Doll's House
The music comes on with the lights,
the little opera of emptiness begins, the little
dance of no one there —
just the rooms exhibited,
furniture in them like ideas,
a stage set waiting for action out of the blue.
But no,
even the fire in the hearth is neon, warms no one,
the drawers in the painted chests,
are filled with nothing,
the tables loaded with miniature, fake, repasts.
It’s night outside, about to snow, the dollhouse lights are on:
you’re in the dark,
watching the dollhouse like a thief,
pilfering its pockets for a clue to your own life,
wafted over by smells of cooking, and silence.
Inside the dark
a flute starts to play, imaginary people come in at the door:
invited to stay, they take off their coats,
tea is made in a miniature pot — oh,
it’s good I hear you say, let’s have crumpets too, and we put them on,
you and I, they’re almost crumbs but we toast them,
and what kind of jam do you want, I say, on top of the butter,
and you say raspberry,
and I give it to you, reader,
I give it to you and we both eat.
Outside the big house it’s snowing.
Applied frost creeps up the sides of the doll house windows,
the fake fireplace glows electric,
our toy dog sleeps on the rug —
a hush falls over this small house inside the big house,
we sleep in it…
I sleep, you sleep, he sleeps, she sleeps…
it sleeps, the real,
a sleep so delicious, we can dream in it,
as in a delirium, without sound…
windows opening into windows,
shoes never walked in at the door
that we slip on.
poem by Ioanna Carlsen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Man only indulges at night
Tigers sleep, deer sleep,
Cats sleep, rats sleep,
The water sleeps, the earth sleeps,
Everything sleeps when the sun sleeps.
But human beings are awake,
Only at night, in bed, thinking of sex.
12.07.2001, Pkd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dream In Colour
You wake up to tell me (that youre numb inside, that the feelings all have died)
Youre praying and youre saying (that you do believe, but I dont believe thats true)
Everything has always been there
Nothing goes away that wont come back
Youre living in a house of cards
And youre blowing down the stack
She sleeps under a rainbow
She wont dream in colour
She thinks that her soul is painted
Grey or black or white
Sleeping under a rainbow
She could dream in colour
Dream in colour tonight
Glass mirror, look in (I know its hard to see, when the one you free is you)
Sleep walking, high talking (but the colours arent real and the things you feel dont last)
You sit there looking at the sunrise
Not knowing if the day has come or gone
Wondering why it turns you off
When it never turns you on
She sleeps under a rainbow
She wont dream in colour
She thinks that her soul is painted
Grey or black or white
Sleeping under a rainbow
She could dream in colour
Dream in colour tonight
Picking at the lock on the front door
Pulling at the shutters on the windows
But youre living in a house of shadows
Even though youre lonely you think its you
Sitting at that table set for one
Youre waiting for the guest that never comes
She sleeps under a rainbow
She wont dream in colour
She thinks that her soul is painted
Grey or black or white
Sleeping under a rainbow
She could dream in colour
Dream in colour tonight
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sleep
The night is grey -
Deeply buried inside the faint of black -
The breeze blow with the touch of blood -
Dead beats the drum -
Of a ridden heart -
The sleep which creeps -
By the bullet which sleeps -
Barrel to my gun -
Dormant she plays during the day -
Filled the promises of a sleep -
Creep to be well away -
Sleep -
Sleep -
Sleep my beauty queen -
Sleep to the unseen -
Sleep upon the nightmare -
Sleep in between my dreams -
Succumb by sleep -
Succumb by screams -
Inside where I sleep
poem by Unic Cjonr
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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an Ode to Loneliness....
Loneliness need not be feared.
IT is one of the most common guests in your house.
If you fear it, it will tease you and prolong your
agony.
