Crowded Rooms
Fists pounded the walls
And ebbed back to bludgeon
In the collapsing furrows
Of a pilfered room
Where I ensconced in the patina
All my squandering
Laughter cloyed the fences
And disintegrates the voices
Scathing the open door
That howls a pouncing cry
Cacophonous to a whistling train
And I stood closer the line
The shrill beckon the veers
Of the lunging blood cells
When the nights would grovel
Between manacles and gold
Licking the marred embers
With a fire too pallid to kill
Amidst the catastrophe
Is a hidden cavern
In the dermis of a copper flake
Was a water curtain toppling
And siphoning the rigid calculations
Of a dragonfly's meandering
The room was crowded
With grotesque titivations
Pervading to fill the brim
Of a frowning fissure
But only drilling a dam
Leaking to be gone
poem by Norman Santos
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Related quotes
Heart Pound
Her love is heart pounding
My heart pounded when I first saw her
My heart pounded when we first met
My heart pounded when I fell in love with her
My heart pounded when I asked her out for a date
My heart pounded when I saw I love her
My heart pounded when she said she love me
My heart pounded when we kissed
My heart pounded when she said she love me no more
And now I know that both love and heartbreak feel the same
That pain in the heart!
My heart pounded and still keeps pounding
But I know that I will love again, but she will still be in my heart.
poem by Abisoye Sejoro
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The carpet walks back
The carpet walks back
into the room
but you are already gone
to yellowwood floors
on which your feet tread softly
and on which I walked a time ago.
Your image disintegrates,
but not the longing
and the cold wind sneaking in
through the window
is an uninvited guest
in my room
that feels like a sanctuary
where you were once.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Heist
Immolated before the jeopardy
of my sudden involution -
Now beckoned and yearned,
now abjured and declined;
Our bellicose collision
cloyed with affinity
now floundering like a cry
in a shapeless silhouette
of a shackled poltergeist
Is this you terse revenge
or your inconsistent demand?
With dove-feet and rose-tongue
you pilfered the molted skin
and took the vulnerability
away for granted
and threw me into
the hollows of abeyance.
poem by Norman Santos
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The Monotony Of A Vicious Circle
when you run in a circle
you arrive at nowhere
you pass by the same
lane over and over again
so to kill this monotony
you build your own set of
fences and walls with the
end that even if you pass
on the same lane over and
over again somehow the
walls may create the
illusion of a border the fence
an illusion of height so
that you may then claim
that you have hurdled an
obstruction passed a
hard test survived a
certain difficult trial
which you have
freely created yourself
you think you can
deceive the circle?
sorry but
this circle will always
remain as a circle even
if the walls reach the heavens
even if the fences shut you
away from the neighbors
who live on the same
lane with you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Confusion As A Gift
there is nothing
wrong with
confusion, in fact, perplexity is
a common occurrence which in some ways
give us the warning that
something wrong may happen
there are walls, these are laws,
there are fences, these are guides
when you break the wall, the thieves come
and take everything from you
when the fences are broken, the pigs come and
eat what you have planted
doubt is a mark of our humanity
confusion is our acceptance that we are but
limited creatures of thought
when you are perplexed
take laughter
think some more
give time its due
savor the peace of logic
let rules be rules
doubt, doubt some more
i am sure, you are alive.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Virgo Clowns
Let us free you from the pain
Let us see you smile again
Let us unlock all the chains
Youre broken-hearted
Let us help you to forget
Let us help you unlock it
Its not nearly time to quit
Youve only started
You gotta
Sit down funny face
Let your laughter fill the room
Light up your golden smile
Take away all your misery and gloom
Let your laughter fill the room
Let your laughter fill the room
Let us shake you by the hand
Let us help you understand
Take your head out of the sand
And shake it free now
Let us help you to go on
We are here to lean upon
Now you know exactly just who
You want to be now
Come on
Sit down funny face
Let your laughter fill the room
Light up your golden smile
Take away all your misery and gloom
Let your laughter fill the room
Let your laughter fill the room
Let us lift you up on high
See the twinkle in your eye
Raise your head up to the sky
And say its easy
Hey let the trumpets ring it
Let the angels sing it
Let your pretty feet go dancing
Let your worn out mind go prancing
And
Sit down funny face
Let your laughter fill the room
Light up your golden smile
Take away all your misery and gloom
Let your laughter fill the room
Let your laughter fill the room
Etc.
