By The Window
two men pass by
my window
talking about a
pigeon run-over
by a car
by all means
it is already dead
when
they finally
arrive at the
scene of the morning
crime
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Prospects
We have set out from here for the sublime
Pastures of summer shade and mountain stream;
I have no doubt we shall arrive on time.
Is all the green of that enameled prime
A snapshot recollection or a dream?
We have set out from here for the sublime
Without provisions, without one thin dime,
And yet, for all our clumsiness, I deem
It certain that we shall arrive on time.
No guidebook tells you if you'll have to climb
Or swim. However foolish we may seem,
We have set out from here for the sublime
And must get past the scene of an old crime
Before we falter and run out of steam,
Riddled by doubt that we'll arrive on time.
Yet even in winter a pale paradigm
Of birdsong utters its obsessive theme.
We have set out from here for the sublime;
I have no doubt we shall arrive on time.
poem by Anthony Evan Hecht
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At This Hour...
i stopped looking for the moment,
it is not here anymore
that moment with you
when you arrive and then when you are finally gone
without saying hello
without saying goodbye
and you left me
without the sound of the soft wind by the window
and then i look at the star
trying to figure out
the reason for distances
wanting to be logical about space and emptiness
when there is
none.
at this hour
i could be dead,
i could have wanted death,
but death is not mine
it is
yours.
run, run, do not sleep tonight,
chase the shadows of life
hold tight
to the fingers of the morrows
have faith
on what you've finally got,
tell me
what is it?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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War Means
War Means death
War Means destruction
War Means fire
War Means bombing
War Means sorrow
War Means turmoil
War Means tears
War Means guns
War Means blood
War Means confusion
War Means explosions
War Means mutilation
War Means sickness
War Means killing
War Means occupation
War Means loss
And lots more
But after one side
Or the other side
Has finally had enough
And lays down their arms
To surrender and give up
War Means Peace
poem by Mrunal Nandankar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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War Means
War Means death
War Means destruction
War Means fire
War Means bombing
War Means sorrow
War Means turmoil
War Means tears
War Means guns
War Means blood
War Means confusion
War Means explosions
War Means mutilation
War Means sickness
War Means killing
War Means occupation
War Means loss
And lots more
But after one side
Or the other side
Has finally had enough
And lays down their arms
To surrender and give up
War Means Peace
poem by Brie Carter
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Cool Scene
Well I'm just not making a scene, and I really don't feel like I need.
I really don't mean that it's cool, didn't really wanna be in high school.
I'm dealing with the things that I've been, if it wasn't so appropriate then.
I really don't care what I sing, and I really doubt you know what I mean.
And I really don't mean that it's cool, didn't really wanna be in high school.
All the talking fools, what it means, last I've seen.
Baby it's all me, I'm just not making a scene,
and I really felt that you're a cool being.
I really don't know what I mean, and it really isn't worth the trying.
I'm feeling pretty chill with nothing,
like I'm livin' in a world that follows you.
And I really think you know your friends man,
like you're livin' in a social hydrant.
I really don't mean that it's cool, didn't really wanna be in high school.
All the talking fools, what it means, the last I seen.
Baby It's all me. Didn't really wanna be in high school.
All the talking fools, what it means, last I seen, Baby it's all me
song performed by by Dandy Warhols
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little Girl in the Window
There's a little girl in a window looking sweetly at you
She know you and admires you
Yet you don't even know her name
She quietly sits by you in class and wtaches you in the halls
Never talking, just writing
She loves you, don't you know?
But you can't even see it,
You don't see her.
The girl is loosing hope in all she knew
For school is almost over and you'll be gone forever
She knows that she's not pretty enough,
That she's too quiet
Yet she still loves to watch you from her window,
Always having to look in, never wanted
Now it's 2049,30 years have passed
You casually talk to your friends again at your reunion
A girl you once knew tells about the girl in the window
She committed suicide...
As you finally see this little girl, read her things
You realize who she truly was
You finally see the little girl in the window.
Except she is still 14
And you 48
You see that was was pretty and amazing
Yet you neer knew
With the truth known,
You look once more at this girl
And offer her a silent prayer
Saying the final goodbye to the little girl in the window
poem by Corey Mason
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I Hate the Thought of Hate Crimes
A crime is a crime no matter how cut it,
A murder is a murder, a rape is a rape,
An assault is what it is,
A crime scene is a crime with the yellow tape.
If the prisons were to be abundant,
We can then send to jail all are convicted,
We don’t have to pardon anyone out overcrowding and time off for good behavior,
We must send all the criminals that indicted,
Guilty as charged that is what should fuel our endeavor.
Are we really up to the cost?
Are we really up to taxation?
Are we saying we have lost?
Are we saying we’ll pass another law,
such as hate crimes,
without a suitable explanation?
(11-20-2007)
poem by Joe Rosochacki
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Warrior Red-Ants
I crushed some warrior-ants to death,
And wondered what, others would do;
And very promptly, came more ants
To investigate scene of crime!
