Keep Some Space
Work but worry less
Keep in your heart some space
For things like a different day
To see the pranks clouds play
Film of haze the mist weaves
Trail of light the dusk leaves!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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Related quotes
Like The Haze
like the haze
you will stay only for a while
you have been unwanted by the light of the sun
and so after dusk
you shall depart and be lost
together with the darkness and the cold
you live there
the home of the haze
the place where doubt blooms
like the tiny yellow flowers
the leaves are made of
confusions
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Running Out Of Days
Theres too much work and Im spent
Theres too much pressure and I admit
I got no time to move ahead
Have you heard one thing that Ive said
And all these little things in life they all create this haze
Theres too many things to get done, and Im running out of days
And I cant last here for so long
I feel this current its so strong
It gets me further down the line
It gets me closer to the line
And all these little things in life they all create this haze
Theres too many things to get done, and Im running out of days
All these little things in life they all create this haze
Theres too many things to get done, and Im running out of days
Will all these little things in life they all create this haze
And now Im running out of time I cant see through this haze
My friend tell me why it has to be this way
Theres too many things to get done, and Im running out of days
song performed by by 3 Doors Down
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nameless, Formless, Shapeless
Nameless, formless, shapeless
A fog in the brain
A mist in the eyes
Yet in the heart what vulcan flames
From the interior magma rise and leap!
So poetry is born, my poetry
So my lines arise
The genealogy of my lines lies in the fog and mist
And in the leap-flames in the heart!
By spurts, and then after the spurt
An interval of dejection
Fog and mist and blank
And then of sudden
The light shines at the end of a tunnel
The heart-pump leaps
Fanned by the bellows of the interior magma
That rises and leaps, that pumps and leaps!
So the flower unwinds itself
From its night-cover:
When the dews and the cold drops
Of the oncoming night its veins will freeze
And fast its leaves and petals curl.
So the flower arises from the seed
So the flower arises on its stem
So the stem arises through the soil
Fog and mist and blank
And a heart that bellows
And fans its pump
When numbed and frozen seems
The blue petal of day at touch of dusk.
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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An Early Morning Walk
i had a walk this morning
and i saw twilight
fog hovering still on the feet of the mountains
there is beauty in haze
in the opaqueness of smog
i inhale cold air inside my lungs
and walk faster
there is dew on the grass
as fingers of light comes out from the hazy fog
herons arrive and land on the green fields
catching the frogs
the brown cow is munching grass inside its mouth
still lying comfortably on the ground
the macopa tree shed its leaves
in favor of new shiny ones
the trail is clear
no one has arrived here yet
it is about to rain with all the gray clouds lumping in the sky
ah, i am not running for shelter.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Demystified for M' lady Cate
The mist persists, it will insist
it has the right to block the light
with trailing wisps of dirty white.
The mist is wrong and it will learn
to leave when it has served its turn
Because the sun will rise and burn
the remnants of the mist away
There is no way that it can stay
once the bright sun comes out to play.
The mist defeated has to go.
It leaves reluctantly and slow
but where it goes I do not know.
It will return with fall of night
lurk in the darkness hid from sight.
Unless outlined by the moonlight.
The silver light makes it appear
to be the ghosts which cause men fear.
But they will quickly disappear
When banks of cloud obscure the light.
Be re-absorbed into the night.
to their dismay but men’s delight.
The mists persist they wont desist
as long as day and night exist
and if they did they would be missed.
The moisture which the mist supply
the plants trees drink thirstily.
Without the mists some plants would die.
1-Jun-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Overdraft In Overdrive
I got a letter this morning
My overdrafts in overdrive
They wanna know what Im gonna do about it
How Im proposing to survive
Stay alive stay alive oooh
They want the money
So I work and work and work ......
Theyre making me roast
The cheques in the post
You neednt worry worry worry....
You hit the roof when Im on the floor
Did I ever let you down before
I got a letter from my broker
He say he broker than me
My silver mine has tarnished over
Im on the road to tragedy
Help me, help me, oooooh
I need the money
So I work and work and work.....
Im deeper in debt, Im covered in sweat
You make me worry, worry, worry....
