The Earth and Earth
Working the wet earth,
bonded by standing water, as expected
I do not find ghosts,
but a layer of small stones and black roots.
A cracked pathway. Cats still.
My neighbour thrashes in the bushes,
looking for a son called Son.
The afternoon has stopped itself.
A window open. Curtains open. Music.
Why is Vivaldi so inhuman?
poem by Leslie Philibert
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Related quotes
On a hot summer afternoon
On a hot summer afternoon
I open the window and listen
To the flowing wind
Dry leaves on the tree rustle
The atmosphere filled with dust
The sun shines
Emitting tremendous heat
Making the wind hot and severe
Everybody on the street
Runs for shade
Throats dry
Thirst for water increases
Every soul
Search for a glass of cold water
Birds and animal rest in shades
Waiting for the sun to set
I close the window
In a huff
Never to open and feel the wind
On another hot summer afternoon
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Open water!
Open water, open water!
All the weary winter's yearning
Bursts in restless passion burning.
Scarce is seen the blue of ocean,
And the hours seem months in motion.
Open water, open water!
Smiles the sun on ice defiant,
Eats it like a shameless giant:
Soon as mouth of sun forsakes it,
Swift the freezing night remakes it.
Open water, open water!
Storm shall be the overcomer
Sweeping on from others' summer
Billows free all foes to swallow,-
Crash and fall and sinking follow.
Open water, open water!
Mirrored mountains are appearing,
Boats with steam and sail are nearing,
Inward come the wide world's surges,
Outward joy of combat urges.
Open water, open water!
Fiery sun and cooling shower
Quicken earth to speak with power.
Soul responds, the wonder viewing:
Strength is here for life's renewing.
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Of Three Or Four In The Room
Out of three or four in the room
One is always standing at the window.
Forced to see the injustice amongst the thorns,
The fires on the hills.
And people who left whole
Are brought home in the evening, like small change.
Out of three or four in the room
One is always standing at the window.
Hair dark above his thoughts.
Behind him, the words, wandering, without luggage,
Hearts without provision, prophecies without water
Big stones put there
Standing, closed like letters
With no addresses; and no one to receive them.
poem by Yehuda Amichai
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Hope Is An Open Window
(christopher ward/tim tickner/diana ross)
Are we not more than hunger and music
Are we not more than harlequins and horns
Are we not more than color and drums
Are we not more than anger and dance
Give me courage so I can spread it over my face and mouth
Give me courage, give me courage
Give me courage, give me courage
I walk these city streets see the people there
Look into the eyes of quiet despair
And the faces tell a story that words never can
And it falls to everyone of us to try and understand
Out of kindness
One act of grace makes the world we walk a better place
Hope is an open window
Love an open door
To reach out for each other
Is what we came here for
Through an open window
We can see the way
If we hold on to each other, every day
We build walls of suspicion with bars of fears
Tell ourselves well be safe in here
I know more brings us together
Than keeps up apart
First we got to tear down these walls within our hearts
We might be strangers, we can be friends
You and I we both need to let somebody in
Hope is an open window
Love an open door
To reach out for each other
Is what we came here for
Through an open window
We can see the way
If we hold on to each other, every day
Give me courage so I can spread over my face and mouth
We are secret rivers with shaking hips and crests
Come awake in our thunder so that our eyes can see behind trees
Give me courage so I can spread over my face and mouth
Give me courage, give me courage
Give me courage, give me courage
Hope is an open window
Loves an open door
To reach out for each other
Is what we came here for
Through an open window
We can see the way
If we hold on to each other, every day
Hope is an open window
Love an open door
Gotta be there for each other
Is what we sent here for
Through an open window
We can find a way
To love one another
Hope is an open window
Love an open door
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Open Your Box
Open your box,
Open your box,
Open your trousers,
Open your thighs,
Open your legs,
Open, open, open, open, oooh.
Open, open, open, open,
Open your legs,
Open your flies,
Open your ears,
Open your nose,
Open your mouth,
Open, open, open, open, oooh.
Open.
Open your cold feet,
Open, open,
Open, open, open, let's open, let's open the cities.
Open the cities,
Open, open, open the world,
Open, let's open the world.
Open, open, oooh -
Open, open, ooh!
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Open Your Box
Open your box,
Open your box,
Open your trousers,
Open your thighs,
Open your legs,
Open, open, open, open, oooh.
Open, open, open, open,
Open your legs,
Open your flies,
Open your ears,
Open your nose,
Open your mouth,
Open, open, open, open, oooh.
Open.
Open your cold feet,
Open, open,
Open, open, open, let's open, let's open the cities.
Open the cities,
Open, open, open the world,
Open, let's open the world.
