In Itself, A Long Time Ago, But Which We Did Not Notice
at the earliest hour of the morning
this first day of January, i hear a faint cry from the
valley, outside this old house, seemingly like a
cry from my imagination,
my mind listening to the sound
of its making
i knew i heard it, it was like
a shrill voice of a little girl,
or was it a parrot, or the vine,
or from the distant wind,
sunlight lands in my skin from its distant flight
no longer a soft shade, or a leaning shadow, a little shallow
it is outside my flesh, this body
it does not come from this daily monologue
of a memory fading with the passage of time
the sun emerges from the hills and mountains
and walls and fences, and boundaries, and markings
outside my body
that faint cry - it has a personal note of its own
like a blow of a horn, it comes from the sun's majesty
surrounded by the laces of its own
magnificent roundness, yet still far away from me
a trillion miles, a number of light years
it is like a fresh awareness, a new way of looking at things, of what
was there a long time ago.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Ireland
I called you by sweet names by wood and linn,
You answered not because my voice was new,
And you were listening for the hounds of Finn
And the long hosts of Lugh.
And so, I came unto a windy height
And cried my sorrow, but you heard no wind,
For you were listening to small ships in flight,
And the wail on hills behind.
And then I left you, wandering the war
Armed with will, from distant goal to goal,
To find you at the last free as of yore,
Or die to save your soul.
And then you called to us from far and near
To bring your crown from out the deeps of time,
It is my grief your voice I couldn't hear
In such a distant clime.
poem by Francis Ledwidge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Shadow
Shape of everything, made of black reflection.
Contrasted from the yellow sun on the bricks' wall.
Body without face, passage without a view.
Figure that you cannot interview.
Shadow, snitcher of light
Hide, from fences of eyes,
For reaper strong and weird.
From the tree blow by the wind,
The leafs fly, attached to the pavements' sky.
Mixing around, invisible outline.
Of a cone pointed shape of irregular shade.
And the smoke held by the tree hock.
Heat the warm floor, of spots & shoots.
Intoxicating the shadow, like through harrow.
Fading away on the windy shallow.
poem by Luca Menin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In The Hills Of Shiloh
Have you seen Amanda Blaine in the hills of Shiloh
Wandering through the morning rain through the hills of Shiloh
Have you seen her at her door, listening for the cannon's roar
And a man who went to war from the hills of Shiloh
Have you heard her mournful cries in the hills of Shiloh
Have you seen her haunted eyes in the hills of Shiloh
Have you seen her running down searching through the sleeping
town
In her yellowed wedding gown in the hills of Shiloh
Have you seen her standing there in the hills of Shiloh
Wind a blowing through her hair in the hills of Shiloh
Listening for the sound of guns listening for the rolling drums
And a man who never comes to the hills of Shiloh
Have you heard Amanda sing in the hills of Shiloh
Whispering to her wedding ring in the hills of Shiloh
Hear her humming soft and low, poor Amanda doesn't know
'Twas ended forty years ago in the hills of Shiloh
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Leaning On The Wall
you see me leaning
on the wall
you think that i am
about to faint
and you signal
if you can help
but i am quick
with my hand
waiving
no i am alright
i am feeling the wall
i am listening
to its ears
there is this
hardness on walls
that i like to know
there is this
silence of the walls
that i like to hear
from its very ears
you think i am
weak and sick
you think i am
the one that
darwin says
may be
exterminated
come to think of it
these walls
are the walls
built by my father
and his father's father
they feel my body
and they say
i am doing well
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Distant Light
Distant light flickers an invitation of hope.
In reaching it, there will be sanctification.
Dimness that surrounds the eyes
will be forgotten.
Black holes that open the heart
will be discarded.
Let the distant light come closer.
Let the distant light be a friend.
Shallow water cannot drown soul.
It can only hinder the passage.
Dampening the spirit as it frolics
like a moonbeam across the mind.
Distance lends unhappiness.
Let the distant light shine bright.
Let the distant light be a guide.
In closets of blackness the hands
seek an opening in the shadows.
They find nothing, but the eyes
focus on a distant light that
calls like a radio in the night.
Let the distant light embrace.
Let the distant light be closer.
In an emptiness of broken glass
there is a pattern to salvation.
Frame the light like fire in the glance,
walk towards it. Find escape.
Let the distant light be strong.
Let the distant light shine forever.
What is the distant light that shines?
What is its meaning in a journey?
This is an answer not easily explained.
This is a hope not readily known.
Let the distant light continue.
