It Took Me A Long Time
it took me a very
long time
to realize that i
love you, and now that
my words are
dressed on their
Sunday's best
to let you know
what was unsaid before
the door of your church
is already closed
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Red riding hood
In the jungle named city
Johnny and Sally
dressed in their church best,
(she with a little red jacket and hood for winter)
one Sunday evening walked to church
when the cruel wolf
(a black monster) ,
drew a long knife
to take God’s money with violence and force,
but unluckily for him
they made him cry long howls
even before the moon did appear
when one two three
they chopped and kicked him using karate
and walked on quite unimpeded
before the church bells were even ringing.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Love We Had Behind That Door One Sunday Afternoon
the love behind that door
one sunday afternoon when all of them were gone to church
we were silly and hot and
thrilled to the tempest of our flesh
the passions that burn like a wildfire in the camp
we closed the door
with our two bodies in fear
but the heat was even more
tempting we set aside
possibilities in hell
all we thought of was
heaven and the songs of angels
we banged the door together
we were afraid no more of conseqences
we had thrown clothes and underwears
under the chairs
the world and its rules did not matter
we were making a stand of
teen-age love
the supple youth that must rule
the world of unfounded fears
what we remembered most
were the volcanoes
they all erupted and we closed our eyes
and the magma flowed
all the lava moved
all the fiery fires and sounds of
cracking pyroplastics
the sweet explosions in our ears
then we listened afterwards
the mellow songs of our hearts
we take our calm seats we hold our tired hands
and then the sunday door opened again
as though nothing important really happened
we assured ourselves by the mutual silent gazes of our eyes
the scented air came in
and we were refreshed again
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Return To Our Home
Then again I wish to write, .....
When we write something to you dear
Then I feel a sorrow
Here is the door where we meet
And filled words with love
And learn to earn something for our bread
And now a farewell tell you, dear
And now time come to go for our home
Not be crazy
Today or the other day we may go to our home
Where we born
Now we may try to laugh
And then start to cry
Not feel free to hide
The unsaid words
Right or wrong
Please drink this hot
And dressed for a walk
And not rush for home
Where we born
poem by Thampi KEE
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Sunday Morning
Sunday morning silence, curtain stay closed late
No one thinks of kitchens mornings in a filthy state
Dishes cups and beer stains, ashtrays on the floor
Sunday morning papers are left outside the front door
Sunday school and sunday roast
Sunday papers sunday post
Sunday morning sunday rest
Sunday sermon sunday best
(sunday, bloody sunday rest)
Glass of fizzy water helps to start the day
Sit and listen to sunday silence, problems fade away
Sunday cars and drivers break the morning air
Uncollected milk outside reveals theres no one there
Sunday school and sunday roast
Sunday papers sunday post
Sunday morning sunday rest
Sunday sermon sunday best
Sunday school and sunday roast
Sunday papers sunday post
Sunday morning sunday rest
Sunday sermon sunday best
Bathrobes hang in waiting, windows steaming up
Somewhere in the sink downstairs lies an unwashed cup
Tea and toast for breakfast clear away the plates
Wash-up prepare for cooking sunday lunch awaits
Sunday lunch awaits
Sunday lunch awaits
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Sunday Kind of Woman
I can only imagine for our worlds are far apart
How it would feel to hold this woman mouth to mouth heart to heart
I guess it's a good thing dreaming's free
What would a Sunday kind of woman
A Sunday kind of woman want an everyday man like me.
I've had lots of nightlife women you've seen one you've seen 'em all
And I wake up in the morning and I turn and face the wall
And long for someone special's company
But would a Sunday kind of woman
A Sunday kind of woman love an everyday man like me.
But would a Sunday kind of woman
A Sunday kind of woman love an everyday man like me.