Open, open, oooh -
Open, open, ooh!
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Remembering Carlota De Pio
she walked into a desert room
where the window looks out
directly to the open galaxy
where shooting a star
is the only common game
and the only trees
she saw are open hands
without roots
the people maybe
had walked out from
there a long time ago
(but how did she really know?)
the only water there was a drop
hanged frozen
between the ceiling and the floor
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Window
Open the window's
On the home
New air and light
Come with you...
The sun
The moon
Birds sound
working sound
speaking sound
t.v.radio sound
Around all are
Come and speak to you...
you are ready to
Open the home window?
You are did not
Open the window
your home only
Silint...
But; you are a
Very vailent....! !
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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She Has Faces
She has faces up in her bedroom and they gaze down on her guarding her slumber
A black bead rosary under her pillow and when it thunders she clutches it tightly
And she hears silence is white, sound is black, the world is wrapped in a paper sack
And when I leave I close the door to this galaxy of yours
Dropping by I open a window as the breeze blows in the curtains are butterflies
And we hear the church bells ring out on a hill and all of their echoes left us singing
Silence is black, the room is bright, our world is basking in tv light
And we are laid out on the floor of this galaxy of yours
With all of your heroes waiting in paper piles laid on the floor
I push my paintbrush lightly and fill in any empty nail holes
A dresser top, a jewelry box, colored tassels tied in knots
And a porcelain girl danced a music box ballet for us
And your nightlight is a star, or a firefly, that
Leads my gaze up to the ceiling
Wondering if you think that its the sky
With all of your heroes...
Open the window slightly, pick up paper off the floor
I hold my paintbrush tightly, and fill in any empty nail holes
Open the window slightly
song performed by by Verve Pipe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All the music was stopped! !
All da music was stopped
Brought hour to halt
Spookiness prevailed everywhere
Ghosts moving here n there
No sign of life
All da music was stopped
Ppl stopped walking
N I was moving
Feet were tired
Eyes were cruel
There was nobody to save me
I was stopped
All da music was stopped
It tuk away my walk
Heels were high
But peek was low
All da glitter was gone
Wid da mist of his bones
All da music was stopped
Brought hour to halt
poem by Somia Race
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Parakeet
You wake up in the morning
And fall out of your bed
Mean cats eat parakeets
And this one's nearly dead.
You dearly wish the wind would shift
And greasy windows slide
Open for the parakeet
Who's colored bitter lime.
Open the window
And lift into your dreams
lately
song performed by by R.E.M. from Up
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I dream with my eyes open
I dream with my eyes open
Of the life I wish to live
And myself, I must believe
I dream with my eyes open
For the lover far away
Whose words of love, with my heart do play
I dream with my eyes open
Of journeying well on this path
‘Though stones and thorns will scrape o’er some parts
I dream with my eyes open
To walk under a benevolent sun
Feeling warm and mellow
I dream with my eyes open
To find the reason I’m here
And in that call, relish every day, my dear
I dream with my eyes open
That when its time to go
I bid adieu, when I’ve done what I had to here
poem by Anita Atina
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In His Own Way
I feel I’m in heaven when
I hear that music, Father said,
Sitting in the chair in the garden,
Recovering from some old illness,
Hearing the Couperin organ masses
Playing through the open window
From your old black and red hi-fi
Record player. He was nearer to
Heaven than he thought, cancer
Was creeping through him like a
Silent snake. He didn’t go much on
Your Ornette Coleman’s alto runs
And tweaks of free jazz; what racket’s
That he’d say, trying to snooze in the
Afternoon sun, his companion Death
Lingering by, waiting for him in his
Own time to die. The garden’s empty
Now; his chair vacated, no more of
Couperin organ masses or Coleman’s
Free jazz playing out from an open
Window on a summer’s day, just birds
Singing nature songs across the way.
poem by Terry Collett
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Open House
Please
Come over to 81st street Im in the apartment
Above the bar
You know you cant miss it, its across from the subway
And the tacky store with the mylar scarves
My skins as pale as outdoors moon
My hairs silver like a tiffany watch
I like lots of people around me but dont kiss hello
And please dont touch
Its a czechoslovakian custom my mother passed on to me
The way to make friends andy is invite them up for tea
Open house
Open house
Ive got a lot of cats, heres my favorite
Shes lady called sam
I made a paper doll of her, you can have it
Thats what I did when I had st.vitus dance
Its a czechoslovakian custom my mother passed on to me
Give people little presents so they remember me
Open house
Open house
Someone bring the vegetables
Someone please bring heat
My mother showed up yesterday
We need something to eat
I think I got a job today they want me to draw shoes
The ones I drew were old and used
They told me to draw something new
Open house
Open house
Fly me to the moon
Fly me to a star
But there are no stars in the new york sky
Theyre all on the ground
You scared yourself with music, I scared myself with paint
I drew 550 different shoes today, it almost made me faint
Open house
Open house
Open house
Open house
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Open The Door - IV
Mom! Open the door
I have been waiting on the door
It is chilly cold, havn't sufficient clothes
Mom! please open the door
the sun is on head
may i get stroke
Mom! please open the door
Mom! open the door
it is raining cats and dogs
my clothes are fully drenched
Mom! please open the door
Don't be so truculent
I shalt be thy obedient son
Please open the door
poem by Ramesh Rai
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When the rain stopped
it was when the rain stopped
that you left me: i own the umbrella
that you do not need now. You return
it. It was when the rain stopped
that you forget my name. My name
is need. And what you need is love.
