an Ode to Loneliness....
Loneliness need not be feared.
IT is one of the most common guests in your house.
If you fear it, it will tease you and prolong your
agony.
If you, however, meet it at the gate, and welcome it to your house,
give it some drinks, feed it well, and offer it your room, ask it to sleep with you
for ten days,
Then it will look at you from the tip of your hair to the tip of your toe and say, ' This man knows me, and has a deep thinking, he knows how to nurture me,
and take good care of a bleeding heart'
And then it will have second thoughts in deciding to stay in your house
and sleep with you in bed
It has lost its use and finally arrive at the conclusion ' You are a strong man,
you know how to live. You talk to God, and compassionate about
the pain of silence'
And then without saying goodbye
sans the note or words of departure, it leaves you and your house
looking for those who are still living on their closed houses,
on shallow waters
For indeed, Loneliness also chooses those who deserve it
Now you smile, you close the door because it is already dark,
close the windows because there is no moon,
and somehow you think about it,
honestly, you miss
what you have become so familiar about
it has become dear to you
and clearer now
it has become a part of you
like a key inside your
pocket.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
A Whisper
there is a whisper that arrived in our
little place
it's name is loneliness and it is looking
for someone that it has known years ago
in the place where it is living
it is knocking every door of the house
and someone opens it
it mentions my name and it asks whether
i still live here
someone takes the courage of telling it
that my house is about two hills away
from here
finally we meet. It stares at me. Closely.
Then it hugs me. It cries. It kissess my ears.
I am silent. I am still thinking of you for all
these years. Time cannot heal.And then the
whisper stays inside my ears. Silenced.
It is not saying any word anymore.
The neighbors know that its name
is loneliness.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Doll's House
The music comes on with the lights,
the little opera of emptiness begins, the little
dance of no one there —
just the rooms exhibited,
furniture in them like ideas,
a stage set waiting for action out of the blue.
But no,
even the fire in the hearth is neon, warms no one,
the drawers in the painted chests,
are filled with nothing,
the tables loaded with miniature, fake, repasts.
It’s night outside, about to snow, the dollhouse lights are on:
you’re in the dark,
watching the dollhouse like a thief,
pilfering its pockets for a clue to your own life,
wafted over by smells of cooking, and silence.
Inside the dark
a flute starts to play, imaginary people come in at the door:
invited to stay, they take off their coats,
tea is made in a miniature pot — oh,
it’s good I hear you say, let’s have crumpets too, and we put them on,
you and I, they’re almost crumbs but we toast them,
and what kind of jam do you want, I say, on top of the butter,
and you say raspberry,
and I give it to you, reader,
I give it to you and we both eat.
Outside the big house it’s snowing.
Applied frost creeps up the sides of the doll house windows,
the fake fireplace glows electric,
our toy dog sleeps on the rug —
a hush falls over this small house inside the big house,
we sleep in it…
I sleep, you sleep, he sleeps, she sleeps…
it sleeps, the real,
a sleep so delicious, we can dream in it,
as in a delirium, without sound…
windows opening into windows,
shoes never walked in at the door
that we slip on.
poem by Ioanna Carlsen
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Something That Flows Away
FINALLY you tell me
you like an empty house
something minimal
all white with no curves
just straight lines
your want is small now
something that makes us close
something that shrinks
to make an intimacy
you want a house just
for the two of us
i am thinking if these thoughts
are a little bit late
my dreams are different
i am thinking of a bird-house
i am thinking of grains
i am thinking of water
something that i can leave
something that i can give
something that flows away
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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This House Is Empty Now (feat. Burt Bacharach)
These rooms play tricks upon you
Remember when they were always filled with laughter?
But now they're quite deserted
They seem to just echo voices raised in anger
Maybe you will see my face
Reflected there on the pane
In the window of our poor
Forlorn and broken home
Still this house is empty now
There's nothing I can do
To make you want to stay
So tell me how
Am I supposed to live without you?
These walls were lined with pictures
Remember the glass we charged in celebration?
