The Old Man
sits on the
hard wood chair
beside the door
facing the
road
always always
waiting
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Why Are You Waiting
What can I do Im at the door
Ive tried turning back theres no point in that now
What should I say, what should I do
Should I fix my hair oh why am I scared now
Facing the world is so hard do you know what I mean
People are so often hard and far too ready to say...hey...ohhh
Why are you waiting?
Why are you waiting?
Why are you waiting?
What if I fail (you wont fail)
Why are you waiting?
What if I fail (you wont fail, you wont fail)
Look at me stand outside the door
Like a frightened child with a nervous smile see
What should I do, what should I say
Should I speak at all
I am much too small now
Facing the world is so hard do you know what I mean
People are so often hard and far too ready to say...hey...ohhh
Why are you waiting?
Why are you waiting?
Why are you waiting?
What if I fail (you wont fail)
Why are you waiting?
What if I fail (you wont fail)
Why are you waiting?
What if I fail (you wont fail, you wont fail, you wont fail)
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Facing Hell
You make promise of protection
To a future after life
To the final resurrection
And to eternal paradise
But then I'm blinded with temptation
And to every mortal sin
Is it God that sits there waiting?
Or will the darkness suck me in
Let's wake up the dead
Oh yeah
It's better that never you know
More tears are shed
Oh yeah
I'm praying that you'll never know
That I'm facing hell
Oh the children sit and listen
The belief was in their eyes
In a land without tomorrows
Through the night you hear their cries
But then your eyes just skip the pages
Of a book that never ends
Is it God that sits there waiting?
Do you hear the call again?
Let's wake up the dead
Oh yeah
It's better that never you know
More tears are shed
Oh yeah
I'm praying that you'll never know
That I'm facing hell
It's just crazy world we live in
And I'm out of my mind
You pray tomorrow but your leaving today
Evil one is coming and he's knocking your door
Cause todays the day you'll pay
Let's wake up the dead
Oh yeah
It's better that never you know
More tears are shed
Oh yeah
I'm praying that you'll never know
Let's wake up the dead
Oh yeah
It's better that never you know
More tears are shed
Oh yeah
I'm praying that you'll never know
That I'm facing hell
That I'm facing hell
That I'm facing hell
That I'm facing hell
song performed by by Ozzy Osbourne from Down To Earth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Monobloc Poetry
man sits
on mono bloc
facing a woman
standing beside
a mono bloc
chair, man looks over
the window
woman leaves
mono bloc chair
solo mono bloc
on a monologue
monochromatic
point of view of
a mono bloc
chair overlooking
a window without
sun
night rain
fog and dog howl
mono bloc chair
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Long & Winding Road
The long and winding road that leads to your door
Will never disappear.
I've seen that road before,
It always leads me here, lead me your door
Many times I've been alone
And many times I've cried
Anyway, you'll never know the many ways I've tried
But still they lead me back to the long and winding road.
You left me standing here
A long long time ago
Don't keep me waiting here,
Lead me to your door
Don't keep me waiting here,
Lead me to your door
The wild and windy night
That the rain washed away
Has left a pool of tears
Crying for the day
Don't leave me waiting here (don't keep me waiting)
Let me know the way
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Chair Is No Longer Just A Chair
it is your experience that
gives you more meaning to all those which
you think
have been too common and
insignificant,
perhaps
now you must have realized as you sit upon a chair
that someone used to sit there
and that someone waited for another to be with her
that on the same chair
there were some fears
and pains and even longings
and hopes
unrealized and by then
you see that chair not just a chair
you sit there
and you ask it
for this chair though muted by wood
will always have
a story to tell....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Table
This table is reserved an invitation for two,
only one sits alone and the other chair is bare.
He waits and waits as the hours creep through.
Stares at the empty space and wonders where are you.
He looks at his watch as another hour ticks by,
looks at the door to see who is coming through.
He feels eyes staring, probably wondering whom
he is waiting for as the minutes turn to hours.
The empty chair remains bare
as outside the sun sets as night begins to call.
This table is reserved for two, but where are you?
He thinks of all the reasons why you could be late
for this most important date.
