Interpretation
And they cannot be recaptured except
in this mind, in all of the universe.
It’s what old men do while they still can,
A substitute for all that they can’t:
repeated flights to unseen glories
they once passed through too hurriedly.
Each has his own specific details,
of commonly haunted ecstacies
we like to believe are beyond compare,
and too much with us to ever release.
Mine were simple things:
the creaking of a certain window frame -
no, there was more than that.
The bedroom light was the first sign.
It flicked on and a sudden surge
of wattage shot through me.
Seconds later, darkness
and I’d have to wait
‘til the window creaked
and her face took shape
through the open frame.
She always smiled.
And for sixty minutes
the net of the heavens
swept down and lifted me.
Or, at 8 on winter nights
-after I’d whistled the sign –
(and Andy Williams was finished)
the hall lamp was lit,
the front door opened
and she’d step out,
in anorak with scarf,
tight trousers and
a couple of inches of heel.
She was only five feet three.
The first few seconds were killing
in their thrill.
Or under the light
at old maggie’s gate:
coming out from her visit,
backlit, chatting to Maggie
the blue flames of her eyes on mine
striking me light as air,
excited as any charged particle.
But age and time
keep grinding away.
The art of nature
so finely woven,
so perfectly pitched,
self renews through us
adapts itself beyond us;
a smouldering blaze
that endlessly burns
mortality for fuel.
Last night I dreamt for the first time,
of her and I in black and white,
faded images of the two of us;
riven with ambiguity
and just as intense as ever.
Walking together,
out of the scene of the dream,
she pointed out a plum tree;
and when I looked I could see
only a lime, in shades of green,
hanging with unripened fruit.
Related quotes
Frustrating Seconds
These seconds of time that seem so small
really are not that small at all.
They continuously add up to a minute.
Sixty seconds later and all that's within it
is larger as they pass.
And then they add up to an hour.
Now those seconds have more power.
They move along and soon there'll be
another day gone from you with me.
Seconds, minutes, hours and days
have grown so long in heartfelt ways.
They leave me wondering just how long
these drawn out seconds did me wrong?
I'd love to bundle them up real tight
and little by little squeeze them at night.
And when the dawn is here again
remember all of them and say Amen.
I do not wish my life away.
I just want those seconds to go their way.
Let them add up for another fool.
For these seconds for me are much too cruel.
I don't need seconds, minutes or hours
to remind me of eternity.
I will not count the time anymore
for all it contains is the misery
of being away from you.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ain't Gonna Work On Your Farm No More
I ain’t gonna work on your farm no more
I ain’t gonna scrub all your floors,
I ain’t gonna take all your friends who ignore
what I do when they hide behind doors
where they pay no attention to stuff that I think,
and say, when they pay me a dime,
that I ain’t entitled to spend it on drink,
or ladies who show me good time.
I ain’t gonna work for your children or friends
who preach of the law and the Lord,
and hear all those messages God never sends
to people with who He is bored,
like I am. I ain’t gonna work on your farm,
instead I will write me a song,
and pray that its words will all sound the alarm,
for I expect to be back before long.
Mark Z. Barabak (“He’s Digging ‘Farm, ’” LA Times, June 26,2008) writes that Barack Obama’s favorite Bob Dylan song is “Maggie’s Farm, ” performed in 1995 at the Newport Festival, when he turned electric and never looked back:
I AIN’T GONNA WORK ON MAGGIE’S FARM NO MORE
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
I wake up every morning
hold my hands and pray for rain
I've got a head full of ideas
driving me insane
It's a shame the way she makes me scrub the floor
well, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
Well, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's brother no more
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's brother no more
He hands you a nickel
he hands you a dime
He asks you and your friends
if you're having a good time
He blames you every time you slam the door
Well, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
Well, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's Pa no more
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's Pa no more
He stubs his cigarette out in your face just for kicks
his bedroom window is made out of bricks
And the National Guard are standing at his door
well, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
Well, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's mother no more
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's mother no more
She talks to all the servants about man and God and law
and everybody swears she's the brains behind Pa
She's sixty-eight, but claim's she's twenty-four
well, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
Well, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
I try so hard to be just who I am
but everybody wants you to be just like them
They say 'see, while you're playing I get bored'? ?
well, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
6/26/08
poem by Gershon Hepner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Seconds
All day
Hiding from the sun
Waiting for the golden one
Waiting for your fame
After the parade has gone
Outside was a happy place
Every face had a smile like the golden face
For a second
Your knuckles white as your fingers curl
The shot that was heard around the world
For a second
It took seconds of your time to take his life
It took seconds
It took seconds of your time to take his life
It took seconds
It took seconds of your time to take his life
It took seconds of your time to take his life
Seconds
Seconds
It took seconds of your time to take his life
It took seconds
It took seconds of your time to take his life
It took seconds
For a second
It took seconds of your time to take his life
It took seconds
It took seconds of your time to take his life
It took seconds
For a second
It took seconds of your time to take his life
Seconds of your time to take his life
For a second
For a second
For a second
song performed by by Human League
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It was 100 feet of 16 mm black-and-white film of a car coming to a stop sign, and driving off. I had to decide how to frame and light it. It was magic. There was a sense of mystery.
quote by Conrad Hall
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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Red Frame/white Light
Red frame white light
Telephone box
Red on grey
Six three two three double o three
Red frame white light
You have a gray book
On a metal shelf
Red frame white light
Numbered calls
Selected places
Red frame white light
Telephone calls
Black and white
Red frame white light
You have a yellow book
With averts
Red frame white light
There is a black lead to a dial and phone
Red frame white light
Six three two three double o three
song performed by by Omd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blue Light
Oh well, here we are again
Lookin 4 something 2 get us in the mood
I tell each and every one of my friends
That the love we make is really pretty rude
But they dont believe me cuz its written all over my face
Like evian and the deep blue sea
U and me got different taste
U like it in the dark but I like a
Blue light
Can u turn on a blue light
Then cuddle up 2 me so tight
Just u and me all night
Alright, blue light
Can u turn on a blue light
Then everything will be alright
Oh, blue light
U say u wish I was shy
I always take a simple thing and push it way 2 far
But baby, thats the problem with u and i
U say not in public but I say in the car
Say, we need to get wild again like it was when we first met
Close your eyes and count 2 ten and when u open em -
Ill be standing naked with nothing but a smile on
Blue light
Can u turn on a blue light
Then cuddle up 2 me so tight
Just u and me all night
Alright, blue light
Can u turn on a blue light
Then everything will be alright
Oh, blue light
Ill be 117
Ull be still sayin baby not 2 nite
Its easy 2 see us on the cover of a magazine
double heart attack, couple both die in a fight
Oh baby! I dont wanna cross that road cuz I love u 2 much
Id do anything just 2 heat up your cold touch
Anything I would do, but up until u tell me 2
Blue light
Can u turn on a blue light
Then cuddle up 2 me so tight
Just u and me all night
Alright, blue light
Can u turn on a blue light
Then everything will be alright
Oh, blue light
Blue light
Can u turn on a blue light (cuddle up 2 me)
So tight
Cuddle up next 2 me baby
U and me all night, alright blue light
Light (u turn on a) blue light
And every thing will be alright
Oooh blue light
Blue light
Blue light
Blue light
Blue light
Blue light
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Split Seconds
SPLIT SECONDS
Open your eyes
Take a look around you
You light me up
Like I'm some kind of saint
If black and white
were the only colours
if you and I
were the only ones
Trying to buy some time
I'd try to buy split seconds
Trying to buy some time
I'd try to buy split seconds
I open my eyes
and fear it 's not the last time
You set me up
like I'm some kind of fool
Trying to buy some time
I try to buy split seconds
Trying to buy some time
I try to buy
the scars to prove that
we're not the only ones
the scars to prove that
I am
that I am
Trying to buy some time
I try to buy split seconds
Trying to buy some time
I try to buy split seconds
Trying to buy some time
I try to buy split seconds
Trying to buy
Trying to buy
song performed by by Zeromancer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just A Little Sign
Here I stand alone again
Hundreds all around
Didn't come here to wake a friend
But to listen to the sound
Something's growing in my pants
As she looks into my eyes
Now I smile the whole damn night
But my dream acts cold as ice
It's time for just a little sign
It's time, make believe the world is mine
It's time for just a little sign
It's time, make believe the world is mine
Just a little sign
Shouldn't I dare to talk to her
But what is it I would say
Surely I'd look like a clown
For my smiles freeze on my face
It's time for just a little sign
It's time, make believe the world is mine
It's time for just a little sign
It's time, make believe the world is mine
Just a little sign
song performed by by Helloween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eyes Of Mr D (Part 1)
They took the cotton gauze away
from his closed eyes.
“You can open them now Mr D.”
He opened his eyes to see hazy figures there,
black and grey images, and nothing more.
A gentle and kind voice, asked him what he saw.
“Hazy images>“He replied.
“It will be like that for a little while,
and then they will begin to clear.”