But now I fill my life up
With all that I can to deaden this sensation
Do you recognize the face
Fixed in that fine silver frame
Were you really so unhappy then?
You never said
So this house is empty now
There's nothing I can do
To make you want to stay
So tell me how
Am I supposed to live without you?
Oh, if I could just become forgetful
When night seems endless
Does the extinguished candle care
About the darkness?
It's funny how my memry
Will bring you so close then make you disappear
Meanwhile all our friends must choose
Who they will favour, who they will lose
Hang the garland high or close the door
And throw away the key
This house is empty now
There's no one living here
You have to care about
This house is empty now
There's nothing I can do
To make you want to stay
So tell me how
Am I supposed to live without you?
This house is empty now
There's no one living here
You have to care about
This house is empty now
There's nothing I can do
To make you want to stay
So tell me how
Am I supposed to live without you
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This House Is Empty Now
(costello/bacharach)
These rooms play tricks upon you
Remember when they were always filled with laughter
But now theyre quite deserted
They seem to just echo voices raised in anger
Maybe you will see my face
Reflected there on the pane
In the window up above for long
In broken home
Yet this house is empty now
Theres nothing I can do
To make you want to stay
So tell me how am I supposed to live without you
These walls were lined with pictures
Remember the glass we charged in celebration
But now I fill my life up
With all that I can to deaden this sensation
Do you recognize the face
Fixed in that fine silver frame
Were you really so unhappy there
You never said
So this house is empty now
Theres nothing I can do to make you want to stay
So tell me how am I supposed to live without you
Oh, if I could just become forgetful
When night seems endless
Does the extinguished candle care
About the darkness
Its funny how the memory
Will bring you so close then make you disappear
Meanwhile all our friends must choose
Who they will favour, who they will lose
Hang the garland high, or close the door
Or throw away the key
This house is empty now
Theres no one living here
You have to care about
This house is empty now
Theres nothing I can do
To make you want to stay
So tell me how am I supposed to live without you
This house is empty now
This house is empty now
Theres nothing I can do
This house is empty now
This house is empty now
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stranger In The House
We dont talk much
We dont make love like we used to
And I stay guarded
Ive got walls and triggers
I never thought I had
And so do you
But this is love
And thats the way we seem content to play it
I touch your clothes when youre gone
I let your scent wash over me
You cry at night and you wish just like a child
That we were how we used to be
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
And she looks like somebody from a lifetime ago
I stonewall you, you stonewall me
But we both know that
Hiding deep inside us
Lives the love that we try hard to lose
And never will
But this is war
And thats the way we seem content to fight it
I get so angry and confused cause
I want out but I want you
You cant decide between moving out or moving in
You dont know what to do
With a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
And she looks like you
And he looks like me
Is this the same girl that, I fought so hard to win
And now I fight to lose her
Now I feel that its just like skin to skin
And nerve to nerve
Strung out like wire
Is that the way we are content to live
We face off in anger
In rooms once filled with love
Looking for a chink in the armour
Where we can stab the blade
What are we thinking of
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
And she looks like somebody from a lifetime ago
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This House Is Haunted
I was sitting in my room, dark and gray and crying
Someone in my life I fear was at the point of dying
A cold wind blew right up my spine, it was the break of dawn
A little voice went deep inside told me she was gone
Oh...This house is haunted
Oh...That's how I want it to be
Oh...This house is haunted
You can always stay here with me...
No more singing, no more laughing, no more sunny days
She left and took the colors with her, buried in her grave
This is where we climbed the tower, this is where she fell
Then when her young heart stopped beating, I went to hell
Oh...This house is haunted
Oh...Ha....
Oh...This house is haunted
Ho...Oh...
You float through the living room, I watch my TV
I feel you sit down on the couch right here next to me
Then I feel your lips touch mine just like we used to do
I'm so happy all alone being here with you...