song performed by by Charlie Rich, lyrics by Margaret Ann Rich from Behind Closed Doors (1973)
Submitted by Jeffrey Kosloske
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Sign On The Door
Wendys sittin next to me shes trying hard to drink it away and I feel the rumble of the subway beneath the stage and her eyes are screaming and her lips are pursed and this aint he
St heartache but it feels like, it feels like the worst and she says can someone tell me how this can happen and I guess that God only knows my heart used to be the sweet shop of lov
Ut now the sign on the door it says sorry were closed and I hear myself tell her some old words I know they wont help and then I feel guilty cause I closed some sweet shops myself
We all talk about timing and lifestyles and such but to a heart thats been shattered those words dont mean that much and all of our pining it just goes to show dont you enter a sh
With the sign on the door saying sorry were closed and shes been through all the pain that one can endure and her new man thinks she loves him but he cant be sure and his heart pi
R>
For wendy she says thats how it goes how am I supposed to know he cant read the sign saying sorry were closed yeah were closed and she says can someone tell me how this can ha
and I guess that God only knows my heart used to be the sweet shop of love but theres a sign on the door theres a sign on the door theres a sign on the door theres a sign on th
R one more sign
song performed by by Edwin McCain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Can See It In Your Eyes
By your leave, I think that Ill be going now
I think Ive stayed a little long
I looked up all my mothers recipes
I cant think what I did wrong
We go to a restaurant, but you dont like wine
You say its love you want, but there is no time
I realize, I can see it in your eyes
You keep staring at the floor
I used to look at your school photographs
But I dont have them anymore
I wonder whos in my old college rooms
Or stuck on my old locker door
I dream of the ships at sea, on a stormy night
I wish that it was me, but I wake in fright
I realize, I can see it in your eyes
Ive only got myself to blame
Winter kisses when your lips were blue
Like chasing wild geese in the snow
Pressing faces on the window panes
But thats a long long time ago
We go to a restaurant
You say its love you want
I realize, I can see it in your eyes
Youre moving on to something more
song performed by by Men At Work
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Contradiction
They go to church with their prayer books on sunday and praise the lord and sing their hymns and pray
And when their political leaders talk of war they support them for war to them one might say seems okay
They are what one might call a contradiction their love for god and war go hand in hand
These people who love god and talk of bloodshed are people that are hard to understand.
They go to church to pray to the almighty though with their next door neighbour they're at war
But they kid themselves by their self delusion for they take self delusion that bit far
They say they love god though their god from them seem distant and they don't seem to have their god within
And if their god exist then their god will disown them for god's approval they could not hope to win.
These people truly are a contradiction they go to church and praise their god in song
Yet some of them belittle their next door neighbour and some of them will tell you war's not wrong
And some of them back their political leaders to dropp bombs on people they don't even know
And they think they are decent church going people yet for others compassion they do not show.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Closed Door
sometimes we want to enter
a door
a closed door that does not open
no matter how hard we
knock
we try being courteous and gentle
and so patient
eating every waiting time
like we are the most foolish of all fools
knocking a closed door
seducing it more often with our
pleadings
begging and even compromising
for a dance
to convince the owner of the door to
open it
but no one hears, no one cares to listen
to our pleadings,
no one likes the dance of compromises
the door is still closed
and then the last crooked thing happens
we take the axe
and break the door which is closed
forcing it open
only to find that all the people there are dead
there is nothing inside
but mystery and
grief
an unsolved crime, no more
no less.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A glimpse
a glimpse
the half opened door
some would say
a half closed door
it all depends on the
state of mind you are in
well half closed for pessismist
and half opened for optimist
half opened or half closed door
so long as it is open
and not close
a good exercise for the mind
of a story teller, novelist, a film maker
a glimpse at the half closed door
the mind is thrown open
like the kick you would give
a half opened door
so that you and pet cat could
glide through easily
the stories that start coming out
from a glimpse at the half opened door
agatha's murdered corpse lying behind
a stalker, a ghost in the corridor of the mind
from the glimpse of the half closed door
a million possibilities, ideas pouring forth
half closed door, half opened door
whichever way you may say
it is an opened door
a million stories, ideas, possibilities
knock at the door of my mind
a glimpse of the half closed, half opened door
my half closed half opened eyes
open themselves to my ever curious mind
boundless as the universe
inspired by
A Glimpse
A GLIMPSE, through an interstice caught,
Of a crowd of workmen and drivers in a bar-room, around the stove,
late of a winter night-And I unremark'd seated in a corner;
Of a youth who loves me, and whom I love, silently approaching, and
seating himself near, that he may hold me by the hand;
A long while, amid the noises of coming and going-of drinking and
oath and smutty jest,
There we two, content, happy in being together, speaking little,
perhaps not a word.
