The Balcony
A STREET at night, a silent square
That mirth forbids;
Whose windows, with drawn lips and narrowed lids,
Resent the intruder's stare.
Where winds are cautious in their play,
Where only steals
Some meager brougham on its muffled wheels
Before the portals grey.
But suddenly a window swings,
A hand is laid
For one white moment on the balustrade,
And benediction brings.
I linger . . . but, O influence malign
I watch a snail
Crawl casually along the painted rail,
Where I had built a shrine!
poem by Muriel Stuart
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Related quotes
Dienda
How like the fall
To be gone in a day
Just as the leaves had turned gold
I was drawn to the sound
That the wind carried down
From an open window pane
And oh, how like a song
Or a sad melody
To linger long after the end
And the harmony rings
With the promise of spring
On a Brooklyn street
How like the fall to be gone in a day
Just as the trees had turned gold
I was drawn to this sound
That some fingers had found
But now the winter seems to stay too long
How like a song
Or a sad melody
To linger long after it's gone
Though the window is closed
And the questions it posed
On a Brooklyn street
How like the spring
To return in a day
When everything seems to be new
But here's someone who's hoping
The window is open
On that Brooklyn street again
And oh, how like a song
Or a sweet melody
To linger long after it's gone
Let the harmony ring
With the promise of spring
On a Brooklyn street
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Twilight in the Garden
The scent of the earth is moist and good
In the dewy shade
Of the tall, dark poplars whose slender tops
Against the sunset bloom are laid,
And a robin is whistling in the copse
By the dim spruce wood.
The west wind blowing o'er branch and flower
Out of the wold,
Steals through the honeysuckle bower
And bears away on its airy wings
Odors that breath of paradise;
Dim are the poppies' splendid dyes,
But many a pallid primrose swings
Its lamp of gold.
A white moth flits from tree to tree
Like a wandering soul;
Deep in the lily a muffled boom
Tells of a honey-drunken bee
Wildered with sweets in that ivory bowl;
Many a subtle melody,
Many a rare sound all unknown
To the lusty daylight's fuller tone
Threads with its magic this hush and gloom.
Many a dear thought deep in the heart,
Many a memory, dulcet and fine,
Wakes as we walk in the garden to-night,
In this soft kissing of dark and light,
When the world has drawn itself apart
From our spirit's shrine.
poem by Lucy Maud Montgomery
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A Cautious Crow
A cautious crow
Strolled across my car roof
Casually glancing through the windshield
I watched him from inside the car
Carelessly he started to stumble
I cracked open the window
Waved a finger or two
That crow didn't budge
He came over to my window
Cawed a mighty caw
And deposited a tiny white flower into my hand
I looked in confussion
Then went to ask the bird what this was
But all in one second
He picked himself up and
Caustiously flew away
poem by Cheyenne Ashley
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A moment in eternity
Outside the streets are filled with light,
doors are closed and locked
when the nightly silence is lingering,
while some people look out through dark windows
we walk with your hand fitting into mine,
silver-white stars are all across the night sky
and we talk about places where we have been,
the old oak tree throws a huge dark spot.
Your lips are suddenly hot, sweet and soft
when my heart beats delightful in my throat,
a dove calls to its mate in the dark night
when in that moment time stops suddenly,
your eyes say that you also love me
and I look into their bright depths.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Wheels
Since I am sick of Wheels
That jar my day,
Unto the hush that heals
I steal away.
Unto the core of Peace
Nature reveals,
I go to win release
From Wheels.
Let me beneath the moon
Take desert trail;
Or on some lost lagoon
Serenely sail;
Win to some peak the grey
Storm cloud conceals . . .
Life, let me get away
From Wheels!
Why was I born so late?
A skin-clad man
I should have shared the fate
Of mountain clan;
My quiet flock beside,
When silence steals,
Unshocked in eventide
By Wheels.
The Wheel is King today,
And speed's a god;
Yet when I see the way
My feet have trod,
Like pilgrims who to shrine
Of Beauty kneels,
I pray: O Peace divine
Damn Wheels!
poem by Robert William Service
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A Day Like Any Other
Such insignificance: a glance
at your record on the doctor's desk
or a letter not meant for you.
