En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Nowhere To Go

All through the day it was irritation with noise
that led the way, knowing there is nowhere to
turn, nowhere to go, nothing to say, nobody
interested, my head feeling thick, me being
dumb - I could not read a book - could not
hold up my head - not stand the infernal
noise of the radio, my room a tomb

Cold emanating from the icy stones - maybe I
was Aunt Branwell in a previous life, stomping
around in wooden clogs in the old home where
authors Charlotte, Emily and Anne & brother
Branwell - wrote their books, whatever the
case, I feel ill with a burning throat, mind
scrambled - maybe this is not a poem

[Charlotte, Emily, Anne and Branwell Brontë]

poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Baby Charlotte Lullabye

Baby Charlotte, Baby Charlotte
With your eyes big and brown
Your silent slumber so peaceful
You don't make a sound

Baby Charlotte, Baby Charlotte
With your smile so sweet
Your full head of hair
Your tiny, precious feet

Baby Charlotte, Baby Charlotte
With your dimples so deep
Your laughter contagious
Your personality unique

Baby Charlotte, Baby Charlotte
With your expressions devine
Your smarter than most
Your namesake is mine.

poem by Gail Godin
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Baby Charlotte Song

Baby Charlotte, baby Charlotte
With your eyes big and brown
Your silent slumber so peaceful
You don't make a sound.

Baby Charlotte, baby Charlotte
With your smile so sweet
Your full head of hair
Your tiny, precious feet.

Baby Charlotte, baby Charlotte
With your dimples so deep
Your laughter contagious
Your personality unique.

Baby Charlotte, baby Charlotte
With your expression divine
Your smarter than most
Your namesake is mine.

poem by Gail Godin
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Often rebuked, yet always back returning

Often rebuked, yet always back returning
To those first feelings that were born with me,
And leaving busy chase of wealth and learning
For idle dreams of things which cannot be:
To-day, I will seek not the shadowy region;
Its unsustaining vastness waxes drear;
And visions rising, legion after legion,
Bring the unreal world too strangely near.

I'll walk, but not in old heroic traces,
And not in paths of high morality,
And not among the half-distinguished faces,
The clouded forms of long-past history.

I'll walk where my own nature would be leading:
It vexes me to choose another guide:
Where the gray flocks in ferny glens are feeding;
Where the wild wind blows on the mountain side

What have those lonely mountains worth revealing?
More glory and more grief than I can tell:
The earth that wakes one human heart to feeling
Can centre both the worlds of Heaven and Hell.

Harold Bloom calls this Emily Brontë's finest poem; however, C.W. Hatfield, who edited her poems, speculates that Charlotte wrote or revised this poem. It first appeared in the 1850 edition of Emily's novel and poems; no manuscript version of this poem is known.

poem by Emily Jane Brontë
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Noise

Dads stuck in the factory, machines are banging all around.
Mommas in the kitchen, she got the radio on all the time.
My little sisters screaming, and stamping on the ground.
And the radio keeps pumping out the same old boring sound.
All I hear is noise.
Cant get away from the noise.
Can you hear me above the noise?
Can you, can you, can you, can you, can you, can you hear me?
Can you hear the noise? (noise)
Cant get away from the noise. (noise)
Can you hear me above the noise? (noise)
Can you, can you, can you, can you, can you, can you hear me?
Banging in my ears, in every direction.
Listen to the roar, hear that city[? ], poundin, poundin.
There oughta be a law, hey buddy, turn that radio down.
Sometimes I get used to it and I forget that its around.
But all I hear is noise. (noise)
Cant get away from noise. (noise)
Can you hear me above the noise? (noise)
All of this confusion is ruining my day.
Let the noise be like the sunset, and slowly fade away.
Fading, fade.
Girl, I want to build a better world for me and you.
I wanna pull out all the plugs before I finally blow my fuse.
Wish all the confusion would slowly fade away.
Id tell you that I love you, but you dont hear what I way.
All you hear is noise. (noise)
Cant get away from noise. (noise)
Can you hear me above the noise? (noise)
Can you, can you, can you, can you, can you, can you hear me?
Noise in the street, theyre digging up the pavement.
Noise in the air, those traffic jams are everywhere.
Noise on noise, to cover up the noise.
The pressures building up because theres no way to avoid,
All the noise. (noise)
Cant get away from noise. (noise)
Can you hear me above the noise? (noise)
All of this confusion is ruining my day.
Let the noise be like the sunset, and slowly fade away.
Fading, fading.

song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Feeling Of Losing Control

I hate this restless feeling, first I messed up the bedroom
putting all my books which were cluttering the white sitting
room, on the bed, then messed up the study by shoving books
helter-skelter on to the racks, continued my mission of
confusion by creating chaos in the kitchen, seeing as
it was already sprinkled with crumbs

