The Woman With A Cat In Her House
she lives with her
cat,
they are not talking
a cat
is a metaphor for
grooming and silence and
that murmur,
she murmurs all day
why no one loves her
visits her
and reminds her of
those wholesome days
where laughter
flies in the room
like some
butterflies,
we do not blame her
she was born with paws
sharp fingernails
scratching
the faces of those
who decided to
abandon her
finally...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
In Silence
In silence, you can hear
the scratching of a pen across paper.
In silence, you can hear
the rhythmic sound
of your heart beating
telling you you are alive.
In silence, you can hear
the screech of a demon call.
In silence, you can hear
the murmur of a baby
just moments before
they begin to awake.
In silence, you can hear
your memories calling.
In silence, you are transported
back in your life
into days long gone by
under sun-drenched skies.
In silence, you can hear
your voice of loneliness.
In silence, you are there
within the confines
of your inner self
and forever alone in silence.
11 May 2012
poem by David Harris
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Down On The Funny Farm
Down on the Funny Farm
where some say I was born
where laughter is the key
that trips a smile
to whoever visits there.
There is no time
to feel moody or forlorn,
not with a crazy sod like me around.
Howls of laughter echo
from every room.
Now even the animals
have joined in the game
at our home the Funny Farm,
the place some say I was born.
poem by David Harris
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Keep Listening Still
when our friends finally abandon us
we are still lucky
to have us: me myself and I,
NOW, there is no need to adjust
and chart what the other
needs
what amount of light must this room
have
what shape must the window be
half-open or wide open to see
the long stretch of the road beyond
this room
narrow and noisy with the other
when everything fails
do not ponder upon any loss or regret
how useless and faulty have you become
there is no use
the world moves on
the ship sails still
when made to choose between the joy of the crowd
when you cannot afford it
choose silence instead
purify the mind
live in the solitude of the soul
like a pond without a ripple
however, when a leaf falls (another metaphor for death
or failure)
welcome it
for such shall become your
wise company
listen to the duet
of leaf and water.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Pregnant For The Last Time
Phlegm lapels for the last time
Corn beef legs for the last time
Oh, were so glad
That youve finally decided
But then you see someone new
And you want someone new
So you have someone new
I dont blame you
We would all do the same as you
If ever we had the nerve to
Chips with cream for the last time
The peoples friend for the last time
Oh, were so glad
That youve finally decided
Tiny striped socks for the last time
Pokes and prods for the last time
And the doctor said
Dont nod your head until june !
But then you see someone new
And you want someone new
So you have someone new
I dont blame you
We would all do the same as you
If ever we had the chance to
Sick at noon for the last time
And who is going to clean up ?
Would you be so kind ?
Oh, everybodys staring
At the strange clothes that youre wearing
Bad advice for the last time
And people being nice for the very first time
Oh, were so glad
That you have finally decided !
song performed by by Morrissey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Little Spark of Laughter
A little spark of laughter is what we need each day.
It's something like the apple to keep the doctor away.
Some can find the laughter. Their lives are pretty good.
Some would love some laughter. I know that they would.
But, laughter in their lives is only a memory.
It has been replaced with constant misery.
Their lives are torn
Their babies born
With sickness and disease.
They have no home.
They walk and roam
No blankets as they freeze.
No food to eat
No water sweet
And end to all their peace.
And so there is no laughter to help them everyday.
In fact there is no laughter to help in any way.
So, be thankful if you have the spark of laughter that you need.
And pray for those who have none, that God will intercede.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Pads, Paws & Claws
Shes a feline tormentor, not any vaudeville wife
But with a drunk-town lament he leads her a miserable life
But when hes full of that beer-champagne
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
And if he should wake up in some terrible dive
And he dont know if hes so-so
But hes so surprised hes alive
Come on little honey, let me under your hive
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
She pads, pads around the bedroom, practicing ways to flirt
He paws, pours another drink and anything in a skirt
Anything wearing a necklace
He thinks of claws scratching his back hes
Going out there hes not coming back
Shes got spider-leg fingers, sharpened whenever he strays
And she carries a bird-purse, with all of her womanly ways
til hes drinking hairspray, she knows that he never would dare
She could be in pictures if she wasnt all covered in fur
Hes coming home now and heres the surprise
You wouldnt believe the lies that he tries
She cut him down to her favourite size
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pads, Paws And Claws
Shes a feline tormentor, not any vaudeville wife
But with a drunk-town lament he leads her a miserable life
But when hes full of that beer-champagne
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
And if he should wake up in some terrible dive
And he dont know if hes so-so
But hes so surprised hes alive
"come on little honey, let me under your hive"
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
She pads, pads around the bedroom, practicing ways to flirt
He paws, pours another drink and anything in a skirt
Anything wearing a necklace
He thinks of claws scratching his back hes
Going out there hes not coming back
Shes got spider-leg fingers, sharpened whenever he strays
And she carries a bird-purse, with all of her womanly ways
til hes drinking hairspray, she knows that he never would dare
She could be in pictures if she wasnt all covered in fur
Hes coming home now and heres the surprise
You wouldnt believe the lies that he tries
She cut him down to her favourite size
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Butterflies For Breakfast? (Life Poem)
Butterflies before you sit the final exam,
Butterflies before you go for a job interview,
Butterflies before you ask her out on a date,
Butterflies before you kiss her for the first time,
Butterflies before you propose two will be one,
Butterflies before you meet her family,
Butterflies before you see her all in white,
Butterflies before you make that big speech,
Butterflies before you see that your baby is OK,
Butterflies before you get news from the doctor,
Butterflies before you lose your job again,
Butterflies before you face any little crisis,
But -
No butterflies for breakfast.
