Autumn Perspective
Now, moving in, cartons on the floor,
the radio playing to bare walls,
picture hooks left stranded
in the unsoiled squares where paintings were,
and something reminding us
this is like all other moving days;
finding the dirty ends of someone else's life,
hair fallen in the sink, a peach pit,
and burned-out matches in the corner;
things not preserved, yet never swept away
like fragments of disturbing dreams
we stumble on all day. . .
in ordering our lives, we will discard them,
scrub clean the floorboards of this our home
lest refuse from the lives we did not lead
become, in some strange, frightening way, our own.
And we have plans that will not tolerate
our fears-- a year laid out like rooms
in a new house--the dusty wine glasses
rinsed off, the vases filled, and bookshelves
sagging with heavy winter books.
Seeing the room always as it will be,
we are content to dust and wait.
We will return here from the dark and silent
streets, arms full of books and food,
anxious as we always are in winter,
and looking for the Good Life we have made.
I see myself then: tense, solemn,
in high-heeled shoes that pinch,
not basking in the light of goals fulfilled,
but looking back to now and seeing
a lazy, sunburned, sandaled girl
in a bare room, full of promise
and feeling envious.
Now we plan, postponing, pushing our lives forward
into the future--as if, when the room
contains us and all our treasured junk
we will have filled whatever gap it is
that makes us wander, discontented
from ourselves.
The room will not change:
a rug, or armchair, or new coat of paint
won't make much difference;
our eyes are fickle
but we remain the same beneath our suntans,
pale, frightened,
dreaming ourselves backward and forward in time,
dreaming our dreaming selves.
I look forward and see myself looking back.
poem by Erica Jong
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Related quotes
Shangri-La Hotel
A visit to Shangri-La Hotel,
To my lover's room;
A visit to Shangri-La Hotel,
Like the eyes of an elephant;
I want to be in everybody's shoes but,
My mind is bigger than my shoes.
Like a message to the blue bears,
Like amessage to the white bears,
Like a message to the black bears,
LIke a message to the brown bears,
Keep it clean and soft;
a simple life to the muse of love.
A visit to my lover's room,
I am always moving and i don't look back;
Forward ever!
A visit to my lover's room,
I am always moving without looking back;
Backwards never!
A visit to my lover's room,
I know my back could be crooked;
But, i always move on.
I will surely reach to the end one day,
Like a visit to Shangri-La Hotel;
Forward ever, backwards never.
There comes a time when all seems so lost but,
Don't give up on your dreams in this life;
Like a marriage in the rain,
I do have a lover to visit.
The visit of my lover's room is like,
A love song in the rain;
The visit to my lover's room is like,
To marry in the rain;
The visit to my lover's room is like,
To make love in the rain;
The visit to my lover's room is like,
To walk naked in the rain;
The visit to my lover's room is like,
To sing in the rain;
Life is like that at times and,
I have my mind on you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Mustapha
I am moving forward with my dream and,
This person is my house;
I am moving on with my hope and,
This house is my love;
I am moving forward with my mind and,
This love is my room;
I am moving on with my peace and,
This room is my kiss;
I am moving forward with my well being and,
This kiss is all that i have for Mustapha.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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In My Room
There's a world where I can go and tell my secrets to
In my room, in my room
In this world I lock out all my worries and my fears
In my room, in my room
Do my dreaming and my scheming
Lie awake and pray
Do my crying and my sighing
Laugh at yesterday
Now it's dark and I'm alone
But I won't be afraid
In my room, in my room
In my room, in my room
In my room, in my room
song performed by by Wilson Phillips
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In My Room
Theres a world where I can go and tell my secrets to
In my room, in my room
In this world I lock out all my worries and my fears
In my room, in my room
Do my dreaming and my scheming
Lie awake and pray
Do my crying and my sighing
Laugh at yesterday
Now its dark and Im alone
But I wont be afraid
In my room, in my room
In my room, in my room
In my room, in my room
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sleep with the lights on..............
