Grey
Dull grey the winter drags on,
so slowly
as if never there will be an end to it.
In the mornings it’s biting cold
with black frost that destroys where it falls
and sometimes there are clouds of fog
that tries to blot out places, things and times.
Early in the mornings the dogs howl in melancholy
where they lie on their beds
on the porch under a roof
since they are prohibited from the house,
both cats sneak slowly into the room
not welcome any more in the whole house
and the rascal bird with its red head
and green body
knocks on the big window
as if it’s playing the tick-tock game,
the grass stays dead yellow
and stick onto shoes
and everywhere are treaded in
and most of the flowers in the garden
has already died
and now has only the colour of death,
although I am still faithfully
spraying water onto them
and it is as if I am now also loosing faith,
not knowing anymore if there’s a God
who cares about me, as if other things
constantly keeps Him busy
so that He never shows up for me
while my love relationship sink into nothing,
while I out of heart keep on looking for a job
and another man’s wife
tries to make eyes at me
and I see evil flowering everywhere around me
where I stand in the middle,
between good and evil
and about me the grey land stretches out wide.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Cuckoo Clock
We knew it must have been late
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
We had no time to wait
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I went to light the fireplace
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I planned it all this way, and
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I snuggled close to her
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
Her heart began to purr
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I held my breath inside, and then
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I put my arms around her
(tick-tock)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo
I put that birdie away
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
His cuckoo was gone to stay
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
We both apologized for why
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
Forgave that doggone cuckoo
I went back to her side
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I had to swallow my pride
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
The fire had almost died away
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
We just got situated
(tick-tock)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo
I took that clock apart
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I broke the cuckoos heart
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
Hell never bother us again
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
We just forgot about him
(tick-tock)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Seasons
I
As if summer will never end
irises are everywhere in the garden
with opening flower after flower
in light yellow, deep purple and rust-brown.
The bright hot sun hangs day after day
in a cobalt blue sky and even carnations, geraniums
and flame lilies are showing their beauty,
are still holding onto summer.
Doves are still cooing in the oak tree,
their are finches and sparrows cavorting up and down
and it’s as if nature is thwarting autumn
while dew is still shining on the leaves in the mornings
until later the sky becomes dull blue
while the sun is getting much more faint.
II
Slowly the leaves are falling
descending in different colours,
in one’s and two’s and later in a bigger number
tree-trunks become dark brown, red and some pallid
until every tree but for those that are evergreen stand skeleton,
the birds that remain sit next to each other shivering,
wishing for the winter to past
having difficulty to find seeds and other food
and the cold winter wind blows through everything,
filling the air with whirling dust clouds
with stripped branches flinging up and down
and everywhere leaves and branches lie in a jumble
until the wind dies down and the morning fog hangs like vapour,
at times only at noon is dispersed by the sun.
III
Days are cold and grey while the sun hides,
with a owl hunting during the day
searching for hungry mice sneaking around in the yellow grass
and all other signs of animal life is missing
but for doves sitting here and there
on telephone wires,
in disconsolation staring into the distance
and early mornings the grass is covered with white ripe
and it is as if every flower succumbs,
is shrinking crumpled and are folding close
until the first spring rain comes suddenly,
with sprouts and buds appearing and new flowers folding open
when fruit trees are covered with white, pink and yellow blossoms
and the sudden beauty takes your breath away.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The mist
Here in Springs the mist hangs in the mornings
almost like the Cape’s winter rain
that draws a grey cloak over almost every thing.
At sunrise the street lamps glow amber
and here and there a light is on in a house
and I hear a car, hooting goodbye.
When I walk on the grass
the water rises through my shoes
and leaves tracks along the driveway.
Flowers in colours of ruby red,
shades of pink to purple
and pure white are stringed in between the leaves
and as if every thing is fresh and new
water runs like drops of dew
down from the leaves.
The mist closes every thing off,
surrounds things, into an own world
where visibility is at times
just meters far.
Still the missing
that I have of you
is something with a greater intensity,
no sun early in the morning
burns away,
the being away that divides us.
There’s nothing clearing up this missing
but to talk with you,
better still to have you here.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A letter which never sended
Last night I was a dream
About your house
Were the roof leaks everywhere
A green-painted house dull
I walk to the room
To the kitchen
To the front
The water to flood (inundate) on the floor
The water rose higher and higher
Flow to the visiting room
I walk to bend (bow, stop) and to walk on tiptoe,
I walk on tiptoe to avoid The water flood
Everywhere, from the front to backyard
I walk on zig-zag
Head made a low bow
To avoid the bird excrement
Much of bird cage hanged
On the roof
when the water to flood (inundate) increasing highest
to their food’ knee, -you still cook in the kichen
in the bend of the dull wall and moss-covered/mildewed
The water flood increasing and increasing on the foots
to the broken chairs
to wet, dampen the books which to scatter, spread everywhere
I could stop to find your mother anymore
she likes to codle me (to observe by holding in the hand)
when I was child: “She said, I just could walk
run around the kitchen, along the corridor
and riding the pedicab cycle
near the thing being dired/the wash
while playing the little car.”