I added my new thick file spilling papers and my favourite
pictures, including Sean Connery and laughing people having
fun, fantasy rooms, an article on slavery in the Cape com-
mitted by the English themselves, no less, they had a
thriving monopoly, according to Lady Anne Barnard
who wrote it all down in her Journal

Compounding the feeling of losing control, the radio playing
Golden Oldies, Roger Whittaker singing Now you Don't Believe
In If Anymore, I smile - I still do and always will - if
nothing else, at least it keeps that dour expression of
deep suspicion from my face, I dream about If all the
time - trying to focus amongst all the noise

I opened my French file just to find it impossible to pin myself
down, the feeling of accomplishment after last night's work,
five pages of notes from Labour Equity Law and School
Legislation in South Africa - is still too fresh in my head -
it seems having chocolate for breakfast must have been
bad because I feel jittery

Running around like a chicken without a head - time to settle
and wait for the mental fog to disperse before doing something;
Tom Jones belting out It's Not Unusual To Be Loved By Anyone;
right, I shall nestle against my beloved in front of the TV
he's watching rugby, it will help me doze off, upon waking
I shall try again to do something useful

poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Thorp Green

I sit, this evening, far away,
From all I used to know,
And nought reminds my soul to-day
Of happy long ago.

Unwelcome cares, unthought-of fears,
Around my room arise;
I seek for suns of former years
But clouds o'ercast my skies.

Yes--Memory, wherefore does thy voice
Bring old times back to view,
As thou wouldst bid me not rejoice
In thoughts and prospects new?

I'll thank thee, Memory, in the hour
When troubled thoughts are mine--
For thou, like suns in April's shower,
On shadowy scenes wilt shine.

I'll thank thee when approaching death
Would quench life's feeble ember,
For thou wouldst even renew my breath
With thy sweet word 'Remember'!

poem by Branwell Brontë
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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No Coward Soul Is Mine

The following are the last lines my sister Emily ever wrote:-

No coward soul is mine,
No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere:
I see Heaven's glories shine,
And faith shines equal, arming me from fear.

O God within my breast,
Almighty, ever-present Deity!
Life—that in me has rest,
As I—undying Life—have power in thee!

Vain are the thousand creeds
That move men's hearts: unutterably vain;
Worthless as withered weeds,
Or idlest froth amid the boundless main,

To waken doubt in one
Holding so fast by thine infinity;
So surely anchored on
The stedfast rock of immortality.

With wide-embracing love
Thy spirit animates eternal years,
Pervades and broods above,
Changes, sustains, dissolves, creates, and rears.

Though earth and man were gone,
And suns and universes ceased to be,
And Thou were left alone,
Every existence would exist in Thee.

There is not room for Death,
Nor atom that his might could render void:
Thou—THOU art Being and Breath,
And what THOU art may never be destroyed.

poem by Emily Brontë from Selections from the literary remains of Emily and Anne Brontë (1850)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Waiting Head

If I really am walking with ordinary habit
past the same rest home on the same local street
and see another waiting head at that upper front window,
just as she would always sit,
watching for anyone from her wooden seat,
then anything can be true. I only know
how each night she wrote in her leather books
that no one came. Surely I remember the hooks
of her fingers curled on mine, though even now
will not admit the times I did avoid this street,
where she lived on and on like a bleached fig
and forgot us anyhow;
visiting the pulp of her kiss, bending to repeat
each favor, trying to comb out her mossy wig
and forcing love to last. Now she is always dead
and the leather books are mine. Today I see the head
move, like some pitted angel, in that high window.
What is the waiting head doing? It looks the same.
Will it lean forward as I turn to go?
I think I hear it call to me below

but no one came no one came
.

poem by Anne Sexton
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Radio Head

Baby your mind is a radio
Got a reciever inside my head
Baby Im tuned to your wavelength
Lemme tell you what it says:
Transmitter!
Oh! picking up something good
Hey, radio head!
The sound...of a brand-new world.
So look at my fingers vibrate
From their tip down down to my toes
Now Im recieving your signal
Were gonna leave the land of noise
Transmitter!
Oh! picking up something good
Hey, radio head!
The sound...of a brand-new world.
Transmitter!
Oh! picking up something good
Hey, radio head!
The sound...of a brand-new world.
Now you and I have no secrets
Now baby, lemme read your mind
I hear evrything youre thinking
You cant help the way you sound
Transmitter!
Picking up something good.
Hey! radio head!
The sound...of a brand-new world
Oh! radio head
Radio head
Radio head
Radio head

song performed by by Talking Heads
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Emily Chambers

Emily Chambers would make it pay
Everyone knew she'd turn out that way
She turned her back and she'll be okay
But she's not okay at all

