago, all the structures are faithful
to their positions.
They miss you and like to embrace you.
She is restrained like a dam.
No tears this time.
Not even some tears of joy.
She knows why you are here.
The room, the tree and the window,
the floors are blind.
She knows that this will be the last time
of your compromise.
She is dead 20 years back
when you told her
about the truth.
How can she feel like the room, the floor,
the tree and the window
How can she be as foolish as air and cloud?
Her hands are strong now.
They write her name, her signature to sorrow.
Her heart notes the final statement.
Life is over.
Game is over.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In The Distance
On a lonely hillside,
there stands a cabin
with a lamp in the window
to show someone is there.
In the distance it is a beacon
that points to my cosy home.
When my working day is through
and I walk back along the miles,
I can see that lamp burning.
That welcoming beacon
beckoning to me there in the distance.
My love waits for me there
after my work is done
with my slippers near the fire.
The miles never seem that long
with that beacon in the distance
waiting to welcome me home.
1 March 2011
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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