Let the distant light always shine.
poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Personal Trainer
husband
didn't pay attention when she started to change her look,
after all, she'd been saying how she wanted to for a while &
it seemed to make sense,
what with her going back to the gym full time,
after a period of time away
when they first had been married-
husband just went about his days
working more hours than he knew what to do with,
business was good &
with all the business around him seeming to fail,
he'd been putting away for the life he imagined in the future,
with or without
her-
but her time spent at the gym seemed to increase &
thought her body began to get trimmer, sexier, tighter, stronger &
she seemed to walk around the house with a new zest for life
(when he was there to see her) ,
he still didn't notice that
the personal trainer had moved in-
she had said something to him,
but he was listening less & less
as he had more & more to worry about at work,
for it was all part of building his empire.
the personal trainer was a less successful man
by the standard that money can by,
but he listened to her
as he traced her curves with his fingers in the gym
with palms of his hand smoothly gliding over her muscles
making her body quiver &
it wasn't long before in the car outside the gym
they consummated the professional relationship
again &
again &
again &
again.
as she began to show less interest in sex with her husband,
he wrote it off as a side-effect of marriage &
found himself a main squeeze on the side,
a 20 something who needed money to get her through college
with a perkiness that made him feel young again &
a body that wouldn't quit-
as he grew more distant from the wife,
she grew closer to the personal trainer,
until the day when she brought him home to the house,
when she swore the husband would be gone.
husband found out the way a husband will
when husband had been no longer interested
until another shows his face, as it is only jealousy then
which kicks in, making husband suddenly care-
but personal trainer put husband on the ground
when husband came into his own bedroom
to find personal trainer banging away his bride
who now had no interest in husband-
husband sued the personal trainer for assault &
bride to be divorced husband, taking half of everything he had,
breaking his empire down to nothing
as he had been stupid enough to not require a prenup
at the beginning of it all.
poem by Andrew Delapruch
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Come Home My Son, Come Home
As I travel across this country
the land that I love best
with its snowy peaked mountains
that lay out of reach in the west.
The rivers and the lakes
where nature grows at its best.
The forests and the plains
that each has their part
in the land I love the best.
I write from a distant shore
with dreams of coming home again
ever always on my mind.
Seeing once again friends
from a long, long time ago.
The land that I live in is not to my desire.
My home is ten thousand miles away,
and each time I see it,
it’s like the birth of a new day.
The cities are filled with people
and in the countryside; you can breathe in the fresh air.
The more I dream about it,
the more I wish to be there.
It is not the land of my birth,
but the place that I call home.
That distant country keeps calling to me
come home my son, come home.
31 January 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Fallen One
I saw your face in the morning sun
Oh, I thought you were there
I heard your voice as the wind passed me by
Silently, whispering my name
So many things that I wanted to say
Forever left untold
I still remember the tears that you shed
Over someone else
Our love could never die
All I can do is cry
Save a little prayer for the fallen one
There is a light down at memory lane
Slowly fading away
Still holding on to the dreams torn apart
I will follow my heart
Our love could never die
All I can do is cry
Save a little prayer for the fallen one
Still on my own, chasing the sun
Of a time long ago
The shade in my heart, tearing apart
Everything that I long for
I saw your face in the morning sun
Oh, I thought you were there
I heard your voice as the wind passed me by
Whispering my name
Our love could never die
All I can do is cry
Save a little prayer for the fallen one
song performed by by Hammerfall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Body Talk
I can tell
By the way you stare at me
(talk):
Its deep...real deep
Your minds messed up
Words just dont come easily
(talk):
It should be natural
Your invitation...baby
Turned my head around
Quiet conversation
Language without sound
Body talk...work your body
Everybody let your body talk
Body talk...work your body
Everybody needs some body talk
The guy with me
Hes just a friend of mine
(talk)
Its purely platonic
So if youre tuff enuff
Baby step across the line
(talk)
Girlfriend dont bite
My imagination...baby
Bound to blow my mind
Body talk...work your body
Everybody let your body talk
Body talk...work your body
Everybody needs some body talk
Body talk
I can hear your body talk
Speak to me baby
Body talk
I can hear your body talk
Speak to me baby
Body talk
I can hear your body talk
Body talk
I can hear your body, body, body, body
Talk
I get the picture...baby
Come on over here
Your lips aint moving
But I hear you loud and clear
(chorus out)
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Details
one gets too particular about the details of
the morning picture: there are two rainbows
from the top of the galvanized roof of the old house
surrounded by trees
its other foot extending to the hazy hills
the rain is soft
landing on the small ponds
below the trees with few brownish leaves
making some ripples
the grass is wilting by the previous summer heat
the wind whispers softly like a woman in love
the horizon gives a gray boundary of the foot of the hills
some houses look like pigments of black and brown spots
too distant for my sight
i sit here
my mind is calm like a pigeon roosting on the steel beam
of the gymnasium
they say
that when one gets too lonely
the details of the world becomes
too visible
one can even hear the flapping wings
of a butterfly lost inside
the room of your heart
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Between You And Me....