These ants build nests upon the trees,
By gluing leaves with strange substance;
Their nests look like army barracks,
With sentry-ants guarding smartly!
The dead ants lay all strewn about;
A few of them were moving still;
And very soon, they too lay dead,
Like soldiers killed in battle-field!
The scout ants went from ant to ant,
Perhaps in search of ones alive;
Some went back fast to convey news
About the tragedy they saw!
And very soon, arrived more ants
To check if dead were truly dead;
Somehow, these ants smelt death itself;
They did it so effortlessly!
Each one of them lifted the dead,
By proboscis and sped back home;
Each ant with carcass upon mouth,
Ran back as fast as legs carried.
And in a trice, the dead were cleared;
The scene of crime was clean by now;
The work was finished in moments;
Yes, ants are truly busiest!
Oh, what respect ants show their dead!
How fast they rescue comrades hurt!
They proved they respected their dead;
Do human beings do like-wise?
Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-15-2008
poem by John Celes
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That Pigeon
Tony just brought
a pigeon
in his house
put it in a cage and
feed it
some grains
beside a bowl of
water
Every night since then
i cannot sleep
hearing always the sound
of a sobbing woman
grieving
i keep telling myself
that it is just
a pigeon temporarily
adopting to a momentary loss
of her freedom
Horrible nights
lots of horrible nights
the sounds of groaning griefs
are penetrating the walls of my mind
until one day
the pigeon died and Tony buried it
beside his house
now the pebbles are giving me
the silence of the dead
the air is so quiet
looking at an empty cage
somehow i feel guilty
not about the pigeon but about Tony
well, the story is quite long
what business do i have there?
last night i was thinking
what if it was Tony who died
and the pigeon went out of that cage
and buried him there
beside that lonely house?
shall i not hear the grieving sounds of
that pigeon again?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Last Night I Was Talking To Myself
last night i was talking to myself
asking and making answers
like the way i make a knot and
then untie them from a cemented
post at the port
so that the wooden boat
may finally be let loose
and be free to sail
to its chosen destination
the sea was so wide
like all seas that you have seen
but the night was so dark
like no other
last night i was formulating solutions
to a very common problem
like how to cure a cold
with just a glass of water
like how to appease the coldness
of a room with nothing but
a piece of a woolen blanket
and curling feet and
hiding hands in my pocket
so i can have the exact warmth
so i may finally have my much
needed sleep and
dream about the peace
between the clouds
and the stars
last night i could not sleep
and you are beside me
last night i opened the window
of our room while you
were there snoring
last night i was silently
talking about the absence of
stars the loss of the moon
and then the rain fell
heavily on the roof of this house
and then i closed the windows
and then i listened to every sound
and then i noticed a faint light coming
from a leak of these walls
i know
another morning has finally
come
it is broken they say.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Outside Your Window
Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I feel the seconds slowly pass,
Whilst you I anxiously await.
And behind the glowing glass;
I glimpsed a fading candlelight.
And I with hope was filled and so:
Wished I for love and life this night.
Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I see through the looking glass,
To find my missing soulmate.
And when the light finally flew;
When darkness swamped the room:
A wide smile on my face drew;
And waited I for you to bloom.
Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I feel my feelings all amass,
As I your beauty contemplate.
Seconds felt forever;
Nor beauty I did see.
All alone my eyes did glitter;
Whilst wondering where you would be!
Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I walked on in your impasse;
Wishing it's not yet too late.
Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I lonesome stood for long alas!
And didn't notice your window grate.
Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I tried to drag out of that morass,
Myself; and my lost senses locate.
Outside Her Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I watched my heart swiftly by a lass,
Gets stolen; and did my soul sedate.
Outside Her Window;
I still pass by everyday.
Outside Her Window;
I can't just turn and walk away.
Outside Her Window;
I still have hope that she might show.
Outside Her Window;
I watch my life pass by so slow.
Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I once awaited you alone all night.
But now I know: it's just too late!
poem by Danny The Dreamer Boyd
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Normally Possible...
that it is nigh time
and morning time at the same time
is not at all false.
look at us, at the extreme,
we are.
this morning is mine
yours is the night and
we are talking.
tomorrow morning
yours shall be that evening
as i walk away from this door
and close it
you shall arrive and open it
and close it again
as i gamble in the light
you shall ponder in the dark
we can never be together
again
in a dado joint.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Some Notes For My Being
the transparent thing is left.
the opaque ones continue to strive for light
those which we touched finally surrender
they are contained in a life span.
