En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Family Room. For Mary.

You put up with it because
as tiresome as it is, and as they can sometimes be,
somewhere there, there's always love.

He may take interest
in something to be repaired
that's mechanical; and
there's cars to wash and clean,
hobby things to sort and tidy.

Some kids are good or disciplined;
but there's never quite the time
in their expanding world
for doing just what you do
for the house..

But in the human heart
there's this locked, dusty room - you haven't dared
to look inside for years - or indeed
since childhood, for some people -
full of junk, of cobwebs,
broken windows, their sashes jammed,
cupboards that won't open, drawers
whose contents stop them opening; even
the birds have stopped their nesting there;
a room of memories that whisper when it's dark

It's the room that's family.
And surprise - the light still works..
A family can sort and dust and wash and clean and tidy it
in less time than they take
to slam the door
yet only you know that it's done, and how it's done.
And you say nothing.

Somewhere, two strangers
smile at one another

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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a poem for allan jimenez (written in Arvisu House,1981)

If you open my door
Without knocking and
You simply come in
Without myself
What would you say?
It’s been a time
We cleaned rooms
Scrubbed toilet tiles
Into the desired whiteness
Of saints and souls
We designed rooms
Where no rain
Can get in
And surprise us
Of its pouring
About the damp
About the wet
Or the colds we get
We cannot imagine
Accidents do happen
Despite strict precautions
Of the perfect prefect
Of the other sect
We cannot situate
We at wrong hours
Inside wrong rooms
Talking about wrongs
And we talk
All about us and
It talks all about us
The stay
Silent and still
The closed gate
That must by now
Be opened
Or I get
Muriatic and drink it
As my morning milk
Crazy
Now if you happen
To come into my room
Without myself
As I have gone
Far elsewhere
Without myself
Leaving any note
Or sign that I would
Be coming back
To this room
Clean and tidy
What else can you say?
What else would I say?
I cannot promise
I cannot scare you
Elsewhere I go
With another routine
Hi, hello, how are you?
Anyway
The scheduled morning prayers
Of this sad house
Clean and tidy
Shall recite themselves
Perfectly
Without me
Or us
And sure
Everything everything
Would still be all right
All right.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Get Out Of My House

(hee-haw! hee-haw! hee-haw!)
When you left, the door was
(slamming!)
You paused in the doorway
(slamming!)
As though a thought stole you away.
(slamming!)
I watched the world pull you away.
(lock it!)
So I run into the hall,
(lock it!)
Into the corridor.
(lock it!)
Theres a door in the house
(slamming).
I hear the lift descending.
(slamming!)
I hear it hit the landing,
(slamming!)
See the hackles on the cat
(standing).
With my key i
(lock it).
With my key i
(lock it up).
With my key i
(lock it).
With my key i
(lock it up).
I am the concierge chez-moi, honey.
Wont letcha in for love, nor money.
(let me in!)
My home, my joy.
Im barred and bolted and i
(wont let you in).
(get out of my house!)
No strangers feet
Will enter me.
(get out of my house!)
I wash the panes,
(get out of my house!)
I clean the stains away.
(get out of my house!)
This house is as old as I am.
(slamming.)
This house knows all I have done.
(slamming.)
They come with their weather hanging round them,
(slamming.)
But cant knock my door down!
(slamming.)
With my key i
(lock it).
With my key i
(lock it).
This house is full of m-m-my mess.
(slamming.)
This house is full of m-m-mistakes.
(slamming.)
This house is full of m-m-madness.
(slamming.)
This house is full of, full of, full of fight!
(slam it.)
With my keeper i
(clean up).
With my keeper i
(clean it all up).
With my keeper i
(clean up).
With my keeper i
(clean it all up).
I am the concierge chez-moi, honey.
Wont letcha in for love, nor money.
(its cold out here!)
My home, my joy.
Im barred and bolted and i
(get out of my house!)
(wont let you in).
(get out of my house!)
No strangers feet
(get out of my house!)
Will enter me.
(get out of my house!)
I wash the panes.
(get out of my house!)
I clean the stains.
(get out of my house!)
(get out of my house!)
(get out of my house!)
(get out of my house!)
Wont enter me.
(get out of my house!)
(get out of my house!)
(get out of my house!)
(get out of my house!)
Yeah! wont let you in!
(get out of my house!)
(get out of my house!)
Let me in!
Woman let me in!
Let me bring in the memories!
Woman let me in!
Let me bring in the devil dreams!
I will not let you in!
Dont you bring back the reveries.
I turn into a bird,
Carry further than the word is heard.
Woman let me in!
I turn into the wind.
I blow you a cold kiss,
Stronger than the songs hit.
I will not let you in.
I face towards the wind.
I change into the mule.
I change into the mule.
Hee-haw! hee-haw! hee-haw-hee-haw-hee-haw-hee-haw...
Hee-haw! hee-haw! hee-haw!

