En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Birds Do Not Stopover Now

The birds do not stopover now;
The desolate tree of my yard,
Gazes at the ways since long.

There had been the days, when
My house hustled and bustled too,
All the younger and the older,
Were busy in the worldly doings,

Now the same fondness,
The same taunting,
Of the affectionate parents,
Appear a distant dream!

When my brothers,
Tempt me to the alien lands,
A shriek of helplessness,
Arises in my breast.

Ah! I fetch back wherefrom,
Those spent, depleted moments,
In which felt I the true savour of life.

Who knows when will return,
The same hustling bustle of my house,
When the morn and eve will echo,
With the melody of olden delightful songs.

poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When the Parents Refuse to Come Home

When the parents refuse to come home
The children sleep beneath the babysitter’s skirt.
She will eat you out of house and home.
When the parents refuse to come home
The children shall set the house on fire,
And the babysitter shall save the family pet
That is content to be hand fed at the breast.
This night the parents are outside the loop,
They are out for a night on the town to renew their bound without the incessant want of children who shall burn the house down for attention.
The babysitter is watching TV under the blaze of the burning house where the family pet snicks beneath the smoke colleted by the ceiling.
When the parents stay out all night the children are discontented with the babysitter who have no time for children, she rather babysat the TV.
The babysitter refuse to pay taxes on her earning, she have parked the children in their beds where they learn the art of conversation from the TV.
The parents are having fun while the children are safe in the dream shatter of the right brain telling midnight stories of the day’s doings and the babysitter has invited her boy friend over for the night and he will eat you out of house and home while in their dream the children are buring the house down.
When the parents dance the night away in the night club the children are dreaming of the violent of the babysitter who eat the last of the pot roast left over from dinner.
When the parents refuse to come home the babysitter is contemplating the meaning of death and dying in the burning house.
The babysitter will grow up to become a parent and she will hire a babysitter when she go out to dance the night away as her children burn the house down.

poem by David E. Patton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Chimney

this morning...this morning..this morning
the chimney of the desolate house in front of mine
is smoking...smoking...smoking
what a lovely sight
who may be there
on the snow
white smoke onthe white snow
the bare plum tree is
grinning...grinning..grinning
the black crow
on the hazel nut tree
crowing...crowing...crowing
as if life is newly beginning...beginning...beginning
guess..who is there...who is there
behind the yellow lignt seen at night
shining from the desolate window
someone...someone....someone
living. ..emerging from the house
ı wish all the chimneys of the lonely poor smoked
in the wilderness of the cold..cold of the snow
what a happy and a lovely sight
the desolate chimney is smoking...smoking...smoking
ı wish ı were in this old house too
with the mystery of the ancients
where they have come
ı never knew
the desolate house is reviving this morn
ı only see the shadows
growing...growing....growing..and moving

poem by Metin Sahin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Giving Tree

Once there was a tree....
and she loved a little boy.
And everyday the boy would come
and he would gather her leaves
and make them into crowns
and play king of the forest.
He would climb up her trunk
and swing from her branches
and eat apples.
And they would play hide-and-go-seek.
And when he was tired,
he would sleep in her shade.
And the boy loved the tree....
very much.
And the tree was happy.
But time went by.
And the boy grew older.
And the tree was often alone.
Then one day the boy came to the tree
and the tree said, 'Come, Boy, come and
climb up my trunk and swing from my
branches and eat apples and play in my
shade and be happy.'
'I am too big to climb and play' said
the boy.
'I want to buy things and have fun.
I want some money?'
'I'm sorry,' said the tree, 'but I
have no money.
I have only leaves and apples.
Take my apples, Boy, and sell them in
the city. Then you will have money and
you will be happy.'
And so the boy climbed up the
tree and gathered her apples
and carried them away.
And the tree was happy.
But the boy stayed away for a long time....
and the tree was sad.
And then one day the boy came back
and the tree shook with joy
and she said, 'Come, Boy, climb up my trunk
and swing from my branches and be happy.'
'I am too busy to climb trees,' said the boy.
'I want a house to keep me warm,' he said.
'I want a wife and I want children,
and so I need a house.
Can you give me a house ?'
' I have no house,' said the tree.
'The forest is my house,
but you may cut off
my branches and build a
house. Then you will be happy.'

And so the boy cut off her branches
and carried them away
to build his house.
And the tree was happy.
But the boy stayed away for a long time.
And when he came back,
the tree was so happy
she could hardly speak.
'Come, Boy,' she whispered,
'come and play.'
'I am too old and sad to play,'
said the boy.
'I want a boat that will
take me far away from here.
Can you give me a boat?'
'Cut down my trunk
and make a boat,' said the tree.
'Then you can sail away...
and be happy.'
And so the boy cut down her trunk
and made a boat and sailed away.
And the tree was happy
... but not really.

