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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Related quotes
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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Girl At The Window
In the town lived a girl so fair
Her mother would not dare
To let her anywhere
She was a lonely girl
John and paul and ringo and george
Were playing lovely tunes
From the window of her room
By the light of the moon
Hey girl there at the window I wish you would come and see me
Ive got so much to tell you so much I want you to see
In the fields lived a lonely boy
Whod wander every night
Just to see her window light
Then he was happier
Then hed sit upon the ground
Just to listen to the sound
Of the music going round
And he would call to her
Hey girl there at the window I wish you would come and see me
Ive got so much to tell you so much I want you to see
One night her mother said I think its time for bed
The little girl crept down the stairs free as a bird
Hey girl there at the window I wish you would come and see me
Ive got so much to tell you so much I want you to see
She met the boy sitting on the ground
And they listened to the sound
Growing distant as they found
They were happy now
Hey girl there at the window I wish you would come and see me
Ive got so much to tell you so much I want you to see
(repeat)
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When we were small children
When we were small children
about five and four
my dad had died
of cancer
and I and my brother
had to stay during the day
with the Von Hörsten’s
when my mother drove away to work.
Uncle Hendrik was a farmer,
but also with his brother Fritz
wrote story books
and his string of children
who was much older
and bigger than us
(four boys and two girls)
kept us busy
since boys had to stay out of the house.
So it went that we
rode horses unsaddled,
tread on silage
and the second oldest Gardiël
was always on our case,
had put us on donkeys
and the lot of them laughed
while the animals run moody
into rocks
and my brother fell
and got some bruises and cuts.
One day the cornfield
was cut stubble high
to get feed for the cattle
and the breeding bull Kittennel
(a black and malicious animal)
were chased into the crush-pen
and Gardiël forced us on that bull
before he chased it
with a horse
into the cornfield.
On the other side of the field
beyond the border wire
his brothers waved a red flag
up and down and up and down
and Kittennel snored though his nose,
in anger shook his body,
kicked up dust
before he got direction
capering
and storming with full force
at the red flag.
The stubbles flashed
past his feet
and looked like spears
standing upright
and we were afraid
of being pierced
and we rode Kittennel
and no bull
could throw us down that day.
[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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Window On The World
A broken promise I kept too long
A greasy shade and a curtain drawn
A broken glass and a heart gone wrong
That's my window on the world
A cup of coffee in a shaky hand
Waking up in a foreign land
Trying to act like I got something planned
That's my window on the world
That's my window on the world
Could you stand a little closer girl?
Don't let Mama cut those curls
That's my window on the world
In broad daylight that circus tent
Pulled up stakes, I don't know where it went
A closed dark room with a busted vent
That's my window on the world
I think about you and I'm countin sheep
I think about you then I can't sleep
I think the ocean is just so deep
That's my window on the world
That's my window on the world
Could you stand a little closer girl?
The Queen of Sheeba meets the Duke of Earl
That's my window on the world
Down on Indiana Avenue
Where some Jimmy men, they play the blues
I guess they were only passin through
That's my window on the world
That's my window on the world
Could you stand a little closer girl?
Don't let Mama cut those curls
That's my window on the world
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Baby Girls Window
I've got you rainbows seen your sunbeams
I know a place where heaven breathes
And it's through her window
Your baby girl's window
I know you're happy where you are
Singing to the moon talking to the stars
Through her window
Your baby girl's window
There's fingermarks around her soul
But your laughter fills the hole
Through her window
Your baby girl's window
Aaah I wish you would stay
Aaah to see what she made of herself
People say you were gone too soon
I see your face when flowers bloom
Through her window
Your baby girl's window
I'm looking for the words to say
Something to take her pain away
Through her window
Aaah I wish you would stay
Aaah to see what she made of herself
song performed by by Robbie Williams from Life Thru A Lens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sebokarang Villages
Every evening
I always go to the Sebokarang villages
bike to break through the twilight
In the Bamboo threes
and the field of sugar plantantion
its flower blossom, yellow and
to bend in the street
to be fenced in kembang sepatu
and than turn to her hause
the wall of her house made from teakwood
and around her house planted
The Ceplok Piring flowers
in front of the door of her houses
I knocked its with my thremble fingers,
With my thremble heart
Where my blood flow fastly
The evening wind
Blowing softly
And start to be darkness
Its covering the leaf
Eat the tree near the street
Where the people pass and through
So cat run to catch the mouse
the mouse jump
To the path of the villages
I fell loneness
in front of the door
waiting for you
open the door
when the door opened
the light of petromax lamp is lighting
to my eyes wonder
of your smile
from the red lips
open, just open the door
the door of your heart
again and again
till I could stay
in the wide room of your heart
forever
poem by Prasetya Utama
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Opening A New Window
come to my room
let us open a new window
that opens to another window
look at my face
and hold the side of my body
i will caress your hair with my hands
hold your body softly as a wind holds a feather
my fingers shall travel from the tips of your hair
down to the last tips of the toes of your feet
let us be happy, let us try opening another window
let us see the other windows hidden from our eyes.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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The Afternoon Sun
This room, how well I know it.
