Something That Flows Away
FINALLY you tell me
you like an empty house
something minimal
all white with no curves
just straight lines
your want is small now
something that makes us close
something that shrinks
to make an intimacy
you want a house just
for the two of us
i am thinking if these thoughts
are a little bit late
my dreams are different
i am thinking of a bird-house
i am thinking of grains
i am thinking of water
something that i can leave
something that i can give
something that flows away
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
It's kind of like trying to make straight lines from curves, but involving shapes that sort of dictate what the curves are, if you like, and the difference between two separate pieces creates a third transitional piece if you like.
quote by Sean Booth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Gonna Get Close To You
I like to look at shadows sweating on the wall
I get excited when I hear footsteps in the hall
Outside your balcony I have a room with a view
And Im watching you
I dial your telephone each and every afternoon
I wait by your door till youre asleep at night
And when youre alone I know when you
Turn out the light
Im gonna get close to you
Oh-oh so close to you
Im gonna get close to you
Im gonna get close
You fumble for your keys
Im six or seven steps behind you
Im so close to you
Are you terrified of me? what do I know about you
How did I find out?
You think Im a fool or maybe some kind of lunatic
Say Im wasting my time but I know what to do with it
Its as plain as black and white
Im gonna get close to you
Oh-oh so close to you
Im gonna get close to you
Oh so close
If you knew my infinite charm
Thered be no reason to be so alarmed
Maybe Im wrong maybe Im right
Maybe Im some kind of lunatic
You say Im wasting all of my time
But I know what to do with it
It is plain as black and white
Im gonna get close to you
Oh-oh so close to you
Im gonna get close to you
Im like a hungry criminal
And your protection is minimal
So minimal
song performed by by Queensryche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
This House Is Empty Now
(costello/bacharach)
These rooms play tricks upon you
Remember when they were always filled with laughter
But now theyre quite deserted
They seem to just echo voices raised in anger
Maybe you will see my face
Reflected there on the pane
In the window up above for long
In broken home
Yet this house is empty now
Theres nothing I can do
To make you want to stay
So tell me how am I supposed to live without you
These walls were lined with pictures
Remember the glass we charged in celebration
But now I fill my life up
With all that I can to deaden this sensation
Do you recognize the face
Fixed in that fine silver frame
Were you really so unhappy there
You never said
So this house is empty now
Theres nothing I can do to make you want to stay
So tell me how am I supposed to live without you
Oh, if I could just become forgetful
When night seems endless
Does the extinguished candle care
About the darkness
Its funny how the memory
Will bring you so close then make you disappear
Meanwhile all our friends must choose
Who they will favour, who they will lose
Hang the garland high, or close the door
Or throw away the key
This house is empty now
Theres no one living here
You have to care about
This house is empty now
Theres nothing I can do
To make you want to stay
So tell me how am I supposed to live without you
This house is empty now
This house is empty now
Theres nothing I can do
This house is empty now
This house is empty now
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
This House Is Empty Now (feat. Burt Bacharach)
These rooms play tricks upon you
Remember when they were always filled with laughter?
But now they're quite deserted
They seem to just echo voices raised in anger
Maybe you will see my face
Reflected there on the pane
In the window of our poor
Forlorn and broken home
Still this house is empty now
There's nothing I can do
To make you want to stay
So tell me how
Am I supposed to live without you?
These walls were lined with pictures
Remember the glass we charged in celebration?
But now I fill my life up
With all that I can to deaden this sensation
Do you recognize the face
Fixed in that fine silver frame
Were you really so unhappy then?
You never said
So this house is empty now
There's nothing I can do
To make you want to stay
So tell me how
Am I supposed to live without you?
Oh, if I could just become forgetful
When night seems endless
Does the extinguished candle care
About the darkness?
It's funny how my memry
Will bring you so close then make you disappear
Meanwhile all our friends must choose
Who they will favour, who they will lose
Hang the garland high or close the door
And throw away the key
This house is empty now
There's no one living here
You have to care about
This house is empty now
There's nothing I can do
To make you want to stay
So tell me how
Am I supposed to live without you?
This house is empty now
There's no one living here
You have to care about
This house is empty now
There's nothing I can do
To make you want to stay
So tell me how
Am I supposed to live without you
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
And then the paper is dirty
You start with a clean sheet of paper
Write some words, scribble, draw some lines
Some curves, sharp lines, tangent to bold
Lines, and rough sketches of faces and
Bodies, thin lines that get crooked from
End to end of this limited space,
You doodle, you get wild with so
Many lines unimaginable, senseless,
The paper finally looks dirty,
And you do not like it, you crumple
It and throw it in a waste basket,
You get another clean sheet,
And this time, you think what is
It really that you want to make
Out of this new clean sheet of paper.