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For Things That We Cannot Change
the establishment
is at it again
deaf ears
strong hands
stiff minds
hard bodies
resisting change
of the clenched fists
there they are again
on barb-wired fences
defining boundaries
of thoughts
exclusiveness shutting out
variations of the race
this is the political science
of exclusion
of prisons and walls
here they are again
at the emphasis of penalties
and fines
setting aside the art
of compassion
the fusion
the inclusions
this art of loving
and giving meaning
and welcoming whatever
differences
in colors and creed
the magnanimous
art of toleration
here we are again
back to the beginning of time
the age of
renaissance
the flowering of hope
the blooms
of thoughts
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Song of a Statue
A lone baritone balladeeer beneath the Battersea Bridge,
Sings out a sonnet for the Madonna.
Big Ben chimes, he becomes locked in Lover's time,
As his copper-skin is wrapped in night and the cold armor of patina.
c.2009 John Carroll Walls
poem by John Walls
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The Sea Of Ecstasy Has Ebbed And Gone, Dear Friend
The sea of ecstasy has ebbed and gone, dear friend
The ocean of sorrow floods and overwhelms.
How shall we, the weak survive, now that you have forsaken us?
The sea of ecstasy has ebbed and gone, dear friend
The ocean of sorrow floods and overwhelms.
Friend now that he has left nothing remains; he has taken everything.
The sea of ecstasy has ebbed and gone, dear friend
The ocean of sorrow floods and overwhelms.
We didn't hold out our palav in complete surrender then,
Now what is the point of rubbing our hands in vain?
The sea of ecstasy has ebbed and gone, dear friend
The ocean of sorrow floods and overwhelms.
He knows not our pains, and he has broken all the bonds of childhood love,
He has broken all the bonds of affection; Hari-O that dandy has betrayed us!
The sea of ecstasy has ebbed and gone, dear friend
The ocean of sorrow floods and overwhelms.
You can explain things to a stupid man,
But how can you deal with the experienced ones, my love?
Separated from you I roam aimlessly, O Trikramji!
Don't abandon us like this!
The sea of ecstasy has ebbed and gone, dear friend
The ocean of sorrow floods and overwhelms.
Gopis have become mad for Govind, ` Do return home O beloved of Laxmi! '
What shall I say, dear friend, to Narsaiyya's Lord?
Only that, please understand the plight of your lovers!
The sea of ecstasy has ebbed and gone, dear friend
The ocean of sorrow floods and overwhelms.
poem by Narsinh Mehta
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Exile House
EXILE HOUSE
Our tiled roof dripped
and the four walls threatened to fall apart
but we were to go home soon,
We grew papayas
in front of our house
chillies in our garden
and changmas for our fences,
then pumpkins rolled down the cowshed thatch
calves trotted out of the manger,
grass on the roof,
beans sprouted and
climbed the vines,
money plants crept in through the window,
our house seems to have grown roots.
The fences have grown into a jungle,
now how can I tell my children
where we came from?
Changmas – a tree usually planted for fences; flexible and flourishing
poem by Tenzin Tsundue
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May your walls know joy May every room hold laughter and every window open to great possibility.
quote by Maryanne Radmacher-Hershey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fences
Fences not to mend
Fences not to build
Fences be demolish
But
Only with caution.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Walls
Walls of stone and walls of brick,
Some walls thin and some walls thick,
Walls so high and walls so low,
Walls to hide and walls to show.
Walls quite short and walls quite tall,
Some walls, last well, some walls fall,
Walls for comfort, walls of hate,
Walls for security, walls ornate.
Some as a barricade, some to support,
Walls of wood and walls of iron wrought,
Walls as a barrier, walls to enclose,
Some are to sit on, some to lean and doze.
Walls we build ourselves, these aren't good,
Walls for privacy, walls that have stood,
So many years through weather foul or fine,
Walls, that are yours, walls that are mine.
Brick by brick they are built to last,
Whether built now or in the past,
They shelter us from so many things,
And shield us from whatever this life brings.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Roses Growing In Our Own Prison Walls
this is the situation,
soon you will find
you live in prison walls,
and those who see you
tell you
you have no God.
perhaps they say that
since they see no
icons on our walls
we bow not
to sunsets
we make no wooden
crosses
oh, let us tell them
we've grown roses in our prison walls
on the fertile grounds
of our heart
we speak to God
in our poetry
with all the silence and
gentleness
and patience of the
snail
we have gone beyond
wood, and stone,
and images,
we have passed through
all these walls
man-made as they are,
we have jumped over the
fences of
the flesh, and they who use
their eyes
in the middle of their own
human light
do not see
we, have, only,
hearts.
we, are, pure,
hearts.