And after a long time
the boy came back again.
'I am sorry, Boy,'
said the tree,' but I have nothing
left to give you -
My apples are gone.'
'My teeth are too weak
for apples,' said the boy.
'My branches are gone,'
said the tree. ' You
cannot swing on them - '
'I am too old to swing
on branches,' said the boy.
'My trunk is gone, ' said the tree.
'You cannot climb - '
'I am too tired to climb' said the boy.
'I am sorry,' sighed the tree.
'I wish that I could give you something....
but I have nothing left.
I am just an old stump.
I am sorry....'
'I don't need very much now,' said the boy.
'just a quiet place to sit and rest.
I am very tired.'
'Well,' said the tree, straightening
herself up as much as she could,
'well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting
Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest.'
And the boy did.
And the tree was happy.

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Day Of Sunshine

It was such a lovely sunshine-day,
The house and the yard couldn't hold me;
I roved to the woods, on my back I lay,
In cradle of fancy rolled me;
But there were ants, and gnats that bite,
The horse-fly was keen, the wasp showed fight.

'Dear me, don't you want to be out in this fine
weather?' -said mother, who sat on the steps and sang.

It was such a lovely sunshine-day,
The house and the yard couldn't hold me;
A meadow I found, on my back I lay,
And sang what my spirit told me;
Then snakes came crawling, a fathom long,
To bask in the sun,-I fled with my song.

'In such blessed weather we can go barefoot,'-said mother,
as she pulled off her stockings.

It was such a lovely sunshine-day,
The house and the yard couldn't hold me;
I loosened a boat, on my back I lay,
While blithely the current bowled me;
But hot grew the sun, and peeled my nose;
Enough was enough, and to land I chose.

'Now these are just the days to make hay in,'- said mother,
as she stuck the rake in it.

It was such a lovely sunshine-day,
The house and the yard couldn't hold me;
I climbed up a tree, oh, what bliss to play,
As cooling the breeze consoled me;
But worms soon fell on my neck, by chance,
And jumping, I cried: ''T is the Devil's own dance!'

'Yes, if the cows aren't sleek and shiny to-day, they'll
never be so,'-said mother, gazing up the hillside.

It was such a lovely sunshine-day,
The house and the yard couldn't hold me;
I dashed to the waterfall's endless play,
There only could peace enfold me.
The shining sun saw me drown and die,-
If you made this ditty, 't was surely not I.

'Three more such sunshine-days, and everything will
be in,'-said mother, and went to make my bed.

poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Orchard Lands Of Long Ago

The orchard lands of Long Ago!
O drowsy winds, awake, and blow
The snowy blossoms back to me,
And all the buds that used to be!
Blow back along the grassy ways
Of truant feet, and lift the haze
Of happy summer from the trees
That trail their tresses in the seas
Of grain that float and overflow
The orchard lands of Long Ago!

Blow back the melody that slips
In lazy laughter from the lips
That marvel much if any kiss
Is sweeter than the apple's is.
Blow back the twitter of the birds--
The lisp, the titter, and the words
Of merriment that found the shine
Of summer-time a glorious wine
That drenched the leaves that loved it so,
In orchard lands of Long Ago!

O memory! alight and sing
Where rosy-bellied pippins cling,
And golden russets glint and gleam,
As, in the old Arabian dream,
The fruits of that enchanted tree
The glad Aladdin robbed for me!
And, drowsy winds, awake and fan
My blood as when it overran
A heart ripe as the apples grow
In orchard lands of Long Ago!

poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Day Of Sunshine

It was such a lovely sunshine-day,
The house and the yard couldn't hold me;
I roved to the woods, on my back I lay,
In cradle of fancy rolled me;
But there were ants, and gnats that bite,
The horse-fly was keen, the wasp showed fight.

"Dear me, don't you want to be out in this fine
weather?" --said mother, who sat on the steps and sang.

It was such a lovely sunshine-day,
The house and the yard couldn't hold me;
A meadow I found, on my back I lay,
And sang what my spirit told me;
Then snakes came crawling, a fathom long,
To bask in the sun,--I fled with my song.

"In such blessed weather we can go barefoot,"--said mother,
as she pulled off her stockings.

It was such a lovely sunshine-day,
The house and the yard couldn't hold me;
I loosened a boat, on my back I lay,
While blithely the current bowled me;
But hot grew the sun, and peeled my nose;
Enough was enough, and to land I chose.

