Sunday
Sunday
Blank screen waits for me to fill it with strange letters,
but there is no haste as this is a lazy sunny afternoon.
Earlier today when the window shutters were still on
someone knocked on my door, I hid in the bedroom
didn’t want to open. Been alone for a month now and
don’t like to meet people and talk idly about nothing,
be polite and offer coffee and cakes.
Just been reading about the Portuguese in Zaire,
they took their culture with them and thought their
sweet African life would last forever- what a useless
word forever is- and now it is all memories in books,
few bother to read. This afternoon too will glide away
as I sit here, wondering who knocked on my door.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Related quotes
You Have Not Knocked
You've never not...
Come to knock.
Come to knock,
At my door...
With words 'I told you so! '
You've never not...
Come to knock.
Come to knock,
At my door...
With words 'I told you so! '
When I had been in double struggles,
You have not knocked.
Or when I had been on my knees,
You have not knocked.
And when I felt grumpy and crunchy,
You have not knocked.
Or when I've asked you to leave me,
You have not knocked.
You know I can get really moody,
But, you have not knocked.
And carry drama to extremes,
No, you have not knocked.
You've stuck with me when I've been stinky,
And, you have not knocked.
To me you are my 'everything',
And I love you a lot.
You've never not...
Come to knock.
Come to knock,
At my door...
With words 'I told you so! '
You've never not...
Come to knock.
Come to knock,
At my door...
With words 'I told you so! '
Whenever I've been down and dumpy,
You have not knocked.
Or when I've picked my wounds to bleed so,
You have not knocked.
And when I pout with rudeness rooted,
You have not knocked.
Or when I whined consistently,
No, you have not knocked.
You know I can get really moody,
But, you have not knocked.
And carry drama to extremes,
But, you have not knocked.
You've stuck with me when I've been stinky,
And, you have not knocked.
To me you are my 'everything',
Because of patience you've got.
You've never not...
Come to knock.
Come to knock,
At my door...
With words 'I told you so! '
You've never not...
Come to knock.
Come to knock,
At my door...
With words 'I told you so! '
And...
In my heart you are adored.
That's what I need to show you more.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Poem of Raindrops and You!
On this sweltering afternoon
When you knocked at my door
Didn't I accost you
And demanded of you,
'Why didn't you bring any rain? '
As if you were the rain maker
But there're many an instance
When in your arms,
Me and my precincts smelt of rain
How I regaled in the raindrops
Clinging to my skin, reflecting you!
'Hey, don't wipe them away...! '
I told you on those occasions
With the hope of harvesting them
On a sapping afternoon as this...
(28 jun 2011)
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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A Poem of Raindrops and You!
On this sweltering afternoon
When you knocked at my door
Didn't I accost you
And demand of you,
'Have you brought any rain? '
As if you were the rain maker
But there're many instances
When in your arms,
Me and my precincts smelt of rain
How I regaled in the raindrops
Clinging to my skin, reflecting you!
'Hey, don't wipe them away! '
I told you on those occasions
With the hope of harvesting them
On a sapping afternoon as this.
poem by Indira Babbellapati
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lean On Me (Tonight)
Lazy day, Sunday afternoon,
Like to get your feet up, watch TV.
Sunday roast is something good to eat,
Must be lamb today 'cause beef was last week.
So full up, bursting at the seams,
Soon you'll start to nod off, happy dreams.
Wake up, for tea and buttered scones
Such a lot of work for you Sunday moms.
It's such a crying shame
Week after week the same.
Today's heaven-sent and you're feeling content,
You worked all week long.
Still, it's quite sad tomorrow's so bad
And I don't feel too strong.
Lazy day, Sunday afternoon,
LIke to get your feet up, watch TV.
Sunday roast is something good to eat,
Now it's almost over till next week.
That's how your life goes by
Until the day you die.
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Behind The Door
With trembling hand,
I knocked upon the door,
which someone had sent me to.
They told me a new life
awaits me there.
I reached out
and knocked on the door
not knowing when it opened
exactly what I’d find.
My heart beat faster,
almost racing from my chest.
I could hear footsteps
coming from within.
My hand trembled even more
as the footsteps headed towards the door.
I stood there in anticipations
as the door begins to open wide.
So far, I have not told you
who will be coming to the door.
Will it be a long lost sibling,
a future love, or even God?
I will have to let you decide,
because being a nervous person.