Walt Whitman
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The Worlds On Fire
Theres a couple sunbathing on a freshly mown lawn in england
Its a house with a view and all you see is green and blue for miles
The local vicar has pretended that the church is well attended this morning
As he wanders without purpose to the sunday service he smiles
{oh-ho!} what a beautiful morning
{oh-ho!} what a beautiful day
{oh-ho!} what a sickening feeling
It took this long to make it, now were throwing it away
Now, I was told not to play with fire
I said, look out church the flames grow higher
I said, watch those flames lick that spire
I said, look our church the falmes grow higher
{the worlds on fire}
Theres a curtain closed early in an upstairs room in england
Theres a couple misbehabving when they shouldve been praising sunday
And theres a bounce in a walk and the neighbours stop to talk for hours
And when eyebrows are raised at the next song of praise come monday
{oh-ho!} what a beautiful morning
{oh-ho!} what a beautiful day
{oh-ho!} what a sickening feeling
It took this long to make it, now were throwing it away
Now, I was told not to play with fire
I said, look out church the flames grow higher
I said, watch those flames lick that spire
I said, look our church the falmes grow higher
{the worlds on fire}
The worlds on fire!
song performed by by Housemartins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That Old Woman That I Know....
the old woman
goes to church everyday
reads her novena, spends more time in church
than in the house
she is close to the parish priest
gives sums of money to the
religious activities
noted for charity and
enjoys many indulgences
from the Pope
always she is dressed in the proper
whiteness
her head covered by
the required embroidery
her movement restrained
her poise reserved
holy and
silent
what they do not know
(and this is her secret that i have discovered)
is that
just this morning she slapped her maid
because her coffee was served
and no longer that hot
to satisfy her
cold longings
exactly the opposite of what she is
in society
this old woman takes away the faith of
the maid
from the same God that she adores
in her Sunday church.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sunday Papers
Mother doesnt go out any more
Just sits at home and rolls her spastic eyes
But every weekend through the door
Come words of wisdom from the world outside
If you want to know about the bishop and the actress
If you want to know how to be a star
If you want to know about the stains on the mattress
You can read it in the sunday papers, sunday papers
Mothers wheelchair stays out in the hall
Why should she go out when the tvs on
Whatever moves beyond these walls
Shell know the facts when sunday comes along
If you want to know about the man gone bonkers
If you want to know how to play guitar
If you want to know about the other suckers
You can read it in the sunday papers, read it in the sunday papers
Sunday papers dont ask no questions
Sunday papers dont get no lies
Sunday papers dont raise objection
Sunday papers dont got no eyes
Brothers heading that way now I guess
He just read something made his face turn blue
Well I got nothing against the press
They wouldnt print it if it wasnt true
If you want to know about the gay politician
If you want to know how to drive your car
If you want to know about the new sex position
You can read it in the sunday papers, read it in the sunday papers
Sunday papers dont ask no questions
Sunday papers dont get no lies
Sunday papers dont raise objection
Sunday papers dont got no eyes
Sunday papers dont ask no questions
Sunday papers dont get no lies
Sunday papers dont raise objection
Sunday papers dont got no eyes
Read all about it, sunday papers
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Church Bells Ring
The church bells ring merrily
their wake up call
for all those sinner to repent
the sins they committed all week.
In their Sunday best
looking smartly dressed,
they amble down to the church
and take their place on a pew.
After several hymns they sing,
the minister gives his address
of how the evils of the world
are creeping up on all of us.
How we must be always wary
in everything we do
as the devil is always waiting
just to ensnare you.
More prayers and hymns follow
and then they are on their way.
However, did they learning anything
while they were at church today,
sadly for a lot
what was said went in one ear
and went out the other,
for during the week
they follow the same path
and go about sinning again.
19 February 2007
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The sentence of love...
Many thoughts live inside my head,
Yet quite often they go unsaid.
So many thoughts that were not spoken,
Were they merely just a token? ...
Were the thoughts that meant the most,
The ones I never got round to post?
Have I missed the chance to save us all?
I think the chances must be small...
For if those thoughts meant so much,
We should find a way to stay in touch.
Thought understands feelings in a way,
That mere words could never convey...
And just because these words go unsaid,
Does not mean to life that they are dead.
For special words have meaning so true,
The words I'm thinking of are 'I love you...'
So although the words I don't often say,
May not be heard each and every day.
When the sentence of love my head does start,
You shall live forever in my heart...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
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Hanging Fire
I am fourteen
and my skin has betrayed me
the boy I cannot live without
still sucks his thumb
in secret
how come my knees
always tremble
what if I die
before the morning comes
and momma's in the bedroom
with the door closed.
I have to learn to dance
in time for the next party
my room is too small for me
suppose I die before graduation
they will sing sad melodies
but finally
tell the truth about me
There is nothing I want to do
and too much
that has to be done
and momma's in the bedroom
with the door closed.