Each day his sight got better, the
haze began to clear.
Then the colour came,
and a rainbow spectrum appeared before his eyes,
of things he could never see.
A light shone through his life,
of things he had never known.
A new awakening
with images to fit the sounds.
His mind began to wonder
where his new eyes had come from.
They were not allowed to tell him,
who the donor was or anything about them.
Finally, he was released from hospital.
He went back to his flat
where he had to learn again,
where everything was now that he could see.
He smiled at the white walking stick.
He would keep it as a reminder
of how lucky he was.
Sitting in his chair in the sunshine,
as it came through the window.
Then it happened.
It was as if he were in a dream.
The images lost their colour.
He was in a place he had never seen before.
Hands reached out around the neck,
of a face he could not see.
It seemed as if
they were strangling the life out of someone there.
The body struggled and then went limp.
On the body, falling, the face was now revealed.
A young pretty face
distorted in the throes of death.
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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She is that sunshine.......
Walking on the beach, with a lazy style
she made it bend,
before i know, we covered that mile,
...'nd my heart was mend
There was a time, when i looked around
but it was all dark
zing in her eyes lit a candle light
made'em fade, the old scar
She is that sunshine,
I have'been waiting for a long long time
took me to, that'old world'of mine
She is that sunshine.......
From my window, when i look outside
the grass is green and birds are white
now my door open to that beach
where waves come around to touch her feet
everything that glows is never out of reach...
She is that sunshine,
I have'been waiting for a long long time
took me to, that'old world'of mine
She is that sunshine.......
She is that sunshine.......
poem by Mohit Dhawan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Tree at my Window
Tree at my window, window tree,
My sash is lowered when night comes on;
But let there never be curtain drawn
Between you and me.
Vague dream head lifted out of the ground,
And thing next most diffuse to cloud,
Not all your light tongues talking aloud
Could be profound.
But tree, I have seen you taken and tossed,
And if you have seen me when I slept,
You have seen me when I was taken and swept
And all but lost.
That day she put our heads together,
Fate had her imagination about her,
Your head so much concerned with outer,
Mine with inner, weather.
poem by Robert Frost
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Musings
I sat by my window one night,
And watched how the stars grew high;
And the earth and skies were a splendid sight
To a sober and musing eye.
From heaven the silver moon shone down
With gentle and mellow ray,
And beneath the crowded roofs of the town
In broad light and shadow lay.
A glory was on the silent sea,
And mainland and island too,
Till a haze came over the lowland lea,
And shrouded that beautiful blue.
Bright in the moon the autumn wood
Its crimson scarf unrolled,
And the trees like a splendid army stood
In a panoply of gold!
I saw them waving their banners high,
As their crests to the night wind bowed,
And a distant sound on the air went by,
Like the whispering of a crowd.
Then I watched from my window how fast
The lights all around me fled,
As the wearied man to his slumber passed
And the sick one to his bed.
All faded save one, that burned
With distant and steady light;
But that, too, went out -- and I turned
Where my own lamp within shone bright!
Thus, thought I, our joys must die,
Yes -- the brightest from earth we win:
Till each turns away, with a sign,
To the lamp that burns brightly within.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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I Am Not Afraid Anymore In The Dark
yes, there is nothing to fear in darkness
nothing
is there anyway, nothing to feel in this emptiness emptying itself
like evaporating water into vapor
in space like a bag of dust spreading like feathers
in openness
you feel empty you feel the void wriggling inside your
guts
your mind floating so lightly like a dream in your sleep
like a mist
of the mountain
like a mist
of the green fields early morning
like a mist
floating in an open sea where a man paddles his life on his small wooden sail
be excited as i am excited about you
tipsy
in spirits of the red wine
and feeling so light so empty like a ray of light like a smoke rising from
a cigar
filling the room filling your chest
be excited as i am excited about you
emptying
like a window opening to the skies to see some shooting stars like eyes
gazing to an open ricefield
emptying wondering to so much wisdom now rushing back to you
like a door opening
for an incoming guest
like a crevice of your wall letting in a ray of light telling you
that morning with the sun
is coming
oh be excited as i am excited about you as i watch dawn turning into
day
oh, i am so happy seeing the void expanding
how much can you really hold on the next step after so much void?
oh i am so excited!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Frame II
The frame was best supporting act,
and held the ego high and proud.
He never moaned or groaned or spat,
just hung there, all chilled out.
Of course he would have liked acclaim,
a little lime light and a name,
although a painting with no frame
would look a little dull and tame.
