When The Opened Is Closed
Hiding behind the alley ensconced
In the open page of your palms
The sun never reached your core -
A cold song the harpist cannot play
Without scathing her lissome fingers
Your pernicious montage can reel
Unfathomable pensiveness stalled
With a detrimental distraught
And like the gyratory leaves of July
We plummet down into an ennui
Of counting the withered petals
And plucking the defensive thorns
Reading behind the taut lines
That strode in the rousing verses
But when the library closes
How do we festoon the metronome
Slowly sojourning to decadence?
The sunset leaned on a pillar
And the moths confabulated with dusts
Shook from their giddy wings
Drowning the very poison of their being
Into their virulent eyes and even
Fatally caustic jellyfish wings
I asked for all the poison
Now I am but a living treason
With apathetic bones
In parsimony of truth and humility
But when the light had flown
Away with the peripatetic time
Your sad song devoured
By the luminance of the sand:
Your pensive theater closed
With all the eloquent environs
And visions obdurate from doom;
And castles and lore revolves
In the innocent corner of the mind
What reason or unreason can oppose
The closing of the latched doors?
As the mousetrap closes
A two-faced charade spoke of
The floodgates being opened;
In this hunger game
We will never win
When the opened is closed
And dabbed with a bulwark flood
To run a quagmire of cellars
We can only amble back to our ruts
Running away from what we chase.
poem by Norman Santos
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Related quotes
You in your closed bleeding hands
The palm that closes
Cannot hold anything
Just like this narrow mind
Unable to grapple with
What is newly given
I see your fingers are closed
I tried to tickle you so they may open
I tried to tell you something puzzling
You closed your fingers some more
What is it that you are hiding there?
It is causing you so much pain
Your hands bleed, please open them
Is it the nail? Is it a broken glass?
You are not nodding still
Is it something so important?
That even with death you still refuse?
You are not nodding still
You shake your head, you keep mum
And numb to what I am asking
So be it, close your fingers
Hide the lines in your palms
Let your hands bleed some more
We shall wait what happens next
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Peering Through The Lattices
The day broke sprouting spidery lattices
And before it galloped the green verdure
It caught everything suspended, unraveling
The yarns of the eroding delirium of dreams
And like a hungry hunter, it devoured the prey
Before eyelids lifted to shower in the sun
These windows shunned by obdurate curtains
Somewhere, a moth earned a brand new wing
And struggled out of its chrysalis heralding
A brand new hope and a youthful hunger
So it shook its virulent dusts and sapped
The mildew suspended in the lattices of time
But before it glides the porcelain currents
It was caught suspended, wings perishing
I peered through the lattices, severed my eyes
I touched the marring embers of the sunset
A lighthouse to the directionless ocean
To find your reflection there, docked on a shore
Spraying bubbles to the silenced stance of the stones
While I swam away where the sun's graze
Can never reach, I swam where I will fade
And reset my lifelessness in a dancing tomb
But before hand, all is lost to the foreseeing heart
I fell through the lattices, where my voice
Beckoned to the wintery clouds
And juggled into a rollercoaster ride
Playing riddles and solving puzzles
Confounding the answers that hurled itself
From the darkness into the light
But the web ensnared the commutation
I fell through the lattices, where voices resounded
Dangling on a gibbet without a prayer
And falling like echoes on a well
It writhes unknowingly from pointing fingers
And gnarling bruised toes, it writhes
When it came riddling with charming words
But empty meaning and resolutions
The end of it marauded the room
Before the doors were closed
Somewhere, the sunset leaned against a pillar
Combing and braiding its golden mane
Fecundating the resurgence of the sea
Endeavoring to grab on the taut threads
That the enigma of the unknown wove.
poem by Norman Santos
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No Difference
i stared out the window
at the bare frozen limbs
of my favorite old tree...
i closed my eyes...
saw leaves bud forth
and turn green...
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.
i stared at the young girl
reading at a corner table
i closed my eyes...
and saw an old grandmother
washing dishes with her grandbabies
playing in the floor at her feet...
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.
i saw the young man
carrying his son on his shoulders
i closed my eyes...
and saw an old man standing
by his son's casket
draped by a flag...
