En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Or

the finger
the lips, the foot,
or the paper bills,
or the bank book accounts,
or the relatives, or the priest

in the house, the rails,
the forest,
the kitchen, or behind the janitor's store room
or the cave
or the garage,

whatever, if love is love,
it must survive, it may suffice

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Unseen Butterfly

Folding the last edge of the paper
he pointed the folds
into the palm of his hand,
closing it in a clockwork swirl
he forms a fist.
Turning to the children,
He spoke…
‘What do you see? ’
‘A hand…
…a fist’, said the other.
Without acknowledgement
He asked, ‘Do you see the butterfly? ’
As if to turn,
and search the skies
The children shook their heads.
Slowly, gently
Unfolding his fingers like petals
He tenderly placed his finger
On the square of paper…
‘Do You see the Butterfly? ’
wide eyes and indignant laugh
revealed the children’s Puzzlement.
‘It’s a piece of paper’
became their mantra
Raising his eyebrows,
quiet finger to lips
he recaptures their attention.
‘Look, do you see the Butterfly? ’
the slip of paper pinched
between finger and thumb
‘Do You see the Butterfly? ’
Restless, the children
Shuffled from foot to foot
Peering around and about
As if looking through
the finger and thumb
‘It’s just a piece of paper! ’
mocking adult indifference
the children say again
‘it’s a piece of paper…’
Then let us see, he unfolds
The first edge opened
doubles the dimension
of what is visible
With his thumbs he expands
the dimension a step further
‘Do you see the butterfly? ’
with taut Patience
the children snap
‘it’s hidden…it’s hidden….
How can we see
What is hidden…’
Until it is unfolded?
Do You see the Butterfly?

poem by Adrian Wait
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Storeroom

I love you, without caring whom you love.
My hands below the belt, or my hands above
in the arms of other men,
or in my bed again.
It's just a man,
Taking what he needs,
From the store room,
Store room, store room.
I love to see you sitting there upon your throne,
your preachers all around you
being bored, and your prophet straight and tall.
And yet they'll undermine it all.
Just a man, just a man,
taking what he needs,
from the store room,
store room, store room.
Yeah, Shakespeare said it all, then he said no more
and he left me feeling just like a two bit whore.
Well the silence broke my heart, but yes
I spread my legs apart.
It's just a man ...
?????
?????
The hermit in the Wild,
the parent in the child.
Just a man ...
Oh my love, let us unpin you,
???? you done, bringing more:
the mother and the father, the daughter and the son.
But should one refuse to come, it does not subtract the sum
It's just a man ...
It's not a (due?) of burning pounds that ruins your mind
like a spoon that you turn and you turn and you don't unwind,
Though these wars that you did not stop,
they don't tear your sleep apart.
It's just a man ...
???? that keeps you up,
What a (moon?) coming like a headlight through the window
Not the thumbnail of a screen, (?)
No best way to dream (?)
It's just a man ...
Now the woman by your side is she awake?
But there's nothing you want to give her,
and there's nothing that you really want to take.
You don't even try to prove that the noisy neighbor's making love. (?)
It's just a man ...
I love you without caring whom you love ...

song performed by by Leonard Cohen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How far to the next garage

Just as I stopped at a garage today
the car’s engine died,
as it was running
with the yellow light burning
and the last gasoline was gone.

I had no cash on me
and there was no card machine
and the auto bank
at the shop was broken
and I was told,
about an auto bank at the next garage.

I started walking
and found a black man
along the way.

How far to the next
garage I asked
and he replied,
just on the other side
of the bridge.

On the other side
of the bridge,
there was one more bridge
and on the other side
of it,
no garage could be seen
for two kilometres or more.

So I wondered while I walked along
with a plastic can in my hand
that if he really didn’t know
why did he lie,
or was the man
too afraid to be seen
as a fool
while the biggest fool
was I?

poem by Gert Strydom
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Our Survival

We shall survive distance.
We shall survive space.
But can we survive the loneliness
that we have to face?

We shall survive winter.
We shall survive spring.
But can we survive the guilt
of the wedding ring?

We shall survive long nights.
We shall survive days.
But can we survive the longings
that always and forever stays?

We shall survive suspicion.
We shall survive fear.
But can we survive living
without each other, dear?