"Now these are just the days to make hay in,"-- said mother,
as she stuck the rake in it.

It was such a lovely sunshine-day,
The house and the yard couldn't hold me;
I climbed up a tree, oh, what bliss to play,
As cooling the breeze consoled me;
But worms soon fell on my neck, by chance,
And jumping, I cried: "'T is the Devil's own dance!"

"Yes, if the cows aren't sleek and shiny to-day, they'll
never be so,"--said mother, gazing up the hillside.

It was such a lovely sunshine-day,
The house and the yard couldn't hold me;
I dashed to the waterfall's endless play,
There only could peace enfold me.
The shining sun saw me drown and die,--
If you made this ditty, 't was surely not I.

"Three more such sunshine-days, and everything will
be in,"--said mother, and went to make my bed.

poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Our House

Father wears his sunday best
Mothers tired she needs a rest
The kids are playing up downstairs
Sisters sighing in her sleep
Brothers got a date to keep
He cant hang around
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our ...
Our house it has a crowd
Theres always something happening
And its usually quite loud
Our mum shes so house-proud
Nothing ever slows her down
And a mess is not allowed
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our ...
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our ...
Something tells you that youve got to get away from it
Father gets up late for work
Mother has to iron his shirt
Then she sends the kids to school
Sees them off with a small kiss
Shes the one theyre going to miss
In lots of ways
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our ...
I remember way back then when everything was true and when
We would have such a very good time such a fine time
Such a happy time
And I remember how wed play simply waste the day away
Then wed say nothing would come between us two dreamers
Father wears his sunday best
Mothers tired she needs a rest
The kids are playing up downstairs
Sisters sighing in her sleep
Brothers got a date to keep
He cant hang around
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our ...
Our house, was our castle and our keep
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, that was where we used to sleep
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our street

song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All Around

All around the tree
As little kids they played,
All the world was fairyland;
Dreams were not delayed.

All around the country
Happiness and peace were made.

All around the world
We learned how life as lived and shared,
Growing up together,
Those who really cared.

All around the house
For further days prepared.

All around the field
They watched their children play.
Families joined together
To celebrate the family day.

All around the neighborhood,
Give a helping hand around and
Loving words to say.

All around the nation,
We sit and proudly gaze,
Older, younger and more peaceful,
Savouring these days.

All around the Universe
Settled in some ways
Settled in infinity.

All around and round
We go round and round
No beginning, or
No ending.

poem by Lawrence Hiung
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Our Tree House

As children, my dearest friend and
I began planning to build a tree
house. We searched until we
finially found the perfect tree.

Along with our brothers, we began
to gather wood, and pieces of
fragments for the roof. When all
the material was gathered, the
construction began.

We worked day after day, endlessly
until we saw the tree house coming
together. Little by little it took
shape. At last it was time for the
curtains to be hung.Our lovely dish
towels were hung from tree limbs.

Now for the furniture. Old boards
were nailed together for our chairs.
Little pieces of cloth attached for
the covers.We were getting ready to
move in. In our childish eyes, it
was so beautiful.

So many happy hours were spent there.
Every afternoon when we arrived home
from school, we met at our tree house.
We talked, laughed, whispered secrets.
Enjoyed our tea parties, and the time
spent there.

One summer afternoon, sad news arrived.
My friend was moving to another city,
far away.Leaving me and the tree house
behind. Inside I cried. Suddenly I
was alone. Now it seemed so big and
lonely.Before so small and full of
life.

As we walked away that hot summer
afternoon so long ago, holding hands.
we knew life for us would never be
the same. We made a pledge to each
other and set a date someday we would
return.

Our tree house remained, but started
looking old and battered from the
storms of life.I no longer went
there, as I also moved on to another
city. Before leaving I returned to
our childhood fantasy, saddened and
whispered goodby. Walked away with
tear filled eyes.Promising to return
someday.

The years have flown by, and today
I am returning to the place I so
loved as a child. Looking at the
house old and worn. yet so lovely
and inviting.

Climbing the broken ladder, I went
inside. Our curtains were tattered
but still remain. Side by side our
dolls were sleeping in their tiny
beds. On the table a tiny tea set.
Attached to my friends doll a note
reading.