My name is necessity. But what
you need is the luxury of honesty.
it was when the rain stopped that
you were honest enough to say:
i do not need you. I do not love you.
and then it rains so hard again
and you come knocking on my
door. You are wet. You are cold.
You are shivering. You are
trembling.
I look at you inside my house
looking by the window. I hide
behind the blue curtain. And i
tell myself: I do not believe you
anymore. And i ask myself:
How can i believe you again?
And then the rain stops.
And then you are gone.
And then i open the window.
And then i see the white dove flying
and hovering near a tree beside my window.
And then i set my heart free.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Beg Me
Take one more step and its over
Back up slowly inside
Breathe too loud and Ill kill you
Get down on your knees and beg me
Beg me, beg
Beg me, beg me, beg
Take off all of your clothes
Lie face down on the bed
Move one inch and Ill shoot you
Make like a woman and beg me
Beg me, beg
I said, beg me, beg me, beg
Every night on tv
I see things that should make me blush
Looks like its going to be another open season
Open season on us
Open season, open season on us
Its the first hot day of the summer
Looks like theres gonna be thunder
Ive been sitting here all afternoon
Watching the clouds
You can see the sky from my window
Can feel the wind and smell the rain
And I dont see what difference it makes
If Im a man or a woman
song performed by by Liz Phair
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Living For The Weekend
I awake eyes half open
Trying to survey the room
Making sense of where I am
A place I know too well
Through the curtains I watch
A half moon cross the sky
While car doors open, close
Engines start and drive away
A train passes into the distance
On the nearby line
I lay there waiting to rise
Shower, dress and catch the bus
Then sit there listen to music
While I stare out the window
Each street, people passing
Its another weekday morning
Another step in the old routine
I reach the office, hang my coat
Switching on the computer
I leave it bleeping into life
Before I make the first coffee of the day
Filtered black and strong, one sugar
Then I sit there sifting through papers
Doing my job nine to five
Till I go home and bed
I live for the weekend
poem by Matthew Holloway
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The trip back
The sky is grey
with ominous clouds
that whirls and churns
and there’s thick fog
hanging like a cloak
low over the earth.
The visor of my helmet
is immediately covered
by the impact
of fine drops of rain
and I open it
to be able to see
where I am travelling.
At places I have to leave the road
to clean the lenses
of my glasses
and then the motorbike
again roars with power under me,
but I have only gone a small distance
when the cars come to a halt
and I have to twist through them.
Twenty kilometres further
I come upon the accident
that is blocking the freeway
just where I have to turn off
to Benoni
and blue and red lights
flash through
the fumes of mist.
I turn the throttle open
but at places
the fog banks still hangs low
and mini buss taxis, busses and cars
appear like ghosts in front of me.
At a place a stream flows
strong like a river over the road
and although I lift my feet
and open the throttle more
to give power to the motorbike
a four by four
passes over the middle line
and throws a wall of water
right over me
and if I can get hold of that lunatic
he will surely know it.
The helmet, black leather jacket
and backpack
stops the water,
but my jean
and shoes are soaking wet
and the motorbike eats the road
and somewhat frozen
I drive to get to home,
as if Springs
is just behind the next hillock
poem by Gert Strydom
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Lost in the forest...
Lost in the forest, I broke off a dark twig
and lifted its whisper to my thirsty lips:
maybe it was the voice of the rain crying,
a cracked bell, or a torn heart.
Something from far off it seemed
deep and secret to me, hidden by the earth,
a shout muffled by huge autumns,
by the moist half-open darkness of the leaves.
Wakening from the dreaming forest there, the hazel-sprig
sang under my tongue, its drifting fragrance
climbed up through my conscious mind
as if suddenly the roots I had left behind
cried out to me, the land I had lost with my childhood---
and I stopped, wounded by the wandering scent.
poem by Pablo Neruda
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