We shall survive all of this
if we put our love first.
We shall survive hunger.
We shall survive thirst
only if this love is true.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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My Room Is Your Room Now

i

my room is your room now
and my arms yours too
my lips are ready for your
warm kiss and you may
have them as yours

ii

for this house is your house
my body is your body
for my love is your love
and my longing is your longing too

iii

this is my heaven and it is yours too
all the angels sing for you
and they also sing for me

iv

you and me in this loneliness
you and me in this hapless mess

v

so i am a tree, a house, arms, lips and body
so i am heaven, room, and window and door

so i am open for you and so you are here with me
you are my guest and i am your host

there is no reason for you to be angry
and if you happen not to like it here

you may leave early the next morning
and please you do not have to say an angry word

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Exit strategy

Exit strategy
~
Lets empty the bank account
and walk to the station
board the first train we see
ride off into nowhere
where rails of mystery beckon
journey becomes adventure
wherever we end up
we could board another train
and ride further rails
or find a room for the night
it doesn't have to be special
just a place to rest and sleep
a bed and a warm meal
then tomorrow, same again
or some sightseeing
lets travel for a while
leave our worries behind
in a closed bank account

poem by Matthew Holloway
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Sweetest Sin

Can you imagine us,
Making love..
The way you would feel the first time that we touched,
Can you think of it..
The way I dream of it,
I want you to see like im seeing you..
It's a picture of perfection,
The vision of you and me..
Your lips upon my lips,
Can you just picture this..
Your finger tips on my finger tips,
Your skin upon my skin..
Would be the Sweetest Sin,
Would be the Sweetest Sin..
All night I lie awake,
Cause it's to much to take..
Dreamin' about the love that we could make..All day,
I think of scenes..
To get you next to me,
I want you so bad that I can barely breathe..
It's a sign of my obsession,
That I can't stop thinkin bout'
Your lips upon my lips,
Can you invision this..
Temptation that I could never resist,
Your skin upon my skin..
Would be the Sweetest Sin,
That would be the Sweetest Sin..
It would feel so good,
To be so bad..
You don't know how bad.. I want that,
I would do anything to feel your love..
Your lips upon my lips,
Can you just picture this..
Your finger tips on my finger tips,
Your skin upon my skin..
Would be the Sweetest Sin,
That Would be the Sweetest Sin..
Your lips upon my lips,
Can you invision this..
Temptation that I could never resist,
Your skin upon my skin..
Would be the Sweetest Sin,
Would be the Sweetest Sin..
Your lips upon my lips.. would be the Sweetest Sin

song performed by by Jessica Simpson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song

I came to the door of the House of Love
And knocked as the starry night went by;
And my true love cried "Who knocks?" and I said
"It is I."

And Love looked down from a lattice above
Where the roses were dry as the lips of the dead:
"There is not room in the House of Love
For you both," he said.

I plucked a leaf from the porch and crept
Away through a desert of scoffs and scorns
To a lonely place where I prayed and wept
And wove me a crown of thorns.

I came once more to the House of Love
And knocked, ah, softly and wistfully,
And my true love cried "Who knocks?" and I said
"None now but thee."

And the great doors opened wide apart
And a voice rang out from a glory of light,
"Make room, make room for a faithful heart
In the House of Love, to-night."

poem by Alfred Noyes
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Young Dog

crickety teeth
my left slipper
gets taken somewhere
my right slipper bitten

urine on the sofa
poo poo on the garage
sliding through
the kitchen door
chasing in the yard
scattered books
in the living room

licking my feet
playing bites with my hands
this young dog
is the star of the house

no kids, eh.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I am being watched..

Wherever I go, I am watched,
even to the loo, I am watched,
While driving the car,
crossing the signals,
Walking in the malls,
Talking in the halls,
I am watched.

When the smoking alarms go on,
I am watched.
When the traffic tickets issued,
I am watched.
When the bills are not paid,
I am watched.
When the bills are over due,
I am warned.

When my accounts are watched,
when my status is watched,
when my orientation is watched,
What freedom do I talk about?

When my finger prints are stored,
When my eyes are photographed,
When photographs are safe kept,
What freedom do I have?

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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What's up, the world is changing!

What's up, the world is changing! Coming out from outside, what do I see. The people are sad not happy and losing there jobs. How can they pay there bills and rent, mortgage on there house if they do not have no jobs. The people use to have a smile on there face because they have money to pay there bills and other things that have to be paid to. What's up, the world is changing! Coming out from outside, what do I see. The children use to played outside in front of the doors and the children use to laught at each other by joking. The children use to go to the store by themselves without getting hit by a bullet. The children use to socialize with other children by playing. Now, the children is dieing, crying, and continue to fantasizing. What's up, the world is changing! Coming out from outside, what do I see. The children is looking for love cannot find love from there home so, they are looking for the right one to give them love. The children looking in the wrong places to found love. It will be too late to tell the children that the love isn't out there. The love is inside there hearts and can they flll it?

poem by Shattocha Evans
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Don't Take Lifts From Dames

Whose car
did you get out of?

Dolly asked.
Some dame

from the bedding department,
you replied.

She’s been bedding you
I suppose? Dolly said.

No, you replied,
she’s seven months pregnant.

So you got her pregnant huh?
Can’t keep your hands

to yourself can you.
I just got a lift home

by her that’s all.
You took off your coat

and went to the sitting room
and poured yourself a drink.