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Essence, Essence, Essence
i am learning and i am learning everyday
some truths keep coming like uninvited guests
my stairs are dirty the soil and mud keep coming
the living room is crowded and there are words everywhere
on the arms of the chairs on the tables on the doors some words hang themselves, and i am not really at a loss, i am just amazed
last night i promised myself to close the door and the windows
and live a life of my own the following morning
but it is not at all that simple,
the house is lonely and if it decides to close
all openings and seal all its rooms,
how can the house breathe?
let all these truths come, let them take the forms of poetry
let them have the rose of the prose, the say of an essay, the narrations
of the long novel,
for now i have changed and have preferred once more
to give in and to listen
my ears are wide like highways
my eyes as attentive as lighthouses
my feet patient as shoes waiting to be worn again
i am a bowl and i let the rain come inside me
they pour in like forms of bliss
they fill me
i do not break
i only overflow and then everyday
the sun takes every part that i save
and i become empty again
i am the passive recipient,
i am the spectator
they all reveal themselves as i watch
in wonder
i count my fingers
i sleep with all my dreams
in darkness in light
i am back to this wanton wander
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Black House On The Corner
I passed by that house everday,
wondering what lurked inside of it,
was their some kind of ancient evil inside,
or a normal family that we never saw,
a house of macarbe,
it was painted black like the devil's sin,
it was surrouned by devilish-looking,
figures that stood outside on the line,
was also surrounded by a black pointed fence,
rumors of the devil himself living there,
the devil in the flesh,
satan living on my street corner,
The black house on the corner,
can't you see it,
you must walk past it everyday to,
dosen't your mind wander,
when you walk by The black house,
don't you to know what lays inside of the house,
maybe a ton of dead bodies under the floor boards,
a madman butcherd up his family,
could that be true,
or are our young minds racing again,
with impure and insane thoughts about,
who or what lives in the black house on the corner,
the black house,
painted with the devil's sin,
We were told to stay away from the black house,
that so many evils lived inside of it,
but us being kids we didn't want to live,
we wanted to see what was inside of the black house on the corner,
But we are to afraid to go forward,
we are to afraid to step through the gate,
and walk up the beaten path to the door bell,
it looks so old and so evil,
The black house on the corner,
we shall never know what evilness,
or what macabre force resides within,
the black house on the corner,
whatever you do,
don't go into the black house on the corner,
stay away from,
the black house on the corner,
it holds so many evils,
the black house on the corner,
poem by Robert Rumery
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In this house of pain
In this house of pain
We’re nothing but slaves
Giving into such desires
Will it bring us any pleasure?
Weeping for a lover lost
She’ll cast her own spell
Deprived by all
Depleting the life of everyone that has betrayed her
Hidden in the shadows is where she will feel alive
In this house
Is nothing but sinners?
In this house
Is nothing but broken promises?
In this house
Is where you left me for dead?
Walking through the fogged trees
Blind to all
The songs of old
Are here for the comfort of all.
Beneath the garden of secrets
Hides a lonely heart
Calling to her lover
From which she had to part.
I am alone again.
Alone with my thoughts
That I am left to ponder upon
I am alone again.
This sadness is overwhelming
And all I can do is give in
Does my heart still beat the same?
Or does it die along with you
These thoughts seem to keep me sane
Yet I’m still waiting for more
These memories seem to play a game
And in the end
I’m here to give in
In this house
Is nothing but heartache?
In this house
Is nothing but tears?
In this house
Is where you left me broken?
The feelings seem to fade
The laughter was lost long ago
But I would give everything up
Just to have it all back
In this house
Was when I first fell in love with you?
In this house is were I gave my heart to you
In this house was where i was lost to you.