Her first room had bare walls,
pale blue, and a built in wardrobe.
The single bed was
pushed against a wall,
and the blankets were coarse.
Her first room was cold and sterile,
offering no charm, no comfort.
It was but a box, austere,
yet practical, it offered
nothing.
Thinking back,
maybe it was that room,
the starkness,
its high, plain windows,
its bare, tiled floor.
These days it's locked,
except for her night chills,
the way her stomach fell
in the mornings
as the cock crowed.
Her first room lies
belly up on the page….
Here, take it,
make of it what you will,
sleep with the lights on...if you have to.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Dreaming A Dream
Dreaming of a dream
A dream were skies are blue oceans are clear and life scared
Dreaming of dream
were a dream of peace and love rule and hate is a myth
Dreaming of a dream
having food for all, and all not thirst
Dreaming of a dream
Dreaming of a dream
were skin color is just that, us all just one
Dreaming a dream
no pain, war the only true crime
Dreaming a dream
were the rich give, and the poor have a chance
Dreaming a dream
Dreaming a dream
were we can look on a future of happiness'
Dreaming a dream
were the children are the future
Dream a dream
were lives are fullfilled, and getting old is not a bad thing
Dreaming a dream
World wonderess, happy, clean, perfect
Dreaming a dream
poem by Vincent Armone
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Home By The Sea
Creeping up the blind side, shinning up the wall
Stealing thru the dark of night
Climbing thru a window, stepping to the floor
Checking to the left and the right
Picking up the pieces, putting them away
Something doesnt feel quite right
Help me someone, let me out of here
Then out of the dark was suddenly heard
Welcome to the home by the sea
Coming out the woodwork, thru the open door
Pushing from above and below
Shadows but no substance, in the shape of men
Round and down and sideways they go
Adrift without direction, eyes that hold despair
Then as one they sign and they moan
Help us someone, let us out of here
Living here so long undisturbed
Dreaming of the time we were free
So many years ago
Before the time when we first heard
Welcome to the home by the sea
Sit down sit down
Sit down sit down sit down
As we relive our lives in what we tell you
Images of sorrow, pictures of delight
Things that go to make up a life
Endless days of summer longer nights of gloom
Waiting for the morning light
Scenes of unimportance, photos in a frame
Things that go to make up a life
Help us someone, let us out of here
Cos living here so long undisturbed
Dreaming of the time we were free
So many years ago
Before the time when we first heard
Welcome to the home by the sea
Sit down sit down
Sit down sit down sit down sit down
As we relive out lives in what we tell you
Let us relive out lives in what we tell you
Sit down sit down sit down
Cos you wont get away
No with us you will stay
For the rest of your days - sit down
As we relive our lives in what we tell you
Let us relive our lives in what we tell you
song performed by by Genesis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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0068 The Connoisseur (2)
Is there a god
sleeping in this room?
even the doorhandle, gently turned,
seems to speak a message
before the room entered, the first breath taken
of the room’s own air
and on the table, the grey-green vase seems
to be the host; the silent messenger: the furniture
somehow eternal in its order; every line and curve
within the room speaking of some
divine geometry; the shaded sunlight seems
to fall on tiptoe, touch in silent praise;
the air, to be refined; and the silence –
what does the silence say unspoken
as if it holds some god-smiled word,
some solemn laughter, about what
is there and is not there, has made
of this room, this ordinary room,
a shrine where one can worship without form
oneself?
the vase too holds itself both
open and reserved; its perfect curves
the subtle decisions of a history
of centuries, of generations
of human hands; of things made
for oneself, for others, for all else
where all else is known;
silent the vase; the room full of its sound.
