The House That Does Not Speak About Anything...
how time swiftly flies without wings of birds
i wake up at dawn lacking sleep
into writing, into deeper thoughts on soundless hours
and how fast, how fast has morning arrived
i am innocent
how stupid can i be
inventing hope and trying to modify the shape of my days
the lights of the door and the kitchen are not turned off
the neighbors are worried
i am home but i am not opening the windows and the door
i am into writing, into the deeper thoughts of my soundless hours
let the neighbors think that i am on vacation again
for weeks
i am into a waking slumber gathering dreams, ripe fruits of sleep
of the waking and sleeping again and again
i love a house that doesn't speak about anything that cannot
remember anybody
the dark loves me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Morning Watch
'Tis near the morning watch, the dim lamp burns
But scarcely shows how dark the slumbering street;
No sound of life the silent mart returns;
No friends from house to house their neighbors greet;
It is the sleep of death; a deeper sleep
Than e'er before on mortal eyelids fell;
No stars above the gloom their places keep;
No faithful watchmen of the morning tell;
Yet still they slumber on, though rising day
Hath through their windows poured the awakening light;
Or, turning in their sluggard trances, say—
'There yet are many hours to fill the night;'
They rise not yet; while on the bridegroom goes
'Till he the day's bright gates forever on them close!
poem by Jones Very
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Midnight Has Gone
Waking days...
Dawn.
Those waking days...
Come.
Those waking days...
Have arrived,
And...
Shines on minds the Sun.
Waking days...
Dawn.
Those waking days...
Come.
Those waking days...
Have arrived,
And...
Shines on minds the Sun.
Midnight has gone,
In awakening days.
To move away those obstacles fading
Midnight has gone,
In awakening days.
To chase away the darkness...
And,
A pain once felt that has moved on.
Waking days...
Dawn.
Those waking days...
Come.
Those waking days...
Have arrived,
And..
Shines only brightness from the Sun.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Asleep
Under his helmet, up against his pack,
After so many days of work and waking,
Sleep took him by the brow and laid him back.
There, in the happy no-time of his sleeping,
Death took him by the heart. There heaved a quaking
Of the aborted life within him leaping,
Then chest and sleepy arms once more fell slack.
And soon the slow, stray blood came creeping
From the intruding lead, like ants on track.
Whether his deeper sleep lie shaded by the shaking
Of great wings, and the thoughts that hung the stars,
High-pillowed on calm pillows of God's making,
Above these clouds, these rains, these sleets of lead,
And these winds' scimitars,
-Or whether yet his thin and sodden head
Confuses more and more with the low mould,
His hair being one with the grey grass
Of finished fields, and wire-scrags rusty-old,
Who knows? Who hopes? Who troubles? Let it pass!
He sleeps. He sleeps less tremulous, less cold,
Than we who wake, and waking say Alas!
poem by Wilfred Owen
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The Reality Of These All
at night she tiptoes to the doors of
our waking thoughts
we are amazed at the images of light
eaten by the mouth of darkness
the Muse stares at the interplay of
good and evil
there is simply no word for who shall win
and then we are tired
our eyes begin to fail and our body gives in
buried in the darkness of the night
then we are taken in the world of dreams
where everything becomes possible
what we were not in those waking days
the dreams hand them all
broken hearts mended
fortunes flow
luck is abundant as the fish in the oceans
there is a crowd of success and bliss
but you know the limits of all these
soundless worlds
and those who refuse to wake up
simply die.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I´m as a Drifting Cloud
Like my heart is in the gutter of the street going
I´m as a drifting cloud so high and faraway
Every dream of my inside yearning is always knowing
What it is that comes and gives more to say?
Feelings never seem to stand by at any given door
It looks like they are going to somewhere
With their drifting thoughts that always are for more
And never can be at the same levels here
For the days are always passing on by to there
Each of you who know the truth of my true inside
With the wanderings that came about to give
Where the lights of city lights glimmer and glide
To flicker in the shadows of a glow that can’t live
Feelings never seem to stand by at any given door
It looks like they are going to somewhere
With their drifting thoughts that always are for more
And never can be at the same levels here
For the days are always passing on by to there
Somewhere you are in the distances of day
Like a morning coming up that cannot stay
In my thought that are so restless in their play
Like my heart is in the gutter of the street going
I´m as a drifting cloud so high and faraway
*(Remember this is a lyric... The other part of my writing output is lyric writing and it’s as large as my poetry writing. However my largest output is writing music... Please Google 'Peter S. Quinn' If you’d like to see more. Thanks for your time. Peter)
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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The End of the Day
The night darkens fast & the shadows darken,
Clouds & the rain gather about mine house,
Only the wood-dove moans, hearken, O hearken!
The moan of the wood-dove in the rain-wet boughs.
Loneliness & the night! The night is lonely
Star-covered the night takes to a tender breast
Wrapping them in her veil these dark hours only
The weary, the bereaved, the dispossessed.
When will it lighten? Once the night was kindly
Nor all her hours went by leaden & long.
Now in mine house the hours go groping blindly.
After the shiver of dawn, the first bird's song.
