Grotto Story
I am found
in the Story Grotto
with millions of others
grappling with a tale
to tell;
holding it
in the dull light
hoping for a clue
to it,
wrestling it to the grotto ground
trying to understand it.
I and it
merge too much;
I am much more than my Story
yet
now
it is all I have.
I draw blinds over parts of it
can't bear to see aspects of it;
sad sad visions there.
There are lighter moments, of course,
but not enough to light the grotto.
I grapple with my Story
good parts and bad;
trying wring from it
emotion juice
wring it all out,
neuter it
so I can leave
its bloodless hulk
on the grotto floor
and go back
out into
the
sunlight.
I am not my Story alone
and should not let my life
leave me alone
with it
in
the
dark
dark
grotto.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Related quotes
A Singer
That which he did not feel, he would not sing;
What most he felt, religion it was to hide
In a dumb darkling grotto, where the spring
Of tremulous tears, arising unespied,
Became a holy well that durst not glide
Into the day with moil or murmuring;
Whereto, as if to some unlawful thing,
He sto]e, musing or praying at its side.
But in the sun he sang with cheerful heart,
Of coloured season and the whirling sphere,
Warm household habitude and human mirth,
The whole faith-blooded mystery of earth;
And I, who had his secret, still could hear
The grotto's whisper low through every part.
poem by William Allingham
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The Nude Swim
On the southwest side of Capri
we found a little unknown grotto
where no people were and we
entered it completely
and let our bodies lose all
their loneliness.
All the fish in us
had escaped for a minute.
The real fish did not mind.
We did not disturb their personal life.
We calmly trailed over them
and under them, shedding
air bubbles, little white
balloons that drifted up
into the sun by the boat
where the Italian boatman slept
with his hat over his face.
Water so clear you could
read a book through it.
Water so buoyant you could
float on your elbow.
I lay on it as on a divan.
I lay on it just like
Matisse's Red Odalisque.
Water was my strange flower,
one must picture a woman
without a toga or a scarf
on a couch as deep as a tomb.
The walls of that grotto
were everycolor blue and
you said, 'Look! Your eyes
are seacolor. Look! Your eyes
are skycolor.' And my eyes
shut down as if they were
suddenly ashamed.
poem by Anne Sexton
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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An Ivory Palace
Watchmen all along the paths doth irritate.
With walls so high and locks on the gates,
An Ivory Palace you have helped me build.
Besieged was my love life totally unwilled.
I was so open and gave all my love to one;
Heartily taken; away with all they did run;
Only a vacant grotto; Without a faint trace;
In past a heart full of love was in that place;
From tower veranda I edgily gazed to see;
What could be bringing such amazing glee;
Beautiful notes rang out all around the wall;
Daughters of music piped in beckoned call;
Eager to join them in course, When I found;
My heart; My soul; no longer made a sound;
Their music was enigmatically love sated;
Tears of joy surged as my soul was elated;
Agape filled to capacity; New smile on face;
Empty grotto departed; A new heart vase;
Tear dampened Terra cotta; GOD can take;
Broken life; as a potter; GOD will remake!
poem by Joseph Blitch
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter LXXX: Story
Story about future is called imagination
Story about past is called memories
Story about present is called reality
Story that becomes true is called prophecy
Story that becomes unfulfilled is called regret
Story that becomes no end is called boasting
Small story is called experience
Epic story is called history
Forgotten story is called lesson
Story that becomes obsession is called ambition
Story that becomes untold is called secret
Story that becomes go its own way is called life
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Having a personal philosophy is like having a pet marmoset, because it may be very attractive when you acquire it, but there may be situations when it will not come in handy at all.
Lemony Snicket in A Series of Unfortunate Events: The Grimm Grotto
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tell Me A Story
Tell me a story that isn't gory
tell me a story that isn't fake
tell me a story where you made a mistake
tell me a story where the cows come home
tell me a story I want to know
tell me a story where the princess finds herself
not a prince who is more like an elf.
Tell me a story that I can laugh out loud
tell me a story where storm makes lighting clouds.
For in the end we only have our stories to tell
what make them funny, give them hell.
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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Tell Me A Story
Tell me a story that isn't gory
tell me a story that isn't fake
tell me a story where you made a mistake
tell me a story where the cows come home
tell me a story I want to know
tell me a story where the princess finds herself
not a prince who is more like an elf.
Tell me a story that I can laugh out loud
tell me a story where storm makes lighting clouds.