there could have been a bridge
even just a word to connect us and form a ring
a hollowness between
a hole
where both of us can pass through
and then leave all these
between a you and
i, there must be a word to describe
that wish for closeness
the intimacy that nudity speaks about
my hands clothe your body and make you another body
between my body and your body
there must at least be a syllable to make a sound of this silence between us
we hear a faint music of a distant phonograph
between us is a phrase
between us is an incomplete clause thirsty
of meaning
this unsatisfactory of ordinary humanity
this imperfection between us a word a bridge a rainbow an arrow
inside us are wounds and maggots
outside us are the words of laughter written off in air.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
That Girl
That girl thinks that shes so fine
That soon shell have my mind
That girl thinks that shes so smart
That soon shell have my heart
She thinks in no time flat
That shell be free and clear to start
With her emotional rescue of love that youll leave turn apart
That girl thinks that shes so bad
Shell change my tears from joy to sad
She says she keeps the upper hand
cause she can please her man
She doesnt use her love to make him weak
She uses love to keep him strong
And inside me theres no room for doubt
That it wont be too long
Before I tell her that I love her
That I want her
That my mind, soul and body needs her
Tell her that Id love to, that I want to
That I need to do all that I have to
To be in her love
Ive been hurting for a long time
And youve been playing for a long time
You know its true
Ive been holding for a long time
And youve been running for a long time
Its time to do what we have to do
That girl, that girl
That girl knows every single man
Would ask her for her hand
But she says her love is much too deep
For them to understand
She says her love has been crying out
But her lover hasnt heard
But what she doesnt realize is that Ive listened to every word
Thats why I know Ill tell that I love her
That I want her
That my mind, soul and body needs her
Tell her that Id love to, that I want to
That I need to do all that I have to
To be in her love
Tell her I love her
That I want her
That my mind and soul and body needs her
Tell her that Id love to, that I want to
That I need to do all that I have to
To be in her love
That I love her
That I want her
That my mind and soul and body needs her
Tell her that Id love to, that I want to
That I need to do all that I have to...
Tell her that I love her
That I want her
That my mind and soul and body needs her
Tell her that Id love to, that I want to
That I need to do all that I have to
To be in her...
That girl, that girl, that girl,
Oh, that girl, that girl, that girl, that girl...
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
These Walls
If these walls could talk,
I wonder what what would they say
Would they thank me for being painted
Or will they ask me, to wash the paint away.
Would they tell me of the pictures
That once hung upon them their
Pictures that once adorn those walls
Or I wonder would they even care.
Would they speak upon the stories
That was heard within these walls
That no one else even knows about,
That is if the stories these walls could recall.
Was there children laughter all about
Or any secrets heard and being told
I wonder what have they listened to
And I wonder if anyone will ever know.
These walls inside this house
That for years have stood alone
With the stories that was told and heard
While this house had became a home.
The Sadness that they might had seen
And the worries and sorrow that they felt
Maybe they don't want to remember it at all
And maybe they too keep it bottled upon their self.
Were they painted to cover up secrets
Was they battered as to protect someone's lies
Or were they wallpapered to cover up the truth
And did they hear the whispers and the cries.
These walls they are still standing
Through the years of the days and nights
While listening and knowing all done and said
In the darkness and also in the light.
I look at these walls just one last time
As I head home from my walk,
How I wish I knew what they heard and know,
But that is, if these walls could only talk.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Cicada
The cicada sheds his skin in summer,
Leaving behind an empty shell, a trace
Of his former self. The callous is left
With the peeling of its flesh. Now, a raw,
Reborn body remains, unspoiled by
The surfaces he felt beneath his claw,
Or the textures that formed against his weight.
A new cicada crawls forth from this case,
And he is no longer any number
Than the Earth that firms underneath his feet.
His wings buzz, freed from the crispness of time's
Dusty chrysalis. A much younger face
Emerges with eyes fresh from the slumber.
Awake, he couldn't believe what he saw.
poem by Tim Stensloff
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Distant Time
I know not from what distant time
thou art ever coming nearer to meet me.
Thy sun and stars can never keep thee hidden from me for aye.
In many a morning and eve thy footsteps have been heard
and thy messenger has come within my heart and called me in secret.
