It's an insight
didn't you know
it's not glass that draws the window
and it's not the frame
neither the closing nor the opening
it's an insight
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Related quotes
The Case Of The Window Pain
an astute answer
discerning shrewd
would surely mention
this wit must be
personification
of a window pane
as for the window pain
perhaps the window is shamed
perhaps the window is dirty
as for the window pain
perhaps the glass is cracked
small large cracks streaked
as for the window pain
perhaps cricket ball punctured
victim of circle game holed
as for the window pain
perhaps the window is broken
glass shards bear crime witness
as for the window pain
perhaps window frame rots
an old window in house derelict
as for the window pain
perhaps the window witnesses
child abuse domestic scenes violent
poem by Terence George Craddock
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That Unhappy Woman
that is the window
a woman is unhappy and she is always
closing and opening
that window and people keep on looking
figuring out why that window
is unhappy
and they are all happy about the
proclaimed unhappiness of the other
that woman that window
not this woman not this window
not my woman not my window
always looking out somewhere
except this writer
this piece
this one not this one
that one over there not me but her
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The closing of a door can bring blessed privacy and comfort - the opening, terror. Conversely, the closing of a door can be a sad and final thing - the opening a wonderfully joyous moment.
quote by Andy Rooney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Hurt Ego....
some windows really are kept open
even at midnight
the moon in its fullness has always been
that welcome visitor
that sense of mystery long gone
opening a window has always been considered
a healthy option
and people who pass the street look at you
standing by the window
in openness
you trust that openness being arms that know the value of embrace
can be redeeming
in fact some children who play in the yard
have a way of looking at you as their idol
they clap their hands and dance for you
it happens almost all days of the year
the open window appears like a warm smile on the face of sorrow
not everyone likes it though
there is a crazy old man and he picks a stone and throws it against
your glass window
your window cracks and your smile become a word
with double meaning
what damage must have the old man caused?
you should know, you have too
wisdom still lies with the old
their discipline is still in the stone
that leave a scar
on the shattered glass
the ego, this self.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Window
I was staring out the window
The whole time he was talking to me
It was a filthy pane of glass
I couldn't get a clear view
As he went on and on
It wasn't the outside world I could see
Just the filthy pane that I was looking through
So I had to break the window
It just had to be
Better that I break the window
Than him or her or me
I was never focused on just one thing
My eyes got fixed when my mind got soft
It may looked like I'm concentrated on a very clear view
But I'm as good as asleep
I bet you didn't know
It takes a lot of it away if you do
So I had to break the window
It just had to be
Better that I break the window
Than him or her or me
So I had to break the window
It just had to be
Better that I break the window
Than him or her or me
Because the fact in fact
Whatevers in front of me is covering my view
So I can't see what I'm seeing in fact
I only see what I'm looking through
I had to break the window
It just had to be it was in my way
Better that I break the window
Then forget what I had to say
So again I've done the right thing
I was never worried about that
The answer's always been in clear view
But even when the window's clean
I still can't see for the fact
That when it's clean it's so clear
I cant tell what I'm looking through
So I had to break the window
It just had to be
Better that I break the window
Than him or her or me
I had to break the window
It just had to be it was in my way
Better that I break the window
Then forget what I had to say
I had to break the window
It was in my way
Better that I break a window
Then forget what I had to say
Or miss what I should see
Or breaking him or her or me
song performed by by Fiona Apple
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Window
She looks out in the blue morning
and sees a whole wonderful world
she looks out in the morning
and sees a whole world
she leans out of the window
and this is what she sees
a wet rose singing to the sun
with a chorus of red bees
she leans out of the window
and laughs for the window is high
she is in it like a bird on a perch
and they scoop the blue sky
she and the window scooping
the morning as if it were air
scooping a green wave of leaves
above a stone stair
and an urn hung with leaden garlands
and girls holding hands in a ring
and raindrops on an iron railing
shining like a harp string
an old man draws with his ferrule
in wet sand a map of Spain
the marble soldier on his pedestal
draws a stiff diagram of pain
but the walls around her tremble
with the speed of the earth the floor
curves to the terrestrial center
and behind her the door
opens darkly down to the beginning
far down to the first simple cry
and the animal waking in water
and the opening of the eye
she looks out in the blue morning
and sees a whole wonderful world
she looks out in the morning
and sees a whole world.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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As if a magical barrier had been drawn
When I was a teenager
my younger brother
used to wait
until I was in the bathroom
to say cheeky things to me
and to look for trouble
from the outside
beyond the frosted glass.