Now they're renting it, and the one next to it,
as offices. The whole house has become
an office building for agents, businessmen, companies.
This room, how familiar it is.
The couch was here, near the door,
a Turkish carpet in front of it.
Close by, the shelf with two yellow vases.
On the right -no, opposite- a wardrobe with a mirror.
In the middle the table where he wrote,
and the three big wicker chairs.
Beside the window the bed
where we made love so many times.
They must still be around somewhere, those old things.
Beside the window the bed;
the afternoon sun used to touch half of it.
. . . One afternoon at four o'clock we separated
for a week only . . . And then-
that week became forever.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In my house
You enter a room to see a park
You close a door only to be led to another stairway
Leading you to another room with nothing but windows
You close a window the rest remains open
You close the windows and another door
In that park in the room where you just entered
Opens
Then you are confused about the roof that opens
To a river to the rocks where another door opens
To a wall with trees and birds and butterflies
This is weird you say, this is really weird
Then from the garage comes a wind that blows
Its horn like a car
I have just arrived offering you an explanation
For all these mess, these uncertainties, these self-made
confusions.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song For A Winters Night
The lamp is burnin low upon my table top
The snow is softly fallin
The air is still within the silence of my room
I hear your voice softly callin
If I could only have you near
To breathe a sigh or two
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love
Upon this winter night with you
The smoke is rising in the shadows overhead
My glass is almost empty
I read again between the lines upon the page
The words of love you sent me
If I could know within my heart
That you were lonely too
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love
Upon this winter night with you
The fire is dying now, my lamp is growing dim
The shades of night are liftin
The mornin light steals across my windowpane
Where webs of snow are driftin
If I could only have you near
To breathe a sigh or two
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love
And to be once again with with you
To be once again with with you
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Encounter.
Isis had let the girl into
her small private room
at the school, she should
have said no, but she was
of two minds, and then
one, and then she just let
her in, and turned to the
window, not wanting to
face the girl, and let her
look break through to her
heart, and she had heard
the girl whisper, I love you,
so soft it seemed as if breathed,
as if a small knife had entered
under her ribs and inched
towards her heart, and she
had not turned around, and
had just replied equally softly,
I know, and then a few moments
Later, I love you too, and then
there was silence, and she
sensed the girl put her arms
around her waist, but she had
done nothing, just stood there,
looking out on the school grounds
at the playing field, and the girl
had released her, and Isis had
uttered, Best go now Jodie, and
she heard only quiet footsteps
and the door closing with a dull
thud, and the room seemed
suddenly empty, as if a world had
begun to die and another been
born, and over the playing field
a warm sun opened up like a
young god to a bright new dawn.
poem by Terry Collett
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Looking Upon A Child
looking upon a child i compress my years
like how i keep the lines confined inside my palms.
i stop for while following where the child goes.
his hands are buds, his feet as small as a saki cup.
his eyes as innocent as an oil lamp waking on a dark night.
his hair are soft and silky like a kitten fur
his sounds like the arrival of morning on the grass.
i hold his tiny hands and i am back to my senses.
he calls my name, but i am no longer there.
i am back to my room. It is as crowded as a storehouse
with papers and books and chairs and used clothes hanging
on the beams and walls. Some old figurines bathed with dusts.
Some dried spittle on the floor. Some unopened off-white pages
filled with age.
i wonder, despite this crowd of things and thoughts,
despite the fullness of the wind from the window
there is still the wide vacancy of space. Inside the heart longs.
Inside the sound howls. Inside something so faint shouts.
It is the sound of the child still calling my name.