Every night with the radio on
Emily fears that the day won't come
The moon is there to do her harm
She's not all right at all

Don't get arrested
Don't buy a machine gun
You're on the run
And you're not on the scene
You're not so cool
And you're not a jerk
You may be a villain
But no Patty Hearst
You're Emily Chambers
And what's worse
Is a whipping wind
And a box in a hearse
And a trigger in your head
And a pen in your hand
And the pain in the verse
And the flat drying land
And the thin of the air
And a pain that hurts
You're Emily Chambers in the universe

(Repeat first verse)

Every night with the lamplight on
Emily fears that the day has gone
The moon is there to do her harm
She's not all right at all

(Repeat chorus)

Emily Chambers would make it pay
Everyone knew she'd turn out that way...

song performed by by Ocean Colour Scene from One From The Modern
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Last Words

I knew not 'twas so dire a crime
To say the word, 'Adieu';
But this shall be the only time
My lips or heart shall sue.

That wild hill-side, the winter morn,
The gnarled and ancient tree,
If in your breast they waken scorn,
Shall wake the same in me.

I can forget black eyes and brows,
And lips of falsest charm,
If you forget the sacred vows
Those faithless lips could form.

If hard commands can tame your love,
Or strongest walls can hold,
I would not wish to grieve above
A thing so false and cold.

And there are bosoms bound to mine
With links both tried and strong:
And there are eyes whose lightning shine
Has warmed and blest me long:

Those eyes shall make my only day,
Shall set my spirit free,
And chase the foolish thoughts away
That mourn your memory.

poem by Emily Brontë from Selections from the literary remains of Emily and Anne Brontë (1850)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Emily

Emily shrugs and drags her heels as she takes the guided tour
It seemed like such an amazing deal
When she was looking at the brochure
Stuck on a bus with strangers
Wishing she could be ay home
With me poor little emily
How does it feel to be free?
Lyin in bed
The pain in my head
From running around all day
Tryin to find what was rightfully mine
But I ran out of things to say
Runnin around with strangers
Wishing she could run away with me..
Poor little emily,
How does it feel to be free
From familiar fingertips
To a persecuted grip?
From the pan into the fire
Now a thread becomes a wire
Under which you must crawl
Through a ditch and over the wall
Emily works her fingers
Right down to her aching bones
While my aching heads got me stuck
In bed working on being alone
Working around the clock
Wishing she had worked it out with me
Poor little emily
How does it feel to be free?
Poor little emily
How does it feel to be free?
Poor little emily
How does it feel to be free?

song performed by by Fastball
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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New house

Stepping onto the hard floor,
no memories to be shared here,
thoughts are neutral no emotion,
the unnerving stench of staleness,
and unlived in state feels so impersonal,
so uncomfortable,
memories piled high in our old home,
and stored like books in my head,
it feels so cold here,
unexplainable feeling of fear,
no aroma of delicious food flowing through the house,
the rooms are not personalised,
just stripped bare,
dust flies through the air,
it can't be called a home yet,
it's just a house with inhabitants,
it can only be called mine,
but i will continue to see our previous house as home,
it'll take getting used to,
it'll take time,
i'll try and make it feel like mine now,
living in the new house.

poem by Emily Summers
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Taylor's song

For joys the hours of earth bestow
With sorrow thou must pay.
Though many follow close, yet know,
They're loaned but for a day.
With sighing in thy laughter's stead
Shall come a time of grief,
The load of usury bow thy head,
With loss of thy belief.
Mary Anne, Mary Anne,
Mary Anne, Mary Anne,
Hadst thou not smiled upon me, thou,
I were not weeping now.

May God help him who never can
Give only half his soul;
The time comes surely for that man
To take the sorrow whole.
May God help him who was so glad,
That he cannot forget,
Help him who lost the all he had,
But not his reason yet.
Mary Anne, Mary Anne,
Mary Anne, Mary Anne,
The flowers that my life had grown,
Died out when thou went gone.

poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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Warning and Reply

In the earth—the earth—thou shalt be laid,
A grey stone standing over thee;
Black mould beneath thee spread,
And black mould to cover thee.

'Well—there is rest there,
So fast come thy prophecy;
The time when my sunny hair
Shall with grass roots entwined be.'

But cold—cold is that resting-place,
Shut out from joy and liberty,
And all who loved thy living face
Will shrink from it shudderingly,

'Not so. Here the world is chill,
And sworn friends fall from me:
But there—they will own me still,
And prize my memory.'

Farewell, then, all that love,
All that deep sympathy:
Sleep on: Heaven laughs above,
Earth never misses thee.