I’ll beat you up
I used to declare
and he would laugh
and say something more
as if a magical barrier
had been drawn
between the two of us
and it went on
till one day
that I saw his outline
against the glass.
He said what he thought
and I didn’t let him pass
and pieces of frosted glass
shattered and
flew away
while I knocked him
through the window
against the head
and that was the last of it
poem by Gert Strydom
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Some Changes That We Need
we need to fill the cracks on the walls
some trickles of light may hurt
on the roof the rain as always will be bad
for the floor
some leaks must be sealed
the stones on the pavement choked
by the grass that has been crawling
for all the years
i have to pick up so my foot may not
be hurt
and then some goodbyes maybe said
even without the hellos yet
we settle, that is a good word,
we move on, i think that is much better
i am closing a door and so i am opening
a window like what you are doing
i am taking sleep only to be taken by a dream
i am flying only to stop for a while
tomorrow is a new day, as always, i am not closing
my eyes for another view of the sea
there will be new seagulls coming but i have
stopped counting each of them since then
as always they shall feast on my schools of fish
and i do not really mind at all.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Just When I Need You The Most (feat. Alison Krauss)
(Randy VanWarmer)
You packed in the morning
I stared out the window
And I struggled for something to say
You left in the rain without closing the door
I didn't stand in your way
Now I miss you more
Than I missed you before
And now where I'll find comfort, God knows
'Cause you left me
Just when I needed you most
Yes, you left me
Just when I needed you most
Now most every morning
I stare out the window
I think about where you might be
I've written you letters that I'd like to send
If you would just send one to me
'Cause I need you more
Than I needed before
And now where I'll find comfort, God knows
'Cause you left me
Just when I needed you most
Yes, you left me
Just when I needed you most
You packed in the morning
I stared out the window
And I struggled for something to say
You left in the rain without closing the door
I didn't stand in your way
Now I love you more
Than I loved you before
And now where I'll find comfort, God knows
'Cause you left me
Just when I needed you most
You left me
Just when I needed you most
Oh, you left me
Just when I needed you most
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Outside Your Window
Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I feel the seconds slowly pass,
Whilst you I anxiously await.
And behind the glowing glass;
I glimpsed a fading candlelight.
And I with hope was filled and so:
Wished I for love and life this night.
Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I see through the looking glass,
To find my missing soulmate.
And when the light finally flew;
When darkness swamped the room:
A wide smile on my face drew;
And waited I for you to bloom.
Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I feel my feelings all amass,
As I your beauty contemplate.
Seconds felt forever;
Nor beauty I did see.
All alone my eyes did glitter;
Whilst wondering where you would be!
Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I walked on in your impasse;
Wishing it's not yet too late.
Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I lonesome stood for long alas!
And didn't notice your window grate.
Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I tried to drag out of that morass,
Myself; and my lost senses locate.
Outside Her Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I watched my heart swiftly by a lass,
Gets stolen; and did my soul sedate.
Outside Her Window;
I still pass by everyday.
Outside Her Window;
I can't just turn and walk away.
Outside Her Window;
I still have hope that she might show.
Outside Her Window;
I watch my life pass by so slow.
Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I once awaited you alone all night.
But now I know: it's just too late!
poem by Danny The Dreamer Boyd
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Frame Shattered Glass
window frame shattered glass
reflects no light dust disembowels
nail polish veneer shade layers
poem by Terence George Craddock
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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
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A Radio With Guts
it was on the 2nd floor on Coronado Street
I used to get drunk
and throw the radio through the window
while it was playing, and, of course,
it would break the glass in the window
and the radio would sit there on the roof
still playing
and I'd tell my woman,
"Ah, what a marvelous radio!"
the next morning I'd take the window
off the hinges
and carry it down the street
to the glass man
who would put in another pane.
I kept throwing that radio through the window
each time I got drunk
and it would sit there on the roof
still playing-
a magic radio
a radio with guts,
and each morning I'd take the window
back to the glass man.
