En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Where Nobody Lives

i can taste my desire
on your lips, turned bitter
with the wounds of time...

your body walks
apart from your soul,
strangers on diverging paths.

passionate ashes blown
by the wind, falling like
charcoal tears on a silent tomb.

with only the sound of a screen
door banging in the wind...
a house that smells like a home,

where nobody lives!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Wind

I felt the blowing of the wind
As it entered my breadth from deep within
It entered my soul, and then wouldn't let go
It is the wind, from whence life begins.

The Wind she is know by boy and man
And whomever sits, or walks or stands
For the wind is known, when she has blown
And when she does not, the world it moans.

The Wind, she is my friend
As a boy journeys through the world of man
She strengthens the soul, when she has blown
So onto her breadth, I will forever hold.

The name of the wind, I will call it Kim
As she enters my breadth from deep within
She surrounds my soul, and will not let go
Kim, is the name of the wind.

The wind is a woman dear
As beautiful as the stars painted in the sky
And when she sends her kiss, Men then wish
And the boys just kneel down to cry.

The Wind she is my breeze I do believe
From the steps I walk to the air I breathe
And when she touches my face, my sorrows are erased
For she is the wind, and the wind, she is my breeze.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
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Your Lips Taste Like

your lips taste like
my heart wrapped in brown paper,
and left out in the rain....
the cloud that drifts by taunting,
the old dog dying in the field.
the rose just before it opens,
the blood surging from the bullet wound.
the bottom of the bridge
the homeless sleep under...
a falling star, a leaf blown by the wind.
the hungry child's whimper,
the howl of the wolves.
the desire of the turtle,
a flat tire on a deserted road.
the surge of the ocean,
and the pulse of the mountain.
like a postage stamp
from a faraway shore...
like the little girl's hands
opening the door of the cage,
and the sound the feathers make,
the light glinting on her tears.
and the soft underside
of my own heart!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Blowing Of The wind

I felt the blowing of the wind
As it enters my soul from deep within
It entered my soul, and wouldn’t let go
It is the wind from where life begins.

The wind, she is known by all man,
And from whomever sits or walks or stands
For the wind is known, when she has blown
And when she is silent, the world is alone.

The wind, it is mans friend
As I journey through the world of men,
She strengthens my soul, and she wont let go
So upon her breath, I will forever hold.

The name of the wind, I will call her friend
As she enters my breath, from deep within
She surrounds my soul, and takes a deep hold
And I pray that never will she not let go.
She is the breeze, I do believe
From the steps I walk. and from the air I breathe,
When she touches my face my sorrows are erased,
For she is the wind, the mother of the breeze.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
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I Like It This Time

when the world is so silent
because everyone is fast asleep.
when the night is dark
when all the lights on the street
are turned off
when no one walks his way
back home
because everyone is finally
at home
i like it this time when the wind
stops when the leaves find
no disturbance
when the paths and roads are
finally vacant from feet and cars
and buses
when every car is parked in the garage
when the child sleeps
in her mothers arms sucking her nipple
when the father is beside mother's
body
when sisters hug each other in bed
i like it this time
when the world finally is rested
for i am now awakened from
my sleep
i like it this time when i begin
to write
when what i hear is this
computer machine is buzzing
fanning (sighing)
like my long trip
in the plane.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Cease smilng, Dear! a little while be sad

Cease smiling, Dear! a little while be sad,
Here in the silence, under the wan moon;
Sweet are thine eyes, but how can I be glad,
Knowing they change so soon?

For Love's sake, Dear, be silent! Cover me
In the deep darkness of thy falling hair:
Fear is upon me and the memory
Of what is all men's share.

O could this moment be perpetuate!
Must we grow old, and leaden-eyed and gray,
And taste no more the wild and passionate
Love sorrows of to-day?

Grown old, and faded, Sweet! and past desire,
Let memory die, lest there be too much ruth,
Remembering the old, extinguished fire
Of our divine, lost youth.

O red pomegranate of thy perfect mouth!
My lips' life-fruitage, might I taste and die
Here in thy garden, where the scented south
Wind chastens agony;

Reap death from thy live lips in one long kiss,
And look my last into thine eyes and rest:
What sweets had life to me sweeter than this
Swift dying on thy breast?