we, are, love,
solitude,
in privacy with
our God.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Not A Reasonable Man
You're not having this, and I'm not having that
I'm not a reasonable man, I've come for it back
Let 'em all in, don't you know that I love a crowd
But I wont get the jokes, cos the laughter's too loud
I never was slight, or silent with you
For one hour of delight, in the gathering gloom
I've no reservations, I've got no room
For these souvenirs, to bring for you
Solo - Instrumental
Let 'em all in, don't you know that I love a crowd
But they wont get the jokes, cos the laughter's too loud
And I'm not the man you think I am at all
I was learning to walk, and starting to crawl
I've no reservations, I've got no room
For these souvenirs, to bring back to you
And you're not having this, and I'm not having that
I'm not a reasonable man, I've come for it back
song performed by by I Am Kloot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Sharp Contrast
at a friend's party
drinks are served and some
christmas food, dessert and
conversations and laughter
of reminiscenses
we left at the right hour
when the hosts are sleepy
time to be back
to my room,
in sharp contrast
the bed and the pillows
and blankets are
soundly asleep
no snores, not a scratch
of an ant's feet
not a sound from
the walls
deafening silence
questions without answers
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sad Story
The old house stood in silence,
no one lives there anymore.
Only memories of the past,
fill each empty room.
Once you stood so proud,
laughter rang out from your walls.
Now only cobwebs and decay inherit there.
What sad story has lead to your decline?
The lights from your windows,
don’t shine there anymore.
Only ghosts from the past,
live in every room.
Ghosts that once brought laughter.
That rang out every night,
are silent and no more
What sad story marks your fall from grace?
Once upon a time,
children played outside your door.
Now only weeds and brambles,
fall across your welcome path.
No more the smiling faces,
greet everyone at your door.
Now that sadness and neglect has fell.
What sad story do you have to tell?
Were there newlyweds,
with their hopes so high?
Did they have their hopes dashed some how,
or was it some great tragedy,
that within your walls befell?
So tragic that it made the silence fall.
What made them desert you to neglect?
What was the sad story, pray tell?
6 April 2007
poem by David Harris
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We are moving to places where our hands still touch
What you did was make this yard of cement
Some hard posts and high fences and barbwires
You call it safety; you call it clean to see
There will be no shrubs, no trees, just this
Big house and empty rooms, a garage full
Of cars, some phones and TV walls
We move to other places then since we disagree
We leave this place of cement and fences and walls
We move to the hills where we still have our trees
Our long winding rivers, the rocks and grass
The winds and skies, we move to places where
The birds are not caged, where they sing the sweetest songs
Where we and the rest of us are free
Where on mountaintops and cliffs and drifting clouds
Our hands still touch & shake the Hands of God.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Small Children in Prison
'I only steal from the rich
Not from the poor,
I steal because I am hungry',
said the nine year old boy
as he was interviewed in jail.
Imprisoned for crimes
like stealing food to appease
hunger in the tummy,
Etsoy and others are caged like animals
sharing a pot of rice among
11 or 15 in-mates three times a day.
Mixed with adult criminals
charged with heinous crimes,
here they are in jail without pencil,
books, crayons and oil lamp,
Here they dread going to sleep,
scared of being raped.
And they look at the high fences
of concrete walls,
invincible by their bare hands
Here are fences that blind their eyes
from seeing the meeting point
between earth and sky.
Here are walls that deny them
to gaze at the sea, the boats,
the jeepneys, the ships and passers-by,
the birds perching on trees
and the rice fields at harvest time.
Yes, Etsoy and many more
Etsoys are in this jail
imprisoned, imprisoned
behind these high impenetrable walls.
Yes, the small children like Etsoy
behind these concrete walls.
are only called by numbers
or nicknames for who dare
to know their precious names?
Behind these high concrete walls
they are forgotten,
denied of their childhood and life.
And this prison
is their own
university of life.
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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The Little Old School Room
In a little old school room,
In that old country school.
Where we started to bloom,
With the Golden Rule.
That was the place for our very best times,
Learning to read, reciting nursery rhymes.
That little old school room way in the back,
In the morning we'd get there, by crossing the tracks.
Fixing it up for Halloween,
Black cats, pumpkins, witches, and hay.
The most wonderful room I'd ever seen.
We couldn't wait for that special day.
Making masks from paper bags,
Getting up a party for the fourth grade class.
All dressed up in paint and rags,
Drawing little ghosts on the window glass.
That little school room is still there in my mind,
All the smells, laughter, friendship and joy.
When I want to go back, I can easily find,
That little old school room, where I was a boy.
8/24/10 Alton Texas
poem by Juan Olivarez
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