How could you have known? It's not true
that your life passes before you
in rapid motion, but your watch
suddenly ticks like an amplified heart,
the hands freezing against a white
that is a judgment. Otherwise nothing.
The face in the mirror is still yours.
Two men pass on the sidewalk
and do not stare at your window.
Your room is silent, the plants
locked inside their mysterious lives
as always. The queen-of-the-night
refuses to bloom, does not accept
your definition. It makes no sense,
your scanning the street for a traffic snarl,
a new crack in the pavement,
a flag at half-mast -- signs
of some disturbance in the world
because your friend, the morning sun,
has turned its dark side toward you.
poem by Lisel Mueller
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The Last Supper
Marie Vaux of the Painted Lips,
And the mouth so mocking gay,
A wanton you to the finger-tips,
Who break men's hearts in play;
A thing of dust I have striven for,
Honour and manhood given for,
Headlong to ruin driven for,
And this is the last, you say. . . .
Drinking your wine with dainty sips,
Marie Vaux of the Painted Lips.
Marie Vaux of the Painted Lips,
ong have you held your sway;
I have laughed at your merry quips -
Now is my time to pay.
What we sow we must reap again;
When we laugh we must weep again;
So to-night we will sleep again,
Nor wake until Judgement Day. . . .
'Tis a poisoned wine that your palate lips,
Marie Vaux of the Painted Lips.
Marie Vaux of the Painted Lips,
Down on your knees and pray;
Pray your last ere the moment slips,
Pray ere the dark and the terror grips,
And the bright world fades away.
Pray for the peace and the rest of us:
Here comes the Shape in quest of us,
Now we must go away. . . .
You and I in the grave's eclipse,
Marie Vaux of the painted Lips.
poem by Robert William Service
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Ancestors
Behold these jewelled, merchant Ancestors,
Foregathered in some chancellery of death;
Calm, provident, discreet, they stroke their beards
And move their faces slowly in the gloom,
And barter monstrous wealth with speech subdued,
Lustreless eyes and acquiescent lids.
And oft in pauses of their conference,
They listen to the measured breath of night’s
Hushed sweep of wind aloft the swaying trees
In dimly gesturing gardens; then a voice
Climbs with clear mortal song half-sad for heaven.
A silent-footed message flits and brings
The ghostly Sultan from his glimmering halls;
A shadow at the window, turbaned, vast,
He leans; and, pondering the sweet influence
That steals around him in remembered flowers,
Hears the frail music wind along the slopes,
Put forth, and fade across the whispering sea.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
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6th Avenue Heartache
Sirens ring, the shots ring out
A stranger cries, screams out loud
I had my world strapped against my back
I held my hands, never knew how to act
Chorus:
And the same black line that was drawn on you
Was drawn on me
And now its drawn me in
6th avenue heartache
Below me was a homeless man
Im singin songs I knew complete
On the steps alone, his guitar in hand
Its fifty years, stood where he stands
Now walkin home on those streets
The river winds move my feet
Subway steam, like silhouettes in dreams
They stood by me, just like moonbeams
Look out the window, down upon that street
And gone like a midnight was that man
But I see his six strings laid against that wall
And all his things, they all look so small
I got my fingers crossed on a shooting star
Just like me-just moved on
song performed by by Wallflowers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Street Mission
I dont know
Man, I just got here
You got me thinking
Im about to leave
Some say maybe tomorrow
New direction, hello
What I know know know
What I know know know
I walk tall
I walk in the wild wind
I love to stare
I love to watch myself grow
Someday, maybe tomorrow
New direction, hello
Well I know know know
Well I know know know
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
And Im promising nothing
Im just living a smile
I casually arrange it
I know...well I know know know
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
I walk tall
I walk in the wild wind
I live an image
Of plastic and gold
Some say maybe tomorrow
A resurrection, hello
Well I know know know
Well I know know know
Well I know know know
Well I know know know
Oh...