Sleep now! The night with wings of splendour swept
Hides heavy eyes from light that they may sleep
Soft & secure, under her gaze so tender
Lest they should wake to weep, should wake to weep.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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The Door and the Window
My love, you are timely come, let me lie by your heart.
For waking in the dark this morning, I woke to that mystery,
Which we can all wake to, at some dark time or another:
Waking to find the room not as I thought it was,
But the window further away, and the door in another direction.
This was not home, and you were far away
And I woke sick, and held by another passion,
In the icy grip of a dead, tormenting flame,
Consumed by the night, watched by the door and the window.
On a bed of stone, waiting for the day to bring you.
The door has opened: and can you, at last beside me,
Drive under the day that frozen and faithless darkness,
With its unseen torments flickering, which neither
The dearest look nor the longest kiss assuages?
poem by Henry Reed
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The Waking (1953)
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.
We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.
Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me, so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.
This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.
poem by Theodore Roethke
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The Waking
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.
We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.
Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me; so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.
This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.
poem by Theodore Roethke
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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My love lays sleeping
My love lays sleeping
~
Sleep eludes me
My thoughts play on
Into the quiet of the night
A whispered chatter of thoughts
Fill my restless mind
~
My love lays sleeping
Beside me, safe
While I sit writing
I write of her beauty
The gentle nature of her soul
I write as if to say
How much I love her
~
What I would give
To see into her dreams
And gift them all to her
That she may smile and laugh
And share in this love
As though to dream forevermore
~
Sleep eludes me
My love lays sleeping
Sleep on sweet beauty
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Happened When The Lights Went Out
early that evening
there was a total blackout in the city
for an unknown
cause again, and
this happens not just for that
lonely time
only but for the nth time
when the hours are lonelier
than usual, and
to make use of those dark hours
since we see nothing
more important to do than read,
we spend the hours, and hours
talking,
it is you who is doing most
of the talking, choosing the words,
and arranging them
to perhaps please me, but i was
not there anymore,
i was then, and am mostly,
a wanderer amidst the forest of your
sentences,
and i feel like your are sentencing
me into a listener imprisoned
in those bars of
senseless words, and i
as i once told you, always escape
as a swift bird,
and you as usual do not notice it
when i am already
far away into my own
kind of personal homeland
where you cannot find me
or catch me
naked and innocent like a native,
and i do not hear about you anymore
and when i come back
and take the shape of a man
you are already fast asleep and then
i step silently inside the room
via an open window
slip on the bed wet with your tears
and then i gently sleep beside you
and i cannot sleep that night
as i judge myself guilty of an injustice
which i have inflicted against
love and trust
a la Cupid to
Psyche,
and then i, before my own
sleepy eyes,
blow that stupid candle
away
and then it is so dark
deep into the night i journey
burdened
like one of the Furies
into the
cliffs of Sisyphus.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Can't Fall Asleep
My thoughts keep me up at night,
my tears put me to sleep,
my dreams wake me up,
after only an hour of sleep.
I can't rest no more,
I can't fall back to sleep,
so I lie in bed for hours at a time,
watching the clock as the time keeps going by.
I toss and I turn,
trying to find something comforable,
but when I'm almost asleep,
my thoughts wake me up again.
So I lay there thinking the thoughts,
that wont leave me alone.
I try time and time again,
but I cant fall back to sleep.
Finally I fall asleep,
but then i quickly hear a noise,
it is my alarm telling me to get up for the day ahead,
but it doesnt realize that I've been up all night.
Thinking, thinking of those thoughts that won't let me sleep.
So I quickly turn off the annoying buzzing noise,
and there I lay in my bed,
dreading the day ahead.
poem by Rebeckah Schroeder
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The Poetry At Night Time And Beethoven's Piano Music
this is like playing the piano pieces
at night when everyone in the neighborhood is already sleeping,
they wonder if there is a ghost in this house
someone that cannot accept death someone that claims
an unfinished business
still roaming in limbo and plays the piano at night
they are all disturbed and will close their windows earlier
turn off the lights and retreat inside their thick blankets
the piano is heard and it is playing some pieces of Beethoven
the story of his death...
it is not the same with your poetry
all night long, you write, and there is no stopping and the neighbors think
that everything is all right
that the lights are on because there is a baby in the house
it is you that sob silently inside the limbo of your dreams
that refuse to die
roaming the streets at night
breathing the cold in the darkness
the following morning, nothing is changed
the neighbors as usual do their normal activities
the street is heavy with traffic
people are busy chasing the hours
and there is no stopping anymore.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Symphony Of Life
Sleep to the symphony of life
For your breath is the music
Your thoughts are the lyrics
Your heart is the bass.
