For Those Who Love Most
time has become so detailed
the wall clock ticks and tacks and not just on two hands
there are many sensitive fingers now that rotate around its white belly
of paper and lines have become long and enumerable,
each sound has become delicate
caressing each dash of the second
always taking into consideration what the wall feels
what the roof sees
what all these floors are up to
they do not stop anymore fearing death
the thief who steals all when he comes
like fire consuming the house
not leaving even a stone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Clock On The Wall
The clock ticks on the wall
The same walls
That saw my family
Grow from childhood
To adulthood
The tick tock of time
Each stroke captures
A time a place
Were we visit back
In memories of old
A birth a death
A wedding of bliss
Each memory reflected
In the glass of a
Clock that sits upon the wall
As time ticks by
We look at our lives
What we have done
Where we have gone
Have we wasted any?
Precious time that
Makes our lives whole
So savor the moment
And make each moment count
poem by Kaila George
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Until The Silence Reigns
and so it happens
the clock strikes seven
you dream about curtains
catching flames
the house screams
and you discover you
are but a wall of this
structure
you look at the clock
on your side
it is seven
but seven what?
you get up from bed
and proceed to the CR
wash your face
feeling like a wall still
you rub the soap
and feel your cheek
you slap it
you feel like a wall
and the curtains continue to burn themselves
the house scream at its loud voice
you are still this wall
and you do not really care
to ash from ash
and to ash you shall return
there is no hurry no fright no panic
let death come with grace
the wall is flat and inanimate
let the curtains burn let the house scream
until the silence of the ash reigns
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Clock Stopped
poetry in progress
the old wooden clock at
the grocery store ticks on
and on on the wall of my mind
taking me back to childhood years
it peeks at me every time
i pass by one lone child
hungering for love and
sweet adventures
in it a mirror pendulum
stands very still to the one
in my mind that tilts to
to and fro, to and fro
a child concentrating
on his yo yo
the golden horse on its top
gives it a different chi
with spanned wings that
looks ever anxious to
take me to wherever
i wish to be - carte blanche
so long i have the time
it is a no show though
the minute and hour needles
do the same hands over head
posture of a ballet dancer
yesterday, today and tomorrow
and the clock looks onto me
like a deaf man with all the
endowments to talk but without a
proper word to get things across
so that he is all hands and fingers
a round and well bred
attentive audience numbered
one to twelve sit like ministers
as they wait for hands to point out
the importance of each, why
they should be at their place
the clock is old as myself
even time must grow old and
must stop one day and what a
graceful way to do so with
such a glamorous and
flamboyant posture and on
a face everyone once confided in
- a face that blandishes
a rough mole where
its owner would work
every now and then
to put back the health
of his time so that
it would chime at the right time
morn, noon and night
the clock invariably
takes me back to years ago
when our house was flying high
with a horse with spanned wings
that promised much fun with its hourly
ding dong ding dong solemn call
that never failed to to plough into us
the seriousness of time
then it was a new clock and
had dutifully counted the minutes
and seconds with absolute accuracy
as we inched our way up the
expectations of dad and mom
grannies, teachers, and friends
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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A Numbered Poem
2. the mantle is heavy in white.
3. the white cup is not fuming.
4. the lover does not come tonight.
5. an empty vase keeps a shallow
6. conversation with the black clock.
7. there is no flower to brighten
8. the night without a tryst.
9. it is the black clock that ticks
10. time.It is this lament. A cup
11. without tea. A vase without
12. a rose, a daffodil, a white lily.
13. the black clock ticks. There
14. is no hint that it will stop.
That big shell knows it all.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ticks Our Time Away
The clock on the wall
ticks our time away.
Second by second,
minute by minute
each and everyday.
We cannot stop
the march of time.
However, it would be nice
to stop it in its tracks
so we could amend
a few things that we do.
Then after we do it,
we could let time carry on its way.
poem by David Harris
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Any Woman
I am the pillars of the house;
The keystone of the arch am I.
