Sleep
What can I tell you about my lover, Sleep?
Each night through locked doors she enters my room
Doorman never giving warning. Shoes in hand
She treads lightly down the hall, my
Chamber door opens noiselessly and quickly
Till in seconds she is sitting on the bed.
The corner sinks where she settles.
I do not want her.
But her moves are quick
She is like a windmill in the wind
Many-handed, tall on the brow of a hill.
I do not want her
But the fringe on her glove is so thick, it
Swarms with aromas, brushes my lips,
She holds...
poem by Morgan Michaels
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Windmill at Sitka
Leaving the city, heading way to hill.
We lost the fuel, then saw a windmill.
Hilly, Filthy, Stony, it was hard way Bill.
The way was dark, there were mark, it may kill.
It was harder, more suffocating, neither chill.
It was raining by we reach there until.
We been to glasberg, nibble and even Jamaica.
I say, we saw, strange windmill right there at sitka.
Trees tall, huge waterfall, old hall and then i saw rest of all.
It's alright, i am fine, just wondering to make a call.
Wind miller, as a killer, has his own abattoir.
We were trapped, he madly laughed, then we heard a choir.
He fainted, we escaped and ran out, they sent us kite.
We were alive, we loved those tribe, who saved our life.
We been to Jerusalem, Kathmandu and also mecca.
Its was risky, thriller and neck breaking at windmill of Sitka.
I say it was enchanting and hunting at windmill.
Don't you ever please stop there with will.
Its been a danger, there were many stranger.
They look good, enthusiastic but are really scavenger.
I have been everywhere even Ascobs and Nersie.
But i promise i will be in windmill of Sitka very barely.
There was a guy who accompanied us, that was Mr. Mika.
That's it, it was all about, windmill at Sitka.
poem by Diplove gautam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
No place for a courting-candle
A girl’s voice laughing softly
cuts through the night
and enters by the room’s window
and wide awake
I (six year old child) sneak out
to find the source of the excitement.
Gardiël studies with Martin
that boards with us
and both are matriculating
because he complains
that his eyes burn
from the old paraffin lamp
that gives light
at their farm house
where there’s no electricity.
A bright electric lamp
burns in the room
hanging ten centimetres
beneath the ceiling
and big moths
fly dark brown around it
caught in flight paths.
Another table lamp
throws a bright yellow glow
that brings heat in the chilly
highveld winter.
I see them through the window
drinking coffee and eating rusks,
before both of them
again turn pages in books
and crawl into the shelter of a bush
to stay hidden from them
and suddenly somebody moves
next to me
and I see her bend
to pickup small stones
that she throws lightly
against the room’s window.
The window opens wide
and I hear them talking softly
without hearing what they say
and the girl again laughs
before she walks to the front door
that opens noiselessly.
l’Envoi
It must have been only ten minutes
before uncle Hendrik (Gardiël’s dad)
comes running along,
open the garden gate with might
almost run the front door
out of its sockets
and with a walking stick in his hand
(that is stronger than a broom)
smashes out the light in the roof,
the table lamp
and the window
in Martin’s room
and I hear lashes
with thudding sounds
fall on both boys
and the girl
screaming hysterically
while she
also get lashed
and he shouts in anger
that this is no place
for a courting-candle.
[Reference: The word uncle used here out of respect and local custom and not to point out family relationship.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Running For My Life
Running
Down the hall
The bell is ringing
I’m late for class
I’m late for life
Running
From this thing
This big, black, ugly
Swirling, shifting, changing thing
This thing that is everything
But is thin as air
Is really nothing at all
Running
From this thing
This thing I call “The Black”
That chases me
Seemingly
For all eternity
Running
From my past
Passing right by the present
Into my future
Into one of these doors
The doors that line the hall
The hall of life I’m running down
Running because I’m late
Running for my life
Running
Past these doors
One of them is the right door
The door through which I must go
Oh, how do I know
Which key on the jingling ring in my hand
Opens the door to my future?
The door to everything
I’ve ever wanted to do
Or be
The one door through which
That thing
The Black
Cannot follow me
Oh, look
Up ahead
That might be it
That door just screams my name
(But they won’t like that door –
It doesn’t fit their mold)
So what?