This nightmares giving me the shakes
Hope I wake and find its all a mistake
I started with nothing, and worked my way down
I know the things that I do, they mystify you
Its a strange way of living
But I like playing with fire
Im always walking the wire
And when the tightrope snaps
Youll see my world collapse
I got a letter this morning
Must be my lucky day
Seems Ive inherited a fortune
Rich uncle sam passed away, away, away, ooooh
Im in the money
No more work and work and work.....
My bankers aghast, Im dripping with cash
No need to worry, worry, worry.....
You need an angel to survive
An overdraft in overdrive
song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On Being in Boxes
Hard walled and
White
ON GUARD against
errant beams of light,
my cubicle is
half my home
but at night.
Memo to Self,
in Memorandum
a small death everyday
to be slave in return for pay
work, ALL work
and no play.
and all the dull boys
Jacks on their hills
work and work to pay the bills
to buy all the right toys
hope to play with the big boys.
and I sit quiet
in a box
I make no noise.
'shhhhhhhhhh'
my machines
hum and whisper
they say 'don't worry sister...
you won't go far'.
poem by Virginie Guillemette
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The Rape Of The Mist
High o’er the clouds a Sunbeam shone,
And far down under him,
With a subtle grace that was all her own,
The Mist gleamed, fair and dim.
He looked at her with burning eyes
And longed to fall at her feet;
Of all sweet things there under the skies,
He thought her the thing most sweet.
He had wooed oft, as a Sunbeam may,
Wave, and blossom, and flower;
But never before had he felt the sway
Of a great love’s mighty power.
Tall cloud-mountains and vast space-seas,
Wind, and tempest, and fire –
What obstacles such as these
To a heart that is filled with desire?
Boldly he trod over cloud and star,
Boldly he swam through space,
She caught the glow of his eyes afar
And veiled her delicate face.
He was so strong and he was so bright,
And his breath was a breath of flame;
The Mist grew pale with a vague, strange fright,
As fond, yet fierce, he came.
Close to his heart she was clasped and kissed;
She swooned in love’s alarms,
And dead lay the beautiful pale-faced Mist
In the Sunbeam’s passionate arms.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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The Mist
The mist on the water that forms over night
gives an eerie sight to my eyes.
It lingers sometimes for an hour or two
and as it lifts to the skies
I see the lake that's been hidden from view
and all seems right to my sight.
Its rippling movement on breezy days
mirror like imagery at night.
It's home to frogs and ducks at play
and the fish that jump catching flies.
And sometimes when I am lucky enough
much to my surprise
herons and egrets of snowy white
come and land on the banks.
They stalk their prey in stately manner
hoping to pull off their pranks.
So when the mist returns to my lake
I do not get forlorn.
For underneath the mist that's there
is my lake in later morn.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To the Trees
Nothing can tell me that the Trees don't love
In the first light of Autumn
Under golden mist
Of sun kissed days
Those leaves that turn and crunch
So crisp
These frosted memories
That slowly thaws beneath your feet
In oracles of golden russet crowns
That weave their fingers into clouds
Leave traces of a green
That lace and bud the heart with song
Of summers gone
And loves flame burning brighter
In the candle of a year now gone
And burning fires
Frozen brooks
And smoky rings
Each breath as still
As time suspended
Into space
yvette m smith oct 08
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What do you know of the Truth?
You think that I'm an angel,
but you're thinking of the light.
Your facts may not be wrong,
but the truth is still not quite.
The story you've been told.
Is less than half of what you've seen.
It is better that you don't know,
of who I am and where I've been.
The truth is an ugly thing,
though some prefer it's gaze.
There are things that are still more palpable
when they're hidden by a haze.
The truth you may want to find,
I'm not saying that that's wrong.
But I'm just saying I'm not sure,
that even you are that strong.
There are things that people hide,
things, that they put away.
Things that have reasons,
why they never see light of day.
Though your causes may be noble,
that I don't deny.
But there are things that are too touchy,
for you to ever know the why.
If you play with a person's heartstrings,
they are liable to break.
Even with your good intentions,
there are demons you shouldn't wake.