For in the end we only have our stories to tell
what make them funny, give them hell.
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Candels In The Grotto
Candles in the grotto
Flickering in the night
Hoping God will see them
On this cold and lonely night
For they are the prayers of many
Who are hurting and afraid
Wishes from so many
That only the Lord and His mother
Can make the pain go away
Oh how they shine
Bring fourth their light
Showing the Lord and His mother
Their hearts of love for them tonite
May their prayers be answered
As their lights begin to fade
May the light of heaven
Bring you brighter days
poem by David Kush
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In Thoughtless Mind
That fleeting incandescence
was branded witch
in grotto of a cloud.
For the first time I saw
your face in water.
You said this is manic
depression talking to flowers
and seeing a bizarre
apparition in dark blue sky.
What was the thing called
arrival? Every moment
a truth dies before
your eyes.
Between laughter and tears
I touch your eyes. Is that real?
And your brown ankles
walking on white snow.
I am soliciting a bloodstained
floor for a dance.
poem by Satish Verma
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Story Of My Life
The story of my life
is very plain to read
it starts the day you came
and ends the day you leave
The story of my life
begins and ends with you
the names are still the same
and the story's still the truth
I was alone
you found my waiting
and made me your own
I was afraid
that somehow I never could be
the man that you wanted of me
You're the story of my life
and every word is true
each chapter sings your name
each page begins with you
It's the story of our times
and never letting go
and if I die today
I wanted you to know
Stay with my here
share with me care with me
stay and be near
and when it began
I'd lie awake every night
just knowing somewhere deep inside
that our affair just might write
The story of my life
it's so very plain to read
it starts the day you came
and ends the day you leave
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When Day met Night
When Day met the Night,
there was a story to tell.
About heavenly Light,
falling in love with Dark Hell.
The Light was nice,
and curtsied when due.
the Dark had no manners,
not a noted a' due.
So when Light found Dark,
she hugged him deep.
Instead he slithered away,
making Light weep.
Dark looked back before he ran,
Seeing Light kneeling and broken down.
Dark ran over and pulled her lips up,
'Upside down goes that frown! '
He snickered and fled,
back down to Hell.
Light blushed and smiled,
leaving as well.
So when Light met Dark,
on that faithful day.
Dark gained a moon,
to lead Light's way.
poem by Samantha Bush
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april & Easter
April & Easter
Easter and April go together especially on a sunny day. The story of Jesus’ death
and resurrection is such a wonderful story and fits well where I walk amongst
olive and almond trees. I enjoy the part when they found the grotto bare, only his
shroud is there it ought to have been blood stained his body had not yet been
oiled and perfumed. James, Jesus’ brother who was going to take over the carpentry,
had warned his older brother not to go too far with the elders, not go around
saying he was god’s son when everybody knew his father Joseph was a carpenter.
Adultery was a stoning offence in those days, and also, it made Maria blush with
embarrassment; but she loved Jesus, the first born followed him around and saw
to it that he had a bath and a clean burnoose. Where I grew up the sky was vast
in April and once I saw a man, in a white suit, disappearing as he walked along
a long, empty road. My father had once been a seafarer and had bought a white
suit in Panama, but why was he walking away from me? I cycled along the road
to catch up with the man in white. Was it my father or Jesus I had hoped to see?
The sun hangs low now it is getting colder and the shadow of the carob tree,
where I often sit unseen and dream, is loosening its spell on me.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Its The Same Old Story
M. field / n. oliphant
The same old story
Its as old as the stars above
The same old story
Of a boy and a girl in love
The scenes say more moonlight
The times say more june light
Romances the thing
Two hearts away deep in a dream
The same old story
Its been told much too much before
The same old story
But its worth telling just once more
Its all fun and laughter
They lived ever after in ecstacy
The same old story but its new to me
song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bookworm
There's a story that like a dessert I love
And I enjoy every page slowly as much as I can
There's story that makes me desperate
And even my day becomes gloomy after I read
There's story that safe to be read anytime
And I don't mind if it's going up or down
There's story that could burn me to the core
And left me with desire to create another story
There's story that easily predict
And I could finish it without much thinking
There's story that has a very good cliffhanger
And I need to rush to the publisher to make it comes fast
There's story that goes like my dream
And I want to repeat over and over until I'm getting bored
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Who Me?
I am some days
my Best Me
others
I've been submerged
by that Other Me.
