for John on his first frustration
let me draw you a house
with an entrance gate
leading to an entrance
door and some windows
to let in air.
just that, there will be no
exit doors, no exit gate,
all the windows open,
not designed to close,
that precisely is success
and failure.
there is a sense of
entrance triumphant
ditto an exit for some
ordinary and even
inevitable failures of
our lives.
the windows are some
of our other options, we
let in air to breathe
for a while. we must.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
In The House Of Sin...
sin closes all
the windows and
doors
seals any
entrance of
streaks of
light
the foul smell
does not know how
to stay
the smoke of sin
roams around the house
until it finds
an exit on the
chimney
there is no scream
but the whole
neighborhood sees
and finds
you...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Door
The door for in
The door for out
The same way right
Occupied life
The position points
Before the door
In or out
Sometimes entrance
Is to the exit
Before the eyes of mirror
Go with where ever
Same key
To close and open
poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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A Fire Escape
imagine
one night
when you are
alone
inside a room
with windows
secured with
iron grills
the fire starts
from that only
door and there is
no other exit
imagine that
electricity is cut
the smoke
enters your room
crawling on the
floor
you panic
and you do not remember
where escape is
where to find again
the entrance to the
next life
blame yourself
how you hated the thief
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Foresaken Garden
I enter the court
Through the middle gate—
And my sleeve is wet with tears.
The flowers still grow
In the courtyard,
Though two springs have fled
Since last their master came.
The windows, porch, and bamboo screen
Are just as they always were,
But at the entrance to the house
Someone is missing—
You!
Does Not Apply To Them
Sometimes I wonder
if some drivers can read or not
when it comes to parking in a parking lot.
They ignore the one way system,
the entrance and exits signs
when they want to park their posh new cars.
If you point out their mistake,
they become quite indignant
as if that does not apply to them.
They feel they have the right
to do just as they please
and use the exit instead of the entrance
forgetting everyone else
who may have been
in front of them in the queue.
4 November 2009
poem by David Harris
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At The Bus Station
worms getting out
rushing
at a door both serving
as entrance and exit
to know not
where
private interests
going to and fro
like the mad hands of
the watch
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Wistfully Watching
They explore the world
through windows,
church windows,
school windows,
two up, two down windows,
castle windows,
large windows,
small windows.
They see it all,
from blameless to guilty,
from noble to treacherous,
through windows.
From skyscraper windows,
to basement flat windows,
from paupers windows,
and palace windows
they watch, absorb, suck it in.
Later when they have grown
they will remember,
try to empathise,
rationalise
decipher the coded metaphors,
but some day
they will be demoralised
by the windows of life.
There they sit __ wistfully watching __
the children
of our times.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Affairs are easier of entrance than of exit and it is but common prudence to see our way out before we venture in.
Affairs are easier of entrance than of exit; and it is but common prudence to see our way out before we venture in.
Today I Give Pain Its Freedom
i will be a little lax today
setting pain carefully and letting them go
giving them wings to fly away from me
and telling them not to come back
for a while, giving them a break
i open the entrance at the front door
with some streamers and flowers
some bees and dragonflies and butterflies
on the stairs of the house
beside the door and the windows
welcome happiness, welcome home!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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We do on stage things that are supposed to happen off. Which is a kind of integrity, if you look on every exit as being an entrance somewhere else.
quote by Tom Stoppard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thoughts After Sex
after sex
people sleep
that is the
usual exit that
people who want
to escape seem
to know and do
they sleep
the routine keeps
going like
house, office,
office, house
roads, doors
doors, road
after sex
the usual exit
is closed
you look at the
ceiling trying to
open another
door
but there isn't
any.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Some Things Do Hurt
some things shall hurt
they are designed for that purpose
by some people
these architects of pain
but we shall not be swayed
into the ways of the curse
and degradation
let them draw the plan
and let them construct what they
want to
they will make doors that lock
when we get in
and we shall have to look for ways
ourselves to get out
from their schemes
they will make windows that will only close
and not open and we shall look for
holes where we can take in air
and breathe
we shall be their pawns
and the experimental guinea pigs of their
pains and distress
they may laugh for a while
and drink to our fate
they may proclaim that they are winning
to their pre-conceived notions
of what they believe as our own
stupidity and gullibility
we shall wait for the time
and that is what we are also designed to do
we shall wait when they all fall asleep
drunk to their evil ways
for soon this darkness will turn the table
and side with us
and we shall have the time to open the windows
and summon the moon to hear our pleas
to unlock the doors and summon the sun
to brighten our twilights of woes
we escape and we shall see that house of pain burned
to ashes
now it is our time
the last laugh, our freedom, our revenge.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Unfinished business (revised)
and so you walk so confidently finding your exit
passing the blue guard looking at you
without any question,
you wish the path is not crowded with people
you wish there is no vehicle at the parking lot
you wish there are no children at the playground
there is no thunder to hit you, you are confident about this
there is no accident, there is no gun,
there are no killers to shoot you now.
you are confident. You still have an unfinished business.
death has no power over you. and so back to line one
yes, you walk confidently, finding not the exit now,
but the entrance to another risk, another threat, another
escape.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In This House
in this house
where you've been
what you've seen
were the windows
in this house
where you've been
what you've seen
were the doors
in this house
where you've sat
what you ate
was your food
in this house
where you've sat
what you ate
was the word
in this house
where you stood
what you could
something say
in this house
you could open
windows doors clapping wings
in this house
you could open
soul that heaven upward sings
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The Red Door
nothing
is important about
it,
everyone
detests
the built
in superstition
the world
gives it up
except
the hinges
trusting that someday
it's entrance and
exit
becomes
a fad,
until now
the black widow
is not
satisfied about
the reality
of the red
door
she hates the fire
that she had
long lost
to someone else.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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We do on stage things that are supposed to happen off. Which is a kind of integrity, if you look on every exit as being an entrance somewhere else.
Tom Stoppard in Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, 1967
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Dog Who Wants To Get Out Of The House
the Japanese fritz
is brown
the gate is closed
and it waits
for an exit by chance
there is so much
road to run
outside the walls
as i open the gate
it raises its head
and starts to scratch
the cemented
floor
i go out alone without
the dog
the gate is closed again
i carry with me
a feeling that i cannot
yet describe
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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From The Biography Of An Unknown Woman: Xviii
he held her little finger
and carefully led her
through the entrance
and when it's time
for him to go, he left
it to her to find the exit....
she only knows how
to give and gave him
her best side always
now, he of her imagination
is more complete than
he of reality...
10may2010
20.58hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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A racially integrated community is a chronological term timed from the entrance of the first black family to the exit of the last white family.
quote by Saul Alinsky
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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