Related quotes: at the point somewhere between...

A Ponderous Moment...

at the point somewhere between
loneliness and
independence, one settles on faraway places,
to see how things are
from a distance, and you soon find out

it is you that seeks the company of others,
spends for their drinks, caters for their caprices,
enslaved and deprived,

it is you that has behaved as the insufficient one
always begging for
a relationship, and you conclude that you have
always been
the lonelier than before

the insecure one, looking for others' entertainment
dependent as an accessory metal to
their diamond natures,

but it will only be for a time, soon
you discover it and fight back,
i mean,
you begin to question your own behavior,

and you shy away, feeling guilty about your
weaker side, and you begin to build the fences again
to make a good neighbor
of yourself,

you write in your journal,
i have always been
a defeatist, needing always the hands of others,
those that press upon me

choke me and had almost killed me
those whose arms have become ropes around
my neck

you quit.

you ponder again.
you look at the stars at night and marvel upon
the distances of each

and their solemn silence
their pride and self-esteem
always whole, glittering,

against the darkness of the
universe.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes

Guilty

Just tried to have fun raised hell and then some
I'm a dirt-talkin', beer drinkin', woman chasin' minister's son
Slap on the make-up and blast out the music
Wake up the neighbors with a roar like a teenage heavy metal elephant gun
If you call that guilty then that's what I am
I'm guilty
I'm guilty
I like driving too fast
Love going too far
It seems the law's on my ass every time I stick it out of the door
If you call that guilty then that's what I am
I'm guilty
I'm guilty
Bad boy on a summer night
When the heat makes me mean and I wanna fight
With my pedal to the metal
And I do what I want to do
Bad girls make me feel all right
When it's hot and they start screaming in the night
Golly gee, it's wrong to be so guilty
I'm guilty
Guilty
I'm guilty
My conscience is on vacation in acute degeneration
Willpower has sunk to all-time low
If you call that guilty well I guess I am
I'm guilty
I'm guilty
If you call that guilty then that's what I am
I'm guilty, I'm guilty, I'm guilty, I'm guilty
I'm guilty, I'm guilty, I'm guilty, I'm guilty
Well I'm guilty
Yeah I'm guilty
I don't care
I'm guilty
I think I've been framed anyway
They said I'm guilty
I'm guilty
They're guilty and everyone is guilty

song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Good Fight

By: jimmy buffett, j.d. souther
1980
To muhammed ali for twenty years of excitement and entertainment
They talk about their women too much
The women got em so confused
They dont talk about their lives as such
My life is all I got to lose
You take it with a grain of salt
And laugh at the complexities
Theyre good at pickin all the faults
I keep laughin so they dont pick me
Chorus:
Jesus if I had to quit tonight
Id never know if I was wrong or right
But thats just what you get
You got to go the distance
If you want to fight a good fight
Good fight
Keep it up and keep a good fight
Good fight
The telephone begins to ring
That could only be one call
I might as well be on the moon
Standin in the shower stall
Cant believe she picked it up
She didnt know the rules somehow
Then I hear her say hello (hello)
Panic in the grey room now
Chorus:
Jesus if I had to quit tonight
Shed kill me whether I was wrong or right
Thats just what you get
You got to go the distance
If you want to fight a good fight
Good fight
Keep it up and keep a good fight
Good fight
You never know until you try
Its hard to see the side youre on
Some people say Im halfway here
Some people say Im halfway gone
Chorus:
Jesus if I had to quit tonight
Id never know if I was wrong or right
But thats just what you get
You got to go the distance
If you want to fight a good fight
Good fight
Keep it up and keep a good fight
Good fight
All I want is just a good fight
Good fight
Yes its got to be a good fight
Good fight

song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Darkness Awakens Into Spring

Dreary cold Days are gone
Awesome how the trees begin budding
Ravishing is the beauty the
Easter lilies along the fences
Caddy dids and crickets begin
There Sweet Song as the

Darkness awakens into Spring
Now the birds are beginning to
build there nest high in the trees
Preparing for there young
Every now and then you can hear a