Oh...
Oh...i need something
I need someone
I need you
Oh...Ive got something
Ive got someone
Ive got you
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
Good night
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Street Missions
I don't know
Man, I just got here
You got me thinking
I'm about to leave
Some say maybe tomorrow
New direction, hello
What I know know know
What I know know know
I walk tall
I walk in the wild wind
I love to stare
I love to watch myself grow
Someday, maybe tomorrow
New direction, hello
Well I know know know
Well I know know know
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
And I'm promising nothing
I'm just living a smile
I casually arrange it
I know...well I know know know
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
I walk tall
I walk in the wild wind
I live an image
Of plastic and gold
Some say maybe tomorrow
A resurrection, hello
Well I know know know
Well I know know know
Well I know know know
Well I know know know
Oh...
Oh...
Oh...I need something
I need someone
I need you
Oh...I've got something
I've got someone
I've got you
Street mission
Street mission
Street mission
Good night
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In A Cold Wind
In a cold wind
in a night wind,
under a yellow street-light,
its paleness and the dark night.
Leaves blown past,
down the wind, cast
onto the silent roadway,
or in heaps, on the footway.
The houses that rise
into grey skies,
windows with drawn curtains,
facing onto pale gardens.
Slow in the sky,
the clouds moving by;
on the ground, the shadows blurred,
the whistling wind heard.
And the wind that blows
comes not, nor goes.
In this night, its sound
wraps all around.
Not here alone,
its long low drone,
along endless fences and hedges,
insidiously edges.
Now is the hour,
now is the closing of the flower,
an end to approaching and retreating,
to losing and defeating,
in a cold wind,
in a night wind,
on a corner of a cold street,
where all directions meet.
poem by Rory Hudson
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Walk Casually Into The Sun
As I walk along my chosen path I know there is work to be done.
As I walk casually into the sun
As I stare at the marquis that bares my name I wonder how long will my show run
As I walk casually into the sun
As I ponder each step and charted course to my next action I ponder, have I yet begun?
As I walk casually into the sun
As the road gets rocky does this mean a rocky road or just loose pebbles undone
As I walk casually into the sun
As I look down at my feet and then at the sky, I think where am I what have I become
As I walk casually into the sun
As a boy I was a wimpy kid knowing it did not feel right, myself, I would not shun
As I walk casually into the sun
As greatness goes, it is not always great, . Greatness always is, I am the one
As I walk casually into the sun
As a man the plan was always this, to be great you must do what you love
As I walk casually into the sun
As I am in the now I know this, be great for those you love only then will you rise above.
As I walk casually into the sun
poem by Vincent Tinto
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This Desirable Mansion
THE long white windows blankly stare
Across the sodden, tangled grass,
Weed-covered are the pathways where
No footsteps ever pass;
No whispers wake, no kisses die,
No laughter thrills the dwindling flowers,
Only the night hears sigh on sigh
From ghosts of long-dead hours.
None come here now to laugh or weep;
The spider spins on stair and hall,
And round the windows shadows creep,
And loathly creatures crawl.
Cold is the hearth; the door is fast;
No guest the silent threshold sees
Save ghosts out of the happy past,--
And one who is as these.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Silent Vigil
White tigers are conspicuous,
They stand out from the crowd!
So not to be ridiculous,
They're silent and not loud...
That's why they stare and sit and stare
Or lay and stare awhile...
So other beasties aren't aware
Of such a high profile...
White tigers can get bleary-eyed
If they lounge there too long
And yet take such things in their stride,
Although they know it's wrong...
To compensate, they walk about,
To stretch their legs and such,
Then they lie down, with paws stretched out,
But then, they don't do much...
White tigers have been known to roar,
Then watch the others run!
White tigers snigger, laugh, guffaw,
When things like that are done!
Their silent vigils that were here
Soon disappear, God knows...