Is there a god
sleeping in this room?
you; moving forward with respectful quiet step
to touch this grey-green
Chinese vase
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Sweetest Songs Of Peace
the angels have come this early morning
in the little room
in this little house
in this little island
in my little time
now they are singing the sweetest songs of peace
while i am sleeping
i must be dreaming
pinch me, pinch me
the islands line themselves like boats
like men and women in an array
in the order of things
lining up in this system
they are listening
i must be dreaming
pinch me! pinch me!
wake me! wake me up!
i must be dreaming
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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House for Sale
I stood in the midst of the empty house,
It was silent, empty, and bare,
gone was the laughter the tears and the life,
and the family that once lived there.
I stood there observing, to try to revive
the memories this house had to share,
the secrets, excitement, unhappiness too,
these feelings so willing to bear.
I heard children playing and lapping up life,
I heard adults talking and scolding,
This house bore it all with its solid repose,
and accepted with wisdom beholding.
I stood in the midst of the empty house,
with a feeling of sadness around,
abandoned and empty, a lonely shell,
for the place never uttered a sound,
it was silent and bare, where the rooms had been stripped
and the furniture taken away,
the paint had been scratched and the floor left unwashed
when the house was abandoned that day.
The ghosts from its past walk through each lonely room,
and I sigh as I button my coat,
I slam the front door with an echoing bang
and a lump seems to lodge in my throat-
for there on the green lawn for all eyes to see
with dark letters outstanding on pale
is a board standing taut in the cold winter sun
with the large, lonely wording- "For Sale"
poem by Margaret Hanning
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Dreamin About U
If the wind blew every petal from your precious red rose
Would u be afraid of what ud find inside?
When Im alone in my room
I cant stop dreaming about u, dreaming about u
When Im alone in my room
I cant stop dreaming about u, dreaming about u
And every time I do what I need 2 do
I cant stop dreaming about u, dreaming about u
Revolving around every word that is spoken
Like the planets around the sun
I want u
Your tongue is a great persuader
Yeah, u got me sold
And when Im alone in my room just watching a rose
I dream about u, I dream about u
When Im alone in my room, yeah
I cant stop dreaming about u
When Im alone in my room, baby, baby
I cant stop dreaming about u, dreaming about u
And every time I do what I need 2 do
I cant stop dreaming about u, dreaming about u
When my sane twin reigns
Claiming your aim is 2 maim my subconscious into being with u
I dream about u
Betting on the notion that if my lustier twin prevails
Like the ruins of rome, Ill lie helpless at your feet
Yeah, when Im alone
I dream about u, I dream about u
I dream about u, baby
When Im alone in my room
I dream about u, my baby
I dream about u, u, u
(and here we stand)
And here we stand amidst your core (u)
Like the petals on this rose I adore (u)
The inside (the inside)
If the inside is kind
Kind in a sense that one would come from all
And the wish that u wish will come true if u call
But if not, (u will fall) u will fall
And Ill still be alone (just dreaming about u)
With this ball in my stomach just dreaming about u (dreaming about u)
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Dark Room
Time has ended so I lay
The end to a very painful day
I lay silent with nothing to say
Here in my dark room
With eyes open I can hardly see
Staring at the ceiling thinking of me
Wondering in the future what I will be
Here in my dark room
Will I still have my dark room
The place where there is peace
Or will I feel deceased
In a new dark room
But maybe when the night turns to shine
I won’t feel so but feel fine
Until night when I come back and whine
Here is my dark room
Now it is late I can’t see no more
My arm falls and drops to the floor
The liquid dreams in my head start to pour
Here is my dark room
poem by Paul Celano
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The Holidays
Why are they called holidays? '
she said
'they never are;
more like feeling someone
is destroying the road behind you
as you walk toward the sunset;
or like having the past be a dark shroud
thrown over you as you journey to a past
you left or didn't like.
How can I long for my childhood and still be a grownup?
How to wring from the holiday meal
love, respect, revenge all these things
from a repast?
And how quickly the past returns
when it was the past you wanted most to outrun?
How quickly the old relationships re-establish
just like they had never gone.