I know not only why today my life is all astir,
and a feeling of tremulous joy is passing through my heart.
It is as if the time were come to wind up my work,
and I feel in the air a faint smell of thy sweet presence.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Incompatibility
Higher there, higher, far from the ways,
from the farms and the valleys, beyond the trees,
beyond the hills and the grasses’ haze,
far from the herd-trampled tapestries,
you discover a sombre pool in the deep
that a few bare snow-covered mountains form.
The lake, in light’s, and night’s, sublime sleep,
is never disturbed in its silent storm.
In that mournful waste, to the unsure ear,
come faint drawn-out sounds, more dead than the bell,
of some far-off cow, the echoes unclear,
as it grazes the slope, of a distant dell.
On those hills where the wind effaces all signs,
on those glaciers, fired by the sun’s pure light,
on those rocks, where dizziness threatens the mind,
in that lake’s vermilion presage of night,
under my feet, and above my head,
silence, that makes you wish to escape;
that eternal silence, of the mountainous bed
of motionless air, where everything waits.
You would say that the sky, in its loneliness,
gazed at itself in the glass, and, up there,
the mountains listened, in grave watchfulness
to the mystery nothing that’s human can hear.
And when, by chance, a wandering cloud
darkens the silent lake, moving by,
you might think that you saw some spirit’s robe,
or else its clear shadow, travelling, over the sky.
poem by Charles Baudelaire
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Destiny's Highway
Since from your life,
I stubbornly departed,
Your craggy face,
Was perennially creased
With a simulated half smile…
It is the trace of time,
And you should know,
That my feelings for you
Turned like dried leaves
Carried away by the turbulent wind…
My once tender caresses
Spreading like a wildfire,
All over your shaking body
Are now, sadly, forever gone,
It is time for me to sing a new song…
My rejuvenated heart,
Still as soft as cotton,
And my mind as strong as steel,
Have set new boundaries
For me, patiently to follow…
No more tears or heartfelt pain,
Or desperately looking for you
Through the dusty hills
Or my own shadow or dreams…
Now, seeing things in different ways,
And going at my own pace,
To cast a new and brighter light,
Through destiny's highway...
©All Rights Reserved-2010
poem by Romeo Della Valle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Tip of My Memory
On the tip of my memory
of a time so distant
sitting at kitchen table
watching my mother.
She was cooking one of her
fine means, as she always did,
remembering how young
she was.
Miss those days of old
when we would just talk
of her telling me of her youth,
now I'm older than she was then.
All of this just on tip of
my memory, so long ago
as days go by, memory fading
away to days so distant.
(4-21-07)
Lady Fair
Lady fair, have we not met
In our lives elsewhere ?
Darkling in my mind to-night
Faint fair faces dare
Memory's old unfaithfulness
To what was true and fair.
Long of memory is Regret,
But what Regret has taken flight
Through my memory's silences ?
Lo ! I turn it to the light.
'Twas but a pleasure in distress,
Too faint and far off for redress.
But some light glancing in your hair
And in the liquid of your eyes
Seem to murmur old good-byes
In our lives elsewhere.
Have we not met. Lady fair ?
poem by Francis Ledwidge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sunrise on the Hills
I stood upon the hills, when heaven's wide arch
Was glorious with the sun's returning march,
And woods were brightened, and soft gales
Went forth to kiss the sun-clad vales.
The clouds were far beneath me; bathed in light,
They gathered mid-way round the wooded height,
And, in their fading glory, shone
Like hosts in battle overthrown.
As many a pinnacle, with shifting glance.
Through the gray mist thrust up its shattered lance,
And rocking on the cliff was left
The dark pine blasted, bare, and cleft.
The veil of cloud was lifted, and below
Glowed the rich valley, and the river's flow
Was darkened by the forest's shade,
Or glistened in the white cascade;
Where upward, in the mellow blush of day,
The noisy bittern wheeled his spiral way.
I heard the distant waters dash,
I saw the current whirl and flash,
And richly, by the blue lake's silver beach,
The woods were bending with a silent reach.
Then o'er the vale, with gentle swell,
The music of the village bell
Came sweetly to the echo-giving hills;
And the wild horn, whose voice the woodland fills,
Was ringing to the merry shout,
That faint and far the glen sent out,
Where, answering to the sudden shot, thin smoke,
Through thick-leaved branches, from the dingle broke.
If thou art worn and hard beset
With sorrows, that thou wouldst forget,
If thou wouldst read a lesson, that will keep
Thy heart from fainting and thy soul from sleep,
Go to the woods and hills! No tears
Dim the sweet look that Nature wears.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!