You think, you ponder, and you need
More time this time not to waste
This clean, glossy sheet of paper.
I think you are doing well with your life.
You see you are supposed to be careful
Every word is delicate and every paper
Is actually accounted.
Never mind guilt, set it aside for a while.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lay Me Down
Lay Down
By MaKayla Straight
I lay my head down peacefully
Knowing that this is the last night I live
I close my eyes
And think about all the good things that has happened to me
I try to hide my tears
Though I do not know why I hide them
Nobody is around here to see
See that these are really happy tears
Happy because I know that I have lived my life the way I wanted too.
I was not in chains my whole life
I figured how to break the spell
I know I am not beautiful
I know I am not perfect
I know there is not much about me
I know
I know
I know
Lying in bed makes me realize it
Lying in bed makes me feel so truthful with myself
Lying in bed for the last night feels such a relief
Nobody would understand that this is by far the best night
Only because I know that my suffering is done.
I can finally smile and mean it
No more fake smiles
I lay down for the last time
I close my eyes and start counting backwards from one hundred
I get to fifty and my tears start to pour down my cheek.
I am so glad this is the last day
Last day forever
I continue to count.
I finally get to ten
I take a deep breath and close my eyes
Three
Two
One
I am finally at peace with myself and the world
I float on up to heaven
To be with all the ones I have lost in the past
I slowly go
With a smile upon my face
My mind and my soul are up in heaven
But my body is lying down on my bed
With a smile upon my face
Everybody will know that I have died Happy
poem by Makayla Straight
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Small Talk
Its not the chapters he reads when youre feeling low down
Its not the touch of his skin when you kiss him goodnight
Its not the money he spends when you want to buy a daydream
And not that miracle smile that makes the sky bright
Its not the way his hands behave
When youve turned out the light
Its the small, small small talk that makes it all happen
Small, small small talk that makes you want to fly, yes it does
Its not the way he believes in you like a religion
Its not the thrill that you get when hes holding you tight
Its not the way his eyes persuade
You to stay the night
Its the small, small small talk that makes it all happen (just like that)
Small, small small talk that makes you feel like flying, yes it does
Information, heart and soul, a whisper, a word
Confessions that have to be heard
Small small talk
Come on now, come on now
Come on - you make it rock so heavenly
Come on now, come on now
Come on - you seem to talk so heavenly
Big words...
Small talk...
Its not the way his eyes persuade
You to stay the night
Its the small, small small talk that makes it all happen
Small, small small talk that makes you feel like flying, yes it does
song performed by by Roxette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Fun
as age
increases its creases
like a convoluted species
of the brain
fun rewrites itself
in some straight lines
shunning curves
and crooked edges.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Children Of Silence.
it is the unresolved conflict that will make us all
restless. No one wants a solution.
Solutions can be judgments. Do you react about
something terminal?
what will you do when you wait? Think, Think,
it is tiresome, it makes the body a very useless structure.
It shrinks like a deflated balloon.
it is this restlessness actually that makes us creative.
we thank God for this. Our house is incomplete. Who has a house
without stairs?
When i visit an old place, there is this shock
that the river is gone.Where did the river go?
Again, the hands of man, let it go.
Disappointed. The child stays in the house of his mother forever.
HE has no dreams. His fingers hold upon a needle and a thread
creating once again a heart of silk.
it is the unresolved conflict within us that makes us whole.
we are so restless, we dream of sand and shore and waves and foams.
we travel with the ocean, we drink its depth.
we are the children of silence. We are destined to write.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Small Gift
A SMALL GIFT
There is so much more to this world
Than I will ever know-
Each of us so full of himself
Is nonetheless empty of so much else-
We are all small
However great we are-
Nothing I write can make me mean as much
As so many others
Who have written
And who will write.
God has given me a small gift
I should be thankful for it.
With it
I write these lines.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Your Touch
How I long to feel your touch.
It would mean so very much.
The thought of your body next to mine,
makes my heart ache so I begin crying.
You mean so much you make me shake,
the feel of your skin makes the earth quake.
I want you near so close to me.
If only things weren't so,
we could be.
I hope we'll be able to set ourselves free.
Your touch will make my world complete.
So finally I'll have you close to me,
for your touch is what I really need.
poem by Michael McParland
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sitting In An Empty House
Sitting in an emtpy house
Waiting for the phone to ring
Sitting in an empty house
Wanting someone to call about anything
Sitting in an house
Just a cat for company
Sitting in an empty house
Will someone please take time for me?