I don't remember how it ended exactly
though I do remember
we finally moved out.
there was a woman downstairs who worked in
the garden in her bathing suit,
she really dug with that trowel
and she put her behind up in the air
and I used to sit in the window
and watch the sun shine all over that thing
while the music played.
poem by Charles Bukowski
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Buddhist Lesson # 2
enlightment,
the act of opening,
like a rosebud,
like a mother,
opening the door...
like a child
opening a present,
like a woman
opening to a man....
opening...
all the hidden chambers,
every door to every
secret kingdom of the soul.....
opening the box that holds
your secret thoughts, desires....
opening...
the door of the cage,
letting the winged breath fly....
opening....
your heart to itself,
and to all hearts beating....
opening....
the vault of conceptions,
the entrance to the tomb
of past lives and memories....
opening...
your hands to the world
as if it were your neighbor,
and you, it's home!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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A Glass Of Water Please
and so the story wants to end itself with a
glass of water.
those who cry after always need
a glass of water.
those whose hearts are broken
those who sob
those who close the window of the niche
those who have nightmares
those who wake up at 3 o'clock in the morning
those who sit on bed and cannot sleep back
always go to the kitchen
open the refrigerator
get a glass and splash
a cold glass of water
this time, i am asking for a glass of water
for i could be
all of the above or you could be one of those
i have described
but who knows we are not one of those
who knows
we are but just anyone who is normally thirsty
and with nothing to ask
simply ask
for a glass of cold water.
and cheerfully, we do not forget to say
please....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Breath Upon The Looking Glass
My breath expressed
Upon the looking glass
A living veil
Composed of gas
Eyes kept without
Breath held within
A visual shout
A ghastly grin
That fades away
As does the breath
As sure and certain
As life and death
The looking glass
Now free of mist
Lays bare my soul
And doing so insists
That I observe
The exposed nerve
That in said glass
Persists
I hastily breath anew
On said looking glass
To renew said veil
of living gas
Then Hie away
Before it fades
And draws me fast (and forever)
Into the looking glass
poem by David Whalen
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Half Empty/Half Full
This coulda been one of those days
I didn't feel like writing
A day when drugs embraced me
And washed my thoughts away
This coulda been a day I didn't feel like fighting
When the minutes turn to hours till the end of the day
But, there will come a day when even drugs won't be enough
To forget mistakes and problems all surrounding us
Pretty soon this little world is gonna tear itself apart
I can feel it in my soul
I can feel it in my heart
I crack a beer, and out the window I stare
My glass half empty; my glass half full
Thinkin' about the rich, the poor, and all our affairs
I'm a fuckin' genius; I'm a fuckin' fool
The writers write, the singers sing
The poor stay poor; the rich hoard things
The thirsty and the hungry die
People don't care, so nobody asks, 'Why? '
The smoke from burnt books clouds the sky
Men beat their wives; Religion or cultures justify
While asses rot in front of TV screens
The masses scream - the poets still dream
I crack a beer, and out the window I stare
My glass half empty; my glass half full
Thinkin' about the rich, the poor, and all our affairs
I'm a fuckin' genius; I'm a fuckin' fool.
- Aug.2009 -
poem by Ray Quesada
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At the Window
The pine-trees bend to listen to the autumn wind as it mutters
Something which sets the black poplars ashake with hysterical laughter;
While slowly the house of day is closing its eastern shutters.
Further down the valley the clustered tombstones recede,
Winding about their dimness the mist’s grey cerements, after
The street lamps in the darkness have suddenly started to bleed.
The leaves fly over the window and utter a word as they pass
To the face that leans from the darkness, intent, with two dark-filled eyes
That watch for ever earnestly from behind the window glass.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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The House of Secret
Close the door, the window speaks
The glass mirrors, the frame shrieks
Close the window, the wall listens
The picture has eyes, the curtain has shadow
Close the wall, the roof stares
The air chills, the light fogs
Close the roof, the floor swallows
The carpet has void, the stair has trap
Close the floor, the door sneaks
In the house of secret, could you find the escape?
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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X-Ray Mirror
Tunnel seems so long
Touching the bottom
A slim reflexion
Punctured my vision
I didn't notice
Beside the last door
Standing on nothing
There was a mirror
Even inside...scrutinized
I am, he is, the face I hate
Refracting cells and prismed self
Who's x who's y in a blank place
I can't believe this is my image
Like the mirror without a frame
Baring a scarred side
Open in daylight
Recoil and reply
Farside of my pride
The introspection
Ruptures the blood core
Magnification
Draws out the mirror
Seeking me out
What will he find?
I am, he is, a repugnant state
I can't shake this curiosity
My privacy starts to fade
I can't believe this is my image
Like the mirror
A polar exchange
He gloating over my fleeting image
He used to be me
He knows who is free
How long will I wait...here
Stuck in this void place...here
I can't believe I am the immage
Within the mirror
Into the chrome lake
The glass is broken
But I look the same
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
song performed by by Voivod
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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