Dolly followed you in.
I found this name

in your pocket book.
A girl’s name.

You recognise it? Eh?
She showed you

the pocket book.
You read the name.

That’s just some dame
whose name I put down

who’s been shoplifting.
So you say.

For all I know
you’re having it off

with her too.
Maybe you’re having all

the dames at the store.
I’m a security guard

not a Casanova, you said.
She went off

out to the kitchen
muttering to herself.

You drained your drink
and poured another.

You could hear her
in the kitchen

slamming down
pots and pans

and cursing the air.
I don’t screw any dames

but you, you said.
You’re my Sweetie pie.

Dolly came back
to the door way

and stared at you.
You mean that?

Sure I do.
Every single word?

Every single word.
I’m your Sweetie pie?

Sure you are.
And you ain’t been sleeping

with no other woman?
No, of course I haven’t.

Never would.
Dolly’s glassy gaze softened.

She pushed back
her hair from her eyes.

Ok Sexy Boy
maybe I believe you.

Maybe you’re telling
me the truth.

Maybe I got you wrong.
She turned and went back

in the kitchen.
You sighed softly.

BUT IF YOU’RE LYING TO ME
I’ll POKE OUT YOUR EYES

she bellowed.
Out in the kitchen

Dolly banged around.
You emptied the glass.

A love was dying.
You could sense it

in your bones and
in the hollow sound.

poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To a younger poet

Well, thanks for asking - quite a nice surprise...
first off, you have my passionate support -
for how could I believe in any less
of poetry, its value and its power?

And I know well of you, that despite all
your youthful, quick impatience, so sharp shown
to those, the wrinkly; grey; not keen on change -
you'd like to hear our comments on your work;
yes, even to reject them, red of face...

But spare a thought for ageing minds and hearts -
like comfortable kitchen-cupboard store
in that beloved house of realised dreams
where we can now at last just be ourselves,
where favourite brands cram out the sagging shelves
with jars not opened for too many a year -
more for sentiment, than for some new cuisine;
there's not much room for untried brands, alas -

'despite the fervour with which youth may praise
the heart-wrench of those wild love-seeking days,
or praise in detail Her so unique sight
to eyes so red from passionate wild night'...

there's not much room for endless rhymes for love
now, in the store-room of our ageing hearts;
we've been there, got the Tshirt (somewhere there, and
rotting from the dazzling blue sea's salt
of love's abundance, into which we two splash-dived) :

So please excuse us if we don't pour praise -
however fine your wild and winning ways;
we're poetry-besotted; live in thought;

know this: our passionate and full support.

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Ruben's Mansion

it is not a house
in fact, it is a white mansion
placed on a one-hectare lot
surrounded by a well-manicured
garden and flowering shrubs
and fruit trees
one that everyone cannot but
always admire

when they come
and watch
Ruben's mansion
taking 2 years to finish
and 12 million pesos
in expenditures

as you go inside
the glass door opens
leading you
to a living room
twice as large
as my own house
in a remote barrio

the furniture are carved
from molave trees
shining with shellac
and glistening
with opulence
the motif of this
house

the kitchen is huge
four times as wide
as my garage
accommodating only
my second hand car

and the garage
is one that can handle
a party for the night
of ten tables and
fifty chairs and
a hundred people

one wonders
why Ruben has to make
a mansion like this

sheer taste perhaps
or his money
simply searching for something
to buy and spend
looking for some
vents

did he remember
how as a child
the family was shamed
because visitors
from Bohol
in 1970 could not
be accommodated
and they all murmured
how poor they were?

it must be traumatic
for Ruben
as a child
and it must be some
trauma
that molded his dream
to build a mansion
like this?

(or am i just
jealous
of his ambition)

i need not ask some
more
his lips are sealed
he is dead
and he has no way
explaining
a sensitive matter as building
a mansion
while the rest still
thrives on
mediocre houses and
unfinished makeshifts

and no one lives
in this house anymore

perhaps some dreams
still live here
dreams unfulfilled

and once fulfilled
these dreams now
refuse to die

a mansion is still a house
and when no one lives there
need i say

that it is never a home
and after this party
tendered in the name of Ruben
we all go home
and then think for once

i must build a home
and for the meantime forget about a mansion

or just a house.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Book Of Love

In the book of love come of age
When you lose your love, you turn the page
Hey-ho the book of love,
Life is written in your own blood
Say forever and it all sounds fine
When youre holding hands,
With the hands of time
Hey-ho the book of love
Laugh at the dead but tomorrow you cry
Chorus:
My broken hearts from a to z
Dos and donts on bended knees
Change of lovers endlessly
And this book of love is writing me
Chapter 2 you walk away
But in chapter 3 a man made me stay
Hey-ho the book of love
Why dontcha look up
All the games you played
Chorus
Theyll be sweet love in a darkness
But the book of love
Is a story of your loneliness
Finger tipped it on a holy night
And a page is ripped for a name of life
Check the back cause the datell be due
When theyll throw the book of love at you
They are broken hearts from a to z
Dos and donts on bended knees
Disappointed right to be
Celebrate a celebrity
K-i-s-s-i-n-g
Ah stupid cupid set me free
Took a look and whatll I see
This book of love is writing me
This book of love is writing me
This book of love is writing me
This book of love is writing me

song performed by by Cher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thats The Way Love Turned Out To Be