He has rehearsed his lines of what he purposed to say.
The box with the ring within his pocket stays.
Where are you he wonders, do you love him anymore?
The negative thoughts invaded his mind
as he waits looking at the door, just waiting for you.
Finally the waiter comes along and tells him they are about to close.
He gives one last look at the door, then gets up and goes.
The reserved table for two stands empty and bare.
Those who should have sat there are gone never to return,
and as the light go out the table stands alone and forlorn.
24 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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Hard Road
(h. vanda / g. young)
My mama n papa told me son that youre just a fool
When I told em I was leaving home I was leaving school
So then in a couple of hours I found myself
Heading down that southbound road
With everything I owned on my back
I carried such a heavy load
And its a hard, hard road that I travel
Its a hard, hard road that I travel
Its a hard, hard road that I travel down the line
And its a hard, hard road down the line
Well I wanna tell ya friends
That its good to be a traveling man
cause Im doing what I want to
Living just the best that I can
Nobody putting rings around my neck
To put me in a pigeon hole
Ive got my dog and my radio
To listen to some rock n roll
And its a hard, hard road that I travel
Its a hard, hard road that I travel
Its a hard, hard road that I travel down the line
And its a hard, hard road down the line
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Facing The Door (Life Poem)
Here is life and love, pain and pleasure,
Ten years traversing those steps,
Tired waitress, twelve hours hell,
I am facing the door in Fratelli’s.
Too-jolly Australians on a budget,
Eating soup and dessert, are missing,
The pasta, the best part, it seems,
I am facing the door in Fratelli’s.
Miscreant male constantly corralled,
By his Austrian authoritarian aunt,
Filling her face with a pasta mountain,
I am facing the door in Fratelli’s.
New lovers lost in each other’s eyes,
Carpaccio di salmon slices sharp cold,
Their Gaja Barbaresco lust blood red,
I am facing the door in Fratelli’s.
Old lovers holding hands in silence,
Pasta warm feelings of Taglioni Fratelli,
This Chianti Classico two will soon be one,
I am facing the door in Fratelli’s.
Married couple, on different planes,
Broadcast to their neighbours the plans,
Of loveless friends in lifelong bondage,
I am facing the door in Fratelli’s.
Meal memories of two and more,
Of friends and family, work and play,
Life and love and unforgettable moments,
I am facing the door in Fratelli’s
poem by Ian Beckett
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She Lives Alone
She lives alone in a house on a hill.
Sitting in her favourite chair
alone by the window she'd sit and stare
waiting for someone to pass her by
anyone to notice the tears in her eye
She lives alone in a house on the river
Standing at the open front door
alone on the porch, she waits for an hour or more
waiting for someone to pass her by
anyone to notice the tears in her eye
She lives alone in a house in a wood
Lying in her cold single bed
still and alone, for she is dead
she was waiting for someone to pass her by
anyone to be there and say goodbye
poem by Nicola Burkett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A journey through an interminable poetic landscape
In the midst of the dense thicket
of the poet-milky wood, just beyond the gas pumps
standing as lonely as a trio of crows
waiting for a poet’s metaphor, and just beyond
where the pavement ends,
the road divided:
I took the road less travelled,
- unlike, say, a wise purveyor of ice-cream;
pausing only to think, as the evening
fell like sadness from my cigarette, that
the other road will be for me
for ever, the road I did not take
into the landscape which I did not see,
in the time that will not return;
but the road I took, led past
plum-trees, showering Spring’s wild daffodils
as with a late Spring snow, falling quietly
like the sighs of young slant-eyed girls thinking of love;
I’m glad I took that road; for later, when Autumn
with its mists and mellow plumful fruitiness,
came silently, so silently,
I took that road again; although I’m told
the other road was much the same;
but now, as the brown leaves fell and swirled,
the small, hard plums had fallen;
I took some home, put them in the ice-box;
were they juicy, cold on my morning lips?
No. They’d gone; along with the girl
I’d brought home, and the crate of beer;
just a note on the ice-box door:
‘I used to worship your poetry; now
I know that you’ve sold out… loser…’
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Facing Up
Why do you wish to live in an ideal world?
