Why did she cry quietly?
Please let her cry; The poor blind spinster.
Still she hears like in a nightmare how the horrible war planes scraped the helpless sky and who wipes her faithful tears?
Postscript
* I saw stray pigeons search for grains in this lonely morning and I found a bunch of keys on the roadside, If I could open this mysterious door and take the Alladin's wonderful lamp out?
(04 th of July'08 @ 0630 hrs.)
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Related quotes
Someone
Someone's heart-door shuts
And the song of life never comes out.
Someone mutters
But it's voiceless
And in the feverish air
That never travels to her
Unless a great force.
Oh! It's a gloomy Sunday
The unusual bench in the park
Waits for a stranger to chat.
But the park gate was closed
As the gate-keeper lost his bunch of keys
After a nightcap.
A handsome beggar found the keys in an early morning
At the tavern door step
And he thinks he could enter the Kingdom of Heaven.
* All the time I feel that someone knocks at my door,
And I peep out but nobody's there.
I have heard that the death has a habit of knocking at doors?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Door (popular poetry)
I am very unfortunate old and poor
But rich and young
Will come to play
Any time
to your ground
Just keep open wide your wonderful door
I am a man with some delightful light
From the magical moon
At night
will come as a dream
just keep your wonderful door open and wide
I am a river with strong current and high tide
Will come
To your beach
any time
just keep your wonderful door open and wide
poem by Abdul Wahab
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After the War
A songbird on a decayed pole
shivering and woebegone.
nothing remained
everything has turned to dust
except a pauper's inn.
In the darkness
he was searching out of the debris
Alladin's wonderful lamp.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Eggheads, Egotism & the heat of Election
The innocent folks' tin roof shatter of their sweeten speeches.
They show you the deeds while holding the Aladdin's wonderful lamp
And they request you to supply fuel and light up the mysterious lamp.
But the poor citizen are very familiar with their usual limbo.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Modern Day Agnostic
he hears the church bell
ring
early this morning
he hears the footsteps
passing
by his door
going
on a worship
towards
the holy door
he keeps himself
mum
unmoved by any
invitation
he is thinking
will the door still open for him?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Burning Of The Midnight Lamp
Burning of the midnight lamp
The morning is dead
And the day is too
There's nothing left here to greet me
But the velevet moon
All my loneliness
I have felt today
It's a little more than enough
To make a man throw himself away
And i continue
To burn the midnight lamp
Alone
Now the smiling portrait of you
Is stll hangin' on my frowning wall
It really doesn't really doesn't bother me too much at all
It's just the, uh, ever falling dust
That makes it so hard for me to see
That forgotten ear-ring laying on the floor
Facing coldly toward the door
And i continue
To burn the midnight lamp
All alone
Burn
Lonely lonely, yeah
Lonely lonely lonely
Loneliness is such a, drag
So here i sit to face
That same old fire place
Gettin' ready for the sam old explosion
Goin' through my mind
And soon enough time will tell
About the circus and the wishingwell
And someone who will buy and sell for me
Someone who will toll my bell
And i continue to burn the midnight lamp
Alone
Darlin' do you here me callin' you
So lonely
Lonely!
song performed by by Jimi Hendrix
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No Child
I HEARD in the night the pigeons
Stirring within their nest:
The wild pigeons' stir was tender,
Like a child's hand at the breast.
I cried 'O stir no more!
(My breast was touched with tears).
O pigeons, make no stir
A childless woman hears.'
poem by Padraic Colum
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Jailbird
I stole a bunch of keys from a locksmith's store
And I want to free my comrade from his life imprisonment.
I tried several times; but failed to open the padlock.
Then I realized this lock cannot be opened from outside.
He himself has to open it from inside.
At last I threw the keys into the Jail.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Faithful
Plaque on the wall says that no ones slept here
Its rare to come upon a bridge that has not been around
Or been stepped on
Whatever the notions, we laced in our prayers
The man upstairs is used to all of this noise
Im through with screaming
And echoes nobody hears, it goes, it goes, it goes
Like echoes nobody hears, it goes, it goes, it goes
Were faithful, we all believe, we all believe it {4x}
And echoes nobody hears, it goes, it goes, it goes {2x}
Were faithful, we all believe, we all believe it {3x}
So faithful, we all believe, we all believe it
M.y.t.h. is
Belief in the game controls that keeps us in a box of fear
We never listen
Voice inside so drowned out
Drowned you are, you are, you are a furry thing
And everything is you
Me you, you me, its all related
Whats a boy to do?