(quinton claunch, dave hall & ry cooder)
Brand new day, brave new man
Its a miracle what love can do
All the joys romance can bring
Come smiling down on a heart thats true
When love is real, you cant turn it around
Its like a river running down to the sea
This old world turns around for lovers like you
Its not the way love turned out for me
People in love build a house they can share
Takes a long time to get it just right
But a fire can start in the kitchen somewhere
And burn that little house down over night
That flame burning bright in your heart, I believed that
You turned it on just for me
Another man held that fire, burned our house to the ground
Thats the way love turned out for me
People turn out for the big show
Pretty flowers turn out in the spring
And the light turns out in the kitchen
When somebody pulls on the string
But theres no light burning in my kitchen
And no doors open up with my key
And I aint got no one to turn to
Thats the way love turned out for me

song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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LIFE… An Epic.

Life is a book of epic!

Where are the pages to write the accounts?

Who gave this precious book,

And kept it open in front of the humans?

And kindled a lamp called life

For him to read at his will,

And forget himself, and live?

Enjoy each sentence in this epic.

It is embedded with exultation

And delight; vibrant with passion.

And love and lust, ravished by charms.

The lamp may extinguish to day or

Tomorrow, then there will be utter darkness,

The book will be illegible and fade away.

Idiots try to write accounts in its pages.

They add and subtract continuously.

But finally, all additions and subtractions

Turns to be erroneous, and faulty….

poem by Kunjubi Varghese
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Like A Stone

On a cold wet
Afternoon
No room for love and emptiness
By a freeway
I confess I was lost in the pages
Of a book
Full of death
Reading how well die alone
And if a God will lay to rest
Anywhere we want to go
In your house
I long to be
Room by room
Patiently
Ill wait for you there
Like a stone
Ill wait for you there
Alone
And on my death bed
I will prey
To the gods and the angels
Like a pagan
To anyone who will take me to heaven
To a place
I would recall
I was there so long ago
The sky was bruised
The world was black
And there you led me on
In your house
I long to be
Room by room
Patiently
Ill wait for you there
Liek a stone
Ill wait for you there
Alone
In all I read
Till the day was gone
And I sat in regret
In all the things Ive done
For all that Ive blessed
And all that Ive wronged
In dreams till my death
I will wonder on
In your house
I long to be
Room by room
Patiently
Ill wait for you there
Like a stone
Ill wait for you there
Alone
Alone

song performed by by Audioslave
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This House

(nile rodgers)
This house is built
On a foundation of love
This house is built
On a foundation of love
Our toys are in the attic baby
Pictures on the wall
We can see our memories
From the days past in the mirror
Down the hall, oh yeah
Our love will survive in our own little paradise
So inspired, so inspired
Palatial it may not be
But its a home and a castle to me
A dream from a magazine
And well never give it up cause
This house is built
On a foundation of love
This house is built
On a foundation of love
Ill try to comfort you baby
You try to comfort me yeah
I know you love me
With all your heart, oh yeah
cause you say you do
You know that when you are sad
Ill be there in a flash
At the drop of a hat, oh yeah
cause I want you to feel love
And you dont have to say a thing
You dont have to ask, cause baby
This house is built
On a foundation of love
This house is built
On a foundation of love
Maybe well strike it rich
One day really make it big
And I know because our love is so strong
Well always have a home
This house is built
On a foundation of love
This house is built
On a foundation of love
This house is built
On a foundation of love
This house is built
On a foundation of love
This house is built
On a foundation of love
This house is built
On a foundation of love

song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paper Boy

Roy orbison
I walk down to the blue side of town
Where there's no happiness, no joy
Down at the end of a long dark street
I saw a little paper boy
Paper boy paper boy
I've got bad news for you
Paper boy paper boy
Me and my baby are through
She was my love my one and only
I feel so bad i'm oh so lonely
I'm looking for my love
I've got my own headlines for today
They've been the same since she went away
"one dark haired angel disappears
She's been missing for a million years"
Paper boy paper boy
So long goodbye
Paper boy paper boy
Thanks for listening while i cry
I feel a little better now that someone knows
But i will go on looking forever, i suppose
I'm looking for my love
Extra extra read all about it
My baby's gone and i wanna shout it
I'm looking for my love
I'm looking for my love
I'm looking for my love....

song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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