Why do you think, that God will always be there?
Is it so hard to see things like they are?
Maybe one day, you'll stop living in a dream
Maybe not
Why religion, or magic or anything else?
What do you mean, love is not all we need?
Is it so hard to look at death every day?
Maybe one day, you may say this is for real
Maybe not
Facing up
Maybe not
Facing up
What if not?
So many problems of science involved
Complexity and basic principles
Observations of the empty space
Still searching for the final theory
Yeah the final theory
About our fate
Destiny
The dark energy
Facing up
Maybe not
Facing up
What if not?
song performed by by Voivod
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Noontime Poetry
now i am home
earlier having taken the shortest distance
between office
and this door leading to my house
with a rusty roof
squeaking steel gate
painted red
for luck
the concrete fence
surrounds
the garden
wild and wanton
not having time
to trim excessive
branches
looking out to the
road
(of indifference)
the road is dusty
and the dog meets
me with a wagging tail
and licking tongue
got to open this
old door
hard wood and
now i am entering
this cold house
where curtains
colored green
and some white
laces hang
i sit on this rocking
chair and rock myself
for a while
pleasing pleasing
myself
not thinking about
anything
until i remember you
and your coming
birthday
i open my computer
again
because i remember
some faces
that need my loving
my care
or simply my thoughts
and it is you
on the screen
outside the window
the sun scorches
scourges
everyone
noontime
i am at the height
of this chasm
i want to make
a hole
and make myself
fall in there
i want it
deep and endless
where i can
not just sleep
where i always wake up
where i will
just fall and fall and fall and fall forever...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ayers Rock / Uluru
old Mr Uluru
a proud man
the day the Rock
was handed back
sits waiting
old Mr Walkabout
a proud man
at the twenty-fifth
anniversary of the
hand back
sits waiting
in the Red Rock tavern
the old men sit
waiting
yous wanna beer
the barman yells
he comes over
whatcha waiting for
the old men stare out
over their Country
waiting
waiting
for recognition
as Traditional Owners
more than just
a few days
in their life time.
poem by Ali Eckermann
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A Memory Of Love
I came upon a house so bare.
I knew there could be no one there.
I wished to enter so I knocked.
No one answered. The door was locked.
I saw a window through which I peered
and saw it looked just as I feared,
lonely, deserted, cold and musty
cobwebs hanging, everything dusty.
The need to go inside
was an urgency I could not hide.
Should I break the door or shatter the pane?
Encouragement came when I felt the rain.
I entered slowly and looked around
amazed and astounded at what I found.
Every room was empty but for one,
a bedroom with chair facing towards sun.
Beside the chair was a frame
holding the picture of a girl with no name.
Curiosity got the best of me
so I turned it over and I did see
her name scribbled hastily.
'Janette, my love I give to you
this picture I love to sit and view.'
and then I placed it back.
The house was no longer cold to me
for it housed a loving memory.
I left it right beside the chair
as if the lover still was there.
Upon leaving the bedroom I closed the door
so it would stay as it was before.
My intrusion on this private place
as I exited left a smile on my face.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In A Room Of So Many
In this room I am one with myself,
I sit alone, away from them, from the people,
I sit in the chair in the back, with only myself,
None notices me except the two people next to me.
They sit around me laughing with friends, playing their games,
They are all happy, all together, with one another,
But thats what it is to them, a game,
They don't need more people they don; t need another.
The girl on my right sits, lost, in her book,
Maybe she's there with the characters, in the past, or maybe the futrue,
She looks from word to word page to page within her book.
This is her pasttime, her fantsy, she is lost to know the books future.
To my left a boy sits facing the wall, music playing,
Both thumbs pressed against the small arrow keys,
POKeMON is what he sits and plays;
The small animals battleing growing, and looking for keys.
And here, in the middle of them of all the others, I sit alone,
At the tabble in my bubble of scilence, the aloness of being non-social,
In my green chair I write, alone.
If only I could talk to them, if only I were social.
So many people playing so many things,
UNO, rummy, conect four, cards and sharades,
These are only a few of the things,
Yet they don't notice me, my longing to know them, my own sharades.