This will be our doing
This will be our destruction
Swept up in such blissful dreams
Scarcely unaware
This is the house
Were we will rot forever?
poem by Teigan Klippel
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House Of The Heart
So many people live in the house of the heart
And all the people that lives in the house of the heart
Are very at the house of the heart
Because they don't live alone
The house of the heart is a very big house
With 10 bedrooms,1 kitchen, a dining room,1 large living room, and 5
Bathrooms
At the house of the heart everybody sleeps in their own bedroom
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Self-talk In That Secret....
at the end
i am about to cry
something bothers me
somehow
i can't
i hold the knob of the
door
tightly
i want to go out from
this old house
and be with you
but i finally loosen
my hold
and go back to the room
of myself
the law speaks
tradition warns that something
may happen
and i cannot take
all the possible
harsh
consequences
and so i give up my life
and meaning
i stay in the comfort of ordinary
days
unhappily
but it is worth it
when i come back i find a house where i
can still live
it is you that makes me live some more
in the blur of our memories
when you are finally gone
with no address t refer to
(you never write me letters)
i stay put on my chair
and immerse myself in the deep silence
of my sad thoughts
it is the case again
of i want to go but i must stay
same rehashed argument
when i ask you if you are happy
your answer is yes and no,
but i understand it perfectly
it is the same answer that i write
in my journal
in those three perfect days
i forgive myself
but i can never forget you
love stays
but time shall always try to vanish it
without
our consent
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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More Time Baby
As I put you in ur cot
please go to sleep if you are not
to hours sleep is all I need
to do some housework & have a feed.
Washing on & dishes done,
Enjoy your sleep little one
I’ll vacuum now & do some dusting
This house is really quite disgusting
If you’ll sleep a little more I should be able to mop the floor.
Now the house is clean & tidy It’s... time to get some food inside me
It is now that you awake I guess that sandwich can stay on the plate
poem by Karen Heeney
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The Houses
1898 -- A Song of the Dominions
'Twixt my house and thy house the pathway is broad,
In thy house or my house is half the world's hoard;
By my house and thy house hangs all the world's fate,
On thy house and my house lies half the world's hate.
For my house and thy house no help shall we find
Save thy house and my house -- kin cleaving to kind;
If my house be taken, thine tumbleth anon.
If thy house be forfeit, mine followeth soon.
'Twixt my house and thy house what talk can there be
Of headship or lordship, or service or fee?
Since my house to thy house no greater can send
Than thy house to my house -- friend comforting friend;
And thy house to my house no meaner can bring
Than my house to thy house -- King counselling King.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Strategies For Living Life
when he goes out into the world
there are no arms waiting
it is loneliness that walks with him
so he decided to stay and close the
doors and windows
thinking that in this way the world
will love him as others expect
the rope of loneliness chokes him
and so he prepares to go back into the open
he dresses well enough to face the wind
and dance with the shadows
they demand that he tells him his real name
and not wear a mask and sing the usual song
he refuses to cater to a brutality
he goes back to his room and reads a book
and closed the door again
and he grows up into a very strong silence
confident upon the soundless nook and
expects no one to call his name again
at the end he learns this game of
responsible loneliness
the one that does not speak when hurt
that does not smile even when seduced by joy
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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1,2,3,4.
1,2,3,4
Needy men sprawled on the floor.
Many pass with merciless stares
While they wait patiently for somebody to care.
No job, no house, no bed to sleep
We leave these men without basic needs.
Assuming that they spend it on booze and drugs
We flick them away like pesky bugs.
No job, no house, no bed to sleep
And all they want is some money to eat.
No job, no house, no bed to sleep
Is this how we treat God’s sheep?
No job, no house, no bed to sleep
Won’t somebody care to see?
That 1,2,3,4
Needy men, need support.
poem by Vanessa Hibberd
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Hi There, Outside World
Hi there, Outside world,
It's been a while, you see.
I've missed you lots, and tons, and much,
And we all know you've missed me.
Hi there, Outside world,
Come inside and stay a while,
No one will know where you've gone,
In here, from the world, so vile.
Hi there, Outside world,
Aren't you curious where I've been?
Don't you want to know everything,
Like why, and how, and when?
Hi there, Outside world,
It's much better inside of doors,
No noises, or sickness, or hate, or death,
Here there's only peace, no wars.
Hi there, Outside world,
Wouldn't you love to get away?
Just leave them there, Forget they care,
Just come inside and stay.
Hi there, Outside world,
We can be friends, just you and me,
We can sing, and dance, and talk,
And for once, we'll both be free.