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.
i saw an old man
standing on the corner begging
i closed my eyes...
i saw a young boy
playing ball in the street
laughing and dodging cars
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.
i saw a crack head shivering
by an electric heater in a bare apartment
i closed my eyes...
and saw a young a/g student
helping some kid with his math
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.
i saw a desperate girl
walking the streets
looking for a john
i closed my eyes...
and saw a young girl's room
stuffed animals on the bed
pictures of her and her daddy on the wall
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.
i saw a young man
wild-eyed with fear
in a prison cell
i closed my eyes...
i saw a young boy gone hunting
with his grandpa on thanksgiving morn
with his dog by his side
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.
i pulled back the veil of time...
knowing, there is no difference!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Poison! Poison!
Poison I breathe, poison I eat,
And poison poison I do drink,
Poison are my thoughts, poison are my acts,
Poison are my sleeps, poison are my dreams,
My blood is poison, poison is my flesh,
And poison poison are my bones.
Wherever I move
I envenom my fellow beings,
And enlarge my kingdom,
This is how my life goes on,
Living in the world: all poison poison.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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A glimpse
a glimpse
the half opened door
some would say
a half closed door
it all depends on the
state of mind you are in
well half closed for pessismist
and half opened for optimist
half opened or half closed door
so long as it is open
and not close
a good exercise for the mind
of a story teller, novelist, a film maker
a glimpse at the half closed door
the mind is thrown open
like the kick you would give
a half opened door
so that you and pet cat could
glide through easily
the stories that start coming out
from a glimpse at the half opened door
agatha's murdered corpse lying behind
a stalker, a ghost in the corridor of the mind
from the glimpse of the half closed door
a million possibilities, ideas pouring forth
half closed door, half opened door
whichever way you may say
it is an opened door
a million stories, ideas, possibilities
knock at the door of my mind
a glimpse of the half closed, half opened door
my half closed half opened eyes
open themselves to my ever curious mind
boundless as the universe
inspired by
A Glimpse
A GLIMPSE, through an interstice caught,
Of a crowd of workmen and drivers in a bar-room, around the stove,
late of a winter night-And I unremark'd seated in a corner;
Of a youth who loves me, and whom I love, silently approaching, and
seating himself near, that he may hold me by the hand;
A long while, amid the noises of coming and going-of drinking and
oath and smutty jest,
There we two, content, happy in being together, speaking little,
perhaps not a word.
Walt Whitman
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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On a Friend's Escape from Drowning off the Norfolk Coast
Came up that cold sea at Cromer like a running grave
Beside him as he struck
Wildly towards the shore, but the blackcapped wave
Crossed him and swung him back,
And he saw his son digging in the castled dirt that could save.
Then the farewell rock
Rose a last time to his eyes. As he cried out
A pawing gag of the sea
Smothered his cry and he sank in his own shout
Like a dying airman. Then she
Deep near her son asleep on the hourglass sand
Was awakened by whom
Save the Fate who knew that this was the wrong time:
And opened her eyes
On the death of her son's begetter. Up she flies
Into the hydra-headed
Grave as he closes his life upon her who for
Life has so richly bedded him.
But she drove through his drowning like Orpheus and tore
Back by his hair
Her escaping bridegroom. And on the sand their son
Stood laughing where
He was almost an orphan. Then the three lay down
On that cold sand
Each holding the other by a living hand.
poem by George Barker
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Marcabre Dance For A Dead Mouse, After Robert Burns and Theodore Roethke
.
O little mouse, why dost thou cry
While merry stars laugh in the sky? - Sarojini Naidu
Wee brisket.
Gray fodder.
Thou art today tossed down
fat with grain.
Teeth sing to poison,
paws dance behind walls
taunting cat's tongue and
my impatient demand
'gainst thy nightly
gnaw gnaw
gnawing
Now brace for leaves.
Tossed from back porch to woods
Thy ballet's done, bitter fey.
Sun's up, swan song,
The cat play thee for a meal!
Wheel the poison again!
Swell fellow's passed on!
Reel, poison, reel!
poem by Warren Falcon
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Behind Closed Doors
Written by new order
There is a secret place
Underneath a tree
Where if you go and haste
You will find a key
The key will open doors
And you will look inside
The things that you will see
Will open up your eyes
At any given time
On every other street
The city comes to life
Though everyones asleep
A man beats up his wife
He doesnt wanna keep
Behind closed doors
Theyre in retreat
I dont know what makes me stay
The city life just aint the same
Theres something wrong with kids today
I blame the parents anyway
Theres no hope
No one to trust
I cant cope
Its obvious
Please dont take my drugs away
Im gonna give them up someday
There is a place somewhere
That I could call a home
Id live without a care
Id never be alone
One day I will get there
I feel it in my bones
I check upon the scores
I listen to the coors
Behind closed doors
Behind closed doors
Behind closed doors
Behind closed doors
They still want more
Behind closed doors
song performed by by New Order
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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From My Window
A robin perched upon a branch
outside my living room window
His lighthearted disposition
roused within me a reverie.