Dance in the time that draws your thoughts
For here time is nothing
The dream is your path
The steps of the dance are everything
Lay in the bed of security
For the window is the past
The floor if your foundation
The walls are eternity
Sleep with the lamp of imortality
For the shade is the boundery
The bulb is your heart
THe light is the soul
Live in the house of forgivness
For here you are home
Here you can make mistakes
Here you can be forgiven
Open the doors of change
For the hinges are faith
The entrance is joy
The door mat is hope
Step outside into the endlesness of the soul
For the trees are your neighbors
The animals are your brothers
The sky is your sister
Sleep in the symphony of life
For your breath is the music
Your thoughts are the lyrics
Your heart is the bass
Walk in the endless hall of life
For that shall show you the way
That will be your guide
That will lead you to the ball room of imortality
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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If you’re with me
Yellow grass are growing
where it was green,
its icy cold
where the summer sun had been
and now a lazy winter sun
burns much cooler
and the wind cuts
still deeper.
There’s just thoughts
that’s left of yesterday
and the weekend
has passed much to fast
but you are here with me today.
Although the days rush
deeper into this winter
and time flies into years,
it does nothing to me,
if you’re with me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Remembering Haiti
Imagine waking up from sleep
and be imprisoned by the heap
of rubbles and other falling debris!
Imagine waking up from sleep
and seeing your own home
swallowed by the open mouth of earth!
Imagine waking up from sleep
and knowing that your loved ones
cannot wake up from death!
Haiti, we lament with you!
We share your tears
as you try to rub your eyes
from the deep sleep of
loss, pain and sorrow!
_________
(January 14,2010)
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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It Doesn't Seem It But Believe
It doesn't seem it but believe,
The time has flown so fast.
It doesn't seem it but believe,
The time has flown so fast.
One minute we are wiping a nose.
And the next second...
It seems,
We're now all old.
It doesn't seem that the time has flown away so fast.
It doesn't seem it but believe the time has flown so fast.
It doesn't seem it but believe the time has flown so fast.
Was it yesterday we said hello,
To the one we wanted to do that...good rock and roll.
It doesn't seem that the time has flown away so fast.
It doesn't seem it,
But believe...
The time has flown so fast.
It doesn't seem it,
But believe...
Some thoughts we have we should let pass.
You cain't change a game played when it's over.
Nor can you redefine a lover who has gone to another.
Yes as cruel as it can be,
To see a time we lived to see flee fast.
From a rocking seat!
Yes as cruel as it can be,
To see a time we lived to see flee fast.
It doesn't seem it but believe it that the time has flown so fast
From a rocking seat!
You cain't change a game played when it's over.
Nor can you redefine a lover who has gone to another.
It doesn't seem that the time has flown away so fast.
From a rocking seat!
It doesn't seem that the time has flown away so fast.
It doesn't seem it,
But believe...
The time has flown so fast.
From a rocking seat!
It doesn't seem it,
But believe...
Some thoughts we should have let go pass.
From a rocking seat!
And there we sit by a window looking older.
With plans to feed a cat,
At the back door.
Who meows for leftovers.
It doesn't seem that the time has flown away so fast.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Work - the cycle
Wake, work, home, eat sleep
This cycle keeps on and on
As the time it takes is so long
Wake, work, home, eat sleep
Wake work home eat sleep
This cycle don’t seem at all to end
All your life in work you seem to spend
Wake work home eat sleep
Wake work home eat sleep
You start to see your life is slipping away
As people no longer around you stay
Wake work home eat sleep
Wake work home eat sleep
I’m surprised now I’m even getting time to eat
It would be bliss to stop rest my feet
Wake work home eat sleep
Wake work home eat sleep
You doing so many hours you feel ill
And you keep doing the cycle still
Wake work home eat sleep
Wake work home eat sleep
People bosses customers just keep adding more
You start to long for sleep and to snore
Wake work home eat sleep
Wake work home eat sleep
Something drastic happens the cycle breaks
And that all that it really takes
Wake work home eat sleep no more., ….
Aubade And I Am Not Like Other Birds Of Prey
Morning at last!
Every night is a fight till you're waking
Dreams dancing past
Through the silence of sleep
Dawn is breaking
I wake and watch them till then
And I am not like other birds of prey
And I am not like other birds of prey
Oh, night is long, you won't needing me
For a dressed up time I am there to see
That fear holds no sway
Soft is my plan
And my eyes kill the lies that felt happy
Life is my right
And in sleep's little bed
I'll protect you
So, hear, let my presence dismay
That I am not like other birds of prey
That I am not like other birds of prey
When hopes are young and your cares are few
Then I'm sure above keeping truth in you
And my name is love
Submitted by Michael Hack
song performed by by Supertramp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sleeping With The Numb
Waking only to feel nothing.
Just let me be.
Let me sleep so numb.
Pain is nonexistent in all extremities.
Time tics by and by.
and still nothing has changed.
still the same. who cares about that
guy who use live with the inflicted pain by
you over again and again.
hes just a stain and now its time to clean up.
waking to only feel nothing.
let me be. let me sleep so numb.
remember nothing. a nonexistent past.
house that burnt down and with it
all my memories accept for me being constantly numb.
A drug induce state should be one most kids celebrate.
but not this one. it was so fake.
Waking only to feel nothing.
let me be.
let me sleep so numb.
skin melts and still nothing,
i bleed and still nothing,
hit in the head and still nothing,
salt in the eyes and still absolutely nothing.
where are all the feelings
I'm so suppose to be feeling.
waking up only to feel nothing.
let me be.
let me sleep so oh so numb
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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