Or, if that may not be, for Love's sake, Dear!
Keep silence still, and dream that we shall lie,
Red mouth to mouth, entwined, and always hear
The south wind's melody,

Here in thy garden, through the sighing boughs,
Beyond the reach of time and chance and change,
And bitter life and death, and broken vows,
That sadden and estrange.

poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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When The Rain Stopped Falling

there is this heavy rain
falling on top of your roof and it is so disturbing
that you wake up
and lock your windows
to shut yourself away from the sounds
of falling

but you cannot help worrying even when you cannot
literally hear the sound of the falling rain

you still imagine how they fall inside your mind
as though you can hear every syllable that every neddle of rain
is pricking in your brain
your ears
and your eyes still have the image of these
series of fallings

that even if the rain finally stopped
and you open your window to check
in the middle of this time
when morning cracks fromt the shutters of your windows

you still think like crazy
you hear the sound of the wind and it is like the sound of the falling
rain
and even if the wind has left like a leaf flown to the eastern side
of your house
even if there is no shadow of the leaf anymore
you hear your heart falling from your chest

now you must accept
leaving.
now you must accept the pain.
do not deny it.

it is you that is falling out
from the grace of her love.
it is you.

cry it out!
shout it!
it is you.!
it is you!
it is not the rain, it is not the wind, it is not the leaf that was blown away
towards the eastern part of the house.it is not the design of the house.
it is not the purple curtains. it is not the lonely courtyard
it is not the red bowl. it is not the tower.
it is not the blank sheets of paper.
it is not the bell.
it is not the winding stairs.
it is not the dirty garage.
it is not the scaffold.
it is not the white paint.
it is not the doorbell.
it is not the turbulence of the plane.
it is not the slap of the hand.
it is not the blue fan.
it is not the cellophance floating in the air and whirling in that corner
a dead-end.

it is you! and that is the truth!
be calm now. wipe the tears.
try sleep and dream.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pole Shift

pole shift?
evolutionary change?
or just the sound

of the screen door banging,
when you walked out of my heart?

my finger feels naked
when i wake up in
the middle of the night....

and the wind blowing the curtains
tells me it's true!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Early Works - She’s Gone Away

With trembling lips, she said goodbye
left me alone to cry
the old north wind blew at the door
to chill my heart for evermore.
She’s gone away I know not where
turned her back on a heart that cared.

She’s gone away left me alone
now this old house is no longer a home
there is no laughter here anymore
there is no warmth like before.
The old north wind chills everything
and yesterday I found the ring
the little band of gold she wore
discarded just outside the door

Date unknown

poem by David Harris
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Stranger In The Wind...

Stranger in the wind...
Beckons at my door.

Stanger in the wind...
Wanting even more.

Stranger in the wind...
Hard to really ignore.

Stranger in the wind..
Making my heart ache, as sore.

Stranger in the wind...
Rapping at my door.

Stanger in the wind...
Who knows i am so poor.

Stranger in the wind...
My time here-has me bore...

Many aches and pains of a thirsting heart...
Can only be quenched by ye, your remembered part.

Stranger in the wind...
My heart, you'll win.

Stranger in the wind...
Yon soul so deep.

Stranger in the wind...
My heart you'll keep.

Stranger in the wind...
my soul you'll reap.

Stranger in the wind...
You make me weep.

poem by Michael Gale
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The Prisoner

A misfit who is old before his time
Poverty has turned him to crime
Boredom gives him too much time to think
He pours another drink.
(chorus)
A burning, bitter taste of irony
A prisoner in the land of the free.
He wonders why his landscape looks so strange
Burger bars are home on the range
An empty bottle falling from his hand
He does'nt understand.
(chorus)
A burning, bitter taste of irony
A prisoner in the land of the free.
A cork unlocks the door to other lands
Of battles won and destinies in hand
A half-remembered state of liquid dreams
Where things aren't what they seem.
(chorus)
A burning, bitter taste of irony
A prisoner in the land of the free.
A naked savage dressed in shirt and jeans
A burning, bitter taste of irony
A prisoner in the land of the free.
(chorus)
A burning, bitter taste of irony
A prisoner in the land of the free.