Who cares?
It’s my life
It’s my future
That door is me!
Now I’m
Searching
For the key.
A Womans Threat
My time, my patience, my love
My blood, my sweat, my tears
My burdens, my drama, my pain
My car, my money, my home
My ups, my downs, my fears
And my hours, my work, my strength
My fault, my this, my that
Nigga please
If you dont stop
(this is a warning)
Someones gonna lay in your bed
(this is a warning)
And someones gonna eat your food
(this is a warning)
And someones gonna wear your clothes
(this is a warning)
And someones gonna fit your shoes
(this is a warning)
And someones gonna get your keys
(this is a warning)
And someones gonna open your doors
(this is a warning)
Someones gonna get your check
(this is a warning)
This is a womans threat
Baby, this is a womans threat
My shakin, my sleep, my stress
My days, my night, my rest
My dos, my donts, my dares
And my church, my pastor, my prayers
My all, my faith, my powers
And my kitchen, my sink, my towels
My joy, my sad, my hate
And my sister, my cousin, my friends
My lights, my gas, my bills
My role, my way, my will
My hollerin, my fussin, my fights
Nigga please
If you dont stop
(this is a warning)
Someones gonna lay in your bed
(this is a warning)
And someones gonna eat your food
(this is a warning)
And someones gonna wear your clothes
(this is a warning)
And someones gonna fit your shoes
(this is a warning)
And someones gonna get your keys
(this is a warning)
And someones gonna open your doors
(this is a warning)
Someones gonna get your check
(this is a warning)
This is a womans threat
Baby
My future, my hopes, my dreams
My panties, my socks, my things
My flowers, my dress, my ring
My man, my lover, my king
My live, my chance, my fault
And my guts, my courage, my wounds
My fence, my neighbors, my yard
My chains, my lock, my guards
My win, my lose, my gain
And my credit, my card, my name
Myself, my freedom, my roof
Nigga please
If you dont stop
(this is a warning)
Someones gonna lay in your bed
(this is a warning)
And someones gonna eat your food
(this is a warning)
And someones gonna wear your clothes
(this is a warning)
And someones gonna fit your shoes
(this is a warning)
And someones gonna get your keys
(this is a warning)
And someones gonna open your doors
(this is a warning)
Someones gonna get your check
(this is a warning)
This is a womans threat
Baby, this is a womans threat
Listen
(whoa, whoa...)
Have you ever heard the story
About the three little bears
See they papa was gone
For a long, long, long, long time
When he returned
To his sweet little home
He had come to find
That all of his porridge was gone
If you dont stop
(this is a warning)
Someones gonna lay in your bed
(this is a warning)
And someones gonna eat your food
(this is a warning)
And someones gonna wear your clothes
(this is a warning)
And someones gonna fit your shoes
(this is a warning)
And someones gonna get your keys
(this is a warning)
And someones gonna open your doors
(this is a warning)
Someones gonna get your check
(this is a warning)
This is a womans threat
song performed by by R. Kelly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
All You Want
I'd like to watch you sleep at night
to hear you breathe by my side
And though sleep leaves me behind
there's nowhere I'd rather be
And now our bed is oh so cold
my hands feel empty
no one to hold
I can sleep what side I want
It's not the same with you gone
Oh if you'd come home
I'll let you know that
All you want
Is right here in this room
All you need
Is sitting here with you
All you want
It's been three years
One night apart
but in that night you tore my heart
If only you had slept alone
If those seeds had not been sown
Oh you could come home and you would know that
All you want
Is right here in this room
All you need
Is sitting here with you
All you want
I hear your key turning in the door
I won't be hearing that sound anymore
And you and your sin
can leave the way you just came in
send my regards to her
I hope you've found that
All you want
Is right there in that room
All you need
Is sitting there with you
All you want
I'd like to watch you sleep at night
to hear you breathe by my side
song performed by by Dido from No Angel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
Watching Her Sleep
He loves to watch her sleep.
Likes to hear her breathe in
And out; see her breasts rise
And fall like sleeping giants.
He likes how she exudes a
Sense of peacefulness as if
Angels touched her brow and
Breathed a deeper love somehow.