we are the eyes that see well in darkness
sensitive to the fragments of light
we let sparks arrive and then we let them pass
we do not need much of the glimmer and the simmer
we know our containers too
when we pass away they shall never know what grief is.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Wanted Dead Or Alive
Written by: j. cannata and m. soldan
Dead or alive
They say that crime dont pay
(wanted) dead or alive
I was born to be a runaway
When youre out on your own
You can be so alone
City livin means breakin the rules
Once youre in you never get out
Theres just no way to stop
Theres nowhere to go theyre draggin you down
cos youre the one they want
Dead or alive
They say that crime dont pay
(wanted) dead or alive
I was born to be a runaway
If the street is your friend
Gotta fight to the end
Soldiers of fortune they never give up
And once youre out you have it made
You rake your way to the top
Nowhere to go theyre draggin you down
cos youre the one they want
Dead or alive
They say that crime dont pay
(wanted) dead or alive
I was born to be a runaway
Wanted dead or alive
Take it or leave it break all the rules
Once youre in you never get out
Theres just no way to stop
Theres nowhere to go theyre draggin you down
cos youre the one they want
Dead or alive
I was born to be a runaway
(wanted) dead or alive
I was born to be a runaway, anyway, (runaway)
Wanted dead or alive
Wanted dead or alive
Wanted dead or alive
Wanted dead or alive
Wanted dead or alive
Wanted dead or alive
Wanted dead or alive
song performed by by April Wine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I finally faced the fact that it isn't a crime not having friends. Being alone means you have fewer problems.
quote by Whitney Houston
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Case Of The Window Pain
an astute answer
discerning shrewd
would surely mention
this wit must be
personification
of a window pane
as for the window pain
perhaps the window is shamed
perhaps the window is dirty
as for the window pain
perhaps the glass is cracked
small large cracks streaked
as for the window pain
perhaps cricket ball punctured
victim of circle game holed
as for the window pain
perhaps the window is broken
glass shards bear crime witness
as for the window pain
perhaps window frame rots
an old window in house derelict
as for the window pain
perhaps the window witnesses
child abuse domestic scenes violent
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Window
God has given me a window
and I can finally see the light.
And though I felt like going under
I know its gonna be alright.
God has given me a window
and I can finally see the light.
And though I felt like going under
I know its gonna be alright.
You know that I've been there
when I couldn't find an open door
and then he consoled me
and showed me what I was looking for.
Bridge:
I just wanna talk the time to say
his love will never go away
and when its dark no light to see
he brings away
oh my god has
God has given me a window
and I can finally see the light.
And though I felt like going under
I know its gonna be alright.
God has given me a window
and I can finally see the light.
And though I felt like going under
I know its gonna be alright.
I know what your thinking
its seems that its too good to be true
but just when I need him
he's known for always coming through.
Bridge:
I just wanna talk the time to say
his love will never go away
and when its dark no light to see
he brings away
oh my god has
God has given me a window
and I can finally see the light.
And though I felt like going under
I know its gonna be alright.
God has given me a window
and I can finally see the light.
And though I felt like going under
I know its gonna be alright.
God has given me a window
and I can finally see the light.
And though I felt like going under
I know its gonna be alright.
God has given me a window
and I can finally see the light.
And though I felt like going under
I know its gonna be alright
song performed by by Out Of Eden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Radio With Guts
it was on the 2nd floor on Coronado Street
I used to get drunk
and throw the radio through the window
while it was playing, and, of course,
it would break the glass in the window
and the radio would sit there on the roof
still playing
and I'd tell my woman,
"Ah, what a marvelous radio!"
the next morning I'd take the window
off the hinges
and carry it down the street
to the glass man
who would put in another pane.
I kept throwing that radio through the window
each time I got drunk
and it would sit there on the roof
still playing-
a magic radio
a radio with guts,
and each morning I'd take the window
back to the glass man.
I don't remember how it ended exactly
though I do remember
we finally moved out.
there was a woman downstairs who worked in
the garden in her bathing suit,
she really dug with that trowel
and she put her behind up in the air
and I used to sit in the window
and watch the sun shine all over that thing
while the music played.
poem by Charles Bukowski
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After The Great Flood
after the great flood
it was the black crow which was first
allowed to fly,
Moses had confidence on its
aggression,
it did not come back you know that well,
it puked on dead flesh and
flew away
deciding on its own now
charting its own
destiny,
then it was the pigeon's turn to serve
coy and shy and yet obedient
it came back with a twig and a leaf
whether this is all symbolism or not
an interplay and contrast between black and white
crow and pigeon, good or evil
disobedience or impunity, i don't
go into a hairsplitting
or argument with you
but i have to admit, i like to be that black crow.
i never want to be the pigeon that you believe i am.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Outbreak of Peace
I awakened this morning...
So early I was shakened!
Did I hear someone say...
'There's been an outbreak of peace!
A recipe of peace is in all ovens baking? ! '
Did I hear this correctly?
So I went to the window to see!
And sure enough...
I saw Morning Doves!
Morning Doves at the base of a tree!
I opened the window,
And they chirped and moved on!
Leaving me with a 'song'...
To carry with me all day long!
Something perhaps I reflect,
And can be detected by others...
Who will take and pass it on!
I know something felt different...
Within me.
Yet in my heart it kept singing
Stronger until it longed
To belong.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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