To day i find your mother
In the overcast house
A green-painted house dull
Dull painted
Dark and overcast
The water to flood (inundate) on the floor
Everywhere
Just I found your mother walking stick
And her articial foot
poem by Prasetya Utama
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Song Of Spring
The Spring comes slowly up this way,
Slowly, slowly,
Under a snood of hodden grey.
The black and white for her array,
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.
Where is her green that was so gay?
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.
Unto a world too sick for May,
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.
Where are the lads that used to play?
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.
She has no heart for holiday,
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.
The trees are out in Heaven they say.
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up our way.
poem by Katharine Tynan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Conscientious Deacon
(A song to be syncopated as you please)
Black cats, grey cats, green cats miau—
Chasing the deacon who stole the cow.
He runs and tumbles, he tumbles and runs.
He sees big white men with dogs and guns.
He falls down flat. He turns to stare—
No cats, no dogs, and no men there.
But black shadows, grey shadows, green shadows come.
The wind says, 'Miau!' and the rain says, 'Hum!'
He goes straight home. He dreams all night.
He howls. He puts his wife in a fright.
Black devils, grey devils, green devils shine—
Yes, by Sambo,
And the fire looks fine!
Cat devils, dog devils, cow devils grin—
Yes, by Sambo,
And the fire rolls in.
And so, next day, to avoid the worst—
He takes that cow
Where he found her first.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Very Slowly
Tick tock
The moonlights hummin
My fingers on the button and my hob-nobs drummin
Slow down were moving too fast
Better wait a minute make the good times last
Ive learned something bout livin
You dont get nothing if you dont stop givin
We both know that we got so much but there aint no rush
Wanna love you slowly
When you slide on down
Wanna love you slowly turn that body round
You wont be able to control me
When your love slow down
Wanna love you slowly slowly slowly slowly
Slowly..
Hold tight
Love is all I need I guess its sweeter when its more than just a tease
Let me hold you close enough to stick
Love is an illusion lets play that trick
Slow hand moving down my back
If you get a chance u feel my heart attack
Real love has never been a crime
Wanna take my time
Wanna love you slowly
When you slide on down
Wanna love you slowly
And turn that body round
You wont be able to control me
When your love slow down
Wanna love you slowly slowly slowly slowly slowly...
Aah...oah...uah...
Slowly...aah...oah...uah...
Slowly... yeah...aah...oah...uah...
If you get a chance you feel my heart attack
Aah...oah...uah...
Real love has never been a crime
Wanna take my time
Wanna love you slowly
When you slide on down
Wanna love you slowly
And turn that body round
You wont be able to control me
When your love slow down
Wanna love you slowly slowly slowly slowly slowly...
Slowly...aah...oah...uah...slowly...aah...oah...uah...
Slowly... yeah...aah...oah...uah...aah...oah...uah...
song performed by by Geri Halliwell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Automation
Tick tock, tick tock,
computer's clock,
steal lady of the night.
She sits alone while birdies flock
to bid her a goodnight.
Tick tock, tick tock,
computer's clock,
the world's automated
and the lady in a metal cloak
will live alone, unaided.
Tick tock, tick tock,
computer's clock,
her hard drive stirs again
and while I type this poem,
so dies my mighty pen.
Tick tock, tick tock,
computer's clock,
so true, so true the fear
that life as we once knew it
has slowly disappeared.
Tick tock, tick tock,
computer's clock
we victims of our time.
The last bird flies above us
while all of nature dies.
poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Old Folks
The old folks dont talk much
They talk so slowly when they do
They are rich they are poor
Their illusions are gone
They share one heart for to
Their homes all smell of tyme
Of old photographs
And an old fashioned song
Though you may live in town
You live so far away
When youve lived to long
Have they laughed to much
Do their dry voices crack
Talking of things gone by
Have they cried to much
A tear or two still always seems
To cloud the eye
They tremble as they watch the old silver clock
When day is through
Tick tock oh so slow
It says yes it says no
It says I wait for you
The old folks dream no more
Their books have gone to sleep
The pianos out of tune
The little cat is dead
And no more do they sing on a sunday afternoon
The old folks move no more
Their world become to small
Their bodies feel like lead
They might look out a window
Or else sit it a chair
Or else they stay in bed
And if they still go out
Arm and arm, arm and arm
In the mornings chill
Its to have a good cry
To say their last goodbye
To one whose older still
And then they go home
To the old silver clock
When day is through
Tick tock so so slow
It says yes it says no
It says I wait for you
The old folks never die
They just put down their heads
And go to sleep one day
They will hold each others hands
Like children in the dark
But one will get lost anyway
And the other will remain
Just sitting in a room
Which makes no sound
It doesnt matter now
The song has died away
And echos all around
Youll see them as they walk
Through the sun filled parks
Where children run and play
It hurst to much to smile
It hurts so much
But life goes on for still another day
As they try to escape the old silver clock
When day is through
Tick tock oh so slow
It says yes it says no
It says I wait for you
The old old silver clock
Thats hanging on the wall
That waits for us all
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Black Rose Flowers
In front of my house I have a little land
Not a wide land, just half meter and six meter widest
I had build it for put or take the flower pot
There is three flower pots
This bought my wife from flower tree salesmen
In the morning, when my wife cleaned away the land from garbage, grass
I told her I want to build the flower garden in my village
My wife angry
You have to arrange this house before build the garden far away from here
I told her, just dreaming
I haven’t money anymore
It just a plan, if I have a lot of money
My wife keep silent
She continue to clean away the land
Clean away the land from grass and garbage
And give her read, yellow, white
blossom
In front of my house
But I never saw
the violet and black colors
If I have the rose black color
of course my wife will be glad
But I never saw
the violet
and black color
and spread their aromatic
Could I smell
Among their thorny
Prasetya Utama, Ciluar, Bogor 07/04/06 13: 10: 01
poem by Prasetya Utama
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A House Without Stairs
do not say
that without the stairs
the house is not a house anymore
without the ceiling
the more the house becomes to me
take the roof
if you want
or the beams
or even the floor and window frames
my house will still be a house
the sky its roof
the stretching grassy plain its floor
all the stars become
my magnificent ceiling
whatever is taken
we must imagine that all things are still there
lest we only have a house
that crashes on the floor
with all of us
dead
crushed to the death of
our imaginations
a door without an exit
because you have not seen hope coming
the lock and key
are all in the mind and heart
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life's Winter
Idle, semiconscious winter fog
Settles heavy on deforested nude,
Grey and dull, everywhere, dull lull;
Spine-chilling cold, blinding grey fog,
Nowhere light streaks to warm-up heart.
Flowers and fruits of yester seasons
Only breed pains ‘neath smashing dead-weight
And drags life unto cold slow death;
Eyes go red in search of shadows
That grow tall in dusk’s twilight
To squeeze blood in bone-chilling pain.
Days are short, nights are along,
No greens, bare top everywhere;
Winds bite, old memories sting,
Eyes well up like dense white clouds
In distant brood of blue sky.
No colours, only shades of grey;
Thin dull shrieks of deep pain
Leak in slow moves form gulfs
Of grim wilderness of loneliness;
Cold void all round till eyes stretch,
No ripples of joy or warmth anywhere.
What a contrast in winter and spring!
How the spring deepens the chill of winter!
That fulsome spring; this bald winter;
Where has gone those fragrance and musics?
Those warmth, colours and sensuous tastes?
poem by Praveen Kumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Eyes of Green Meet Eyes of Blue
Lonely mornings crawling by
Lonely nights where time won't fly
Lonely days with no hand held
A pounding heart that's never quelled
Crawling slowly back to you
Eyes of green meet eyes of blue
Sitting silent in a daze
A life alone, it never pays
All behind and nothing here
Hiding all the pain and fear
Crawling slowly back to you
Eyes of green meet eyes of blue
Troubled words meet nervous ears
Fighting through the hurt and tears
Finding peace back in your arms
Giving in to all your charms
Crawling slowly back to you
Eyes of green meet eyes of blue
Lazy mornings, all time lost
Melting back the cold and frost
Holding hands and holding hearts
Forgotten endings, brand new starts
Lying right here next to you
Eyes of green meet eyes of blue
The Singers Of The Green Are Lost
Mornings song has softly came
And washed way the twilights reign
The Queen of Dawn arises to walk the land again.
The singers of the green are lost
As Autumn wind turns winter frost
I await the girl I love the most
Yet no chance is there to dance these days
No rhythm in the songs she plays.
I was born into a pool of tears
I was born the rainbow of an oil slick
Drowning slowly suffocating
I was born to swim within a world
Unknown to solar kiss.
There's chaos outside my window,
The dogs of my street are fighting,
Small animals playing at territorial warfare
poem by David Lacey
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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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Song
I came to the door of the House of Love
And knocked as the starry night went by;
And my true love cried "Who knocks?" and I said
"It is I."
