The Quiet Inside Your Poem
it is there
quiet on the sofa
beside
a white cat
sleeping
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Untouched by Grace, but not by Snow
Waking up, noticing the ground
To my surprise I am surround by snow
Every detail in which was lay
With perfect precise wonder
In this most daring betray of beauty
And all is quiet
All is so annoyingly quiet
The dirt that is covered peeks through the ground
Destroying what was once beauty
That was pronounced by the glistened snow
And all I can do is wonder
How this world become simple to lay
When sleep takes us on we lay
And all is deeply quiet
Our dreams become our wonder
Weather we stand on solid ground
An undefined map layer out by snow
Creates to us sleeping beauty
But what is this beauty?
And where does it lay?
What is understood to be a lie as white as snow
And all has become a false quiet
Life, which puts our burdens to the ground
And here we are left to wonder
To whom to we place our wonder
The one who holds onto your beauty?
Who picks you up off the ground
And will be contempt as you lay
This is the lovely quiet
Dawn, of our love as pure as snow
To ask what is this snow
Pure, grace, love to which we wonder
Making this moment freeze in quiet
Holding unto this betrayed beauty
Which pours unto us as we lay
To the emissive ground
To become as pure as snow is beauty
But do we wonder under stars we lay?
And all was quiet as the snow flake touched ground
There Shall Be No Blank Space Of This Jalousy
she broke a piece
of the window, a plank of glass
and the cat gets in at night
and sleeps on my favorite sofa
i never like this
i don't like a blank space where a cat slips in
and takes a portion of my sofa
this is strictly prohibited in my world
today the plank of glass is delivered
and there is no emptiness left along the lines of this
space
where the wind is free to
to get in and then move out like nothing happened
between the cat and the sofa.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If you find your friend on the sofa at home with your wife, you had better sell the sofa.
White Hot Day
Instrumental version called bass line
In time, only time, speak for time, in time
Time calls, time cries, sweet friend of mine
Time could be a place, a spirit and a face
Teardrops through time
While away below, the whirlwinds will blow
A pretty nation speaks in time
The beauty of it is, to waken up to
Shake the hand of time
In time, only time, well speak for time
On a quiet night of a white hot day
Whisper the things that will come our way
On a quiet night of a white hot day
Hold back the years, hold back the years
Time calls, time cries, sounds like a friend of mine
Time will run to meet, the slick and shiny beat
That creeps to me through time
While away below, the whirlwinds will blow
A pretty nation sleeps in time
The beauty of it is
Well wake up to, shake the hand of time
In time, only time, in time, only time
In time
On a quiet night of a white hot day
Whisper the things that will come our way
On a quiet night of a white hot day
Hold back the tears, hold back the tears
In time, only time, well speak for time
On a quiet night of a white hot day
Whisper the things that will come our way
On a quiet night of a white hot day
Hold back the tears, hold back the tears
In time, only time
Quiet night of a white hot day
Whisper the things that will come our way
On a quiet night of a white hot day
Roll back the years, roll back the years
In time, only time, well speak for time
On a quiet night
Hold back the tears to another day
Quiet night of a white hot day
Hold back the tears, hold back the tears
Time, only time, speak for time
Quiet night of a white hot day
Whisper the things that will come our way
On a quiet night of a white hot day
Roll back the years, roll back the years
In time, only time, speak for time
Quiet night of a white hot day
Hold back the tears to another day
Quiet night of a white hot day
Words & music : james kerr, charlie burchill, mel gaynor, derek forbes, michael macneil (c) emi publishing ltd reproduced without permission
song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Red Sofa
The thick red sofa,
Anf of the laughter and joy that it brings in the name of love;
But this had been our place always,
And to warm ourselves from the cold of winter!
The thick red sofa,
This was our place of love and everything!
Both in the hot and the cold weathers to swing with the muse of love,
For this red sofa is all that we have in the room.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sitting On My Sofa
All alone, sitting on my sofa,
Oh, oh, oh, sitting on my sofa,
Sipping at my soda,
Sitting on my sofa.
All alone, sitting on my sofa,
Oh, oh, oh, sitting on my sofa,
Sipping at my soda,
Sitting on my sofa.
You got all your friends,
I got a tv set.
You got your cars,
And this boys never had anything.
Now Im stuck here, sitting on my sofa,
Oh, oh, oh, sitting on my sofa,
Sipping at my soda,
Sitting on my sofa.
You got all your friends,
I got a tv set.
You got your cars,
And this boys never had anything.
Now Im stuck here, sitting on my sofa,
All alone, sitting on my sofa,
Sipping at my soda,
Sitting on my sofa.