Some days
I am fun and funny
others I don that cloak
of sadness,
eat gobs of pity pie
and flagons of dark sorrow.
Other days
I am ethereal,
days lost to bad
or absent memory-
foggy hours
on end some times-
and
as in a dream vision
I arrive back
on Planet Mine
wondering
where I have been.
Some days
the weariness
of not being able to count
on Me-Steady;
feeling burdened
where I long to wring
from my life
the Drama Foam
which fuzzes up
the clarity I need
to connect all of the
aspects of me
into one coherent whole.
I have some parts
I cannot mend
and I have my fear
that if
the good me
touches the bad
me
all I will have left
are the bad parts.
So I keep them separated
from each and me.
But you know
it's only me fearing
my friends tell me'
while there is this battle on
for sure;
that the good parts of me
are so very strong
those are the parts
they are putting their money on.
I guess it true;
I do
like most of me
enough
to write this to you.
Love
Anita.
Root for me.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Story Of My Life
Words and music by neil diamond
The story of my life is very plain to read
It starts the day you came
And ends the day you leave
The story of my life begins and ends with you
The names are still the same
And the storys still the truth
I was alone.
You found me waiting and made me your own
I was afraid
That somehow I never could be a man that you wanted of me
Youre the story of my life, and every word is true
Each chapter sings your name
Each page begins with you
Its the story of our times and never letting go
If I die today, I wannted yo to know
Stay with me here
Share with me, care with me
Stay and be near
And when it began Id lie awake every night
Just knowing somewhere deep inside
That our affair just might write
The story of my life is very plain to read
It starts the day you came
It ends the day you leave
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Cinderella man
I’m home alone at three am
The sound of silence blow out my brain
And look around is just the pain
This is how this story ends
There wasn’t light all now is dark
The broken heart of this poor guy
He found one day, his own soul mate
And he just thought…..well he just thought
He fell in love ……well he just fell
And never notice all was a game
This little boy was only playing
With his heart, soul and brain
And later then he realize
This entire joke around his heart
And in this moment the crystal’s shoes
In thousand pieces over the floor
He run away, didn’t turn back
His precious clothes is all wet now
And this joke just destroy
All around this naive boy
The happiness haven’t a point
Over this tale the faith is gone
And this is how this story ends
With my story: The disgrace of Cinderella Man.
poem by Michael Vinicio Camacho Menéndez
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No Way Out
No intentions
Whatsoever
I was gone for a night
Nothings forever
The cruel daylight
Brought me back to my senses (back to my senses)
Got caught in here
Under false pretenses
No way out
None whatever
I made up the story
Thought it was clever
She didnt ask
And I got no reply (got no reply)
But later that night
I heard her cry
Chorus:
No way out she doesnt buy my story
No way out she doesnt buy my story
No way out she doesnt buy my story
No way out she doesnt buy my story
No accusations
Whatsoever
But can she forget
Nothings forever
Since yesterday
Shes a little bit colder (little bit colder)
Wont happen again
What could Ive told her
No way out she doesnt buy my story
No way out she doesnt buy my story
No way out she doesnt buy my story
No way out she doesnt buy my story
Doesnt buy my story
How can she tell the truth from the lies
When does she know when to close her eyes
She doesnt want to lose me
So she only sees what she wants to see
No way out she doesnt buy my story
No way out she doesnt buy my story
No way out she doesnt buy my story
No way out, no way
No way out...
song performed by by Starship
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Once when I was in Hawaii, on the island of Kauai, I met a mysterious old stranger. He said he was about to die and wanted to tell someone about the treasure. I said, "Okay, as long as it's not a long story. Some of us have a plane to catch, you know." He stared telling his story, about the treasure and his life and all, and I thought "This story isn't too long." But then, he kept going, and I started thinking, "Uh-oh, this story is getting long." But then the story was over, and I said to myself "You know, that story wasn't too long after all." I forget what the story was about, but there was a good movie on the plane. It was a little long, though.
Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lifes Projection
Inside an individual's life is a projection
of their life story, created from the Lamp of Divine light.
This Divine Light, focused, condensed, into a strong beam
projecting the ongoing life story of the individual.
This beam of Divine Light shines through the shutter
of moments connected by consciousness.
Consciousness acts like film, where the life story of the individual is experienced, acted on, and stored. The shutter of moments lets the Divine Light through because each moment is in the right position.
poem by Bullion Grey
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