He loves how her red lips move
In silent conversation, how now
And then her tongue brushes her
Lower lip with moisture of saliva.
Should he wake her from deep sleep?
Ought he to kiss her lips and bring
Her from sleep’s warm hold? Should
He touch her limbs with lust to life?
No, no, don’t wake her from her sleep,
Too dangerous; for although he is her
Lover, she’s his busy boss’s pretty wife.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Song - The Church Hall in Drummore
She’s sitting down beside the wall
When the music starts to play
I’m walking slowly ‘cross the hall
And I'm lost for words to say
I know her name and nothing more
But there’s something in her eyes
We’re in the village of Drummore
In the Church Hall side by side
Some kind of spell falls over us
It's the nineteen seventies
We’re oh so young and lost for love
And we gently start to kiss
Her lips are soft; she holds me tight
And we’re seized by tenderness
But something took me off that night
From her sweet and tender lips
From time to time I think of you
In your village by the shore
And how the years so quickly flew
Since we kissed then touched no more
I caught your eye in Mill Street once
And we said a warm hello
It turned my thoughts to love and chance
In the church hall in drummore
(chorus)
I held you in my arms that night
A short and precious time
And you were more than you’ll ever know
So long ago dear in Drummore
Her Kiss
He steers hurriedly the hardened handlebar
The light dims out in a cozy red chamber
A door of dreams opens with a moan ajar
A want of breeze lays layer upon layer.
Her dress is colorful but simple and modest
Her jasper hair falls on her white shoulders
He enters her cave beneath the jade forest
An old book on the shelf silently moulders.
Her skin is velvety silk, delicate and smooth
Her eyes brightly glisten, the pearls of Atlantis
One cannot find such jewels in any booth,
Her breasts pomegranates, sweeter than raisins.
Forgive me, he says, for not kissing your mouth
And she smiles and agrees yet somewhat amiss
Then he moves to the door turning to the south
But before he leaves she kisses him on the lips.
poem by Paul Hartal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Secret Door
The Mystery
Nadia, gentle zephyr of remembrance, where are you now?
In my mother’s flat there were three doors, the first door,
with an old fashion copper handle, often slammed in anger.
The second door into mother’s bed room was never closed,
but covered with a dark curtain. A small flat I slept on a sofa
in the living room.
There was a third door, from her bedroom into the kitchen.
Sometimes when mother was out, I tried to open it but it was
always locked. There were nights when I wasn’t sure if awake
or not, the locked door opened as a sigh of ancient dreams.
Dawn, I heard the faint sound again, but I was too terrified to
know the truth of what I wasn’t sure of
Morning, mother got up boiled water poured it into a bowl so
I could wash my face. Breakfast, slices of yesterday’s loaf with
strawberry jam and milky coffee. I wanted to know of the sighs
in the night, but sensed it was forbidden to ask.
Time has many doors some will be forever locked, so I ask?
Nadia, gentle zephyr of remembrance, where are you now?
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In my house
You enter a room to see a park
You close a door only to be led to another stairway
Leading you to another room with nothing but windows
You close a window the rest remains open
You close the windows and another door
In that park in the room where you just entered
Opens
Then you are confused about the roof that opens
To a river to the rocks where another door opens
To a wall with trees and birds and butterflies
This is weird you say, this is really weird
Then from the garage comes a wind that blows
Its horn like a car
I have just arrived offering you an explanation
For all these mess, these uncertainties, these self-made
confusions.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hall Of Doors
You walk through the hall of doors
With life in sight with death in mind
You watch people open their doors
And you think of how the doors and fate bind
You watch waiting to see your exit
As you see others turn down their path to their end
You know that the paths can not change
You know even with time fate shall not mend
Down the hall you walk
Doors lining each side
Every person holds the key to one of those locks
All around you people stride
Doors open
As people come to their door mats
You walk by doors just hoping,
hoping the next isn't yours, isn't your mat
You watch parents and children leaving eachothers sides
You see love being torn, hate being sewn
as the doors open wide
Some people leave together, some alone
You wait to see your door, your fate
You watch to see which door your key fits
You watch to see if your heart is with love or hate
You watch untill you find the mat at which you shall sit
You walk through the hall of doors
With life in sight, death in mind
You watch as people open their doors
You wait to see which door your fate lays behind.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Doors Are Locked
From inside of this room
I shall not exit
I have locked the doors
To the world outside.