The suspense was killing me,
so I ran and hid, and never saw
who was it answering the door.
poem by David Harris
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Early Works - Smoke Rings
Lazily reading a book
on a Sunday afternoon,
sitting in a comfortable chair
watching smoke ring rise in the air.
Do you know the satisfaction
of a lazy Sunday afternoon,
of the joy of watching children
playing on the floor in the front room?
27 June 1981
poem by David Harris
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Lazy Day
Lazy day, sunday afternoon,
Like to get your feet up, watch t.v.
Sunday roast is something good to eat,
Must be beef today cause lamb was last week.
So full up, bursting at the seams,
Soon youll start to nod off, happy dreams.
Wake up, for tea and buttered scones
Such a lot of work for you sunday moms.
Its such a crying shame
Week after week the same.
Todays heaven-sent and youre feeling content,
You worked all week long.
Still, its quite sad tomorrows so bad
And I dont feel so strong.
Lazy day, sunday afternoon,
Like to get your feet up, watch t.v.
Sunday roast is something good to eat,
Now its almost over till week.
Thats how your life goes by
Until the day you die.
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunny Afternoon
Sunny afternoon
By: ray davies
1966
The taxmans taken all my dough
And left me in this stately home
Lazin on a sunny afternoon
And I cant even sail my yacht
Hes taken everything Ive got
All Ive gots this sunny afternoon
In the summertime...
Chorus:
Save me, save me, save me from this squeeze
Ive got a big fat momma tryin to break me
And I love to live so pleasantly
Live this life of luxury
Lazin on a sunny afternoon
In the summertime...
My girlfriends run off with my car
And gone back to her ma and pa
Tellin tales of parrotheads and parties
And now Im just sitting here
Sippin on this ice-cold beer
Lazin on a sunny afternoon
In the summertime...
Help me, help me, help me sail away
Well, give me two good reason why I ought to stay
cause I love to live so pleasantly
Live this life of luxury
Lazy on a sunny afternoon
In the summertime...
In the summertime...
In the summertime...
Chorus:
Save me, save me, save me from this squeeze
Ive got a big fat momma tryin to break me
And I love to live so pleasantly
Live this life of luxury
Lazy on a sunny afternoon
In the summertime...
In the summertime...
In the summertime...
In the summertime...
Taxmans taken all my dough (in the summertime)
Gonna find that passport and outta here I go
(in the summertime)
--spoken:
Catch me a flight to st. somewhere and get out of this cold
Weather. go somewhere where no body knows my name
Gotta keep my mouth shut. try to go to confession at least once
A week. somewhere preferably south of the equator, I believe.
Where its summertime, where winter spends the summer. somewhere
Like that.
(in the summertime...)
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poem Of The Afternoon
Poem of the afternoon
What do you have to say for yourself?
You are tired and you want a nap
But it’s too late for a nap
We must be going-
Poem of the afternoon
Say something different
Say life is wonderful
On a warm day after many cold ones
Say life is wonderful
When you can still walk and talk and move about
Though you are older than you ever thought you’d be-
Poem of the afternoon
Cloudy and a bit sunny
Say the night is still a certain way off
And the day the long day is still happily with us.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Just A Song
Oh, to get ahead in this world
Takes a lot of kind words
The ruthless damning actions
And I hope, I never have to hurt you
Though I gladly will do
My friend
And I'll be reading in the kitchen
Sipping lazy cups of tea
I won't be brooding in my bedroom
With the shutters down on me
And this song is not cathartic
Because I've done nothing wrong
It's just a song
It's just a song
Oh, you see the more you're trying
The more I know you're lying
The more I start to hate the sight of you
Tell me what would you do?
Pulled by both arms, nearly torn in two
I'll be reading in the kitchen
Sipping lazy cups of tea
I won't be brooding in my bedroom
With the covers over me
And this song is not cathartic
Because I've done nothing wrong
It's just a song
It's just a song
And I'll be reading in the kitchen
Sipping lazy cups of tea
I won't be brooding in my bedroom
With the shutters down on me
And this song is not cathartic
Because I've done nothing wrong
It's just a song
It's just a song
It's just a song
It's just a song
song performed by by Ordinary Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Afternoon Tea
Tea time wont be the same without my donna
At night I lie awake and dream of donna
I think about that small cafe
Thats where we used to meet each day
And then we used to sit a while
And drink our afternoon tea
Ill take afternoon tea (afternoon tea)
If you take it with me (afternoon tea)
You take as long as you like
cause I like you, girl
I take sugar with tea (afternoon tea)
You take milk if you please (afternoon tea)
Like you talking to me
Because you ease my mind
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Tea time still aint the same without my donna
At night I lie awake and dream of donna
I went to our cafe one day
They said that donna walked away
Youd think at least she might have stayed
To drink her afternoon tea
Ill take afternoon tea (afternoon tea)
If you take it with me (afternoon tea)
You take as long as you like
cause I like you, girl
I take afternoon tea (afternoon tea)
Every day of the week (afternoon tea)
Please come along if you like
Because I like you, girl
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Afternoon Sun
This room, how well I know it.