If you, however, meet it at the gate, and welcome it to your house,
give it some drinks, feed it well, and offer it your room, ask it to sleep with you
for ten days,
Then it will look at you from the tip of your hair to the tip of your toe and say, ' This man knows me, and has a deep thinking, he knows how to nurture me,
and take good care of a bleeding heart'
And then it will have second thoughts in deciding to stay in your house
and sleep with you in bed
It has lost its use and finally arrive at the conclusion ' You are a strong man,
you know how to live. You talk to God, and compassionate about
the pain of silence'
And then without saying goodbye
sans the note or words of departure, it leaves you and your house
looking for those who are still living on their closed houses,
on shallow waters
For indeed, Loneliness also chooses those who deserve it
Now you smile, you close the door because it is already dark,
close the windows because there is no moon,
and somehow you think about it,
honestly, you miss
what you have become so familiar about
it has become dear to you
and clearer now
it has become a part of you
like a key inside your
pocket.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dream In Color
You wake up to tell me
(That you're numb inside, that the feelings all have died)
You're praying and you're saying
(That you do believe, but I don't believe that's true)
Everything has always been there, nothing goes away that won't come back
You're living in a house of cards, and you're blowing down the stack
Chorus:
She sleeps under a rainbow, she won't dream in colour
(She don't dream in colour)
She thinks that her soul is painted grey or black and white
Sleeping under a rainbow she could dream in colour, dream in colour
(She don't dream in colour) tonight
Glass mirror, look in (I know it's hard to see, when the one you free is you)
Sleep walking, high talking
(But the colours aren't real and the things you feel don't last)
You sit there looking at the sunrise, not knowing if the day has come or gone
You're wondering why it turns you off, when it never turns you on
chorus
Picking at the lock on the front door, pulling at the shutters on the windows
But you're living in a house of shadows
(Solo)
Even tho' you're lonely you think it's you, sitting at that table set for one
You're waiting for the guest that never comes
chorus
She could dream in colour, she could
(Sleeping under a rainbow, dream in colour)
(repeats out)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A House for Four
A house for four
What is it? a house for four
A dingy looking thing
Are there windows? none
What is it? a house for four
Such a palace
Are there greetings? none
What is it? a house for four
Why the space is so small
Is there privacy? none
What is it? a house for four
A dozen creeps could be creeping there
Is there any trust? none
Don't judge me for mine
Poor fool i wont
Even give you the time
Are you judging me?
Your quite the choir
With a cracking voice
And
A tall house that falls
To scrutiny
A house for four and
A house for four
A people of choir and
A people of poor
Do you not recognize
The stains are yours?
A house is not a house
Unless there is more
More and more
Sometimes less is more
poem by Deci Hernandez
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The Deserted House
Life and Thought have gone away
Side by side,
Leaving door and windows wide.
Careless tenants they!
All within is dark as night:
In the windows is no light;
And no murmur at the door,
So frequent on its hinge before.
Close the door; the shutters close;
Or through the windows we shall see
The nakedness and vacancy
Of the dark deserted house.
Come away: no more of mirth
Is here or merry-making sound.
The house was builded of the earth,
And shall fall again to ground.
Come away: for Life and Thought
Here no longer dwell;
But in a city glorious -
A great and distant city -have bought
A mansion incorruptible.
Would they could have stayed with us!
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Street Lights
The city sleeps
All around,
Care gives way to slumber.
A mile from home
The street lights blink
A siren's song:
Sleep now,
Sleep now,
Sleep forever.
Their rhythmic pulse
Matches the music
And the city glides,
Unimposing by.
Can't we come here,
This intersection?
Streetlights off duty
Blinking shadows mute
The lines of our faces.
The city sleeps
And we breathe.
Alone is this routine place
We feel alien,
Naked,
So far from mundane
poem by by unknown author
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Dropping By Your House This Morning
i dropped by your house this very early morning
the windows are closed
but the door is half-open
and i could have given in to this little curiosity
that cats keep on their paws
and soft feet
or hands if you may
but i didn't. there is something in the houe
that says
you had a bad day and that night you did not have
a sound sleep
the roses are wilting and a flower pot falls on the ground
broken
the soil splashed like spilled water on the grass
there is no sound of the wind
from the storm last night
i just dropped by. I respect you. The door of the house
finally closed
i did not see the hands that closed it.
it maybe yours
or someone else's
the rug has spoken. You want to be alone.
to keep the faint light left
in that little room. the curtains fall. the lights
went off on that very early morning.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dollhouse
Well ever since you were a little girl
You set the rules in your little world
But girls grow up and throw their toys away
Youre a big girl now but you still wanna play
(girl were living)
You dress them up the way you want to
(girl were living)
You make them do just what you want them to do
(girl were living)
Once I thought we had a love that was true
But Im just another doll in your dollhouse to you
Were living in a dollhouse
Were living in a dollhouse
Girl were living in a dollhouse
You may feel safe and sound
But your dollhouse, girl, is falling down
Its all been neatly arranged in your mind
Every detail fits your own design
Every room is perfectly in place
But I can see the sadness, baby, on your face
You had a plan and darling like a child
You thought its down to fashion, down to style
But your little dreamhouse is runnin wild
Before your very eyes were shrinking down to size
Were living in a dollhouse
Were living in a dollhouse
Girl were living in a dollhouse
We may feel safe and sound
But our dollhouse, girl, is falling down
Everythings as you dreamed it would be
But theres something wrong that you cant see
Room by room you keep looking for some little flaw
A crack somewhere in your dollhouse wall
Something, girl, that will explain away
The hurt you feel, darling, when we play
Your little dolls they got a grip on you
Until youre just another doll in your dollhouse too
Were living in a dollhouse
Girl, were living in a dollhouse
Oh were living in a dollhouse
We may feel safe and sound
But our dollhouse, girl, is falling down
Oh were living in a dollhouse
Girl, were living in a dollhouse
Yeah were living in a dollhouse
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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House Of Many Rooms
The sound of the clock ticking
How this old house creeps
Another storm tonight approaches
So restless I can't sleep
Dark filled big long rooms
Portrait of a lady in view
Corridor that never seems to end
From a distance I thought I seen you
House Of Many Rooms
The sound of heavy rain falling
Feelings sourround of another place
An oval mirror hangs on the wall
And there I thought I seen your face
The smell of wild flowers
A gentle breeze blows from outside
Heavy laced dark curtains
A vision of you before my eyes
House Of Many Rooms
poem by Suelynn Walters
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Cat's Dream
How neatly a cat sleeps,
sleeps with its paws and its posture,
sleeps with its wicked claws,
and with its unfeeling blood,
sleeps with all the rings--
a series of burnt circles--
which have formed the odd geology
of its sand-colored tail.