With eyes closed firmly I conjured
a heretofore different scene:
A naked limb laden with snow
and a cold loneliness prevailed
gazing through a closed, frosted pane…
My eyes opened, the thrush was gone
no trace vestige of abstract snow
though out of sight his song was heard
Cheerio, Cheeriup, tut tut! !
from outside my open window.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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The Last Flight
there is always a reason why a man cannot
cease writing
there is that denial of what was there a long time ago
it sits there like a statue
beside the door of the house
where the window is always closed
there is always a reason why the words keep flowing
like a river
why the river is always filled with running water
despite the drought
you see the bones of cows
the dust of the sands in the desert
it was once an oasis
where date palms abound where women bathe
with their men
where they make love
under the crescent moon
there is always a reason that you know
but you do not tell
but which i will always deny
as truth
it is this denial that keeps my hands going
like soldiers ready for a kill in that theater of war
it is this roaring lion that does not bite
that keeps me
in fear that keeps me speaking inside myself
there is no one here
there is no wall anymore
the winds are waiting with all the wings of the dead birds
it is ready
i am undressing
this is the flight.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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There Is Something In Us Always
there is something in us always
that closes and opens like fingers
there is something inside that watches
for love, and waits, and anticipates,
something that feels home, and
goggles for familiarity, and when it
finds it, it opens so confidently,
unmindful of any pain, expectant
of the excitement, promised and
betrayed, and mourning, and then
there is something in us that closes,
no matter what, it is still closed,
despite the death of time, it still
closes upon itself, curling, thickening
unwilling, wanting to die, but couldn't.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Wingless Angels
Oh what a joy! !
It is rippled enough to be entered;
But are you matured enough to taste my love? !
For the closed doors of love are now opened.
You always want it closed so take care of it,
I always want it opened so take care of me;
For a sweet song is a sweet song!
And like the Wingless Angels around my love.
Oh what a joy! !
A nice kiss is a nice kiss,
And a nice look is a nice look!
But i have the Weingless Angels around me,
And like a beautiful lady and a handsome man.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Behind closed doors
Doors made of steel
others made of wood
life going on behind them
things that are bad and good.
Doors that are always closed
while some are forever open wide
behind doors can lie secrets
and where people can go to hide.
A door opened to a new future
another one blocking your way
families at war behind the door
but where children can happily play.
Prisoners locked in behind solid doors
waiting for the key to turn in the lock
as lonely people sit in their homes
waiting for someone just to knock.
The doors of Gold created in Heaven
only opened for the chosen few
behind them lies an eternal life
but will they open for me or you?
poem by Kevin Halls
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Unrivaled Transcience
Tell me about the power of Babylonian Gods
The symmetry and geometry of their scintillations
The silver blood dripping on their immortal wrists
Do we dream of the pain evoking the pleasure of life?
In this dog eat dog, the crunch is that: we are bones
Sworn to become dusts when we are outdated by
The easy shifting of the moon's wanton penumbra
But you will remember me, I will never die before eyes
A pantheon of virile and avid serpents uprooted
The ephemeral pegs of their virulent fangs
And the bleeding came like a guest of honor
We knew it would come, so we closed our eyes
Tell me about the lore of the tress, the lure of the sands
Croon the words in my impassable nights and never tire
Like an aubade, like a lullaby, reel me deluded into life
Make stay, or astray, in the fringes of your shadows
Tell me of the ineffable boiling of the sternum
As it plunges into the void and ethereal fathoms
And let me tell my vicarious deceleration of sense
And the decadence that perched on my firmament
I will not open my eyes, I will hold my adamant gates
And we will hide in the improbable notches of day
Rolling like hushed thunders, coming with flashes of light
And disappearing swiftly as our pawned breaths
Tell me and I will close my eyes, even if I go blind
Even if we would have to die for this lie, just tell me
And haplessly hammer it into my shattered soul
Until I believe that we can contend with incandescence.