DEAR HEATHER;

I cannot attend our tea party today,
as we planned.Someday we will meet
at the big tree house in the sky.
There we will drink our tea from
from golden goblets. I am here now,
setting the table, and preparing
the tea for our party, waiting
to welcome your arrival
Your childhood friend, with love
Mary:

poem by Heather Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Whisper

One rainy morning in the month of August,
To collect the scattered scraps of sustenance,
Went I out as birds leave the nests,
Disperse to find a chance and luck,
Left behind I alright everything,
Nothing ill I smelt at those moments,
And no doubt excessively happy I was,
For the reasons unapparent as sometimes,
Happiness springs up by own accord.

One reaching the destination someone,
Informed me a thing woeful,
“ Your Eden is crushed along with the lives ten”
With no loss of time, I hastened to return,
With flowing tears and suppressing sighs.
Prayed to God” May it be untrue.”
Ah! But bad news seldom turns good.
All the stages in the four decades,
The moments I was lulled asleep,
The soft lap where sustained I was,
And clad by the sacred hands,
Oscillating cradle made of sack,
Gentle caresses, embraces affectionate
The remote, distant time of past,
Dream like swam infront of the founts,
Where from trickles the sacred water,
That relieves pang of the aching hearts.

When alighted beside the peace-yard,
Saw briskly the diggers busy in making,
The strongest home where man rets,
After tiresome toil of sufferings.
Then faith in the confounded mind,
Was strengthened by a whisper revealing,
“ Vehemently chase the moments of plight
Short living hours of solace and delight”

poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Brick House 2003 (feat. Lionel Richie & Trina)

Chorus:
She's a brick----house
Mighty might just lettin' it all hang out
She's a brick----house
The lady's stacked and that's a fact,
ain't holding nothing back.
She's a brick----house
She's the one, the only one,
who's built like a amazon [pronounced am-a-ka-zawn]
We're together everybody knows,
and here's how the story goes.
She knows she got everything
a woman needs to get a man, yeah.
How can she lose with what she use
36-24-36, what a winning hand!
Chorus
The clothes she wears, the sexy ways,
make an old man wish for younger days
She knows she's built and knows how to please
Sure enough to knock a man to his knees
Chorus
Bridge
Shake it down, shake it down now (repeat)

song performed by by Rob Zombie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Just Drove By

I always go the other way
But my car drove me down today
To a little house on the older side of town
Back when things were never hard
I used to play there in that yard
And I just drove by to see if things had changed
Cokes were just a nickel then
And across the street at the five and ten
A lot of things were cheap and square and strange
And the life we had might have been
But it was one we loved believing in
And I just drove by to see if things had changed
I wondered now
If love is still the way it was back then
I need to know
That life is still a place worth living in
There it is, just like it was
A house where there was always love
I just drove by to see if things had changed
In a world thats seen its better days
Its good to know some things remain
The same, though standing still is not times way
Take to heart while in its spring
That love is just a fragile thing
I just drove by to see if things had changed

song performed by by Wynonna Judd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wrong House

I went into a house, and it wasn't a house,
It has big steps and a great big hall;
But it hasn't got a garden,
A garden,
A garden,
It isn't like a house at all.

I went into a house, and it wasn't a house,
It has a big garden and great high wall;
But it hasn't got a may-tree,
A may-tree,
A may-tree,
It isn't like a house at all.

I went into a house, and it wasn't a house -
Slow white petals from the may-tree fall;
But it hasn't got a blackbird,
A blackbird,
A blackbird,
It isn't like a house at all.

I went into a house, and I thought it was a house,
I could hear from the may-tree the blackbird call…
But nobody listened to it,
Nobody
Liked it,
Nobody wanted it at all.

poem by Alan Alexander Milne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'm not an artist, I'm a hustler. As a hustler I've done many things. You should really believe it when I tell you that, 'cause I'm not being sarcastic. I'm a total hustler. What that means is I've hustled to make a buck and I've hustled to change the world and I've hustled to take revenge - but it's always hustling. I've never had a career or a single goal. I've never been formally educated. To get things together, to make a living, I constantly have to hustle.

quote by Vincent Gallo
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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In my house,

In my house,
In my house there is shelter,
Love affectionate,
Most still cannot believe it,
How did that house make it?

Bringing my own house from all failing's,
It was all by your hardwork's,
You came all out in control,
My own breathe made it,
Iam breathing all freely in my house,
The shelter is not compared to any love,
That the star's wonder why.

poem by Abdul Karim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Nicest Season For One To Die

The nicest Season for one to die must surely be the Spring
When the Parklands wear their Wildflowers and song birds pipe and sing
And young birds are chirping in their nests and the sparrows all the day
Are busy under the house eaves weaving their nests of hay.