Sitting in an empty house
No one knows I'm so alone
Sitting in an empty house
The pain I feel remains unknown
04/29/06
Smile Plz..! !
SMILE my dear - make me crazy now..
Your cute bunny smile - thats all i love..
throw your tantrums - all far away..
Come my dear let smiles play..
SMILE - coz it makes a pleasant day...
Your simple smile - eases the pressure in my way...
Your sweet lip curves make my hazzles straight..
Just one smile plz - i can no more wait...
poem by Mahima Prathaban
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Morning Flash
it comes as a flash.
A body.
At first it is just lines and curves.
There is no minding at all
about anything else.
Then follows the scent that
compliments
its newly acquired
existence
its desirability enhanced
by the warmth
of morning hues
by the window of the house.
The scent brings in some
memories of
youth
some places of the heart
like a grassy hill
and an
abandoned hut
faraway.
After a while it is not just
the body
but the tongue
and palms.
The mind starts to creep in
like a cloud
and sunshine from
the south.
IT demands something more
It is not just these memories
and feelings
those touches of hues
and colors and
scents
and eventually taste.
And then the movement.
It coils around you
This psyche
This soul and then you go deeper
into a form
of regret.
This is not the body that you like
But the lines and curves
of some long forgotten
circumstances that want to be
repeated
too often
but can never be
Because there is only one body
one soul
and it is not there
anymore.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Small Two Bedroom Starter
( harry shannon, mitch johnson)
The house stood empty on a corner
Waiting for a brand new owner
A soldier off to war who had to leave his bride alone
She couldnt buy too many nice things
On a gi bill and daydreams
But she tried until they told her
He was never coming home
Chorus:
Small two bedroom starter
Needs a little fixing
A great big yard for kids and pets to play
This one wont last too long
Its close to schools and churches
Owner leaving town
You better hurry down today
Bought by the high school teacher
Sold it to a baptist preacher
Who couldnt pay his taxes
Cause his flock had gone astray
So the banker fenced the yard in
Planted trees and half a garden
The man from dallas kept it up
Till he moved away
Repeat chorus
You and I we built the playroom
For the baby that came too soon
Spent money that we didnt have
Trying to make this place our own
Lord it makes me feel like dying
After all these years of trying
Honey well just bought this house
That we cant seem to make a home
Repeat chorus
Small two bedroom starter
Waiting for a brand new owner
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Dreams Coming True
to always have faith
that dreams come true
to always have hope
everything despite
to keep the light no matter
how little inside the lines of
my palm while the wind outside
gets stronger and more cruel
until the house is finally blown away
until the land becomes empty
until the tiny speck of moss
starts to grow all over again
on the gray side of the
stone beside the pavement
still not taken
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I went across the fields to avoid the straight highways, along the firing lines where people were shooting at a small wooded hill, which is now covered with wooden crosses and lines of graves instead of spring flowers.
quote by Max Beckmann
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Turning Point
she was taught nothing but straight lines
and her life has always been like the way she was taught
a straight one
no curves, no angles, no secants,
nothing to decant, nothing foamy, everything is settled
like some mathematical principles
solid, stoical, hard, sturdy,
devoted to nothing but study
laughter is strange
the frown is welcome, and
like a stuffed toy did she become
in one of those cabinets
she bathes in the antiquity of her silence
until she exploded, she was shattered into
concentric pieces, tangent minuscules
her mouth foamy, her eyes all too hazy
her neck strangled, and we took turns
looking at her scattered limbs.
on this turning point of her life,
the straight line travels dissolving as air
in a distance.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Oh House! So Empty
Oh House! So empty.
My love was wasted.
Oh House! So empty.
No joy was tasted.
Oh House! So empty.
No children within.
Oh House! So empty.
No God just sin.
poem by Saint Eule
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Secret Find....
you know the secret
of the heart, it is
after all, the heart
itself that tells you,
when we go out of the house
slowly as we caress
the soft spots of our body
we throw away imagination
like a kite in the air
albeit we hold upon a string
of our logical deductions,
when i finally find what i
am looking, i take it gently
inside my pocket
and then i go home to
savor what taste is there,
we know what we find
yet we are not telling each other
about it,
it is a secret,
it is life itself,
we keep this secret throughout life
when by the slip of our tongue
this matter is revealed,
you know the consequence,
the heart knows it,
the house falls down,
the sun closes its eye,
the moon burns itself,
the river dries up
the heart shrinks
someone finds finally
the ash beneath the
innocent child's feet.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!