Now they're renting it, and the one next to it,
as offices. The whole house has become
an office building for agents, businessmen, companies.
This room, how familiar it is.
The couch was here, near the door,
a Turkish carpet in front of it.
Close by, the shelf with two yellow vases.
On the right -no, opposite- a wardrobe with a mirror.
In the middle the table where he wrote,
and the three big wicker chairs.
Beside the window the bed
where we made love so many times.
They must still be around somewhere, those old things.
Beside the window the bed;
the afternoon sun used to touch half of it.
. . . One afternoon at four o'clock we separated
for a week only . . . And then-
that week became forever.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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The Tryst
Ambrose stood at the cottage step
A bouquet in his hand,
He'd come to woo sweet Adeline
From a strange and far off land,
They'd known each other since children, and
They'd made to each a vow:
‘I never will love another more
Than I love you, even now! '
They'd played in the heat of the summer sun,
They'd played in the autumn shade,
But winter carried him far from home
And the love that they'd almost made,
They wrote through spring and the summer's height
They wrote right through to the fall,
But the winter chills saw the postman fill
No letterbox at all.
His letters came back, duly stamped
‘Not known at this address! '
He grieved as the spring made true love sing
Anew in his sorrowing breast,
He bought a ticket and travelled home
Third Class, by Packet Steam,
But fretted all of the way across
For the love of his Adeline.
He knocked at the cottage door where she
Had lived when the world was good,
But the knocker made an echoing sound
On the door, where Ambrose stood,
The flowers she'd tended lovingly
Were dead in the window box,
Except for a patch of colour there,
A clump of forget-me-nots.
He knocked, and then he knocked again,
There came no patter of feet,
Only the sound of silence there
As he felt his own heart beat,
He little knew as he turned away
That a bier stood in the hall,
And the coffin that lay there sombrely
Knew nothing of life at all.
She'd ceased to write when she caught the sight
Of the blood on her handkerchief,
And the winter cough said clear enough
That there'd be no summer heat,
She lay in the coffin, sweetly dressed,
With a note beside her brow:
‘I never will love another more
Than I love you, even now! '
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Afternoon High
The sunlight hits the corner of your eye
As it bounces off the morning sky
The summer in the 70s fly by
Bye
Daylight hits the corners of your mind
Steals the thought you thought no one could find
Close your eyes and it will rob you blind
Blind
Incidental memories collide
Sentimental reveries abide
Afternoon high
Daylight hits the corners of your mouth
Steals the words that filled you up with doubt
Open up and let them all fall out
Honey smoothes the wrinkles from you bed
Gone are the indentations of your head
Leaving just the frown upon your forehead
Incidental memories collide
Sentimental reveries abide
Afternoon high
Worry works a wrinkle over time
Open eyes and let it rob you blind
Incidental memories collide
People tell me you've been blinded by
On afternoon high
On afternoon high
On afternoon high
song performed by by A-Ha
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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L8,2212
There is a door which you open
you enter, and then it closes you
behind you
forever,
there is no force here,
but only volition,
you enter it
with all the warnings,
that the
possibility that it will close forever
has been told to you
over and over
again,
somehow, you do not make it a problem
you like a closed door, and you hate it
when it opens,
you love it when it is closed forever,
the room is nice
there is a certain loveliness
in there,
it has shiny floors,
it has a bright ceiling,
the lights are lovely,
like stars
in an open dark sky
the air is fresh,
the walls are comfortable
who wants to take an exit?
no one.not you.