Oh, oh, oh, sitting on my sofa,
Oh...
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sleeping at last
Sleeping at last, the trouble and tumult over,
Sleeping at last, the struggle and horror past,
Cold and white, out of sight of friend and of lover,
Sleeping at last.
No more a tired heart downcast or overcast,
No more pangs that wring or shifting fears that hover,
Sleeping at last in a dreamless sleep locked fast.
Fast asleep. Singing birds in their leafy cover
Cannot wake her, nor shake her the gusty blast.
Under the purple thyme and the purple clover
Sleeping at last.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Sittin On My Sofa
All alone, sitting on my sofa,
Oh, oh, oh, sitting on my sofa,
Sipping at my soda,
Sitting on my sofa.
All alone, sitting on my sofa,
Oh, oh, oh, sitting on my sofa,
Sipping at my soda,
Sitting on my sofa.
You got all your friends,
I got a TV set.
You got your cars,
And this boy's never had anything.
Now I'm stuck here, sitting on my sofa,
Oh, oh, oh, sitting on my sofa,
Sipping at my soda,
Sitting on my sofa.
You got all your friends,
I got a TV set.
You got your cars,
And this boy's never had anything.
Now I'm stuck here, sitting on my sofa,
All alone, sitting on my sofa,
Sipping at my soda,
Sitting on my sofa.
Oh, oh, oh, sitting on my sofa,
Oh...
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How I Wish You Were Here
how i wish you were here
i sit by my window and you
are just beside me and i become your
face tissue and you are some tears
or we could be something else
or could be that i am the microphone
of the videoke and you are the
song or could be otherwise
or i could be the sofa
and you are the guest sipping beer
or a coca-cola or could be that we
are all guests and we are all the singers
and the rest are the songs and the sofa
and the glasses and the wine
and the ham and bread
whatever, i only wish that you are here beside me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Free No More
It has descended;
the madness has become that
parasol on a hit of white ants
I have forever dreaded.
In grandiosity I am pleased
to ride out the night,
now a wizard in white,
now a placated being
with nowhere else to roam,
since I have been everywhere;
and everywhere having gone,
I am chained to a sofa that cries,
its belly distended.
I cannot sing to you, having
sung to the crickets their songs.
poem by Stan Petrovich
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Woman Driving, Man Sleeping
Woman driving, man sleeping.
Wear the suitcase on the rack.
White lines shooting by,
On the pavement like the sky.
Looking straight ahead, into the black.
Woman driving, man sleeping.
Theres no radio to play.
Sitting with the map,
Laying crumpled on her lap.
Looking for the toll money to pay.
(chorus)
Man sleeping is man dreaming,
In a large apartment house.
Walking and knocking on doors.
Woman driving, man sleeping.
Passin all the other cars.
Searching in the black,
But never turning to look back.
A little metal box under the stars.
(chorus)
Woman driving, man sleeping. (x2)
song performed by by Eels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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September Rain
September Rain (sonnet)
Most days, on my way to the bar or grocery shop,
I walk past an old man who sits in the shade of
an oak, on a creaky sofa that has lost its place in
the lounge. I usually stop and talk to him, he can’t
remember me from one day to the next, tells me
the same story about his parents, and where he
grew up; Portugal of yore. He isn’t here today, only
the mantle, he wraps around himself when there
is a chill in the air, is flung on the old sofa; a zephyr
whispers that he will not be back. “Will I be that old?
I ask the waning sun. I sit on a sofa on the terrace,
a blanket wrapped around my shoulders, scan the sky,
in the vale where I live and my parents too lived,
we wait for September rain.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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One Princess to Another
Sleeping Beauty stroked
Her blonde hair
And sighed and
Longed for the woods
Snow White stared
At her reflection
And watched as
Her face aged and her life faded
Cinderella pulled at
Her long dress
And looked at
The glass shoes of enslavement
And then Cinderella
Found Sleeping Beauty
And asked:
“Did we ever have a choice? ”
Sleeping Beauty went
To Snow White
And told her:
“I hate my life.”