It does not matter to me what is happening outside, because
Behind these locked doors
Is the world that I live in,
This land of my dreams that
I have fabricated for myself alone.
I recall my father recently reading me a story-
Of a woman who created a world within her dreams-
There she lived and locked herself
Inside of the doors that
Barred her from all that is real.
My father's hope was that
I would find my way out from
This place he called the land of my delusions.
This place which he calls the land of my delusions has become
My only veracity.
From the inside of this room
I shall not exit-it is here I safely converse with
The voices inside of my mind.
The doors to this room are locked, but
I can still hear my mother weeping, and
I hear my mother cry out from the midst of her tears-
What has become of my only child?
Inside of this room, I have constructed a world.
The doors are locked and
I have shut reality out-
The doors to my room are locked and
I have lost the key.
My mother is still weeping as her one and only
Has lost the key that would open the doors
To the world outside-
My mother is sobbing; the key is lost and alas-
Her only child's sanity has also been lost.
poem by Claudia Krizay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
An Old Windmill
An old windmill stands on a hill;
it once stood proud
as the wind swept round its sails.
Now deserted,
tattered and torn
a shell of its former self,
a relic of a bygone day.
A home now
where wild animals play
and lovers shelter
from a midnight storm.
Forlorn it looks down
from the hill,
ragged with a broken sail
that old windmill.
12 April 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Beginning Of End
She was aweary of the hovering
Of Love's incessant tumultuous wing;
Her lover's tokens she would answer not--
'Twere well she should be strange with him somewhat:
A pretty babe, this Love,--but fie on it,
That would not suffer her lay it down a whit!
Appointed tryst defiantly she balked,
And with her lightest comrade lightly walked,
Who scared the chidden Love to hide apart,
And peep from some unnoticed corner of her heart.
She thought not of her lover, deem it not
(There yonder, in the hollow, that's HIS cot),
But she forgot not that he was forgot.
She saw him at his gate, yet stilled her tongue--
So weak she felt her, that she would feel strong,
And she must punish him for doing him wrong:
Passed, unoblivious of oblivion still;
And if she turned upon the brow o' the hill,
It was so openly, so lightly done,
You saw she thought he was not thought upon.
He through the gate went back in bitterness;
She that night woke and stirred, with no distress,
Glad of her doing,--sedulous to be glad,
Lest perhaps her foolish heart suspect that it was sad.
poem by Francis Thompson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Witch Hunt
The night is black, without a moon.
The air is thick and still.
The vigilantes gather on
The lonely torchlit hill.
Features distorted in the flickering light,
Faces are twisted and grotesque.
Silent and stern in the sweltering night,
The mob moves like demons possesed.
Quiet in conscience, calm in their right,
Confident their ways are best.
The righteous rise
With burning eyes
Of hatred and ill-will.
Madmen fed on fear and lies
To beat and burn and kill.
They say there are strangers who threaten us,
Our immigrants and infidels.
They say there is strangeness to danger us
In our theatres and bookstore shelves,
That those who know whats best for us
Must rise and save us from ourselves.
Quick to judge,
Quick to anger,
Slow to understand
Ignorance and prejudice
And fear walk hand in hand.
song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
This Woman Of The Night
she softly turns toward my heat
snuggles cose and tight
this woman of the night
her lips i kiss with soft caress
my hand strokes a nipple
with gentleness
she moves closer yet
toward my heat
this woman of the night
caresses from both sides
as we move within the night
two bodies move as one
in the stormy night
lips locked tight
hips locked tigher
hands exploring
hidden depths
this love of a
woman and me
as finally we both
break free as
souls sigh into
the night.
poem by Graham Russell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Braiding
1.
We two sit on our bed, you
between my legs, your back to me, your head
slightly bowed, that I may brush and braid
your hair. My father
did this for my mother,
just as I do for you. One hand
holds the hem of you hair, the other
works the brush. Both hands climb
as the strokes grow
longer, until I use not only my wrists,
but my arms, then my shoulders, my whole body
rocking in a rower's rhythm, a lover's
even time, as the tangles are undone,
and brush and bare hand run the thick,
fluent length of your hair, whose wintry scent
comes, a faint, human musk.