It is looking for me and i am never complete.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When No One Really Cares
my role has
always been
to fix
broken stairs
to oil the
rusty hinges of
the door &
wipe those
misty
glass windows
of their
haze
to plant the
runners
along the stony
pavements
of the house
i like it when
it is green
and covered
as things appear
cool
and vibrant against
the walls
beneath the sun
i replace old
lamps
i like it when
the room is
bright with
light
at night
i like it when
everyone of you
in this house
is comfortable with
warm soup on the
table
when the cold nights
of November
begins to
shiver
when you look
for a candle
and a lighter
i always have
them with
me
what i think is
hurting is that
i am not fixed
myself
i am a broken rail
a malfunctioning lamp
a dark room
a cold soup a
rusty hinge
a missing stair
and yet
no one
no one really
cares.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Candle In The Window
Written by susan longacre, walt aldridge, and gary baker
Theres a road that I remember leading to a special place
Where the door was always open to a smiling face
Theres a picture on the mantle of a boy that looks like me
Its always the same, theres a stocking with my name
And a candle in the window, a flame against the night
Theres a candle in the window, its like gods perfect light
It dont take a lot of money to know what riches are
Just a candle in the window
Maybe its just wishful thiking I can hear the sleigh bells ring
Almost taste teh pie shes baking, its christmas eve
And theres a candle in the window, a flame against the night
The candle in the window, its like gods perfect light
It dont take a lot of money to know what riches are
Just a candle in the window and christmas in your heart
Wherever the years may take me no matter how far I go
Theres going to be a candle burning, its always nice to know
It dont take a lot of money to know what riches are
Just a candle in the window and christmas in your heart
song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm The Pied Piper
As soon as he turned it on
The wind outside of his room
Stirred up for a few seconds
He thought to himself
"i'll climb out my window
And go sit out there with my radio"
Out the window he went
Sitting against a small stump
Behind some flowerbeds
The light from his bedroom window he could still see
The music of bach was playing
After a while it began to sound distant
As the young prince gazed at this radio on his knee
The music was floating away from his hearing
What could be happening
He took it off of his knee
And put the radio to his ear
Nothing happened
Then the transistor left his hands
And was floating in the mid-air
Two feet off the ground
As the prince laughed
It suddenly turned around
And it was light green phosphourous in color
Dancing back and forth
The magic transistor
Started moving down his path
He could hear the sound out
Like nothing he had ever heard before
The trees were getting closer together
And flowers glowed with tinges of magic light
As he followed thinking to himself
"what's going on?"
The transistor lifted slowly
Up to the top of a little tree
And sat there
While it slowly became louder
To where the prince could hear it clearly
Fireflies shot across the path in front of the prince
He turned around and couldn't see the light from his window
There he was watching all alone all by himself
He got a hunch to get back to his room
And he turned and ran right back
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When The Lord Closes The Door
(kinky friedman & jeff shelby)
When i find myself alone in my house and in my head
And i blow the candles out and i take myself to bed
And i'm old enough to realize, ah, young enough to know
When the lord closes the door, he opens a little window.
When sleep closes my eyes and sends me searching for you
And i'm feelin' blue as the sky without your love to carry me through
And i'm weak enough to be afraid but strong enough to let it show.
When the lord closes the door, he opens a little window.
Baby i'm a gypsy boy, i'll ride the night until
I come to you like moonlight through your raggle-taggle window sill.
When you find yourself alone in your house and in your head
And you blow the candles out and you take yourself to bed
And you're old enough to realize, ah, young enough to know
When the lord closes the door, he opens a little window.
song performed by by Kinky Friedman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When The Lord Closes The Door (He Opens A Little Window)
(kinky friedman & jeff shelby)
When I find myself alone in my house and in my head
And I blow the candles out and I take myself to bed
And Im old enough to realize, ah, young enough to know
When the lord closes the door, he opens a little window.
When sleep closes my eyes and sends me searching for you
And Im feelin blue as the sky without your love to carry me through
And Im weak enough to be afraid but strong enough to let it show.
When the lord closes the door, he opens a little window.
Baby Im a gypsy boy, Ill ride the night until
I come to you like moonlight through your raggle-taggle window sill.
When you find yourself alone in your house and in your head
And you blow the candles out and you take yourself to bed
And youre old enough to realize, ah, young enough to know
When the lord closes the door, he opens a little window.
song performed by by Kinky Friedman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Window
All night long, by a distant bell,
The passing hours were notched
On the dark, while her breathing rose and fell,
And the spark of life I watched
In her face was glowing or fading, -- who could tell? --
And the open window of the room,
With a flare of yellow light,
Was peering out into the gloom,
Like an eye that searched the night.
Oh, what do you see in the dark, little window, and why do you fear?
"I see that the garden is crowded with creeping forms of fear:
Little white ghosts in the locust-tree, that wave in the night-wind's breath,
And low in the leafy laurels the larking shadow of death."
Sweet, clear notes of a waking bird
Told of the passing away
Of the dark, -- and my darling may have heard;
For she smiled in her sleep, while the ray
Of the rising dawn spoke joy without a word,
Till the splendor born in the east outburned
The yellow lamplight, pale and thin,
And the open window slowly turned
To the eye of the morning, looking in.
Oh, what do you see in the room, little window, that makes you so bright?
"I see that a child is asleep on her pillow, soft and white,
With the rose of life on her tips, and the breath of life in her breast,
And the arms of God around her as she quietly takes her rest."
poem by Henry Van Dyke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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