Take me away, and roof and wall
Would fall to ruin me utterly.
I am the fire upon the hearth,
I am the light of the good sun,
I am the heat that warms the earth,
Which else were colder than a stone.
At me the children warm their hands;
I am their light of love alive.
Without me cold the hearthstone stands,
Nor could the precious children thrive.
I am the twist that holds together
The children in its sacred ring,
Their knot of love, from whose close tether
No lost child goes a-wandering.
I am the house from floor to roof,
I deck the walls, the board I spread;
I spin the curtains, warp and woof,
And shake the down to be their bed.
I am their wall against all danger,
Their door against the wind and snow,
Thou Whom a woman laid in a manger,
Take me not till the children grow!
poem by Katharine Tynan
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It Is Love Still, There Is No Other...
i accompany you to a wall
i know this wall fully well
it walled me since i was small,
and then i fall in love with you
and you feel the same wall despite the openness of the port of
the city where our love boat is docked
despite the songs of seagulls
despite the softness of my hands cupping your breasts
you ask me to explain about this wall
and so i am taking you there
for you to see
the wall has become thicker and higher
walling me since ages then
and it stares at me
asking, if i have learned about love at all?
if i have really love you? if i really love myself
despite the blindness that the wall is giving me
all my life
the wall is teasing me in front of you
i am ashamed
but i do not give up and hand all my life
without a fight to this wall
and i look at you
and i tell the wall your name
'here is my savior
have pity, she does not know a wall
she has not lived there once
she does not know your name
she cannot feel your
loneliness
she will die
she does not know a fight
against the wall'
and then there is silence
like an ocean's trench
the wall opens a door
some tears are left on the stairs
'it is love still, there is no other' the wind
sings to the highest cliff
on that mountain of
death.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Wall That I See
always this wall
this wall, always, this,
wall, always
i see, and face, and
grasp, and feel
with my palms, and touch
with my fingers
never love it
but i am in here surrounded
always, by this, wall,
this, wall, this wall,
always, i dream of
overcoming this, wall
this height,
i dream of ladders,
and tall feet, and i always,
look beyond this,
this wall, this.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Listening To The Clock Ticking
that last servant of the house
finally leaves
she also had to go to sleep with her mother
it happens this way sometimes
he is left alone and as he tries to sleep
he feels that the big mouth of the house is eating him
swallowed his body listens to the sound of the clock on the wall
ticking and ticking as if time is running out.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Empire State Human
Since I was very young I realised
I never wanted to be human size
So I avoid the crowds and traffic jams
They just remind me of how small I am
Because of this longing in my heart
Im going to start the growing up
Im going to grow now and never stop
Think like a mountain, grow to the top
Tall, tall, tall, I want to be tall, tall, tall
As big as a wall, wall, wall, as big as a wall, wall, wall
And if Im not tall, tall, tall, then I will grow, grow, grow
Because Im not tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall
Tall, tall, tall, I want to be tall, tall, tall
As big as a wall, wall, wall, as big as a wall, wall, wall
And if Im not tall, tall, tall, then I will grow, grow, grow
Because Im not tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall
With concentration
My size increased
And now Im fourteen stories high
At least!!
Empire state human
Just a bored kid
Ill go to egypt to be
A pyramid
Tall, tall, tall, I want to be tall, tall, tall
As big as a wall, wall, wall, as big as a wall, wall, wall
And if Im not tall, tall, tall, then I will grow, grow, grow
Because Im not tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall
Tall, tall, tall, I want to be tall, tall, tall
As big as a wall, wall, wall, as big as a wall, wall, wall
And if Im not tall, tall, tall, then I will grow, grow, grow
Because Im not tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall, tall
Brick by brick
Stone by stone
Growing till hes fully grown
Brick by brick
Stone by stone
Growing till hes fully grown
Fetch more water
Fetch more sand
Biggest person in the land
Fetch more water
Fetch more sand
Biggest person in the land
song performed by by Human League
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Writings On The Wall
The writings on the wall brother
Your life is in your hands
Its up to you to see the writings on the wall.