song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Welcome To The Door Of Freedom

this is the door of freedom
you just got in
i have a room beyond this room
no one has entered yet
between this door and my room
is a space
this is where some pieces of my are left
but soon they will be taken back
to be kept inside my palms
to be hidden once again from you

when you get in
you will be introduced to the ritual of knowing
what you do not know
what you cannot know
what shall be hidden forever from you
and you shall be a little bit
disappointed

but you must insist
you have to repeat your name many times
you will sort out the letters
there are onions and chilies
they will make you cry

and then you will wish upon another door
this time it is your door
towards your own room
you will doubt about breathing
about windows and exits
and then you begin to ask
if all these are worth it

you decide.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Alone Again In The Lap Of Luxury

(music: marillion lyrics: steve hogarth & john helmer)
See those people there?
They look after me
This is a photograph of who I might be
Man in a uniform ... bride on his arm
Mum always was a fool for money and charm
Hes been talkin in his sleep again
Sayin hes sorry, callin my name
Sayin how hes ashamed ...
Alone again in the lap of luxury
Since it happened I had nothin to say
It used to bother them but now its ok
Mother cleans his dreadful house every day
Scrubbing all the stains that wont go away
They sent me away to the school in the park
They said it would be good for me
I still hear the other kids cry in the dark
Alone again in the lap of luxury
Is there no escape
I dont remember the last time I cried
I dont remember much except lies
See the little girl spirallin down
This is a photograph of who she is now
One day this will all be yours he said
Tidy your room and straight to bed
Tidy up those thoughts in your head
Alone again in the lap of luxury
I could be anywhere right now
If I only had the nerve to leave this house
Maybe somewhere by the sea ...
Take me somewhere, anywhere please!
We could make a pillow of sand and sleep
We could roll
We could make
We could see
We could scream
Far
Father
Farthest
Oh daddy ...
You do not do anymore ...
For gods sake dont pretend to be concerned ...
Turn into nightmares in the end
Throw a party for all my friends
Alone again in the lap of luxury
(I) now wash your hands
You give up hope
You settle down
With your favourite soap ...
Now wash your hands

song performed by by Marillion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Inside That Room

inside that room

clutters of old things
a conglomeration of dusts
silent stones
broken wedges
blunt shapes and sharp edges

inside that room

that silence we both shared
isolated moans
tongues lingering

inside that room
our memories

now the door is closed.
inside that room
the noise of insistence
the clap of a disaster
we disown

inside that room
the impregnation of tough thoughts
with soft laces
of ductile memories

inside that room
oh! there is no

us anymore.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I sit alone...

I sit alone
In this cold dark room
No windows no doors
Just icy cold air

I live alone
In this cold dark room
No family no friends
Just loneliness to share

I stay alone
In this cold dark room
No voices no sounds
Just nobody to care

I probe alone
In this cold dark room
In my mind in my world
Just a room filled with despair

I roam alone
In this cold dark room
No way in no way out
Just a worn but rigid snare

I rust alone
In this cold dark room
Not because there is no other way
Just because its easier that way....

poem by Deep Dark Soul Poet
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Cold Dark..

I sit alone
In this cold dark room
No windows no doors
Just icy cold air

I live alone
In this cold dark room
No family no friends
Just loneliness to share

I stay alone
In this cold dark room
No voices no sounds
Just nobody to care

I probe alone
In this cold dark room
In my mind in my world
Just a room filled with despair

I roam alone
In this cold dark room
No way in no way out
Just a worn but rigid snare

I rust alone
In this cold dark room
Not because there is no other way
Just because its easier that way....

poem by Deep Dark Soul Poet
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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For Joan Crammond

You told me last year - in between
doing all you could for others
in your state and at your age -
(and that meant working dawn to dusk, at least -
as you had done most of your life)
that you were 'tidying up'
so that your family would have least work
to do themselves when you'd passed on

And so, as just reward, death came to you
tidily,
neatly, smoothly, in your own tidy room

Just a few weeks ago,
when you had done a kindness
spreading word of my poetry,
I sent you a poem on
'A Reminiscence of a Great Lady'
and to my surprise, not just, from you,
a kind and tidy, just response,
but you were deeply stirred

Did you read in it, the great lady
whom we both had known and loved?
Was it what you'd always hoped to be?
Or did you recognise yourself in it - in full?

No need now to question.
No need, anyway; the difference
is not important in eternity.