If I'm not burned to ashes then why not bury me
In that old graveyard on the hill preferably by a tree
Where in Spring birds will build their nest and sing their songs above where I lay
Though what happens to your remains when you are dead doesn't matter some do say.

We all belong to Mother Nature and to her we must return sometime
The reaper takes the young and old and those in their life's
prime
And since I too must die I hope 'twill be when flowers are in full bloom
In the prime of Spring when the air scent sweetly of Nature's own perfume.

Bury me in the Graveyard on the hill where peace is to be found
Beside a tree where birds nest and sing content in their home ground
A quiet place free of man made noise when Spring is in the air
In Nature's bosom I will rest beyond any living care.

poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The One That Opened Your Eyes

Look!
Here is the real deal.
Listen up.
Nothing...
Is going to return back to where it was.
Nothing...
Is going to be reset to a time,
When you found your life
Without direction, purpose or meaning.
You lived to feed a greed you fed!
That was it!
But 'nothing' is going to return,
For those days to be revisited!
It does not matter who wins to sit in what seat,
In what colored house!
And 'where' that house is located.

Look!
Here is the real deal.
Listen up.
Nothing...
Is going to return back to where it was.
Nothing...
Is going to be reset to a time,
When you found your life
Without direction, purpose or meaning.
You lived to feed a greed you fed!
That was it!
But 'nothing' is going to return,
For those days to be revisited!
It does not matter who wins to sit in what seat,
In what colored house!
And 'where' that house is located.

You got that?

That's called a reality check.
Forget what happened yesterday.
You are about to embark on a journey,
You will remember...
As the one that opened your eyes!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Devils Been Busy

While youre strolling down the fairway
Showing no remorse
Glowing from the poisons
Theyve sprayed on your golf course
While youre busy sinking birdies
And keeping your scorecard
The devils been busy in your back yard
Steaming down the highway
With your trucks of toxic waste
Where you gonna hide it
In the outer space?
You dont know what youre doing
Or what you have to guard
The devils been busy in your back yard
Sometimes you think youre crazy
But you know youre only mad
Sometimes youre better off not knowing
How much youve been had
You see your second cousin
Wasted in a fight
You say he had it coming
You couldnt do it right
Youre in a western movie, playing the part
The devils been busy in your back yard
Sometimes they say youre wicked
But you know that cant be bad
Sometimes youre better off not knowing
Itll only make you sad
Theyre coming down picadilly
Dripping at the dash
Wasting sticky willy
Covering him with their cash
They just might not have noticed, theyve been beating him so hard
And the devils been busy in your back yard
Devils been busy in your back yard
Devils been busy in your back yard

song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whos That Man

(toby keith)
Turn left at the old hotel
I know this boulevard much too well
It hasnt changed since I been gone
Oh, this used to be my way home
They paved the road thru the neighborhood
I guess the county finally fixed good
It was gettin rough
Someone finally complained eneogh
Fight the tears back with a smile
Stop and look for a little while
Oh its plain to see
The only thing missing is me
Thats my house & thats my car
Thats my dog in my back yard
Theres the window to the room
Where she lays her pretty head
I planted that tree out by the fence
Not long after we moved in
Thats my kids and thats my wife
Whose that man, runnin my life
If I pulled in would it cause a seen
There not really expectin me
Those kids have been thru hell
I hear they adjusted well
Turn around in the neigbors drive
Id be hard to recognise
In this pick-up truck
Its just an old fixer up
Drive away one more time
Lot of things going thru my mind
I guess the less things change
The more they never seem the same
Thats my house & thats my car
Thats my dog in my back yard
Theres the window to the room
Where she lays her pretty head
I planted that tree out by the fence
Not long after we moved in
Thats my kids and thats my wife
Whose that man, runnin my life

song performed by by Toby Keith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Willow tree by the lake

Willow tree by the lake standing tall since the day one
Home for birds and squirrels, place of fun
Breeze will come and play with her branches
Whistle at them before they move on
Any time, at mid day, at night or at the crack of dawn
Humming bird feeder and bird house hanging all over the tree
They swing back and forth and hang free
All summer it is a fun house as the birds come and go
Rabbits will hop around on the ground below.
Ducks will sit idle or sleep under her shade
Squirrels will carry food up the trunk, not afraid
During winter when nature sleeps no life around
Willow tree will shelter the birds, the squirrels
and even the worms under it's ground.
Many yrs ago I planted the tree, saw it grow day by day
Sat under it, wrote poems, it made me happy and gay
I know one day my time will be up and I will be gone
But my willow tree will still be here, singing with the wind at each dawn.

poem by Syed Karim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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