I should like to sleep like a cat,
with all the fur of time,
with a tongue rough as flint,
with the dry sex of fire;
and after speaking to no one,
stretch myself over the world,
over roofs and landscapes,
with a passionate desire
to hunt the rats in my dreams.
I have seen how the cat asleep
would undulate, how the night
flowed through it like dark water;
and at times, it was going to fall
or possibly plunge into
the bare deserted snowdrifts.
Sometimes it grew so much in sleep
like a tiger's great-grandfather,
and would leap in the darkness over
rooftops, clouds and volcanoes.
Sleep, sleep cat of the night,
with episcopal ceremony
and your stone-carved moustache.
Take care of all our dreams;
control the obscurity
of our slumbering prowess
with your relentless heart
and the great ruff of your tail.
Translated by Alastair Reid
Submitted by Jen
poem by Pablo Neruda
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Serenade from “The Spanish Student”
STARS of the summer night!
Far in yon azure deeps,
Hide, hide your golden light!
She sleeps!
My lady sleeps!
Sleeps!
Moon of the summer night!
Far down yon western steeps,
Sink, sink in silver light!
She sleeps!
My lady sleeps!
Sleeps!
Wind of the summer night!
Where yonder woodbine creeps,
Fold, fold thy pinions light!
She sleeps!
My lady sleeps!
Sleeps!
Dreams of the summer night!
Tell her, her lover keeps
Watch! while in slumbers light
She sleeps!
My lady sleeps!
Sleeps!
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Shattered windows, Colors of white
Across the street is a new house with a room painted red, with no holes of white.
Next to me, a house purple, with its color pealing off, with holes of black and white
At the end of the street, an old house once yellow, what now remains white.
The sound of a hammer building a house, entering a place with a color unknown.
On the street,
Windows covered with ice
Some shine with light.
Some broken
Some fixed
Some lost, out of sight.
A house, two blocks from here.
Shines with lights of yellow, red, and green everywhere.
A wall keeping the wind from blowing anywhere.
The house next door, at the dawn of the day.
Paints its room black, and peals the color away.
The wall crumbles.
The wind blows across the colors of yellow, red and green
Breaks all the windows.
Turns the yellow to blue, red to black, and green to white.
The house two blocks away.
Adds a line of yellow red and green everyday.
To allow the house of blue, black and white to shine for us some day.
poem by Linda ErikssonBique
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More Time Baby
As I put you in ur cot
please go to sleep if you are not
to hours sleep is all I need
to do some housework & have a feed.
Washing on & dishes done,
Enjoy your sleep little one
I’ll vacuum now & do some dusting
This house is really quite disgusting
If you’ll sleep a little more I should be able to mop the floor.
Now the house is clean & tidy It’s... time to get some food inside me
It is now that you awake I guess that sandwich can stay on the plate
poem by Karen Heeney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hidden Drive
there's a dirty house that's falling apart
some want to fix it but they don't know where to start
there's cobwebs and cracks in the walls
this is where rain's relief dares not to fall
no one really cares to help this place
they just look at the face
this old house is kept inside
with a disguising shell to hide
something i noticed as i passed by
at the house where hope will die
the windows were clean and new
though everywhere else the weeds grew
the windows had such an allure
i couldn't take it anymore
i gazed at the windows in awe
then through them i saw
the messy, run-down house inside
where beauty died
then i realized
something about eyes
eyes are the windows
clean and lovely for show
but behind them is the soul
sometimes your eyes will fool
the beauty and shine will not last
for one day, someone will see past.
poem by Alex Manson
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The Chattahoochee River
The Chattahoochee River is muddy and deep,
Rolls restless in her bed, and never sleeps.
She churns, whirls, and sometimes creeps,
But the Chattahoochee River never sleeps.