Hi there, Outside world,
That world is a scary place,
Wouldn't you rather a nice warm house,
Where evil leaves no trace?
Hi there, Outside world,
Come live with me, my dear,
You'll never go another day,
While cowering in fear.
Hi there, Outside world,
Please don't ask to leave,
I need someone to stay with me,
It's lonely, you'll believe.
Wait, Outside world,
I can convince you, you'll see,
Just stay here for evermore,
Leave those people be.
Outside world, I need your help,
Don't leave me here to die,
It's sad, and I feel alone,
In my spare time, I cry.
What's that you say, Outside world?
Leave my house of sadness?
Go with you to your outside place?
My word, now that's just madness!
Listen here, Outside world,
I'm never welcome back,
I've left there once, and can't return,
Of that, I'm sure as fact.
Silly little Outside world,
You say I'm missed a lot,
How could that be, Outside world,
If I've never been sought.
I see all, Outside world,
And I know they do not want me,
I'd rather stay here, in my mind,
Than live amongst the happy.
I fear I can't, Outside world,
This house is all I need,
I know it's meager, and so dark,
But, I must live my creed.
I swore an oath, Outside world,
That I should live in here for ever,
Never leave, Never be,
With or without endeavor.
I keep my word, Outside world,
This place is where I stay,
I never can go back, you see,
I've gone too far away.
Goodbye, Outside world,
I really enjoyed our chat,
I'm sorry to hear you have to go,
Devastated, at that.
So long, Outside world,
If I never see you again,
Tell the world what happened here,
Don't let it happen to them.
poem by K.N. Sheldon
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Catching Breaths Like Words
the difference between
you and me
is not the sameness of
our miseries
the difference is that you
are an open window
that has closed again
but i am a window that i
broke and never close
because there is no more reason
to keep me closed i am
sinfully opening to the
changes of the clouds &
the course-less drifting of the wind
i do not pay attention
to direction now
except perhaps on the basics
of having to feed my day to
day existence
when you arrive here
i am no longer myself
and then you leave
saying i am the useless wind
of the house and i deserve
no room at all
early in the morning
before i become myself again
words rain in my eyes
like tears
salt to my tongue and
biting
i want to put them in a
bowl
treat them like salad
days
but i do not eat words
neither do you
so i let them pour
on the vacancies of the
floor and they drip on
the earth and
gone & i said i have no
time for thoughts
thoughts do not help me
find my arms
i rush to go and be myself
again
on the wings that you
detest
above everything else
i resume
catching breaths
like words
feeding myself like
paper
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The House
For many years, the house
stood empty and forlorn.
The windows had been boarded
preventing the sunlight coming in.
No welcoming mat lay by the door;
laughter was a thing of the past
as spiders spun their webs
within the gloomy silence.
The house stood empty
abandoned by most living things
and there were those who said
spooky goings on went on
after night fell in there.
No one could prove it
because no one would stay there.
Only the fool hardy
would ever enter after dark.
The paintwork pealed
and the front door creaked
if someone dared to open it.
They say the house is haunted,
but no one knew
by what or who.
The house began to crumble
as each season came to pass.
The glory of its birth
lay somewhere in the past
and now the crumbling walls
would never reveal
any of the secrets that it knew.
Then a fire started
by a hand unseen
and the house finally died
within its own funeral pyre
15 March 2011
poem by David Harris
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A House for Four
A house for four
What is it? a house for four
A dingy looking thing
Are there windows? none
What is it? a house for four
Such a palace
Are there greetings? none
What is it? a house for four
Why the space is so small
Is there privacy? none
What is it? a house for four
A dozen creeps could be creeping there
Is there any trust? none
Don't judge me for mine
Poor fool i wont
Even give you the time
Are you judging me?
Your quite the choir
With a cracking voice
And
A tall house that falls
To scrutiny
A house for four and
A house for four
A people of choir and
A people of poor
Do you not recognize
The stains are yours?
A house is not a house
Unless there is more
More and more
Sometimes less is more
poem by Deci Hernandez
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