And Love looked down from a lattice above
Where the roses were dry as the lips of the dead:
"There is not room in the House of Love
For you both," he said.
I plucked a leaf from the porch and crept
Away through a desert of scoffs and scorns
To a lonely place where I prayed and wept
And wove me a crown of thorns.
I came once more to the House of Love
And knocked, ah, softly and wistfully,
And my true love cried "Who knocks?" and I said
"None now but thee."
And the great doors opened wide apart
And a voice rang out from a glory of light,
"Make room, make room for a faithful heart
In the House of Love, to-night."
poem by Alfred Noyes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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November
November month of fog and mists.
The early mornings have a bite
the silver grass by Jack Frost kissed
in the dark hours of the night.
The sun reluctant slow to rise
His winter rays no longer warm
that frost persists is no surprise.
This is the calm before the storm.
Winter advances openly
no power can withstand its might
What has to be will come to be
A winter world of black and white.
Though advent justifies a feast
the winter cares not in the least.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Separation
I
You have left and I am missing life
do miss sitting in the mornings or evenings on the porch
or under the old pepper tree
to hear doves coo, small birds calling each other
or to see you making food in the kitchen
where you fry feta cheese with spinach,
where your are involved in conversations with me,
where I see you busy making fruit salad
where I at times pour a glass of wine for you
but more to hold you tightly against me,
to see the stars shining against the heaven
when the day grows faint from blue to black,
to hear you play a song over and over again,
to share maybe a hundred times with me.
II
To share maybe a hundred times with me
that you really love me
or did I only imagine it?
Sometimes I try to understand
the meaning behind all of your words,
slowly I become aware of feelings,
as if something magical hides somewhere
in the loving deed and hungry kiss.
I do not know the direction to take
when I am caught in a labyrinth,
where I wander goalless without ever finding you
and I have got to go on my own way,
when my plans and dreams fall apart,
when you stay out of my life.
III
When you stay out of my life,
then I loose you
as you hide your face from mine,
when your pretty eyes do not shine anymore.
When we lead lives at other places,
when I have no desire for you,
it makes me totally free from you,
with a harsh unapproachable law
where your love turns to hatred
to fall only on your new lover,
then let me find someone else as partner
where your anger cannot fall on me.
At a time I trusted you far too much,
I did build my whole world on you.
IV
I did build my whole world on you,
on a family and children
and wanted life with you and nothing more
and like this I trusted my humanity to you
as if there is treasure to something that can fade,
in self-sacrifice I invested my existence,
did do things, to tell you about my love
and somewhere everything was spoiled
while you as if our love did not exist
openly loved another man,
while continually you fabricated that which was between us
and the most beautiful things did perish,
while you acted as if insane,
while one morning we were still a family.
V
While one morning we were still a family
(with you that I thought was still true) ,
two mischievous boys that was sometimes naughty
and two dogs and cats in it,
the final day did come
while I did not really take notice
and I lost my work and as if sentenced
I told you before I could reflect on it
with the flash of a hat, before I had any suspicion
you went to frolic with your lover,
you made arrangement to move to his house,
you got rid of most our belongings,
and took your two children along and I was nauseous;
you treated me worse than rubbish.
VI
You treated me worse than rubbish
your policeman lover wanted to lock me up,
when you left you cursed me and wished that I do perish
and I had to chase you lover away from my property.
Some weavers made their nests
out of pieces of yellow grass and some branches
where tamboti branches reach to the roof
and they are their constantly and almost as tame as doves,
against my reflection the window's glass shines,
while they sit and twitter,
some other wild birds peck against the window
while they see their mirror image;
but we are divorced and our marriage is shattered;
once more I see the sun setting.
VII
Once more I see the sun setting
where it becomes orange-yellow almost like a rose
and when I look at this picture
I know how much I do need someone.
There are far too many nights of being lonely,
when the night's cloak folds around me
that has healed me from my heartache
and sometimes also from the bitter remembering.
I am looking for matchless happiness,
something to bind me with the love of someone,
something that I cannot express in words,
and I wonder if anybody does find it?
The stars glitter above me blue and white,
you have left and I am missing life
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Choices
Like a burning house,
I see it falling apart,
Right in front of my own eyes,
Black and gray ashes cover everything in it's path,
Dark stormy clouds fill the room,
Sparkly ice crystals form above,
Soaking the ground,
Making everything turn to evil,
They sit and a wait,
For whom will follow,
Aware of the consequences that each step will take,
Evil thoughts,
Evil words,
Evil looks,
After all the mist and fights,
Stands a beautiful yellow flower,
Alone and scared,
Not knowing how special she really is,
But willing to stay true to her self
By; Brandi Dybala *05/16/11*
poem by Brandi Dybala
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