Then they went
Home to the princes
Who owned them
Because they were the first to kiss them
Cinderella broke her glass slippers
And ran away from the prince
With a nice teacher from the village
Leaving behind a note and glass slippers
Sleeping Beauty
Bore her prince a son
Before she turned to the woods
And never came out again
Snow White took
A poison apple from the
Wicked Witch’s dungeon and bit down into it
And died this time
poem by Elizabeth Rebel
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Saturday As Usual
Virginia's almost sleeping
The night is getting older
There's static on the tv
She's lying on the sofa
The cats crawl over her
Jenny's in the garage
She's got the car in neutral
She rolls it out so quietly
It's Saturday as usual
It always is
And me I'm in my bedroom
Drawing in my notebook
Cause my hand thinks I'm an artist
But my heart knows I'm a poet
It's just words
song performed by by Bright Eyes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Peaceful nights
sleeping shut eye quiet nights dreaming of peacful places on a beach all alone waves crash on the beach taking a walk the hot smooth sand in betwin my toes waking up to the sound of my alarm clock beeeeeping brings me back to the real world
poem by Lydensie white
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Charm, The
In darkness the loud sea makes moan;
And earth is shaken, and all evils creep
About her ways.
Oh, now to know you sleep!
Out of the whirling blinding moil, alone,
Out of the slow grim fight,
One thought to wing -- to you, asleep,
In some cool room that's open to the night
Lying half-forward, breathing quietly,
One white hand on the white
Unrumpled sheet, and the ever-moving hair
Quiet and still at length! . . .
Your magic and your beauty and your strength,
Like hills at noon or sunlight on a tree,
Sleeping prevail in earth and air.
In the sweet gloom above the brown and white
Night benedictions hover; and the winds of night
Move gently round the room, and watch you there.
And through the dreadful hours
The trees and waters and the hills have kept
The sacred vigil while you slept,
And lay a way of dew and flowers
Where your feet, your morning feet, shall tread.
And still the darkness ebbs about your bed.
Quiet, and strange, and loving-kind, you sleep.
And holy joy about the earth is shed;
And holiness upon the deep.
poem by Rupert Brooke
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The Charm
In darkness the loud sea makes moan;
And earth is shaken, and all evils creep
About her ways.
Oh, now to know you sleep!
Out of the whirling blinding moil, alone,
Out of the slow grim fight,
One thought to wing - to you, asleep,
In some cool room that's open to the night
Lying half-forward, breathing quietly,
One white hand on the white
Unrumpled sheet, and the ever-moving hair
Quiet and still at length! . . .
Your magic and your beauty and your strength,
Like hills at noon or sunlight on a tree,
Sleeping prevail in earth and air.
In the sweet gloom above the brown and white
Night benedictions hover; and the winds of night
Move gently round the room, and watch you there.
And through the dreadful hours
The trees and waters and the hills have kept
The sacred vigil while you slept,
And lay a way of dew and flowers
Where your feet, your morning feet, shall tread.
And still the darkness ebbs about your bed.
Quiet, and strange, and loving-kind, you sleep.
And holy joy about the earth is shed;
And holiness upon the deep.
poem by Rupert Brooke (1909)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Not Close
Where’s the kid? Kirkehuse
asks. She’s in bed, she’s sleeping,
Mother says. About time; never
knew a kid to yak so much. She’s just
a child. She’s a yakker and she talks
too much. Mother cuddles up close
to Kirkehuse on the sofa as he sips
his booze. You’re too soft with her;
she gets away with things. When I
was a kid I kept quiet and did as I
was told and if I didn’t my old man’d
make sure I knew what’d happen if
I didn’t, Kirkehuse says. Mother kisses
his stubbly cheek. I try, she mutters.
Well, you don’t try hard enough.
The kid just yaks and thinks she knows
things she doesn’t. Kirkehuse looks at
Mother’s head of hair. He kisses her.
And what was that about the history
lesson, eh? She thinks we don’t know
about the Kennedys? Mother pulls at
the hem of her dress; he sips his booze.
She’s just trying to show she’s good at school,
Mother says. Kirkehuse pulls a face.
If she were my kid she’d know her place.
poem by Terry Collett
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White And Red Roses
White is for the purity
and the freshness
White is for keeping
our relationship new
White is for the trust
and faith we find in each
other.
White is for the quiet
moments thinking of one
another
Red is for the passion
that we have for each other
Red is for the joy
and happiness that we
shall express
Red is for the warmth
and security we find
in each other
Red is for the honor
we hold together
Red is for the hope
that we share
Red is for always
knowing that you care.
Red and white is
for the combining
of two hearts
(9/24/08)
poem by Shelley Mason
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A Sleeping Beauty
the sky's beauty
is seen when the world is sleeping
the mind's beauty
is seen when the man is sleeping
the man's beauty
is seen when his fear is sleeping
the life's beauty
is seen when evil is sleeping
the mother's beauty
is seen when your age is sleeping
the wife's beauty
is seen when your right over her is sleeping
THE WORLD'S BEAUTY
IS SEEN WHEN NATIONALISM IS SLEEPING
poem by Samanyan Lakshminarayanan
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