2.
Last night the room was so cold
I dreamed we were in Pittsburgh again, where winter
persisted and we fell asleep in the last seat
of the 71 Negley, dark mornings going to work.
How I wish we didn't hate those years
while we lived them.
Those were days of books,
days of silences stacked high
as the ceiling of that great, dim hall
where we studied. I remember
the thick, oak tabletops, how cool
they felt against my face
when I lay my head down and slept.
3.
How long your hair has grown.
Gradually, December.
4.
There will come a day
one of us will have to imagine this: you,
after your bath, crosslegged on the bed, sleepy, patient,
while I braid your hair.
5.
Here, what's made, these braids, unmakes
itself in time, and must be made
again, within and against
time. So I braid
your hair each day.
My fingers gather, measure hair,
hook, pull and twist hair and hair.
Deft, quick, they plait,
weave, articulate lock and lock, to make
and make these braids, which point
the direction of my going, of all our continuous going.
And though what's made does not abide,
my making is steadfast, and, besides, there is a making
of which this making-in-time is just a part,
a making which abides
beyond the hands which rise in the combing,
the hands which fall in the braiding,
trailing hair in each stage of its unbraiding.
6.
Love, how the hours accumulate. Uncountable.
The trees grow tall, some people walk away
and diminish forever.
The damp pewter days slip around without warning
and we cross over one year and one year.
poem by Li-Young Lee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Two Doors Down
Chorus:
Two doors down
Theyre laughing and drinkin, and having a party
Two doors down
Theyre not aware that Im around
Cause here I am
Crying my heart out, feelin sorry while
Theyre having a party two doors down
I think Ill dry these useless tears
And get myself together
I think Ill wonder down the hall
And have a look around
cause I cant stay inside
This lonely room and cry forever
I think I really rather join em
Two door down, yeah
Repeat chorus
cause here I am
No longer cryin an feelin sorry
Were having a party just two doors down
I cant believe Im standin here
Dry-eyed, all smiles and talkin
Making conversation with the new love I have found
I ask him if hed like to be alone and we start walkin
Down the hall to my place waitin two doors down, yeah
Repeat chorus
cause here I am
Feelin everything but sorry
Were having our own party two doors down
Oh, oh, oh, oh
Two doors down
Oh, oh, oh, oh
Two doors down
Oh, oh, oh, oh
Two doors down
Oh, oh, oh, oh
Two doors down, oh
Repeat chorus
cause here we am
Feelin everything but sorry
Were havin our own party
Two doors down, yeah
Fade:
Repeat chorus
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
A Lover's Verse
A sylph is passing my threshold stair,
Drifting her fragrance through the vine,
Promising dreams of a never-could-be
From the loss and the lapse of a former time.
She finds me adrift in a restless sleep
Alone at the reins of a phantom hearse,
She plants a kiss upon either cheek
'A gift, ' she says, 'from the universe.'
I try to wake, but she hushes me
And lays my hand on her silken thigh,
'Your words have won you a sweet respite
From the pains of the death in life, ' she sighs.
'I come to you from the Lords of Life
To offer you more than you thought enough.'
My lips are restless and seek her breasts
As she sips from my silver stirrup cup.
Her eyes are stars that the gods designed,
Her hair like straw as it brushes my cheek,
Her lips are strawberries, doused in wine
That I sip and kiss as she tries to speak.
'Why would you come to an old man's lair
To tease and taunt with your faultless skin,
An age has passed since I felt desire
But you stoke the coals of a cold come-in.'
'You tear my memory at the core
Where youth and beauty have always supped,
But life is cruel, for age's store
Holds only the empty stirrup cups.'
She strokes my cheek, she kisses my brow,
She places my hand between her thighs,
'The rose that blooms at your fingertips
Is the gift of the ages, ' she replies.
I wake at last in an empty room,
The bottle is dry, I sit and curse,
But then I smile in the gathering gloom
For the joy of the rose in a lover's verse.
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!