The painting lapped up all attention,
with its enigmatic grin,
often feeling quite ecstatic
to be held with such esteem.
and so the frame in show biz style
put a brave face on and a smiled,
stoical in holding back
ambitions to be the star act.
The frame all low and down at heel
resigned himself as second bill
for after all it wouldn't do
if he were narcissistic too.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Rear Window
In our window frame of time -
Could we possibly wax romantic scenes?
Complete with a crisp evening air, and stars above -
And much later, bedroom- consumated schemes?
Once we arrive at our destination -
Will there be Rose Petals adorning the floor?
And, perhaps lavender scented candles?
Setting the mood for: AMORE!
And as we sip, our aged red wine -
With Frank Sinatra, in the background -
Singing in a way, only he can show -
Will you 'Take My Hand', my darling?
And lead me, to places unknown?
With the morn's arrival -
In our window frame of time -
The Moon, all but waning -
Even though, i know, that you are mine -
I lean over and kiss your lips -
So luscious and heated still -
Knowing that there will be more, Amore -
In our window frame of time-
The Moon, it 'twil wax again, to our fill! ! !
poem by Theodora Onken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Snow wonderland
Matching scratches
White square patterns, design by print feet.
Back and forward & square.
Walking straight to shine light & moving shadow
Reflect the way home
Cold needles are sewing the red faces looking around.
Everything is enchanted by light and mud.
Pine tree green cover in a sweet icing.
Drops, smoking, cold melting ice
On my hands warmed pocket.
Broken snow, walking on the front steps.
Inside the house, outside a paint window
Nature a great painter.
After the night.
Museum of white morning colours
Shouting scarf's and boots
Angels games.
Raining melting tree.
Warm grey sky.
White bushes with orange and red berry faces.
White pyramids of smoking chimney.
Keeping warm thrones.
poem by Luca Menin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Return
The grass was gray with the moonlit dew,
The stones were white as I came through;
I came down the path by the thirteen yews,
Through the blocks of shade that the moonlight hews.
And when I came to the high lych-gate
I waited awhile where the corpses wait;
Then I came down the road where the moonlight lay
Like the fallen ghost of the light of day.
The bats shrieked high in their zigzag flight,
The owls' spread wings were quiet and white,
The wind and the poplar gave sigh for sigh,
And all about were the rustling shy
Little live creatures that love the night -
Little wild creatures timid and free.
I passed, and they were not afraid of me.
It was over the meadow and down the lane
The way to come to my house again:
Through the wood where the lovers talk,
And the ghosts, they say, get leave to walk.
I wore the clothes that we all must wear,
And no one saw me walking there,
No one saw my pale feet pass
By my garden path to my garden grass.
My garden was hung with the veil of spring -
Plum-tree and pear-tree blossoming;
It lay in the moon's cold sheet of light
In garlands and silence, wondrous and white
As a dead bride decked for her burying.
Then I saw the face of my house
Held close in the arms of the blossomed boughs:
I leaned my face to the window bright
To feel if the heart of my house beat right.
The firelight hung it with fitful gold;
It was warm as the house of the dead is cold.
I saw the settles, the candles tall,
The black-faced presses against the wall,
Polished beechwood and shining brass,
The gleam of china, the glitter of glass,
All the little things that were home to me -
Everything as it used to be.
Then I said, 'The fire of life still burns,
And I have returned whence none returns:
I will warm my hands where the fire is lit,
I will warm my heart in the heart of it!'
So I called aloud to the one within:
'Open, open, and let me in!
Let me in to the fire and the light -
It is very cold out here in the night!'
There was never a stir or an answering breath -
Only a silence as deep as death.
Then I beat on the window, and called, and cried.
No one heard me, and none replied.
The golden silence lay warm and deep,
And I wept as the dead, forgotten, weep;
And there was no one to hear or see -
To comfort me, to have pity on me.
But deep in the silence something stirred -
Something that had not seen or heard -
And two drew near to the window-pane,
Kissed in the moonlight and kissed again,
And looked, through my face, to the moon-shroud, spread
Over the garlanded garden bed;
And--'How ghostly the moonlight is!' she said.
Back through the garden, the wood, the lane,
I came to mine own place again.
I wore the garments we all must wear,
And no one saw me walking there.
No one heard my thin feet pass
Through the white of the stones and the gray of the grass,
Along the path where the moonlight hews
Slabs of shadow for thirteen yews.
In the hollow where drifted dreams lie deep
It is good to sleep: it was good to sleep:
But my bed has grown cold with the drip of the dew,
And I cannot sleep as I used to do.
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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