poem by Ian Beckett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Smacked
Kept pocketed and it's deep,
Those feelings so hard to reach.
And then with no warning shown...
They're seen unbelievebly,
To rattle as if in battle...
To match!
And...
Smacked like a cat attacking,
With claws at the end of paws.
And scratching right back,
Ouch!
And smacked with the claws out.
Smacked like a cat attacking,
With claws at the end of paws.
And scratching right back,
Ouch!
And smacked with the claws out.
Kept pocketed and it's deep,
Those feelings so hard to reach.
And then with no warning shown...
They're seen unbelievebly,
To rattle!
And...
Smacked like a cat attacking,
With claws at the end of paws.
And scratching right back,
Ouch!
And smacked with the claws out.
Finding...
No time to rhyme,
When...
Smacked like a cat attacking,
With claws at the end of paws.
And scratching right back,
Ouch!
And smacked with the claws out.
Finding...
No time to rhyme,
When...
Smacked like a cat attacking,
With claws at the end of paws.
And scratching right back,
Ouch!
And smacked with the claws out.
Kept pocketed and it's deep,
Those feelings so hard to reach.
And finding,
No time...
To rhyme,
When...
Smacked like a cat attacking,
With claws at the end of paws.
And scratching right back,
Ouch!
And smacked with the claws out.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Who I Really Am
Fingers dash across keys, type, type, type
Awkwardly from one key to the next, I told myself I wouldn't write
The computer, the ginger tea, the black text in a sea of white
They subside
As a new reality has come to override
I don't want to be who I was back then...
Screams of an infernal scratching
Voices of endless chiding
Murmurs of infinite condemnation
Each word a wicked consolation speaking to a identity of hatred
Each scream a twisted affirmation of the identity of hatred
Each murmur coaxing out my identity of hatred
Thus he does emerge, the man, the monster
No it's not a scream
No it's not a voice
Not it's not a murmur it's who I am
I made those
I make those
I am those
Inadequate, incapable, inevitable, inept, invisible
Untalented, unkind, unworthy, unable, unlovable
These are lies
You know they're all true he sighs
You know that's you
Murmurs of infinite condemnation
Voices of endless chiding
Screams of an infernal scratching
I don't want to be who I was back then...
Haha I've come to bring you freedom, let you be honest, let you be me
Can't you see?
I've come to take what's mine
Cough, cough, it's dizzying, I see blood, I feel blood, I lose blood
Ground... thud... voices
tears...screams...tears
murmurs...ha nds...blood
Unlovable
scream
Scream
SCREAM
Still small voice
Whisper, no
Whisper, I am here now because of My love, and it's real
It echoes more than voices, rings stronger than screams,
Louder than murmurs, truer than the lies
And stronger than you...
But you... but this, I tried to be someone else, but I am you
You're right, because that is me
It may always be
THIS is who I really am
Whisper, let's do it together, you know who I really am
I can't, not even with you!
Whisper, I can, even with you
Know I love you, let Me heal you so you can be who you really are
This is who I really am inside
Maybe who I was back then is a part of me, that does hide
Maybe that man will never pass away
Maybe he shall continue under the delusion of what is fey
But that identity is false
That identity is a travesty of who I am, a farce
In the end I am him, but this is me.
poem by David Knox
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Just Three Days
Ah life
For what are all these fights
While we live for few whiles
What for are our fights
We are like butterflies
Our existence is just for Whiles We are strangers passengers across roads of life
What for broken hearts
How long lasts our lives
Why lovers become strangers
Why all these wars
If Life lasts just whiles
For love we die thousands times
And yet we spend lifetime trying to find
A shelter to survive
And our lives flies just in whiles
Nothing is eternal in this world
Just the prints of our feet
The Provence of our deeds eternally survives
We are just innocent butterflies
Who's life lasts just while
Three days lastour lives than we pass
When or how no one of us ever knows
Just the prints of our steps stay there
Even when we are gone.
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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Each Days Passing
Thoughts mull around in my head
of loves I won and lost.
Faces appear in a dream state
as the past flickers by.
Each face holds angelic beauty
of when the loves were young,
never growing old in my mind
as they belong to a different time.
Now sometimes I wish
those days were back again
with their smiles and laughter
that flowed like fine red wine.