song performed by by Ub40
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bitter Tears

In the mist
Of my endless search
The best in life
Becomes clear
The rest just begins
To fade by itself
Thats a trick I learnt
Though it took so long
Bitter tears taste so sweet
Chorus
Im seeing my way
For the first time in years
When the love around
Begins to suffer
And you cant find love
In one
In one another
Push away those bitter tears
Bitter tears
And I thought I was doing no wrong
And I thought I was doing no wrong
In the hour of your needs
Lips are trembling
Cause youre gonna be free
Realise what were doing here
The time is right to kill your fears
Bitter tears taste so sweet
Chorus
And I thought I was doing no wrong
Push away those bitter tears
Push away those bitter tears
Push away those bitter tears
Push away those bitter tears
Thats what they call doing no wrong
Thats what they call doing no wrong
Push away those bitter tears
Push away those bitter tears
Push away those bitter tears
Thats what they call doing no wrong

song performed by by INXS
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Desire

From the very first rush
To the very last sigh
In a moments touch
To the whole of time
Be the secrets of pain
Kiss the tears that you cry
Just to hold without
Get to touch within
From the sound of your breath
To the taste of your skin
Id give all my days
Just for one of your nights
Ive just got to get next to you
Let it out, let it go
Chorus:
Desire, make it physical
Looks to feed the thrill
Desire, with its hungry eyes
Closing for the kill
Desire, all thats left in me
Tears the night in two
Desire, like a primitive
Claw my way to you
Are you thinking of me
Like Im thinking of you?
How the innocence dies
In a passionate stare
A shaft of light
A silent dare
The call of the wild...
From the very first crime
Of original sin
To the carnal lie
Where the truth begins
Just to feel your nails
Lift me up like wings
Ive just got to get next to you
Let it out, let it go
Chorus

song performed by by Asia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Always Walking, Never Alone!

always walking, never alone...
be it the wind,
whose voice has comforted me
for longer than i can remember.
be it darkness,
my lover, passion unfolding.
be it the lights in unknown houses,
signaling life to the traveller.
be it the whisper of stone,
and wood aging and holding.
be it the cry of emptiness,
vacant buildings, desolate streets.
be it the smells of food cooking,
of woodsmoke, of flesh on flesh.
be it the taste of rain,
the cold touch of falling snow.
be it the stillness of graves,
row upon row, life upon life.

my god walks with me,
naked in the night.
we listen for the whimper of babies,
the meow of stray cats.
for the sound of the shot,
and the body falling.
for the key turning the lock,
and the creaking of the swing.
for the perfume of the pines,
for the man picking up the trash.
for the heart moaning
low and gutteral in need.
for the sound of the man weeping,
having given up,
and the woman that holds him.
for the prayers of small children,
and the echoes of longing...

always walking, never alone!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Old House in the Glen

Winter has come and the wind and the rain
Wash over the house in the glen.
It cradles itself as if it were cold
For no one still lives within.

The years have passed over it, leaving it aged
And empty, and lost, without heart,
With no one to live there, no one to care
And the leaves are piled up on the hearth.

If you stand in the doorway, you can feel
Soft music that hangs in the air,
Like the soul of the house that ever lives on
Though there’s no longer any to hear.

The door is now gone, the windows un-paned,
The wood on the roof has gone slack.
But it still lingers on, as if waiting for
The people it loved to come back.

The old house listens, and waits, and sings
As the wind blows in through the door
And the beat of the heart of the house still sounds
Like the tread of their feet on the floor.

poem by Kate Wiley
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I Am.... (Your Lover)

i am the broken branch,
blown by the wind.
the key left in the door,
of the empty house.
i am the creek spilled over,
the frog on the bank.
the pot stained by time,
half filled with water.
the young woman giving birth,
and the nurse by her side.
the box of canned goods,
left on the porch.
i am the body naked,
sleeping on the silent bed.
the son killed in the war,
the picture on the wall.
i am the softness of the moth,
long left the body.
i am the kiss of lovers,
at the risk of loss.
i am the body of words,
sent without hope or destination.
i am the hand you thought wind,
blowing the hair from your face.
i am try inspite of,
i am hunger expressed.
the tongue round your heart,
the tear that comes unannounced!
i am the face of the lonely,
and the feet of the pilgrim.
i am your lover,
clothed in rain and mud!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Sometimes Wind Moves In Secret