Frogs Croak and a big ribit
From time to time sweet smell of
spring is in the air as the
Darkness awakens into Spring
Angelic is the spring air

Wonderful how the tree and flowers
Awaken to the suns beautiful light
As I am sitting here in my window
I watch as a little family of Cardinals
begin to make the trees in my

Back yard there home every year
They return here to build their
nest for their young
As the Darkness Awakens Into Spring

By Melissia Ann Senter

poem by Melissia Ann Senter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Begin again

Infant...
Crying, needing, wanting, diaper changing
Playful, tearful, cooing, smiling

Then you grow
Things change
We begin again

Toddler....
Curious, adventurous, laughing, talking
Walking, needing, busy, whining

Then you grow
Things change
We begin again

Child....
Sports, schooling, friendships, sharing
Learning, listening, reading, caring

Then you grow
Things change
We begin again

Tween...
Sleepovers, boyfriends, conflicts, responsibility
Band, homework, joking, growing

Then you grow
Things change
We begin again

Teen....
Not quite there yet
Looking forward to the ride
Who ever, what ever I'll be by your side.

You may grow
Things will change
But I will always be here for when you need to begin again.

poem by Amber Wellman
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I Strive Against The Silence Of The Night

I STRIVE AGAINST THE SILENCE OF THE NIGHT

I strive against the silence of the night
Against my own inner emptiness
I wait to hear some song from inside myself -
Nothing is written.

I go back to where I am
And begin again.

There is always a poem if one is patient enough.

But what poem?
And for what special meaning of this night?

I write again and again
A poem which is about writing a poem
And when I come to end it
I question again and again
Whether it is real.

This night is already deep in darkness
And yet I have almost broken its silence

One more line
One more writing about writing a poem -

Perhaps Memory will come back to me
And I will write a more real poem
Than this strained effort now.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ropes, , , ,

an umbilical cord
is a rope
mother cuts it
for good

despite this
an imaginary cord still exists
between two minds
a bridge
where no one wants to
walk

imagination is cut
there is now an empty space
sort of conceived
independence

for me to grow
and be full
between us the bridge
must be broken
no ropes this time
no binding bond

between two continents
will always be an ocean
giant ships travel
a hundred whales
swim

i like is this way
between us
the Pacific ocean
no islands
just waves so huge
that sometimes
we are brave enough
in hopelessness

no ropes this time
no hands and arms
between us
this blinding darkness
this utter silence

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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If You Could Pray Frustrations Away

If you could pray frustrations away...
Would you try it?
Or,
Would you fight it?
And could you work all day without pay?
Would you try it?
Or,
Would you fight it!
Or would you climb to the stars?

If you could cook a meal for peace...
Would you try it?
Or,
Would you fight it?
And could you sauna with your enemies?
Would you try it?
Or,
Would you fight it!
Or would you...
Climb to the stars?

People need to find fresh places to arrive,
And meet.
People need to find a way inside to a reason,
To let go and discover...
The good feeling felt of coming from undercover!

If you could cook a meal for peace...
Would you try it?
Or,
Would you fight it?
And could you sauna with your enemies?
Would you try it?
Or,
Would you fight it!
Or would you...
Climb to the stars?

People need to find fresh places to arrive,
And meet.
People need to find a way inside to a reason,
To let go and discover...
The good feeling felt of coming from undercover!
And getting to know another.
With a goal to hold each close together.

If you could pray frustrations away...
Would you try it?
Or would you climb to the stars?
Alone as wished to be,
Would you climb to the stars?