Turf-sod and tombstone drear
Part human company;
One heart breaks only—here,
But that heart was worthy thee!

poem by Emily Brontë from Selections from the literary remains of Emily and Anne Brontë (1850)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Love and Friendship

Love is like the wild rose-briar;
Friendship like the holly-tree.
The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms,
But which will bloom most constantly?

The wild rose-briar is sweet in spring,
Its summer blossoms scent the air;
Yet wait till winter comes again,
And who will call the wild-briar fair?

Then, scorn the silly rose-wreath now,
And deck thee with the holly's sheen,
That, when December blights thy brow,
He still may leave thy garland green.

poem by Emily Brontë from Selections from the literary remains of Emily and Anne Brontë (1850)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Noise

From it there's no escape
it is everywhere
noise, noise, noise.
The moment you arise
till you go to sleep
it fills your head.
Cars and lorries drive by
bloody noisy Pigeons cooing
stereo's at full blast.
Drilling in the road
alarms going off
sirens wailing.
Kids screaming
Helicopter overhead
sound of breaking glass.
Noisy neighbours
doors slamming
dogs loud barking.
Even when asleep
noises in your head
you can't escape it.
Noise of wildlife
from tiny insects
to birds in the trees.
Noise can send you mad
it can get into the brain
noise is everywhere.
Silence is deafening
a whisper is like
a thunder clap.
Noise, noise, noise,
is everywhere
from it no escape.
Is it silent in the grave
does noise go with you
is noise eternal?

poem by Kevin Halls
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Annes Song

hey! what? ? oh nothing, just wondering why it is youre doing
That whatever it is youre doing. oh yeah, why? I dunno it just
Doesnt seem like something ]youd[ be doing thats all ]you[ of all
People, know what I mean? yeah I know its been bugging you since the
Day I was born, huh? I asked my friend anne about it. I said, anne,
Anne, anne, what am I supposed to do, its been bugging them since the
Day that I was born. she said do whatever the hell you want to do!
Now is the time to do whatever you want, and it will still turn out
Great. youve got the world at your feet.
I never claimed to be different, I only said I was bored and shes
Tired of your uniqueness, it sends her over head first then the rest
Of her follows, the breath of life, it never left her hollow...
I can do everything, she said, she said with a smile.
And I can go anywhere tonight, cause Im with anne.
Anne, anne, who? anne dagnabit island princess queen with the juice
Whats this? I see she brought her whole uplown contingent. first theres
Jon e., he always loves a party, hes followed by vinnie, whos feelin
Kinda skinny, he says hey anne Im starved what you got to eat, she
Says vinnie youre always starving man get away from that fridge!
Here comes lucy, shes feelin really sexy, shes followed by her
Boyfriend, whod better not turn around, this time, or hes bound to lose
Her, and here comes jamilla, whos got the cream soda...
I can do everything, she said, she said with a smile
And I can go anywhere tonight, cause Im with anne

song performed by by Faith No More
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Charlotte The Harlot '88

Dave Murray
Giving a swish with your arse in the air, don't you know what they're saying?
Charlotte you're so refined when you take all the love that they're giving.
Sticking with every man that you find, don't you know what they're after?
Charlotte you've got your legs in the air, don't you hear all the laughter?
*Chorus*:
Charlotte the Harlot show me your legs,
Charlotte the Harlot take me to bed.
Charlotte the Harlot let me see blood,
Charlotte the Harlot let me see love.
Taking so many men to your room, don't you feel no remorse?
You charge them a "fiver", It's only for starters.
And ten for the main course.
And you've got no feelings, they died long ago.
Don't you care who you let in?
And don't you know you're breaking the law with the service you're giving.
*Chorus*
There was a time when you left me standing there,
Picking up pieces of love off the floor.
Well Charlotte you left me alone in there,
To make your ends as a bloody whore.
Well Charlotte you told me you love me true,
Picking up pieces of love yesterday.
Well Charlotte you're draws are off color too
'Cause you're making love all day.
Giving a swish with your arse in the air, don't you know what they're saying?
Charlotte you're so refined when you take all the love that they're giving.
Sticking with every man that you find, don't you know what they're after?
Charlotte you've got your legs in the air, don't you hear all the laughter?
*Chorus*

song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'll come when thou art saddest

I'll come when thuo art saddest,
Bring light to the darkened room,
When the rude day's mirth has vanished,
And the smile of joy is banished
From evening's chilly gloom.

I'll come when the heart's worst feeling
Has enitre, unbiassed sway,
And my influence o'er thee stealing,
Grief deepening, joy congealing,
Shall bear thy soul away.

Listen! 'tis just the hour,
The awful time for thee.
Dost thou not feel upon thy soul
A flood of strange sensations roll,
Forerunners of a sterner power,
Heralds of me?

poem by Emily Brontë from The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë (1908)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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