Not so important as
a tidy, outward life. So,
that poem and now this
to you, for you

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tees spoon

Hand is
Use for eat...
Ok...
Wash every time
At your's hands...
At every works...
Wash your's hands...
Clean...
with clean...
Wash And eat food...
Tell about your children
Today...
Wash hands
And eat...
You are lazy
Don't wash
Your hands...
Use tees spoon...!

poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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The Allegory Of The Cycle Of Doors

and so there is this door that appears before you
and you open it
and then when you enter the room
another door appears
this is the cycle of doors that keep on appearing and you
keep on opening
but the room still appears from a distance
always distant
from your eager feet to enter
you say to enter the room i must please the door
but the room moves away just the same
and the door tells you
to keep the room
you have to burn it and when the room is burned
the door finally disappears
and then both the door and the room shall tell you
now be happy
for you now have a house of your own

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A tidy everything!

A tidy me a
A tidy you
A tidy clean body or soul
Is a tidy human?

No…

Four tidy bedrooms
A tidy lounge
A tidy kitchen
An evenly cut grass
An organised garage with a freshly washed car is a
Peaceful shelter?

No…

An eventful upbringing
A functioning family
A good manner scheme
Is a blissful gift?
No…

A perfect persons snap
An excellent picture?

No…
A well-educated father
A knowledgeable mother
A lenient couple
An ideal parent?

No…
An old man,
An old woman
A young boy
A child
A toddler
Age concern is it?

No…
A black girl, boy
A white girl, boy
An Asian girl, boy
A Chinese maybe even a mix-race
What does this matter?
It is a multicultural union.

Yes…

A graduate
A chav
A weirdo
A mad man
What does this matter?

Not at all…

Civilisation rolled in one piece - in our hearts, is what makes a single, a “WHOLE”
Not a flash motor or a colourful photograph.
Or a “Rich man” with golden rules!

Life isn’t a race
There aren’t any “winners” nor “losers”.

It is all a myth

Errr…YES!

poem by Noorie Ali
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The White Room

(SpringfieldVallance)
I can see her at her windows watching,
locked away inside her skin,
I can see her but I can't get to her, she won't come out,
and she won't let me into
The white room (she's living in)
Lying alone til she comes undone
In the white room, she burns for the real thing.
But it won't come.
In her head is the same obsession
and all the bottles and pills won't heal her heart.
She heard his last confession
and every word just tears her apart
In the white room (locked away)
doing time till her time is done
In the white room there's so much to say
but the words won't come.
Come back to the land of the living,
when you gonna break the chain,
there's so much too much that you're leaving
and you're never gonna stop the rain
In the white room.
waiting for the call that never comes
in the white room, she awaits.
Look at something long enough you'll find,
that the splinters and the cracks begin to show,
I'll be the first in line when the walls start falling
and she lets go of
The white room (it's late)
living alone only makes you numb
In the white room she burns for the real thing
but it won't come
In the white room (she's living in) I think its time
that you're time is done,
In the white room she burns
In the white room (it's late)
lying alone till she comes undone
In the white room she awaits
In the white room

song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Homage to a not unknown poet

Straightway - it's the tone.
Even; quiet but clear; is it writing, or is it talking?
As if to family: you're being filled in
on what happened yesterday or last week;
it's a continuation of what you last spoke of;
so no 'tone' about the tone;
you have a background of a lifetime's love
not to need to talk about;
you're friends even before you are family
if you know what I mean;
no family relationships hovering like ghosts
like your mother never quite stopped
sibling squabbling with your aunt;
it's harmless really - a silly evocation of childhood
and no-one else's concern;
so, good.

The no-tone tone: you're family,
so the voice expects you to be interested
enough to read
even if it's something to tell another family member later
whom it would concern more.

So no elaborations,
no false sentiment,
but a little dry comment
like a dry white wine perhaps,
they'll have the background for
because you're family.

That even tone - dull? No, not dull -
a quirky, individual voice
that tells a story deadpan
that makes you howl with laughter;
no, never dull..

The details: those events,
those small happinesses, small sweetnesses
(it sounds better in French -
petits bonheurs, petites douceurs) ,
the spoken words from open heart to open heart
which are the greatness of our
real, real life;
what's in the tidy drawers of the heart
when the house-clearers finally arrive.

And all around this family message to you who read,
called a poem,

quietly,

love.

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In My Room

I stand alone and watch the clock
I only wait for it to stop
And in the room locked up inside me
The cutout magazines remind me
I sit and wait alone in my room
And in my room against the wall
There is picture very small
A photograph I took some years ago
It shows a picture of the room I know
I sit and wait alone in my room
Chorus
The walls are white and in the night
The room is lit by electric light
I stand and watch the clock
I only wait for it to stop
The doors are shut and all the windows lock
The only sound is from the clock
I sit and wait alone in my room
Repeat chorus

song performed by by Yaz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In My Room

I stand alone and watch the clock
I only wait for it to stop
And in the room locked up inside me
The cutout magazines remind me
I sit and wait alone in my room
And in my room against the wall
There is picture very small
A photograph I took some years ago
It shows a picture of the room I know
I sit and wait alone in my room
Chorus
The walls are white and in the night
The room is lit by electric light
I stand and watch the clock
I only wait for it to stop
The doors are shut and all the windows lock
The only sound is from the clock
I sit and wait alone in my room
Repeat chorus

song performed by by Yaz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Now That You're Gone