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Another Day

What seems like such a winter's tale
Lightening runs through the fallen flames
By kneeling down we're here to pray
At that point forsaken unafraid
I only wanna feel you being strong
I only wanna feel you being strong
Call me up and let's begin
Call me up and let's begin
Another day
Call me up and let's begin
Call me up and let's begin
You done that to me
Feel my breath go cold and calm
My pride is last and I sin again
And all the seasons change their scent
A year of hell they come against my head once more
I only wanna feel you being strong
I only wanna feel you being strong
Call me up and let's begin
Call me up and let's begin
Another day
Call me up and let's begin
Call me up and let's begin
You done that to me
INSTRUMENTAL
Call me up and let's begin
Call me up and let's begin
Another day
Call me up and let's begin
Call me up and let's begin
You done that to me
Call me up and let's begin
Call me up and let's begin
Another day
Call me up and let's begin
Call me up and let's begin
You done that to me
Call me up and let's begin
Call me up and let's begin
Another day
Call me up and let's begin
Call me up and let's begin
You done that to me

song performed by by Texas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Another Day

song performed by by Texas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Despair in Love, Love in Despair

Why do i find solace in my loneliness
But find sorrow with those wit whom i share the same blood
Why do i hide behind these fake smiles of happiness
When this sorrow and unrest washes over my soul like a flood

Its pathetic how i'm laughing on the outside
Laughing at how everyting is all right
While i'm crying and dying on the inside
Not wanting anyone to see my sad sad plight

Why is it that i continuosly distance myself
from those who are or try to get close
I see love as nothing more than a drug
that people are addicted to the point of overdose

I am one who finds solace in despair
in sorrow, in sadness, in darkness

I am one who feels pain in love
I see it as evil like a vulture, instead of pure like a dove

Love can build, but it can also destroy
It takes away everything, all of the joy

Despair may seem like incarnated bitterness
But its there to comfort in the face of loneliness

I find myself wishing for the company of the feeling of melancoly
Its as if i can't function without it

Like a flower without an ounce of water
Could this feeling be, truly be love

I see that in the end, that i find myself in a paradox
A large cell with many locks

Two sides of the same coin

Love and Despair, Despair and Love

Despair in Love, Love in Despair

I can't make it disappear
Don't want to make it disappear

poem by Harrison Fairchild
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Hoarded Silence

and so we made an understanding
to make our fences higher & stronger
& thicker,

we shake our hands and on that very day
we constructed things as planned

we heard some whistling that sound of the
mixing of the cement and sand and gravel

the putting of the blocks and finally the
shushing sound of the finishing touches

since then we could not see their affairs
in the same manner that we have kept strictly

on the privacy of our own events
the visitors that come the drinks shared

we know there is peace now
nothing of the old disturbance but when

everyone leaves to occupy their own private places too
what stays behind is the hoarded silence, this loneliness.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Perfect Storm

Ever experienced a perfect storm?
You know, after you're born
And the world seems swell
And everyone says all's well
Till your nostrils begin to smell
The scent of rain in which you played
Till your eyes lock upon your sky
And the clouds begin to gather
In a way that makes you an island
Preparing you for the life you're about to live
You think to fight instead you quake in fright and pray in flight
But the clouds refuse to scatter
For you they came and for you they'll stay
Where everything that could go wrong
Converge with a verdict ensuing
That everything goes wrong all at once
Not for a season in time but for a life in time
Where the tides are high
The dark is sky
And the sea is life
Where the winds they rage
And of you make a sage
Till you turn a page
And in the midst of the storm you write your age
Of the age in which you live, on the empty page
And when all your rage lies raging upon the page
You stand upon what's left of your feet, stare the storm rage to rage
And scream from the pith of your lungs what's left of your rage
Then go to sleep as the storm replies in fades
Everyone asks you to see the stars
In the pitch darkness of your darkest life
But the darkness has blinded you so
And the silence has deafened you to
The loneliness that eats through your bones
And your skin is a sagging beauty once known.
So you take up your pen and begin to chronicle
The life you live that's become a ridicule
And line by line you write your life's riddle
And about the cancer eating out your follicle
And time you spent praying for a miracle
Those on shore read these words you chronicle
And marvel upon the miracle
Of a heart that heals in the face of ridicule
They applaud and put you upon a pinnacle
But your storm is not a phase in time
It fades not at the appearance of a dime
Nor sweetens the sour taste of lime
And the voices that raises you to Zeus
Do not change your loneliness to us
So you remain you alone, just you and you
Gazing upon the horizon for a love that's true
The people they look up to you
The light you shine casts a shadow upon your hue
The dewy skies drown the dawn
And your mourning heart dims your morn
You wait for fate in faith that tides
O, these tides will turn someday in time
Oh the love I seek will one day be mine
Yet the life you live will no day be fine.

