From Where I Stand I See The Silent Tomorrow
tomorrow comes
on small
silent feet
like a cat
from a window
overlooking
a harbor
gently,
the clouds drift
the mist and frost
slowly gone
and what the cat
sees
is the sun
smiling
and the cat
remembers her mother
the one that feeds
her with pink mice
and
sharper claws
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
401
this summer she wears her pink kimono
and she will walk under the pink blossoms of the pink sakura
she will carry a pink umbrella
and she will cross the pink bridge of kokoma
pink leaves on her feet
pink fingernails on her pink wooden shoes
in honor of her love
that never bloomed to complete red
she will sit on a pink bench
praying for pink clouds to drift
on the pink skies.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Maria's Lullaby
An extract from a poem written for my grandchildren to Brahms Lullaby
Sleep; little mice sleep
Mother will watch over you
Shut your eyes and don't peek
Tomorrow the skies will be blue
Sleep; little mice sleep.
Sleep; little mice sleep
No harm will come whilst I am here
The sun has gone down by the peak
When the day dawns it will appear
Sleep; little mice sleep.
Sleep; little mice sleep
Your father is watching the house
That no owl or cat dares to seek
Harm to creatures or mouse
Sleep; little mice sleep.
Sleep; little mice sleep
Tomorrow you run and play
Now is not time to speak
When you awake a new day
Sleep; little mice sleep.
Sleep; little mice sleep
Rest now for your own sake
Shut your eyes now be asleep
I will be here when you awake
Sleep; little mice sleep.
poem by Thomas Golding
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Depression and Black dog
She rises from bed and stares
out the window. Another day.
No new horizons. Why do
people talk such crap, she muses,
senses the hangover bite in.
He said it was just a sex thing,
no strings, see what a new
tomorrow brings. Her mother
had this thing about what the
neighbours said, how things
looked from another's perspective.
There is a damp patch where
her hand has touched, blood,
bright red. She sees him or rather
his outline in the dark of the night
before. All ten minutes of excitement,
a two-bit joy. Her hand runs over
the patch, feels the stickiness.
Depression digs in its feet, plunges
in its dark claws, rips through her
sense of being, sees the outside
city, no real care, no pity, just what
is she seeing? Shadows and outlines,
people, cars, streets, sun, clouds,
business out there. She wants her
mother back, the loss of all those
years ago, lingering in the back of
her mind and center of her heart.
Depression and the black dog tear
All things and love and life apart.
poem by Terry Collett
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340
you begin your story about the birds
walking on telephone wires
or are they just there holding on
with their lives
intact with the clouds at their
claws and beaks
and then you tell your story
about a man walking on top of the water
and the many ways you can really do
it like some miracles they all remember
jesus!
i cannot be beaten. i write a poem
about a drifter who names his two kids
clouds and fog
i bring a cat for you to see to listen
to its paws
how silent they are.
like a cloud. like a fog on the harbor of the city
this crap about Robert
frost. we know them.
so please do not tell me again that it was you
who walk on top of the water
and i will not tell you about my kind of kid
poetry, cat's paws and harbors and fogs
and the silence in my room that i have chosen
as a delicacy for your
kind of escape, to the windmills, and to Miguel
his pony and his Spanish
prison.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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4 Modern
Wet dog
Looks into a rain pool
Contemplative
When it rains
Cats sleep on window sills
Pensive mice
Meditative rain
Gently descends
In September
Introspective
Mountain village
In the mist
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Pink
A blush of pink:
She'd caught a roving eye -
He gave a wink.
Her smile had played a shy
And quaint florescence;
The siren of pubescence
Drew him in.
She bade him touch her hair,
Suggesting that he dare
To kiss her pulsing lips!
E'er the fool a man, he did:
The drips of blood began to cheer -
And so, another rid:
Tips of fangs are sharp, you know -
Dancing ivory feeds her soul -
See her claim a howl upon a chilling wind!
Slain, he lay across a crimson floor:
She grinned in her repletion.
A blush of pink;
Beneath a glowering sky
Her savoured drink
Was done.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
pink pink pink pink pink pink her blush
pink pink pink pink pink pink her blush
pink pink pink pink pink pink her blush
pink pink pink pink pink pink
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Hobos Lullaby
(goebel reeves)
Do not think about tomorrow,
Let tomorrow come and go.