Sometimes wind moves in secret
Like a lover or a moon
Sometimes a board will answer
Or a shutter or a loon
Sometimes wind answers itself
Like a woman at the mirror
And sometimes no one's present
Or unwilling to hear

Wind moans over graveyards
As if weeping for the dead
Wind howls at the windows
Like it wants you, in your bed
Wind steals kites of children
Without making any sound
And wind tears off your head scarf
But lifts hair, like a crown

Wind sighs round a lighthouse
Like a sailor blown off course
Wind whispers in the rigging
Like a breeze has lost its voice
Wind dies in the harbor
When the moon is sailing high
But wind sings before morning
When the twilight blush is nigh

poem by Patti Masterman
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Alien Afternoon

Woke up in the morning staggered out of bed
Thought about getting back again, but went downstairs instead
Read the daily paper have to know the truth
Slammed the door as i ran outside, looked at my watch and cried
Gotta get to work on time
Gotta get to work on time
Then the sky turned a deeper blue
Not a cloud as the sun shone through
But all around rain kept falling to the ground
The wind was blowing but the trees didn't make a sound
Just another alien afternoon
Just another alien afternoon
Time that i was leaving while there's still a chance
Before i start believing in what i see or hear
Nothing here to keep me, nothing anywhere
Gotta get out pack my bags before i go insane
Gotta get away in time
Gotta get away in time
Then the sky turned from blue to green
Took on colours i have never seen
Then a sound started ringing in my ears
I heard voices but in truth there's nobody there
Just another alien afternoon
Just another alien afternoon
To be there back where i belong
To feel again the wind upon my face
To see again all that i took for granted
All that i left and everything i knew
We are home
We are your home
We are all your home
Not another alien afternoon
Never more to go wandering
Never leaving my world behind
There was never a reason
To leave my heart and my home behind
Where i was born is where i should be now
I would never be lonely
I would never be sad again
I wanted to go anywhere
I wanted to see how strange it all could be
Nothing would ever take me away again
Never more to go wandering
Never leaving my world behind
No, no, no, no
Nothing will ever take me away again, away again
No, no, no, no

song performed by by Genesis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Death-Parting

LEAVES and rain and the days of the year,
(Water-willow and wellaway,)
All these fall, and my soul gives ear,
And she is hence who once was here.
(With a wind blown night and day.)
Ah! but now, for a secret sign,
(The willow's wan and the water white,)
In the held breath of the day's decline
Her very face seemed pressed to mine.
(With a wind blown day and night.)
O love, of my death my life is fain;
(The willows wave on the water-way,)
Your cheek and mine are cold in the rain,
But warm they'll be when we meet again.
(With a wind blown night and day.)
Mists are heaved and cover the sky;
(The willows wail in the waning light,)
O loose your lips, leave space for a sigh,—
They seal my soul, I cannot die.
(With a wind blown day and night.)
Leaves and rain and the days of the year,
(Water-willow and wellaway,)
All still fall, and I still give ear,
And she is hence, and I am here.
(With a wind blown night and day.)

poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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4: 39 A.m.

the strong wind keeps on blowing
howling
above the house and the trees bending
in different directions

there is this sound of tin roofs
about to be blown away
i hear them
and feel the fury
of someone
coming

to the mind of my wife
it is nothing
but a typhoon coming
on schedule
as predicted by the weather bureau
yesterday

and to her
i am just overdoing thoughts
and things
playing always
the role of the poet
even when
the wind is the wind
and nothing
but the wind

and nothing else

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Fir-Tree

The winds have blown more bitter
Each darkening day of fall;
High over all the house-tops
The stars are far and small
I wonder, will my fir-tree
Be green in spite of all?

O grief is colder—colder
Than wind from any part;
And tears of grief are bitter tears,
And doubt’s a sorer smart!
But I promised to my fir-tree
To keep the fragrant heart.

poem by Josephine Preston Peabody
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