Just be darling and I will be too
Faithful to you
song performed by by Pearl Jam
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Spinster's Cat
The spinster she was worried
Her cat had gone astray
As through the fields she hurried
In the pleasant month of May.
The name she called the cat was Jack
His eyes were large and brown
He wore a coat of sheeny black
As soft as eiderdown.
She called aloud the name of Jack
And waited for an answer
But the only thing that answered back
Was her neighbour's dog romancer.
She finally found the cat dead on the roadside
Two miles west of the town
Her grief the lady could not hide,
Her face sad tears flowed down.
She looked almost in disbelief
At her cat with mangled head
Till her shock gave way to a revengeful type grief
And here is what she said
Oh blast the driver of that car
May he die a painful death,
He's inflicted in my heart a sorrow scar
By killing my feline pet.
The spinster took away her cat
To bury him near her house
He never more would kill a rat
Nor eat another mouse.
poem by Francis Duggan
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I have seen a Hand
plenty of money can be done, hundred of
days can't see the sun, morning is the night
nothing is empty, only the eyes that open
with out seeing the day of yesterday
what makes then a man and proud to say
when anything goes heavy, leaving no
regret with the heart loaded with fancy, and
seems it look my face is happy
wonderful you come to my need, I am almost
blind to myself, wishing all the star to bring
me out, a little hand in my shoulder and letting
me to hold in my head you fold
your hand brings me up, where i'm almost
falling down into the ground, no one care and
everybody is blind to find my teary eyes, as I
grief to my grave the end time of my mind
open my eyes, and feel a little touch so gently
washing my tears, turning the wheel to face the
real victory where I was once so blind and now I
found the key to the smiling tears I offer to the
one once I forget to be with me
make tomorrow the day to hold of what was
yesterday and load to fit the future that comes in
my living arms, where I lay down my memories
of life
I have this day, a moment to nemesis the past,
leaving what is not it fulfills, yet! forwarding what
is something to hope the little hand I wish to
lay, where I'll take my rest
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I can't find my car keys in the morning. Trying to get out of my house is a nightmare. ""Where's my wallet? Where are my keys? I have to go find a missing person.""
quote by Anthony LaPaglia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Bird In The Golden Cage
as i watch the bluebird
inside its golden cage i am somehow
carried by mysterious
pity
you hear it sing a very sad song
you hear it making a plea that you open the lock of its door
so it can fly away
touched i opened it so it may use its wings
but then this is the sadder part
it has come back
asking for grains inside my hands
now it is making another plea
to open the door of the cage so she can sleep back
soundly than it used to
before
ahh, look what habits are formed
by the prisons of our lives
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gone Is the Whoopie Goosed From You
Have you found the turnaround
Has come to beat you down,
'Yeah! '
With your knuckles scraped.
'Yeah.'
And nothing on your plate,
'Yeah.'
Have you found the turnaround
Has come to beat you down,
'Yeah! '
With your knuckles scraped.
'Yeah.'
And nothing on your plate,
'Yeah.'
Gone is the whoopie goosed from you!
Tingled were sensations,
A few dollars had amused.
Now you're quite upset.
Regrets are now your pets.
Have you found the turnaround
Has come to beat you down.
'Yeah! '
With your knuckles scraped.
'Yeah.'
And nothing on your plate,
'Yeah.'
Have you found the turnaround
Has come to beat you down.
'Yeah! '
With your knuckles scraped.
'Yeah.'
And nothing on your plate,
'Yeah.'
Gone is the whoopie goosed from you!
Ooo...
And there's no debate,
Which side to lick your plate!
Morning and noon too,
You feel you've been screwed.
And nobody's there...
To give a damn or care!
Have you found the turnaround
Has come to beat you down.
'Yeah! '
With your knuckles scraped.
'Yeah.'
And nothing on your plate,
'Yeah.'
Have you found the turnaround
Has come to beat you down.
'Yeah! '
With your knuckles scraped.
'Yeah.'
And nothing on your plate,
'Yeah.'
Gone is the whoopie goosed from you!
Ooo...
And there's no debate,
Which side to lick your plate!
Gone is the whoopie goosed from you!
Ooo...
And there's no debate,
Which side to lick your plate!
And there's no debate,
Which side to lick your plate!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I like to fly with them to the infinity
I see the pigeons sit on a lamp post on this rainy day
And their whisper is very mysterious through the gloomy atmosphere.