Tonight youve got a nice warm boxcar
Safe from all the rain and snow.
So go to sleep, you weary hobo,
Let the towns drift slowly by.
Cant you hear the steel rail hummin ?
Thats the hobos lullaby.
Oh, I know your clothes are ragged
And your hair is turning grey.
Lift your head and smile at trouble,
Youll find peace of mind someday.
So go to sleep, you little hobo,
Let the towns drift slowly by.
Tonight youve got a nice warm boxcar,
Thats the hobos lullaby.
I know the police cause you trouble,
They cause trouble everywhere.
But when you die and go to heaven,
There will be no police there.
So go to sleep, you weary hobo,
Let the towns drift slowly by.
Can you hear the steel rail hummin ?
Thats the hobos lullaby.
Do not let your heart be troubled
If the world calls you a bum.
cause if your mother lived, shed love you,
You are still your mothers son.
So go to sleep, my weary hobo,
Let the towns drift slowly by.
Can you hear the steel rails hummin ?
Thats the hobos lullaby.
Thats the hobos lullaby.
Thats the hobos lullaby.
song performed by by Kinky Friedman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Night frost
Night frost
~
I watch through the window
The night frost roll out
Encasing the world slowly
Plants wither away
Gardens turn white
Parked cars sink beneath
The white tapestry of winter
A beautiful savagery
Emerges before my eyes
The night frost is unforgiving
Yet captivates me
I watch through a window
In sleepless fascination
The beauty of a world
In transformation
poem by Matthew Holloway
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We Have Mice
We have mice in the bedroom,
the living room, kitchen and the loo.
I have even found one in the bathroom sink.
They come in all sorts of colours
red, green, purple, blue and pink.
They all belong to our cat family,
Arthur, Barney, Charlie and Daisy.
They leave them all over the house,
even hide them in our shoes and under the mats.
Sometimes they take them to bed
when they are lying on ours.
We have mice, mice and more mice,
ain’t life grand when your kitty winks have fun
and you suffer at their paws.
However, we would not be without them,
as all cat lovers know.
11 January 2011
poem by David Harris
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The Tower
One, from his high bright window in a tower,
Leans out, as evening falls,
And sees the advancing curtain of the shower
Splashing its silver on roofs and walls:
Sees how, swift as a shadow, it crosses the city,
And murmurs beyond far walls to the sea,
Leaving a glimmer of water in the dark canyons,
And silver falling from eave and tree.
One, from his high bright window, looking down,
Peers like a dreamer over the rain-bright town,
And thinks its towers are like a dream.
The western windows flame in the sun's last flare,
Pale roofs begin to gleam.
Looking down from a window high in a wall
He sees us all;
Lifting our pallid faces towards the rain,
Searching the sky, and going our ways again,
Standing in doorways, waiting under the trees . . .
There, in the high bright window he dreams, and sees
What we are blind to,-we who mass and crowd
From wall to wall in the darkening of a cloud.
The gulls drift slowly above the city of towers,
Over the roofs to the darkening sea they fly;
Night falls swiftly on an evening of rain.
The yellow lamps wink one by one again.
The towers reach higher and blacker against the sky.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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The House Of Dust: Part 01: 02: One, from his high bright window in a tower
One, from his high bright window in a tower,
Leans out, as evening falls,
And sees the advancing curtain of the shower
Splashing its silver on roofs and walls:
Sees how, swift as a shadow, it crosses the city,
And murmurs beyond far walls to the sea,
Leaving a glimmer of water in the dark canyons,
And silver falling from eave and tree.
One, from his high bright window, looking down,
Peers like a dreamer over the rain-bright town,
And thinks its towers are like a dream.
The western windows flame in the sun's last flare,
Pale roofs begin to gleam.
Looking down from a window high in a wall
He sees us all;
Lifting our pallid faces towards the rain,
Searching the sky, and going our ways again,
Standing in doorways, waiting under the trees . . .
There, in the high bright window he dreams, and sees
What we are blind to,—we who mass and crowd
From wall to wall in the darkening of a cloud.
The gulls drift slowly above the city of towers,
Over the roofs to the darkening sea they fly;
Night falls swiftly on an evening of rain.