This room is filled with every feeling, everything good,
So few differences, yet so many,
I feel apart from them, yet in a way watching feels good.,
Sitill I sit and I write, I am alone, I am one, in the room of so many.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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He Already Took The Cat
we live our lives in sudden ashtrays...
always running over, needing to be emptied.
the old man on the corner
who drove that ancient Chevy,
died somewhere between sleep,
and the back door.
it rained for days,
and his cat hid neath the house...
then it too was gone.
they write pretty things in newpapers,
that end up resembling no one.
life goes on, the neighbor
across the street was evicted.
he left boxes of god knows what,
stacked on the porch.
the woman down the street
got her lights cut off...
she sits in the darkness with her dog.
while the man on the tv says it's getting better...
wonder how much they paid him for that lie?
and i sit quietly in my chair,
peeling potatoes and reading,
waiting on a bolt of lightning,
or a knock on the door.
wondering if god's coming back
for that old Chevy...
seems he already took the cat!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Long & Winding Road
The long and winding road that leads to your door
Will never disappear Ive seen that road before
It alway leads me here
Lead me to your door
The wild and windy night that the rain washed away
Has left a pool of tears crying for the day
Why leave me standing here
Let me know the way
Many times Ive been alone, and many times Ive cried
Anyway, youll never know, the many ways Ive tried
But still they lead me back to the long and winding road
You left me standing here a long long time ago
Dont leave me waiting here (dont leave me waiting)
Lead me to your, door
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If Someone 'Is' Dismissed
Do not believe for one second,
One dismissed sits and fidgets...
Wishing their presence is missed.
Too many perceive they have the power to do this.
As if the one that has been dismissed,
Sits making adjustments...
In a chair doing nothing,
But looking at thumbs as a twisting of them is done.
Do not believe for one second,
One dismissed sits with wishes to be enlisted...
Into a clique of forget-me-nots full of 'wannabees'.
And usually they are the ones issuing approvals,
To those fearing rejection.
Too many perceive they have the power to do this.
As if the one that has been dismissed,
Sits making adjustments...
In a chair doing nothing,
But looking at thumbs as a twisting of them is done.
Do not believe for one second,
One dismissed sits and fidgets...
Wishing their presence is missed.
How foolish would this be...
If someone sat seeking for an authority,
To approve the choosing of what they do...
And 'who' they should do it with.
If someone 'is' dismissed,
They should be glad of it.
Since there has been a lifting from them,
Any kind of restrictions.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Death [Friend Or Foe]
I know he is waiting
Somewhere down the road
Though I don't know him
I've seen his work before
There's no getting by him
For he stands at the last door
The only way to heaven
He's the door man we deplore
I don't really fear him
For there's nothing we can do
Accept the fact that he's coming
For he's the doorman to heavens door
poem by David Kush
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Long & Winding Road
THE LONG AND WINDING ROAD
THAT LEADS TO YOUR DOOR
WILL NEVER DISAPPEAR
IVE SEEN THAT ROAD BEFORE
IT ALWAYS LEADS ME HERE
LEAD ME TO YOUR DOOR
THE WILD AND WINDY NIGHT
THAT THE RAIN WASHED AWAY
HAS LEFT A POOL OF TEARS
CRYING FOR THE DAY
WHY LEAVE ME STANDING HERE
LET ME KNOW THE WAY
MANY TIMES IVE BEEN ALONE
AND MANY TIMES IVE CRIED
ANYWAY YOULL NEVER KNOW
THE MANY WAYS IVE TRIED
BUT STILL THEY LEAD ME BACK
TO THE LONG WINDING ROAD
YOU LEFT ME STANDING HERE
A LONG LONG TIME AGO
DONT LEAVE ME WAITING HERE
LEAD ME TO YOUR DOOR
BUT STILL THEY LEAD ME BACK
TO THE LONG WINDING ROAD
YOU LEFT ME STANDING HERE
A LONG LONG TIME AGO
DONT KEEP ME WAITING HERE
LEAD ME TO YOUR DOOR
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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