Change and no-change sit to eat
yet neither adequately reflect the truths we all live.
So parallelisms and false similes abound;
we all sit-no way forward; no way back; no way around;
home is not so sweet
because it lives in its own iron time warp
and time is what homes are supposed to forge
new
independent identities.
My plane circled over head
hesitating to land
since there is no runway to the future
only runways to the past.
Yet there I must be 'for
for yet another holiday.
I call Mom and she gives me joy
and that guilt which says
why haven't you called
and did her gift
of winter mittens
arrive in my mailbox in Florida?
The house before me,
the room I lived in
have been preserved
just like I still lived there;
time stood still in mom's mind.
It is suddenly clear to me
she wants
me back in the room of my childhood
and once again age eleven.
But alas, it is not true
I am all grown up;
the bed doesn't fit anymore-
but just for her I pretend it does-
and phoney up a smile
for the sake of the holiday-ness.
This is the Stance of Love we give
our moms and dads
which allow them just once a year
to re-fill
their empty nests
and for us kids
who willingly
or unwillingly
reconnect
things old
with things new
which gives us
the mix and brew
we sip
just before
the year
new;
it's taste
bitter sweet
with Ironies
on our tongue.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Marriage
Marriage for Esme began as a wide open room
with windows that let in the sunshine
and curtains so light and airy
they floated on the breeze.
Her husband's blue eyes would sparkle
with just a hint of mischief
and fun that they intrigued her,
made him special.
Then in the second year on her birthday
it seemed the room had grown dusty,
the curtains seemed dull,
the windows small.
And in the third year, without a doubt
the sun had gone down on her
and the room held a chill
like her aching heart.
By the fifth year, she'd aged,
her eyes had shadows, her skin had paled
and the room seemed small
with no windows at all.
She had shriveled, was withdrawn,
she'd sit in the corner of the room humming,
rocking back and forth, back and forth,
back and forth........
poem by Ruth Walters
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The Family Room. For Mary.
You put up with it because
as tiresome as it is, and as they can sometimes be,
somewhere there, there's always love.
He may take interest
in something to be repaired
that's mechanical; and
there's cars to wash and clean,
hobby things to sort and tidy.
Some kids are good or disciplined;
but there's never quite the time
in their expanding world
for doing just what you do
for the house..
But in the human heart
there's this locked, dusty room - you haven't dared
to look inside for years - or indeed
since childhood, for some people -
full of junk, of cobwebs,
broken windows, their sashes jammed,
cupboards that won't open, drawers
whose contents stop them opening; even
the birds have stopped their nesting there;
a room of memories that whisper when it's dark
It's the room that's family.
And surprise - the light still works..
A family can sort and dust and wash and clean and tidy it
in less time than they take
to slam the door
yet only you know that it's done, and how it's done.
And you say nothing.
Somewhere, two strangers
smile at one another
poem by Michael Shepherd
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(There's) No Room To Rhumba In A Sports Car
This was gonna be the night tonight
I was gonna get to hold you tight
But I guess we didn't plan it right
I never stood a chance, we couldn't dance
Cause there's , no room to rhumba in a sports car
You can't move forward or back
There's no room to do what the beat tells you to
Without throwing your spine outta wack
When a little kiss I want to steal
I hit my head against the steering wheel
Now I know the way a pretzel feels
All I can do is shout...Hey let me out!!