Morning Rain
A slight rain comes, bathed in dawn light.
I hear it among treetop leaves before mist
Arrives. Soon it sprinkles the soil and,
Windblown, follows clouds away. Deepened
Colors grace thatch homes for a moment.
Flocks and herds of things wild glisten
Faintly. Then the scent of musk opens across
Half a mountain -- and lingers on past noon.
Morning Rain
A slight rain comes, bathed in dawn light.
I hear it among treetop leaves before mist
Arrives. Soon it sprinkles the soil and,
Windblown, follows clouds away. Deepened
Colors grace thatch homes for a moment.
Flocks and herds of things wild glisten
Faintly. Then the scent of musk opens across
Half a mountain -- and lingers on past noon.
Battle Of Fog Wind And Sun
It’s a mysterious morning in the wood as the fogs settled in
Fog dances with the wind through the trees twirling
A hazy white blanket diffusing scattering the light
Everything looks so different tricking your sight
The sun rays pours down breaking through the trees canopy
Linear streaks of light highlighting objects we see
Mysterious fog plays with the light as things it conceals
So when you are only near objects magically reappear
Strange shaped shadows jump out from the teasing mist
And twigs and objects appear that at first you did miss
The gloomy cold fog tries hard to hide the light of the new day
But the darkness and mystery it brings is not there to stay
The wind helps the sun to blow the mist from our sight
And wind sun versus the fog start their regular teasing fight
As normal the fog slowly loses, thins to a light haze in the air
Going patchy with little dancing wisps here and there
The light and the wind always it wins afterall
But the fog would just quickly disappear from us all
But look closely he left a present from his newly departed mist
On foliage are water jewel droplets where it gently kissed
By The Light of an Angel
An Angel stands out in a crowd,
My heart sings out loud,
An Angel leaves behind a trail of clouds,
Just as your love makes me proud,
Everywhere you leave a sign,
Is it your time to be mine?
Waiting for your head to turn,
So my love can burn,
An Angel's grace lights your face,
Your love's strength leaves a trace,
Across my life a vision,
A vision so grand,
I can feel your heartbeat in my hand,
In the light of a candle I see you smile,
Can we be together for a while?
In your eyes I see my truth,
In my heart I feel your faith,
You will see me by the light of an Angel,
A reflection of love's perfection,
Together we will see a vision of heaven,
A heaven's love we hold in our hearts,
And love is a great place to start!
I will follow you now,
Wipe the stress from your brow,
I will embrace your pain,
And as one we shall remain!
07 June 2012
poem by David Andre' Klopper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Kind Of Sorrow, A Secret Suffering
to lose you i know is one kind sorrow
for i claim a loss that i never had even once owned.
a play of words, and i know you do not understand
what each word means, what a punctuation is.
this heart that grieves for what it cannot even touch
with its fragile hands, its trembling fingers
for what i see is but a glimmer
a faint light, a shadow, a hush, a slight glimpse
no one knows what secret suffering is all about
(secret so to say, i give it a language of its own)
a heart that bleeds without drops of blood
a heart injured yet without the bruises and wound
i mix with the crowd just like what we do when we go malling.
i smile like the way all people smile. i always have a glimpse of you.
yet i know, i do not wait for anybody, or anything, this is simply
an impossible endeavor. Clouds that dissipate. Air that vanish.
a door that closes. a bus that leaves. a plane turning into a dot in space.
i look up actually for nothing. i pretend sometimes that there are stars where there are none but black clouds and tree tops.
i look down and only see suffering. Pebbles and gray sands.
i sleep without remembering my dreams. i wake up not thinking
about what to do specifically with my life. I have everything you say.
but since i do not have you, i am still nothing. I am simply arms emptied
of its embrace. I am hands groping with nothing but space.
it does not matter. i touch my chest and feel that i am strong.
i give up the gift of speech. I take in the gift of words written in utter silence.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dreams in the Dusk
Dreams in the dusk,
Only dreams closing the day
And with the day’s close going back
To the gray things, the dark things,
The far, deep things of dreamland.