poem by Norman Santos
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Revolving Doors
There was not a single stain in the horizon
When the svelte shadow of the dusk climbed,
Bulged, wrinkled and fulminated in a cloud
Shedding the unwanted downpour and
Feigning an ostensible slumber
And in this sedated quiescence, eyes opened
Eyes opened - to the cry of a thirsty child,
To the drifting lucid voices wafting with bodies,
To the chasing taillights and streetlamps,
To the maladroitly dangling pendulums,
To the unanchored claws of crows and doves,
To the final page written with ink blots;
Eyes opened to the myriad reasons
Why doors opened and closed -
For the undoing and departing
For consigning and contriving
To the earthly gods and beacons
That girdled us with hopeful unrealities
Eyes opened to accommodate the coming
Batted an eyelash to find them departing,
Curled softly then bloomed like a moonflower
Riveted in the unclosed door with chaste hopes
Eyes opened to these trivial veracities:
In these calloused world where the hinges
Are the only ones that stays in its place
We will meet again, caught in revolving doors
And eyes will open to second chances
And close to sleep with disappointments and regrets.
poem by Norman Santos
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Closed Doors Of The Mind
No one knows what goes on behind
the closed doors of the mind.
Thoughts that sometimes inspire
the deeds that transpires.
Many have tried to find the key
to unlock the secrets that are enclosed within,
buried deep behind
the closed doors of the mind.
The lust and deprivation
that sometimes conspire
to be set free
or the eternal love of life
that can rise to the fore.
Both are hidden in the crevasses
behind the closed doors of our mind.
15 July 2009
poem by David Harris
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Sorry
Todays a reason for living
Todays the blood from a stone
Todays a light from a candle
Helping us to find our way home
Today we carry each other
Today the past is a freak
Todays a time for forgiveness
You were never that good to me
(welcome to this world of mine)
Im sorry, I cant lie
Im wasting too much time
Drowning Ive been blind
But Ive opened up my eyes
Sorry, I cant lie
So I just say goodbye
Goodbye
Goodbye
Yeah
Todays tasting the honey
Todays the strike of a match
And todays the lines in the pavement
Helping us to find our way back
Todays the crosses we carry
Todays the strength that we need
And todays the hand of an angel
You were not the kind to believe
(welcome to this world of mine)
Im sorry, I cant lie
Im wasting too much time
Drowning Ive been blind
But Ive opened up my eyes
Sorry, I cant lie
So I just say goodbye
Goodbye
Goodbye
Yeah
Oh what a day, oh what a day, oh my god
Oh what a day, oh what a day, oh my god
Oh what a day, oh what a day, oh my god
And oh my god, and oh my god, yeah
Today we carry each other
Today we do what we should
Todays a time for forgiving
Today I wish I could...
Im sorry, I cant lie
Im wasting too much time
Drowning, Ive been blind
But Ive opened up my eyes
Sorry, I cant lie
So I just say goodbye, goodbye, goodbye
Another bye, goodbye, goodbye
Another bye, goodbye, goodbye, yeah
Another bye, goodbye, goodbye
Another bye, goodbye, bye
song performed by by Our Lady Peace
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sun Song
Today is the day to take it to the top
So head for the sun and don't you stop
Until you find the place where you belong
Let your life sing the sun song.
Rivers run dry, a beach is sand
Open your mind and try to understand
Spread your wings and fly to your sun
All you've gotta do is stand up and run.
Gain some speed
Run in the right direction
Open your wings
And fly at the suns reflection
It reflects onto you so you can shine
And beams down light so you can see the signs
It heals your soul with ultra violet rays
It sings your song do you hear what it says?
Can you hear it singing the sun song
Can you feel it, its been shining to you for so long
So why don't you just fly into its open arms
Don't lose your souls sun, your suns soul charms
Of your sun song.
poem by Mark Hopwood
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When One Door Closes
When one door closes,
Another comes along to be opened.
Do not become upset with regret,
As the slow pace of the waiting...
Seems to have forgotten you.
Moving with anticipation...
Cures this stagnation of one's thoughts.
And before you know it...
That door of opportunity,
Doesn't require a knock.
It is already opened!
And the gifts that are there...
Are much greater,
Than perceived.
When one door closes,
Another comes along to be opened.
However...
In some cases,
All that has to be done...
Is to walk in to let it be known,
You have arrived to accept your blessings!
And only then does it become realized...
Your low and no more money days are gone!
Something with abundance has come to fulfill,
All your needs succeeding those of limitation.
And it is clear what and 'who' this 'Deity' is!
And...
Once again you are lifted!
Feeling a forgiveness that frees!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us.
quote by Alexander Graham Bell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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