Cause there's , no room to rhumba in a sports car
You can't move forward or back
There's no room to do what the beat tells you to
Without throwing your spine outta wack
What a way to waste a day with you
Nothing happens that can tell the truth
Let's go out and find a telephone booth
Yeah that's a better place, I like more space
Cause there's , no room to rhumba in a sports car
You can't move forward or back
There's no room to do what the beat tells you to
Without throwing your spine outta wack
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Christmas Day
Its Christmas again and im here far with you
No gifts to share with just me and myself alone
It’s cold this Christmas and im celebrating it alone
Singing songs alone while gazing on your picture in this room
And in this season of love im sheding a tear just for you
Lying alone in my bed watching kids playing and singing
Hoping you’ll be home this Christmas and be back into my arms
Doesn’t care if there’ll be no gift around, just you by myside is enough
And I’ll be waiting here for you this Christmas
Though I know it’s hopeless, wishing for miracle, hoping for magic
And in this Christmas I’ll be dreaming of you
Remembering the days when you are here with me
God show me your magic, make her turn, make her come home again
Please let me hold her arms in this Christmas
I’m hopelessly wishing and craving only for her this Christmas
And I hope love will win and love will show us the way back into our arms
And I’ll be waiting here at my door for you
Though I know you’re in someone elses arms
I’ll be dreaming and remembering our days
Those day we are smiling and holding each other arms
And if I can find a way to be with you again
I'll just keep on hoping and dreaming
For my love is you, and i'll be doing it again and again
Until you find you way back home this Christmas
poem by Mark Anthony Mendoza
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No Room To Rhumba In A Sports Car
(words & music by fred wise - dick manning )
This was gonna be the night tonight
I was gonna get to hold you tight
But i guess we didn't plan it right
I never stood a chance, we couldn't dance
Cause there's , no room to rhumba in a sports car
You can't move forward or back
There's no room to do what the beat tells you to
Without throwing your spine outta wack
When a little kiss i want to steal
I hit my head against the steering wheel
Now i know the way a pretzel feels
All i can do is shout...hey let me out!!
Cause there's , no room to rhumba in a sports car
You can't move forward or back
There's no room to do what the beat tells you to
Without throwing your spine outta wack
What a way to waste a day with you
Nothing happens that can tell the truth
Let's go out and find a telephone booth
Yeah that's a better place, i like more space
Cause there's , no room to rhumba in a sports car
You can't move forward or back
There's no room to do what the beat tells you to
Without throwing your spine outta wack
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dreamin'
Close your eyes and take a look at your life
Do you like what you see
My eyes are open but I feel like I'm blind, it's all returning to me
I wanna know, does a frozen river flow
Things you said fill my head lying in a cold and empty bed
I'm only dreaming
Between the darkness and the light
I'm only dreaming, oooh
Dreaming, can't tell the daylight from the night
I'm only dreaming, dreaming
I feel the sunlight shining down on my face
Not a cloud in my mind
I get my wake up but it never comes in time
My prayers are spoken and I wait to receive
'Cause there's a fine line between the truth and how we want it to be
I'm only dreaming
Between the darkness and the light
I'm only dreaming, oooh
Dreaming, can't tell the daylight from the night
I'm only dreaming, dreaming
I'm sailing like a ship on the sea
I don't care if I'm lost in the haze
I hear the angels singing something to me
Time's the enemy
That you never see
Won't you come slip away
I am only dreaming
I'm only dreaming
I am only dreaming
Yeah
I'm only dreaming
I am only dreaming
I'm only dreaming
Yeah
I am only dreaming
Dreaming
song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Numbness For Sound
A cold winter sun
My feet underground
A pale winter city
A numbness for sound
I'll wait back here
All that you notice
A moment in time
A photograph lost here
Since you were mine
I'll wait back here
Or should I
Start pushing my way back
Yeah, should I start
Pushing my way back
I walk past your room
In deep silhouette
You're tired of racing
You're down and I said
I'll wait back here
A cold end, and evening
A soaked cigarette
I'm asleep on a shoulder
That I've never met
I'll wait back here
Or should I
Start pushing my way back
Yeah, should I start
Pushing my way back
Cold, and the whiskey is wearing
And I'm on the edge of my breath
Oh, and I'm thinking of leaving
I could just lay down
Lay down and freeze to death
A cold winter sun
My feet underground
A pale winter city
A numbness for sound
song performed by by Howie Day
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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