poem by Jenim Dibie
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When We Grow

when we grow
we actually change

we are like the sprouts of
a bean slowly crawling
wanting to see and
touch the sun,

we pretend not
to notice because
time runs so slowly
like cells unseen by
us but keen and keep on
gaining length and
width like the way
we grow eyelids

and we extend our sights
and smells, we find
love and we embrace
lust and we mix them
like a kind of
a bloody Mary drink,

or scotch on the rocks
and we face walls and
we mumble as we begin
to meet loneliness,
the spaces that spread
like a disease; you and
i, in all these, after a
lovely night in a
tangle of hair and
intertwining of fingers

we face darkness
and walls and we
begin to ask: what for?

we let the rain fall
our roofs leak and our
windows begin to open

we find separate paths
and we argue and then
we decide to take what
we really want:

i long for this and you long
for that; we take separate
ways, and we say goodbye.

we write letters day to day
until such time when the
silence becomes like a boring hour
and the
letters are unread and
we throw them on the river
of time: floating, all the
letters dissolving in the
cold waters of forgetting.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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After All The Endless Longing To Be Who We Are

IN THE MANNER OF BORGES I WRITE POEMS IN MY OLD AGE

In the manner of Borges I write poems in my old age
And dream that they are not only imitations
Of poems written by others
When we all were young.

Instead I go on now in the darkness of the night
Because the fear of what will be
Is always so deep in me
It does not need Poetry or Happiness or any other Meaning
Outside itself.

We are small sands drifting on the edge of stars
Lesser beings of a time we will never know
All that we have done comes back to us over and over again
As if we never were

I don’t believe I will ever write Borges lines
He wrote them in his own imagined words
And I must in my own little life
Suffer to the end of time
All I have not been
And never will be.

God Who is Good
God of Love
You gave me so much
You did not have to give me Poetry also.

THE REAL POETS

The real poets are few in number and largely known by name
The rest of us are endless frustration in aspiration
Words upon words upon words
Dreams upon dreams upon dreams
Getting and going nowhere forever unheard

The real poets find their anthologized place
And we know them over and over and over again
The rest of us just appear this only once
If we appear at all
And our words and our hearts and our minds
Do not encompass and inspire the endless rereadings
Time and Time’s Wounds make again and again and again

We are once only always forever losts
Nothing will save us
These words too coming in the wake of a long night’s reading
Of the poems of others
Cannot sustain and redeem
Cannot be what they would be
Cannot help and cannot save
Me or you or anyone we love
Even as poetry.

God Who Knows All
And in the End Decides on Everything
Has made us smaller even than the Angels
And our place in the Divine Song
Is not as far as we know
Anywhere heard at all.

Goodbye world
We are going
We have done what we could
We have written and written and written
Oxymandias’ poet will remain
And we will not
The lone and desert sands will stretch away
When we are not even a single grain.

THE WORLD IS FILLED WITH THE ENDLESS SILENCE OF THINGS

The world is filled with the endless silence of things
Dreams in old age are not the dreams of youth – and will never be
Old pain in old bodies stirs the imagination to anger at itself
The history of the universe begins somewhere long before we were born
And when Time ends more Time will not begin elsewhere
Parallel universes pose mathematical riddles to an evidence- hungry horde of physicists who live by supposition alone
And yet underneath it all we are biological beings – brains of our own misperceptions
Clamoring clamoring while on the other side of the moon
The cold goes deeper in us than all the distances we will never reach
Mites and Bites and Little Strings Digital waves and wiry wise things
We are all more than a cave painting with buffalo music beating in the fire
Under the darkness once
When we hunted with small eyes the body’s animal prey
Our spirit said mocking melodies of great and good sounds
Let the Maker of All be One in Love
And less than us may there never be new
The world we love and the people we trust
And the endless game of the transitions
This is a hell of a way to be who we are
And yet some say we are dust more than stars
And under the end of the forever we feel
Only our Names will remain not quite real.