The yellow lamps wink one by one again.
The towers reach higher and blacker against the sky.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Small Smiling Child
THE SMALL SMILING CHILD IN HER MOTHER'S ARMS
The small smiling child
in her mother's arms
Is the hope of the world
The small smiling child
Is he happiness of this life
The small smiling child is the Hope and Happiness
of us all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Swing Your Wings
the clouds goes down and the night slowly
sees the moon, where the crickets sing
there melodies that invites our eyes to gently
close beyond the limit of every dancing leaves
on the Tree
slowly, goes slowly the heart move not to break,
but to show the harmony off beyond compare;
watching the glittering sky, capture every twinkling
glance of the Star, makes the whole world goes
round
mind of the coolness of the night, wake me up, until
brevity respect my warm body, settle down my whole
whispered heart for the never ending day will be
your Forever as I live …
poem by Antonio Liao
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Ocean of Forms
I dive down into the depth of the ocean of forms,
hoping to gain the perfect pearl of the formless.
No more sailing from harbor to harbor with this my weather-beaten boat.
The days are long passed when my sport was to be tossed on waves.
And now I am eager to die into the deathless.
Into the audience hall by the fathomless abyss
where swells up the music of toneless strings
I shall take this harp of my life.
I shall tune it to the notes of forever,
and when it has sobbed out its last utterance,
lay down my silent harp at the feet of the silent.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Richard's Window
(c. fox/n. gimble)
Clouds strung like beads in a gray silent sky
And i watch them and simplify my mind
One thing is clear, i know i begin from here
The passing time, it changes dreams and sweeps illusions from your eyes
He came to me to be a friend
And i knew somehow he couldn't stay
That he was someone i would know a little while
He brought a smile and he was free
And he came to give it all to me
A chance to see the way he sees
So i could fly
Through richard's window to the sky
I try to see all that he saw for me
Looking through richard's window to the sky
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Flat On Their Backs
Caught up in confusion has them glued,
To refuse a leaving of their permanent traps.
Like test mice being used they are teased,
With the eating of treats...
That keep them flat on their backs.
And when the fat cats sneak up behind them,
As some doze in stupors while others soundly sleep.
A silent auction to have them sold...
Is planned when their dancing is done,
While smiling on addicted happy feet.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Pink Pink
pink pink
Confirmed that it was armed
pink pink
Was right to be alarmed
pink pink
Ensured that nought was harmed
pnk pink
Steady hand and mind
pink pink
Micro-chip designed
pink pink
The password was declined
pink pink
Another course to take
pink pink
Caution not to shake
pink pink
Captivity a mistake
pink pink
Beads upon the brow
pink pink
Experience the how
pink pink
No chance to turn back now
pink pink
Be certain not to slip
pink pink
One last wire to snip
pink pink
Two hearts that skip a beat
penk penk
The sound that gives a lift
penk penk
Time to collect the gift
penk penk
The robbery will be swift
poem by Chris Dawson
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Reflections
She looks in the mirror
And all she sees is me
Not the perfect person
Shes always wants to be
So now she will break
This awful connection
And show me the ultimate
Heart-breaking rejection
But even though she tries
To break me with all her might
She cant hurt what isn't here
No good will come from this fight
Screaming no longer helps
Nor do the marks and scars
Nothing will stop us now
We have already gone too far
She claws at her skin, ours
My regrets are in her eyes
Her regrets mingle in my mind
Neither understands truth in lies
Broken shards lay at her feet
But still she sees her reflection, me
The monster inside, silent fear
The beast that only we can see
The being that only she, me, we can be
poem by Rebecca Pepper
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A diplomat is a man who always remembers a woman's birthday but never remembers her age.
quote by Robert Frost
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tomorrow
I dream of flying in the sky
with my arms wide open
coming through clouds
whenever I want to see you, I do
what a rich time it would be
I'm expecting you to come as I'm at the cafe
in a big crowd
loud voices
I expect you to come along over the window
make it come true
I soak my feet in the river
at lunch time on a hottest summer day
you must be smiling behind me
I have just felt you there for the first time in the last 365 days
in at on behind by under between around among
whatever kind of prepositions I use
wherever I am
I wouldn't be able to come to you now
but you'll be alive on my heart with your words
that would force me to move forward
tomorrow