Nobody even stops to think
about my side of it
I should have been on Math Team
my marks were better than his
why do I have to be
the one
wearing braces
I have nothing to wear tomorrow
will I live long enough
to grow up
and momma's in the bedroom
with the door closed.
poem by Gabriella Maben
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Hanging Fire
I am fourteen
and my skin has betrayed me
the boy I cannot live without
still sucks his thumb
in secret
how come my knees are
always so ashy
what if I die
before morning
and momma's in the bedroom
with the door closed.
I have to learn how to dance
in time for the next party
my room is too small for me
suppose I die before graduation
they will sing sad melodies
but finally
tell the truth about me
There is nothing I want to do
and too much
that has to be done
and momma's in the bedroom
with the door closed.
Nobody even stops to think
about my side of it
I should have been on Math Team
my marks were better than his
why do I have to be
the one
wearing braces
I have nothing to wear tomorrow
will I live long enough
to grow up
and momma's in the bedroom
with the door closed.
poem by Audre Lorde
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Church On Sunday
Today is the first day of the rest of our lives
Tomorrow is too late to pretend everything's alright now
I'm not getting any younger as long
As you don't get any older
I'm not gonna state that yesterday never was
Bloodshot
Deadbeat and lack of sleep
Making your mascare bleed
Tears down your face
Leaving traces of my mistakes
When I say
If I promise to go to church on Sunday
Will you go with me on Friday night?
If you live with me I'll die for you
And this compromise
I hereby solemny swear to tell the whole truth
And nothing but the truth is what I'll ever hear from you
"Thrust" is a dirty word that comes from such a liar
But "Respect" is something I will earn
If you have faith
Bloodshot
Deadbeat and lack of sleep
Making your mascare bleed
Tears down your face
leaving traces of my mistakes
When I say
If I promise to go to church on Sunday
Will you go with me on Friday night?
If you live with me I'll die for you
And this compromise
If I promise to go to church on Sunday
Will you go with me on Friday night?
If you live with me I'll die for you
And this compromise
Let's go
Ohhhhhhhhh........
If I promise to go to church on Sunday
Will you go with me on Friday night?
If you live with me I'll die for you
And this compromise
If I promise to go to church on Sunday
Will you go with me on Friday night?
If you live with me I'll die for you
And this compromise
And this compromise
It's a compromise
song performed by by Green Day from Warning
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All Dressed Up
Dont you see
Im the one for you, youre the one for me
Dont you see
The love Ive got is the love you need
Dont you see
Im all dressed up
To be what you want
Me to be Im all dressed up
To be what you want me to be
Im all dressed up
All dressed up, all dressed up
Dont you see, dont you see
The infinite possibilities
Dont you need, dont you need
The kind of love that I need
Dont you see me, dont you see me
Im all dressed up
To be what you want me to be
Im all dressed up
To be what you taught me to be
Im all dressed up
All messed up, all messed up
You dont even notice me
Moving you like a ton of glaciers
You dont even notice me
Soothing you like a long lost sister
You dont even care
No you dont even care
All dressed up
With no place to go
But home, but home
Im all dressed up
To be what you want me to be
Im all dressed up
To be what you want me to be
Im all dressed up
All dressed up, all dressed up
You dont even comfort me
And carry on with the will of samson
You dont even comfort me
You keep your faith and you keep your phantoms
And you dont even care
No you dont even care
All dressed up still theres something wrong
Im all dressed up and youre just a song
Im all dressed up youre forever gone everlong
You dont even care
No you dont even care
You dont even care
No you dont even care
You dont even care
No you dont even care
You dont even care
No you dont even care
You dont even care
No you dont even care
You dont even care
song performed by by Veruca Salt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Full Time Love
(zack turner/carson chamberlain)
Pick you up on friday
About half past 8
Just time for a movie
You cant stay out late
I take you home
A little kiss at the door
Lately Im thinkin
I want a little more
Tell your daddy
Im a hard working man
And after church on sunday
Im gonna ask for your hand
If he dont like it
Well thats just tough
Ive got to have your full time love
Your undivided lovin
Is what I need
Twenty four hours a day
Seven days a week
This part time romance
It just aint enough
Ive got to have your full time love
Sunday afternoon
Finally rolls around
I get in my old truck
And I drive downtown
Your daddys waitin
He says I got bad news
Ive got to tell you son
Shes too good for you
What he dont know
Is when the sun goes down
Were gonna slip out that window
And well leave this town
Drive to memphis
Tie this thing up
Ive got to have your full time love
Your undivided lovin
Is what I need
Twenty four hours a day
Seven days a week
This part time romance
It just aint enough
Ive got to have your full time love
This part time romance
Lord it just aint enough
Ive got to have your full time love
song performed by by John Michael Montgomery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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