AFTER ALL THE ENDLESS LONGING TO BE WHO WE ARE

After all the endless longing to be who we are
We come in old age to know what we dared never dream
That we as we are are less than we will forever be
And all that we have made is nothing beside
What God alone may make us should God have decided
That we are worth more than the interval here of our own small being
Dust is not enough
And will never be
For what we dream
For those we most love
Bones interred and epitaphs made righteous in stone
Cannot replace the vital thing of each breathing being
So so long ago
I knew when my grandmother died that she Bessie Zeibert- Peshie really- had so much love and goodness she should never be gone
Lost in her very last moments seeking a stolen sweater no one had ever taken
A sixteen year old girl in steerage with her first child who would never marry and live only to help his nephews and niece
God of Love
What are we
So many have died
So many good people
And I here officially an old man yet young enough to begin and thrive again in words
Questioning as I did then and knowing more and no more
We are the end and the beginning of the universe humanbeings kind or unkind
Light too is another name for death when it is forever too strong
I see I feel I know
We are what we are
And You will take us home
In a way we cannot dream now
Something so good as many of us have been
Must never die
And You Alone know how
We will survive
In the endless Infinite Eternity which no one who has ever lived can describe
Or truly understand.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Edited

one afternoon when the sun
sinks at the horizon and fades like a face
of my beloved
i begin to write about the fact of
friendship
not in poetic form but
factual

it is all about you
the day you left for america and you never write
a letter at the time
when letters were still in.

it is about a question of not talking
about a silence that still speaks despite the fact
that my hands cover my mouth

it is about a promise
that you will be you despite the absence of everyone
despite the loneliness
that lingers like a leech
on the skin of your feet as you pass the murky waters
of your life

friend, dissolve like sugar to water and be invisible
but still be sweet as ever.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Consultation

‘How are you feeling in general? ’ he asked.

‘Pretty good most of the time then I get these occasional black periods when nothing makes sense and I fear the worst’ I replied.

‘Hmm, any suicidal thoughts? ’ he asked thoughtfully as if embarrassed to ask the question.

I thought for a moment.

‘Well, not really. No, not really’ was all I could say.

He made some notes at this point.

‘And those times of feeling good’ he asked ‘what are they like? ’

‘Like the sun is shining and I feel on top of the world’.

‘But there’s no real reason for that? ’ he asked ‘you just feel good and that’s it? ’

‘Yeah’ I replied.

‘What about your libido? ’ he asked as if enquiring what brand of beer I liked.

‘Funnily that’s pretty good’ I said smiling.

He frowned.

‘Is there any guilt that you feel? ’ he probed.

‘Do you feel guilty when you feel good or see others around you far less well off than you are? ’

‘I guess I do. I feel bad that I can’t feel that good all the time and also sad for those worse than me’.

‘But not real guilt? ’

‘No. Not really’.

‘So you feel bad at times but not guilty? ’

‘Guess not’

‘Do you ever feel bad about not feeling guilty? ’

He knew I was lost at this point and changed tack.

‘When did you last masturbate? ’ he threw in.

‘Can’t remember’ I said startled.

He made some notes.

‘So, you feel guilty about masturbation? ’ he continued.

‘No, not at all’.

‘But you don’t remember when you last did it? ’ he said with a manner of distaste and disbelief.

‘Not really’.

At this point I did not know where all this was going.

‘Do you go to church? ’ he asked.

‘No’

‘Why not? ’

‘Can’t see the point’

‘So why are you here? ’

At this point the confessional ended.

I had been diagnosed as not having enough guilt or grief or angst to be normal and no further help or counselling could be offered.

But, at long last, I felt truly guilty.