' Hey! Chum you are counting the tricky money on the cash register madly and are you going to continue those habits in rest of your life?
Why can't you jump here and have a flight with us? '
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Blind Slave Boy
Come back to me, mother! why linger away
From thy poor little blind boy, the long weary day!
I mark every footstep, I list to each tone,
And wonder my mother should leave me alone!
But there’s no one to joy or to sorrow with me;
For each hath of pleasure and trouble his share,
And none for the poor little blind boy will care.
My mother, come back to me! close to thy breast
Once more let thy poor little blind one be pressed;
Once more let me feel they warm breath on my cheek,
And hear thee in accents of tenderness speak!
O mother! I’ve no one to love me – no heart
Can bear like thine own in my sorrows a part;
No hand is so gentle, no voice is so kind,
O! none like a mother can cherish the blind!
Poor blind one! No mother thy wailing can hear,
No mother can hasten to banish thy fear;
And for one paltry dollar hath sold thee, poor child!
Ah! who can in language of mortals reveal
The anguish that none but a mother can feel,
When man is his vile lust of mammon hath trod
On her child, who is stricken and smitten of God!
Blind, helpless, forsaken, with strangers alone,
She hears in her anguish his piteous moan,
As he eagerly listens—but listens in vain,
To catch the loved tones of his mother again!
The curse of the broken in spirit shall fall
On the wretch who hath mingled this wormwood and gall,
And his gain like a mildew shall blight and destroy,
Who hath torn from his mother the little blind boy!
poem by Anonymous Americas
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A silly poem about keys
Keys can open doors
they can lock you in
keys on a piano
but not on a Violin.
Keys to a safe
inside a vault
keys lost again
well that's your fault.
Keys on an old typewriter
and on a modern laptop
keys stolen by a thief
to break into a shop.
Keys hang on a keyring
or on a fancy chain
but how on earth can you
dropp them down a drain?
Keys for this and that
a key lying under the mat
having to rush to the Vet
it's been swallowed by the cat.
So I'll end this poem now
and try and get my key
I dropped it down a drain
oh stupid and silly me!
poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lithium
I'm so happy. Cause today I found my friends.
They're in my head. I'm so ugly. But that's ok.
'Cause so are you. We've broke our mirrors.
Sunday morning. Is everyday for all I care.
And I'm not scared. Light my candlrs. In a daze cause I've found god.
Yeah [x bunch of times]
I'm so lonely. And that's ok.
I shaved my head. And I'm not sad. And just maybe.
I'm to blame for all I've heard. And I'm not sure.
I'm so excited. I can't wait to meet you there.
And I don't care. I'm so horny. But that's ok. My will is good.
Yeah [x bunch of times]
[Chorus]
I like it.
I'm not gonna crack.
I miss you.
I'm not gonna crack.
I love you.
I'm not gonna crack.
I kill you.
I'm not gonna crack. [x2]
I'm so happy. Cause today I found my friends.
They're in my head. I'm so ugly. But that's ok.
'Cause so are you. We've broke our mirrors.
Sunday morning. Is everyday for all I care.
And I'm not scared. Light my candlrs.
In a daze cause I've found god.
Yeah [x bunch times]
[Chorus]...
song performed by by Nirvana from Nevermind
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Y' In Your Name?
The divining rod which is searching for water
Looks like a Y if you remember.
With your Y in all your life you will be a searcher,
Going on with an open mind for something newer.
Some of you will search for some new wisdom,
Some just for a newer flower blossom,
Big or small search all brings something new,
Even if you just search constantly for your keys, a tool or a screw.
If you choose to search for spiritual wisdom,
Your life can change for an everlasting stardom.
So, choose wisely how to use your Y,
Search for something useful, not just asking aimlessly, why?
poem by LaSoaphia QuXazs
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Sonnet- I Search'd For God
I search'd for God in things of earthly mould;
I tried my best to search for Him ev'rywhere;
I sought him but found Him not; years had ro1l'd,
My heart told me, he must be somewhere near.
All life, I pray'd to Him in right earnest;
I called to Him to appear just but once!
I tried to seek Him ev'n when I did rest;
Where was He, the Almighty who weigh'd tonnes?
At last, I found Him in a child at play,
And on the road-side in a beggar's face;
He was the Good Samaritan en way,
I saw Him ’midst the blind persons in race.
If God is Truth, He dwells amongst the poor,
And in the hearts and minds kept pure for sure.
poem by John Celes
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