Dreams, only dreams in the dusk,
Only the old remembered pictures
Of lost days when the day’s loss
Wrote in tears the heart’s loss.
Tears and loss and broken dreams
May find your heart at dusk.
poem by Carl Sandburg
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Morning Sunrise
The light diffuses
In the cool haze of thick mist
Above the water.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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Morning Song Of Senlin
It is morning, Senlin says, and in the morning
When the light drips through the shutters like the dew,
I arise, I face the sunrise,
And do the things my fathers learned to do.
Stars in the purple dusk above the rooftops
Pale in a saffron mist and seem to die,
And I myself on a swiftly tilting planet
Stand before a glass and tie my tie.
Vine leaves tap my window,
Dew-drops sing to the garden stones,
The robin chips in the chinaberry tree
Repeating three clear tones.
It is morning. I stand by the mirror
And tie my tie once more.
While waves far off in a pale rose twilight
Crash on a white sand shore.
I stand by a mirror and comb my hair:
How small and white my face!—
The green earth tilts through a sphere of air
And bathes in a flame of space.
There are houses hanging above the stars
And stars hung under a sea. . .
And a sun far off in a shell of silence
Dapples my walls for me. . .
It is morning, Senlin says, and in the morning
Should I not pause in the light to remember God?
Upright and firm I stand on a star unstable,
He is immense and lonely as a cloud.
I will dedicate this moment before my mirror
To him alone, and for him I will comb my hair.
Accept these humble offerings, cloud of silence!
I will think of you as I descend the stair.
Vine leaves tap my window,
The snail-track shines on the stones,
Dew-drops flash from the chinaberry tree
Repeating two clear tones.
It is morning, I awake from a bed of silence,
Shining I rise from the starless waters of sleep.
The walls are about me still as in the evening,
I am the same, and the same name still I keep.
The earth revolves with me, yet makes no motion,
The stars pale silently in a coral sky.
In a whistling void I stand before my mirror,
Unconcerned, I tie my tie.
There are horses neighing on far-off hills
Tossing their long white manes,
And mountains flash in the rose-white dusk,
Their shoulders black with rains. . .
It is morning. I stand by the mirror
And surprise my soul once more;
The blue air rushes above my ceiling,
There are suns beneath my floor. . .
. . . It is morning, Senlin says, I ascend from darkness
And depart on the winds of space for I know not where,
My watch is wound, a key is in my pocket,
And the sky is darkened as I descend the stair.
There are shadows across the windows, clouds in heaven,
And a god among the stars; and I will go
Thinking of him as I might think of daybreak
And humming a tune I know. . .
Vine-leaves tap at the window,
Dew-drops sing to the garden stones,
The robin chirps in the chinaberry tree
Repeating three clear tones.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Dont Worry About The Government
I see the clouds that move across the sky
I see the wind that moves the clouds away
It moves the clouds over by the building
I pick the building that I want to live in
I smell the pine trees and the peaches in the woods
I see the pinecones that fall by the highway
Thats the highway that goes to the building
I pick the building that I want to live in
Its over there, its over there
My building has every convenience
Its gonna make life easy for me
Its gonna be easy to get things done
I will relax alone with my loved ones
Loved ones, loved ones visit the building,
Take the highway, park and come up and see me
Ill be working, working but if you come visit
Ill put down what Im doing, my friends are important
Dont you worry bout me
I wouldnt worry about me
Dont you worry bout me
Dont you worry bout me
I see the states, across this big nation
I see the laws made in washington, d.c.
I think of the ones I consider my favorites
I think of the people that are working for me
Some civil servants are just like my loved ones
They work so hard and they try to be strong
Im a lucky guy to live in my building
They own the buildings to help them along
Its over there, its over there
My building has every convenience
Its gonna make life easy for me
Its gonna be easy to get things done
I will relax along with my loved ones
Loved ones, loved ones visit the building
Take the highway, park and come up and see me
Ill be working, working but if you come visit
Ill put down what Im doing, my friends are important
I wouldnt worry bout
I wouldnt worry about me
Dont you worry bout me
Dont you worry bout me..........
song performed by by Talking Heads
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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