She cascades, crashes, her falls are steep,
So the Chattahoochee River never sleeps.
A child, in innocence, in her water leaps,
Unaware, the Chattahoochee never sleeps.
She snatches him down, his little body to keep,
Cause the Chattahoochee River never sleeps.
He struggles for his life, so tender and meek.
Oh! the Chattahoochee River never sleeps.
She steals his breath, while caressing his cheeks.
Careless Chattahoochee River just never sleeps.
poem by Willie Wilburn Walker
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The Cooking Pot
our cooking pot is not made of porcelain
or silver or gold but it is made of the mud
of this earth
hardened by time and fire and too much
waiting
our patience consumed
our waiting had been too long about this cooking
pot, earthen
where we put all our dreams and cook them
like rice
porridge, all of our dreams
fired by the woods of our reminiscence
our longings our loneliness our daily concerns
our future wishes
and then when the time comes to open
and see and smell what rice porridge is
we say we like it we say we love it
only to be repulsed by this visitor in the house
'this is not cooking! This is not good! ' and he stares at us
and says, we need more fire, more wood, more time
to have the perfect porridge
i went out unable to stand this hunger
unable to see what this visitor says
it is our fault we allowed him in
we open our doors and windows and let him sleep in our room
as we lay on the floors and keep ourselves on the stairs.
'this is too much' i said.
'he must leave this house at once' i told you.
this is our pot. this is our porridge. this is our cooking.
and we must eat. we must love what we have.
'get out of my house' i said.
and then i am relieved from an opression.
i am happier now. My pot is earthen. Its bottom is sooty black.
i am blue. And i do not really mind.
This is my porridge. You may take it, if you like.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Outside331’sSleep
Don’t open your eyes yet not until I explain last night I went to bed with Sleep last night I fell for Sleep last night Sleep unclothed me left me naked in a room painted black I couldn’t see Sleep because Sleep was dark too and the room was black and the foreground blended in with the background I couldn’t tell what was far and what was close I became frustrated because Sleep was either hiding inside the room or the room was hiding behind Sleep neither were being fair to my eyes who wanted to play hide and go Sleep I hide inside the room and Sleep seeks I said where are you Sleep I can’t see you my eyes can’t find you Sleep I said I wanted to fall inside you brought me into this black room and I am trying to wrap myself around you won’t you come inside of me you won’t stage scenes in my eyes created with color everything is black one long stretch Sleep are you moving and I can’t see you or are you standing still and I can’t feel you are here Sleep you are silent Sleep I feel alone Sleep I want you to be inside me if you take me to a black room and make me go to bed are your eyes open I can’t see you did you leave is Sleep here Sleep am I inside you explain Sleep explain did you open your eyes Sleep are my eyes open Sleep are you outside me Sleep you took me to bed and left me Sleep I can’t open my eyes until you are back inside me I can’t see Sleep when you’re not inside me open your eyes Sleep do you see me inside you explain last night am I still inside Sleep?
(12-13-07)
poem by Chelsea Trescott
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Fantasy...
A tree and its shadow
And a dreamy meadow
Waiting for someone....
The Shadow asks ' how is she doing? '
Tree whispers ' shhh! sleeping'
'oops! sorry' says shadow and waits
waiting...they are for the flower that sleeps
on a thin green brunch of the tree
The tree, now drowsy, as sun
Readies itself to set, for the night
and the little shadow? it grows unwatched
With the dimming light
The Tree sleeps,
The meadow sleeps
Huts sleep
and the man inside it
Is in slumber too
Tiny little shadow grows into night
Embraces life with darkness punctured with lights
Dawn Awakes
Sun rays come running back to the tree
Tree asks 'my shadow? where IS he? '
the Tallest palm tree, sky abreast
says 'i think I saw him running northwest! '
The Shadow creeps in and stands upon a pebble
Says ' i wana see...i wana see! ' with boyish charm
Then The flower finally falls
Into shadow's lap
'shh! she's still taking a nap! '
says tree to his friend
Wind blows, it wants to play with her
The sleeping beauty, The flower
'Look! Look! ...she's smiling!
She's happy! she must be dreaming! '
The shadow hushes, excited!
A girl comes out of the hut...
Takes the flower, the sweet, from Shadows lap
What will you do with her, little girl?
She's taking a nap! '
'I'll play with it', the little girl says
The Shadow starts crying
The tree wishpers...
' dont cry dear...let it be...
Tommorrow morning You'll see
Our flower is back with us
On your lap she's lying!
Night comes again
Tree and its shadow sleeps
with Dreamy smiles on their lips
Dawn brings light to the tree and shadow
They wake up and see
Adorned with Dew drops like some rare gems
Their Sweet little flower is back with them!
poem by Saurabh Som
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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