I ain't afraid of hurt
I've had so much it feels just like normal to me now
I'm alone and I'm dancin', with you now, in your old room, in your old house
I'm alone and I'm dancin', with you now, in your old room, but there's nobody there
Now that your gone
Now that your gone for good
Everything you ever touched is undisturbed and hangs out
Like crime scene evidence undisturbed in dust
I don't dare touch anything because it's evidence of us
And it means everything
Well sort of
I'm alone and I'm dancin', with you now, in your old room, in your old house
I'm alone and I'm dancin', with you now, in your old room, but there's nobody there
Now that your gone
Now that your gone for good
I'm alone and I'm dancing with you now
In your old room but there's nobody there
Now that your gone
Now that your gone for good
Gone

song performed by by Ryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Birds are silent

Today is a stupid day
Since you are away home
Birds were silent today
I want them to be noisy all the time
I hope they don’t fly away
They should always sing for us

In this old city
There is nothing left
Except memories
Actually I am filled with the memories of you
Your face is like a city for me
A city full of joy
A city which heals me when I am wounded
A city which accommodates me
Whenever you are away from me
I am frightened
Frightened like a baby in the dark
For me, my love you are my light

Sometimes I hate this room
For it is too small to occupy my love
When we are in this room
Locked in and locked together
I always look at the street light opposite to us
It’s like an old man searching for something
Sometimes it looks at me
With it’s fainted eyes
But it always smiles at you, my dear

Oh my dear please comeback soon
Birds start singing.

poem by Pramod Sen
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The Broken Vessel

Got a little room closed
But it seems more space wide open
Maybe because the thing used to cover
Is the wall of heart it self
My heart no longer works to feel
Could no longer tastes other’s feeling
Only beautiful showcase
It’s empty inside

Got another room cleaned
From remains memories that disturbs me
It’s getting cold, I hope
If I stop thinking of you
You will be gradually disappeared
This is the way all the love ends
This is the way the heart’s changed
And I’m fooling my self that everything is fine

Got amount of tear locked
But endless cries start to come
It will be bored as time goes by
The wound would be healed
But it won’t forget the pain
I will act like a loving friend
You will act like a care brother
And you’ll never learn anything of my broken heart

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Time Passes

Time is passing while I am waiting
For true life to have some meaning-
Time is passing and I blindly
Count to ten upon my fingers-
Not knowing and not even able to distinguish
What is real from what is not?
One, two, three and the voices inside me won't stop commanding-
Four, five and six-
All I see are snakes within the bleakness and confinement of this room-
Seven, eight, and nine, and even through this dim light I believe I am being watched-
I count aloud to ten upon my fingers and
Time is passing and all that is all that I hear for the moment-
All that I see, I reach out to touch or to open my eyes to see-
Time has passed and everything is silent, without a trace of
Ever being near and once more I count,
Starting at seven, eight and then nine- watching the second hand on the wall clock and
Ten? Ten more hours to be locked inside of this empty, room where
The walls are barren and I am alone with my thoughts-
Time is passing and I would be running away, but there is nowhere to run to, except to
Places inside of my mind and one, two three and all that I see is
The walls of this empty room and a locked door-
I could count from one to a thousand and
Inside of this room I would remain- I could count to one million and
I would die before I even got there- so I count from one to three over and over because
Everything is seemingly easier when I am lost inside the world of my fantasies and
I realize now what is not truly real and threatening shall never harm me and
Time is passing and as I count, I am blissfully losing myself inside the world
I have made here inside of my mind for myself, alone…
This way time may pass even before the sun rises tomorrow, and then-and then?
My life perhaps shall have some meaning-

poem by Claudia Krizay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Water

Quicksand, my heart is sinking
I try to run but I can't stop thinking
I'm climbin' walls, I'm on the ceilin'
Its gonna take a miracle to heal me
I'm starin' down into the quarry
I see a stone for every sorry
I'm on the edge, I'm goin under
And after I die I'm gonna rise from the water
I wanna blast off,
let gravity dissapear
I'm tired of fallin, fallin, fallin
from the weight of fear
Come and lift me up
into the clean and clear
I'm waitin' on you Jesus in the water here
So come and wash me clean
The sky is red, there's blood on my hands
Cant deny, you're clear where I stand
The burn of sin, I hear them shoutin'
Send me a river to drown this mountain
(Repeat Chorus)
Wash me clean...
Let it wash me, let is wash me, let it wash me clean
(Repeat Chorus)
I wanna blast off,
let gravity dissapear
Come and lift me up,
into the clean and clear
Let it wash me, let it wash me, let it wash me clean

song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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