It makes their day to instil fear,
The naughty so-and-sos!
poem by Denis Martindale
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Street Fighting Years
Chased you out of this world, didnt mean to stop
I turned around and suddenly you where gone
Like some bird from paradise, the fire and ice
We turned around and suddenly you where gone, gone, gone
And now summer burns a hole inside and years are golden once again
My thoughts return to you my dear young friend
Oh come this way
Will you look down this way
I go down on the street
Where the wild winds blowing
Here comes a hurricane
I say come down this way
Will you look down this way
I need you tonight
I need you around me
Im looking through the windows
And my mind goes in a whirl
Well theres a multitude of candles
Burning in the windows of this world
Im looking at the colours
Checking out the straights
Im counting out the numbers
Will tomorrow never change?
Still I hear you and I love you
And Ill follow you elsewhere
And Ill remember this occasion
Ill remember being aware
cause weve got panic in the evening
Weve got fall-out in the streets
And I hear you and I follow you
And Ill call out and Ill say
That I can hear your sister call out
And I hear her call your name
Theyre calling sweet surrender
And things wont be the same
And dont you think that I dont care
And dont you think that I dont know
And dont you hear them calling out
In a place not far from here
And I hear big wheels are turning
Some things are not to fear
They say this is the time and place
They call street fighting years
And I hear great wheels are turning
And I tell you not to fear
They say this is the time and place
They call street fighting years
And I love you, I look for you
And I walk to you, I walk to you
And I hear big wheels are turning
Is there no way out of here?
Theyll be calling out tomorrow.
Words and music : simple minds reproduced without permission
song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nightly visitor
While I dreamed last night
I suddenly awaked
and through the window in the moon
saw a grey horse snort at the fountain
and fire glowed in that animal’s eyes.
A woman that’s really beautiful
and white, rigid and merciless
glided out of the saddle
and around me every thing was deadly silent
and the look in her dark eyes
cut right through me
without any life.
I still wanted to ask her
how she got to stand so suddenly
next to me, but she already walked
right through the walls and were gone.
l’Envoi
Next door where the wasted away woman
that had AIDS lived
I heard half chocked
a last rattling cough,
before horse hoofs
hit sparks out of the tar road
and the white women
rode away in haste.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The eternal child
(after C.M. van den Heever)
His grey-headed mom pushes the wheelchair in the street,
with his big water-head that bounces to and fro,
an incoherent smile is on his face
but then suddenly he stares in front of him,
when his soft hand reaches out,
confusion and spit comes over his lips,
people are almost fleeing, are avoiding him,
while others stare astounded at him
and all of life is passing him.
[Reference: "Die ewige kind" (The eternal child) by C.M. van den Heever.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Windows
Through the windows you see so much.
Revealing love with the lightest touch.
Through them you see so much truth daren't be spoke.
I sit and look through the windows.
Seeing through all the innuendos.
Reveling in the sweet cresendo.
As I stare through the windows.
The boughs break, and in my heart I celebrate.
As I realize it will not break.
For hours through those windows I could stare.
Worlds a plenty are there to share.
In awe and splendor I now stare.
Through those windows a bright sun glares.
How much longer do I dare,
to stare through these windows that show me things so fair?
poem by Michael McParland
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Ballet For A Rainy Day
Orange and lemon
Raincoats roll and tumble
Together, just liked fruit tipped from a tray
Pineapple wet heads
Watch new hairdos crumble
As scenery sunlight shifts away
Ballet for a rainy day
Silent film of melting miracle play
Apples and cherries
Are varnished in water
Despite, striped awnings bright dismay
I push my paintbrush
To conjure a new world
While this one is slowly washed away
Ballet for a rainy day
Silent film of melting miracle play
Dancing out there through my window
To the backdrop of a slow descending grey
When it rains it rains
All the colors in my paintbox
When it rains it rains
Tickets for the front row seats
Up on the rooftops
Orange and lemon
Raincoats roll and tumble
Apples and cherries
Together, dropped in diamond disarray
Ballet for a rainy day
Silent film of melting miracle play
Dancing out there through my window
Behind the curtain silver falling
Ballet for a rainy day
Silent film of melting miracle play
Dancing out there through my window
To the backdrop of a slow descending grey
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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