when the door knows this, it will open
forever,
it decides to open for you
and it will tell you to go out and be
an outsider again and
be gone
for good,
you insist that you own this room now,
that a closed door is not a serious matter
and there is no way that you have to
go out
or be ousted,
the door has a stair with strong hands
and it will drag you out
it will pull your hair and drag your body
like hell
the door has learned its lesson
when the room is not a prison to someone else
there is no use keeping him there forever
for in truth the reason of the door's
existence
is to make you feel the prison and to suffer
and you know your lesson too well
there is no prison to a mind that is an open window
there is no suffering
to a lover of suffering
you see, it takes a little reverse psychology
for closed doors to open
for men to know that suffering is not suffering
at all
when one loves is tripping
when one thinks
otherwise
when one loves whatever happens
when one accepts
the one that is there and not look for something
that is always missing
why go for the unreachable?
why suffer for long?
life is life, and death is death
you are here, grab this here.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Polite Words
We become the past so easily
The sweet rose out of ground
Existential eyes without sky
Without forever
These seasons coming and going
An old letter
Some old photos
Vague memories of the superficial
I thought you loved me?
I did but that was a month ago
I don’t want to talk about it
You need to move on
Modern man lost in the universe
So free
So cold
Goodbye in polite words
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Is There A Poem Of The Afternoon?
IS THERE A POEM OF THE AFTERNOON?
Is there a poem of the afternoon?
Sadness at so little having been done in the morning
I have spent a life escaping
And today too I escaped
Learning studying reading
Other worlds other people other minds
Far from practical problems.
The sun is strong today and the summer come early
And the days will be long now with the clock changed
I have tried to focus on Poetry this year
But I have not really gone back to re-read the Poems of my life
War threatens for a change
It may be that our city will be on fire and our neighborhood burn as never before
We pray somehow for a miracle of survival without war and destruction
They hate us and they hate us and they hate us
One – fifth of mankind cannot bear two- tenths of one percent of us
Pesach will be here in two weeks time
I have written only a small fraction of all that is in me
And even that is far too much for me to ever reread
Life goes on for now
I am still alive
It is a beautiful sunny afternoon in Yerushalyim
I have been here for thirty- four years now
There should be somehow one decisive concluding line
That brings this poem together
And makes it worthwhile
How happy I am in my old age now loving life so much
G-d has been so good to me through all these years
What a beautiful beautiful day to look out at from inside.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Three Knocks
WHEN the owl that scared the mouse
Fluffed his feathers and sat still,
And the night around was chill,
On the door of yonder house
Someone knocked,
And a hand the door unlocked.
While the owl, aloof and drear
Yellow-eyed his vigil kept,
Down the breeze a crying crept,
And it seemed to tell of fear —
Fear and care —
It was Life that entered there!
When the owl had greyer grown
By a score of years and more,
On the selfsame cedar door
Of yon house that stands alone,
Someone knocked,
And a hand the door unlocked.
Yet, though many gracious flowers
Wreathed the house from floor to roof,
In his shadowed haunt aloof
Staring sat he through the hours,
Unaware
It was Love that entered there!
When the owl had passed away,
And the mouse, no more afraid,
In the tree-glooms frisked and played,
On that door at end of day
Someone knocked,
And a hand the door unlocked.
Once and twice that knock had come,
Once for Life, and once for Love;
Towards the night the shadows move,
And the land lies still and dumb
Everywhere —
It is Death that enters there!
poem by Roderic Quinn
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To Meet Forever
when i decide to go back to
the nooks of the past
i do not just go there for
no reason at all
i bring a shovel and bury
those which still bleed
which still scream i shut
their mouths and which still
struggle to be saved from
oblivion i make them sleep
forever.
and then i dust off what is
found on my head
put my sleeves in place and
proceed my way to the exit
door where light meets me
without its quizzical eye
and then i close that door
forever
for i have more doors to open
more suns to meet
to meet forever.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Better, Together & Forever (Part 2)
Love.
I hate it.
'Together' I thought it would be 'better.'
But this love didn't last 'forever.'
So from now on love doesn't knock at my door.
Despite all of this I miss you.
If we were 'together' I'd kiss you.
But this 'together' thing didn't last 'forever' more.
So why am I mad?
Cause I didn't make it 'better.'
You kept your love 'forever.'
But because of me, that's why we're not 'together.'
So if we were stiil 'together.'
Life would be goin' much 'better.'
Love...Well now.
Love didn't make me 'better.'
Now there'll never be a 'forever.'
Love is the reason, Why we're not 'together.'
3/31/08
poem by Michael Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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