It looks you in the eye mister
Its time we stand up tall
Go see and understand the writings on the wall.
Strange we hold on to things that have no grace
Or power
While death holds on to us much more with every
Passing hour
And all the time you thought it would last
Your life, your friends would always be
til theyre drunk away or shot away or die away
From you.
Theres nothing that you need sister
The lord is in you all
Life is designed to see the writings on the wall.
The musics in the air mothers
You may have heard it call
To you that you may see the writings on the wall.
Be careful going home sister
Be watchful down that road
Youve got a lot of love sister
More to grow.
The writings on the wall brothers
Your life is in your hands
Its up to you to see the writings on the wall
I hope that you may see the writings on the wall.
song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Peace, Little Girl, Peace.
The poor young girl
with beach blonde hair
and pale white skin
stands in the middle of the street,
in the middle of a war.
Her face shows pain,
her face shows she wants help.
She goes to the hardware store
and steals a can of purple paint.
She doesn't know better,
so it doesn't matter.
The pale girl opens the can of purple paint
and uses her hands to write a message on the
big brick building wall.
She uses what knowledge she has of spelling,
and traces her purple paint covered fingers
over the wall.
First she draws a P
than an E
than she dips her hand back in the paint.
When she is done with the word,
the purple paint has run down the wall,
but you could still see the word very clearly.
It spelled PEACE.
The young girl takes her hand and presses it to the wall
leaving a very small purple handprint.
Then she runs.
A soldier calls after her,
'Peace little girl, Peace! '
Stone Of Sisyphus *
Tomorrow is teasing me.
Time seems to run away from the future.
But this could be that lucky day.
A dream is make believe until
Blood, sweat, and tears turn pain to will.
It's gonna take some doing for me
To show them the way.
I'm gonna take the stone of sisyphus
I'm gonna roll it back to you.
Building a wall of stone.
Sometimes you know what's right
Sometimes wrong is better than nothing.
They cast a stone so heavy to turn.
I believe in a love so true.
I believe you get what's coming to you.
We get so tired of living a dream
For some other day.
I'm gonna take the stone of sisyphus
I'm gonna roll it back to you.
Wall of stone around the two of us.
That only angels can break through.
Looks like it's another of those long nights.
Will we always be alone?
Let's not stop before it's done.
I'm gonna take the stone of sisyphus
I'm gonna roll it back to you.
I'll take the stone of sisyphus.
Wall of stone round the two of us.
I'm gonna roll it back to you.
song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cul De Sac
i keep bumping into
the same blank wall
wonder who built it?
this stone wall bars
any movement
either to right
or to left...
leave that stupid hope
of going forward anymore,
said the wall in
very clear terms
as a pass time
i keep throwing a small
ragged tennis ball
a child left behind-
always alert to catch it
as the wall keeps throwing
it back to me...
17dec2009
20.41hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Hes A Thief
He steals hearts and he steals my kisses
He stole away my love
He steals my thoughts
And now it seems
He stole into my dreams
Cos hes a thief , oh
Hes a thief
Hes a thief
Hes got me ensnared in his clutches
His love does not seem real
Hes got me there , in solitaire
His love is made of steel
But hes a thief , oh yeah
Hes a thief , oh
Hes a thief
I locked my heart and threw away the key
But hes knocked once and open sesame
He steals hearts and he steals my kisses
He stole away my love
He steals my thoughts
And now it seems
He stole into my dreams
But hes a thief
Oh, hes a thief
Hes a thief ( fadeout)
song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Stone Of Sisyphus
Tomorrow is teasing me.
Time seems to run away from the future.
But this could be that lucky day.
A dream is make believe until
Blood, sweat, and tears turn pain to will.