So, perhaps, I will find redemption one day.

poem by David Keig
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To My Silent Sufferer....

to make me love you more
i strain this evolving relationship with
actually unnecessary
separations, ... remember my trips alone in the big city?
how i dislike a big empty bed that makes me feel in in a highway
riding in a small car,

i bleed of course like a cactus,
but soon the noonday sun knows how to dry the juicy cut
and comfort me with a tiny scar
hidden by my thorns,

i heard nothing from you, you keep secrets to yourself,
and you have become so beautiful to myself,

how i wish that i can be back in the place of my youth where i will miss
no one, when i can dive in the river naked, and without any malice to
anyone who sees me

i have uttered so many words, and written this experience in a journal,
and you continue with that silence,

that silence in suffering wanting nothing in return for the love that
you have always given

like clouds making rain, like seas faithfully making waves
like words always there to the picking of the tongue

my silent sufferer, i love you more,
i suffer in the countless words that i am saying

in such way, that i begin to doubt everything,
this silence that i surrender, this loss that i have trusted to the
company of words,

at night, i wish upon a meteor that all my thorns be gone.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Undone

What is it that could break this spell?
What is it that would make me well?
I'm distraught, obsessed, and alone...
It's a feeling, a place, a zone
It's not true, nor a state, I'm not alone- no
Many people mill about, they come they go
I'm never alone and yet there is no company
I'm never distraught and yet there in the light I see
The darkness that shrouds my path, wells up from within me
The feeling of things not true is uncanny
It doesn't matter that I have friends when I feel neglect
IT doesn't matter that I; m competent when I feel inept
It's funny how with one metaphorical heart
The whole body is led astray that might not do its part
A feeling, a falsehood, a whisper, this is my downfall
It is from within I am undone
My accomplishments unsung
The good in my life becomes void no point to it, no point at all

The sum of all that I've done pales in comparison to
A mere feeling of darkness, a sense of depression
A pang of loneliness

And lo I am undone

poem by David Knox
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What is it all about

We try to talk about many things
Petty and not so vulgar
We try to overwhelm ourselves
With so much words as I choose
What to put to make you marvel
And you pretend you marvel
That I make sense, but in truth
That is not the point of this meeting
Of two souls, it is the meeting of bodies
Of two bodies, needing each other’s warmth
And wrath, as I tell you about something
Interesting, you know that I am just
Pretending, my eyes are looking at every
Corner of your skin, the tip of your fingers
Wanting to touch me, too,
The softness of your body, the lines in
Your curvatures, swaying towards
My lips, I stop, I kneel before your
Gentleness, as you close your eyes
As you hold my hair, as you caress
My neck, my arms, my chest and you
Have sympathies for my gentleness
My humiliation, you ask me with the
Signal of your hands, and eyes, and
Lips that I rise up

To kiss you, it is all about it, and
We have no chance saying words
Again, we breathe each other’s longings
We fill our mutual emptiness, like we
Are all cups now filled with air.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sentimental Love

Distances awake our sentiment
Distances always make us tear
Distances always make us fear
Distances take away the ones who are dear
Distances make us learn that people are dare to care
Distances make us understand the value of having lover ones beside
When they are gone away
When already they are not there
Distances are the remainders of love sentiments
They remind us how we do care
Sometimes unaware we neglect those we care
Those who are precious more then our eyes
But somehow the hardships of our lives
Make us neglect people we love
But when they're gone the longing inside us begin to cry.
Distances separate our bodies yet they bring our souls together
They make us understand the value of our real ones.

poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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En.Citatepedia®.ro

A Ponderous Moment...

Related quotes

Guilty

The Good Fight

Darkness Awakens Into Spring

Begin again

I Strive Against The Silence Of The Night

Ropes, , , ,

If You Could Pray Frustrations Away

Another Day

Another Day

Despair in Love, Love in Despair

Hoarded Silence

The Perfect Storm

When We Grow

After All The Endless Longing To Be Who We Are

Edited

The Consultation

To My Silent Sufferer....

Undone

What is it all about

Sentimental Love

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