Its gonna take some doing for me
To show them the way.
Im gonna take the stone of sisyphus
Im gonna roll it back to you.
Building a wall of stone.
Sometimes you know whats right
Sometimes wrong is better than nothing.
They cast a stone so heavy to turn.
I believe in a love so true.
I believe you get whats coming to you.
We get so tired of living a dream
For some other day.
Im gonna take the stone of sisyphus
Im gonna roll it back to you.
Wall of stone around the two of us.
That only angels can break through.
Looks like its another of those long nights.
Will we always be alone?
Lets not stop before its done.
Im gonna take the stone of sisyphus
Im gonna roll it back to you.
Ill take the stone of sisyphus.
Wall of stone round the two of us.
Im gonna roll it back to you.
song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Her Insomnia
this is a private affair
between her and her wall clock
there is this consistent rhythm
of the tick tock tick tock
her pupils roll and sometimes
still
staring at the walls of the house
restless she avails of all the possible
combination of postures
but to no avail
the clock keeps on ticking and ticking and ticking
she feels like a tick
and she cannot talk
this is her private affair with her wall clock
above her head
her mouth is closed shaped like
a lamppost
without a light.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wall Of Fire
Standing at the end of the horizon
Looking at another setting sun
Nature gave us all these toys to play with
But weve abused them, each and every one
They stretched the chord, snapped the wire
Lit the fuse but cant retire
Were going to the wall of fire
Tip-toeing on the great high wire
Lets have a real fire
The city slickers built the great illusion
Now theyre the first to crumble in the sun
Now were going through the wall
Lets see the flames before we fall
Were going through the wall of fire
Lets have a real fire
Tip-toeing on the great high wire
Through the wall of fire
We drove on many rocky roads together
Through the storms and hurricanes we rode
Unified so no one could destroy us
We stretched the bounds
But always kept the code
Liberals shout and cause concern
Forget next week while we all burn
Lets run right through the wall of fire
Lets have a real fire
Death-defying while the flames grow higher
Through the wall of fire
Lets go through the wall of fire
Running through the wall of fire
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Old Chiming Clock
There's a clock on the shelf in the old lady's house
and I have a bad feeling inside,
for it ticks and tocks and it chimes every hour
and I fear it marks time till she dies.
She sits all day long by the fire in a shawl,
knitting in rhythm to its beat.
and she seems quite oblivious to time passing by
as she stops now and then to make tea.
It's dark in her house and the furniture is old
the curtains are brown where they've aged.
I'd really like to stay but it's getting very cold
and the clock on the shelf says it's late.
She rocks in her chair, by the fire, most days,
knitting and watching the TV
Sometimes she will hum a funny little song,
then she'll talk to the cat or to me.
I bring her a newspaper every day
and a loaf of bread twice a week
On Sundays I stay for a lovely piece of cake
that she bakes extra specially for me!
Someday I'll be old like the frail lady there
I'll sit in my house all day long
I might have a cat and a big rocking chair
but I wont have an old chiming clock.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Wall Of Death
Richard Thompson)
Let me ride on the wall of death one more time
Let me ride on the wall of death one more time
You can waste your time on the other rides
but this is the nearest to being alive
Let me take my chances on the Wall of Death
You can go with the crazy people in the crooked house
You can fly away on the rocket or spin in the mouse
The tunnel of love might amuse you
And Noah's Ark might confuse you but
Let me take my chances on the Wall of Death
On the Wall of Death
All the World is far from me
On the Wall of Death
It's the nearest to being free
Well you're going nowhere when you ride on the carousel
And maybe you're strong, but what's the use of ringing a bell
The switchback will make you crazy
Beware of the bearded lady
Oh let me take my chances on the Wall of Death
You are going nowhere when you ride on the carousel
And maybe you're strong, but what's the use of ringing a bell
The switchback will make you crazy
Beware of the bearded lady
Let me take my chances
Let me take my chances
Let me take my chances
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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