Back again to capture my soul,
away from the beckoning dark reality
that follows me
with each days passing.
25 September 2010
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Silence
Silence-knows no boundaries
As stillness evokes a host of thoughts
A plethora of lovers and their main streets
'Neath the light poles of mistakes and loss;
Oh, how the depths of remembrance-swells
Cast in spirals of fallen loves, doom
Woe, to the silence that beckons in this grief
Woe, to the stillness that calls forth gloom;
Faces and footprints now haunt the unfathomed
My heart has gone pallid from sheer despair
Silence knows no boundaries-nor limits
While blame comes-from out of thin air;
What was it we were doing anyway?
Delving the depths, only to collide in our own mire
This stillness has evoked an absolute truth...
We are, in fact, nothing, without loves desire! ! ;
poem by Theodora Onken
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Sad Story
The old house stood in silence,
no one lives there anymore.
Only memories of the past,
fill each empty room.
Once you stood so proud,
laughter rang out from your walls.
Now only cobwebs and decay inherit there.
What sad story has lead to your decline?
The lights from your windows,
don’t shine there anymore.
Only ghosts from the past,
live in every room.
Ghosts that once brought laughter.
That rang out every night,
are silent and no more
What sad story marks your fall from grace?
Once upon a time,
children played outside your door.
Now only weeds and brambles,
fall across your welcome path.
No more the smiling faces,
greet everyone at your door.
Now that sadness and neglect has fell.
What sad story do you have to tell?
Were there newlyweds,
with their hopes so high?
Did they have their hopes dashed some how,
or was it some great tragedy,
that within your walls befell?
So tragic that it made the silence fall.
What made them desert you to neglect?
What was the sad story, pray tell?
6 April 2007
poem by David Harris
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Silence Is...
Silence is an absence
Silence is profound
Silence is a conversation
Being had without sound
Silence is an expression
One that cannot be heard
Silence cannot be spoken
Although it is a word
Silence is a presence
Of great nothingness
Silence can be something
And yet cease to exist
Silence can fill a room
And have no mass at all
Silence cannot be dropped, yet it can fall
Silence is a mystery
That will forever go unsolved
Silence is how every sound can swiftly be dissolved
Silence is the sound of rest
The only sound that can sound best
While other sounds can cause great pain
Silence is not the sound to blame
For Silence is what silence is
Something that is nothing
Nothing that exists
poem by Kyle.J Carruthers
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In This Diary
Here in this diary, i wright you visions on my summer
It was the best i ever had
There were chorus' and sing-alongs
A night of unspoken feelings
I know that right now its all that matters
All thoes nights we stayed up talking
Listening to 80s songs
Quoting lines from all thoes miveis that we love
It still brings a smile to my face
I guess when it comes down to it..
Being grown-up isn't half as fun as growing up
These are the best days of our lives
The only thing that matters is just following your heart
And eventually you'll finally get it right
Breaking into hotel swimming pools
And reaking havoc on our world
Hanging out at truck stops just to pass the time
The black top singing me too sleep
Lighting fireworks in parking lots
Illuminate the blackest nights
Cherry Cokes under this moonlit summer sky
2015 Riverside it's time to say "goodbye"
Get on the bus... it's time to go
Being grown-up isn't half as fun as growing up
These are the best days of our lives
The only thing that matters is just following your heart
And eventually you'll finally get it right
Get it right
Being grown-up isn't half as fun as growing up
These are the best days of our lives
The only thing that matters is just following your heart
And eventually you'll finally get it right
Get it right
Get it right
Being grown up isn't half as fun as growing up:
These are the best days of our lives.
The only thing that matters
Is just following your heart,
And eventually you'll finally get it right.
song performed by by Ataris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What gives the child the itch has already given him the fingernails for scratching it.
Till Then When I Will Say Finally...
you hurt me
and i do not voice it out
and everyday you hurt me
every minute
and i become more silent
more silent
until then when i shall finally say
that once in my life
i have loved you...
and then in an instant
that love is gone.
i do not blame you
neither shall i blame myself
it is the silence that ought to speak
but there is no point in your life
that you ever
signified that you have ears
i blame the silence of the ants
they keep on working and then they all leave.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Because You Asked Me To
Watch in silence, stunned silence
As I build a box, a wooden box, exact to size
Watch me lay, a solid fit and help
Me to snap shut the lid
Continue in silence to strike the
Match that burns bright and hot and
Is gone faster that you imagined.
Cry is silence, stunned silence
As you gather the gray, the white, and the black
Immaculately collect all the ash
Daring to not leave any of me behind
With whatever you have left of who I
Used to be, you head back to your room
Your head drooping, sullen and in defeat.
Move in silence, stunned silence
As you retrieve the silver box, with the ancient
Lock, disregard the tears that
Drip onto the rusted key, seconds later
Youre depositing the rest of me
Next to the violet heart, you
Had stolen some time before.
Wake in silence, a guilty silence
As your head pounds and you frantically
Look around.
My laughter still rings in your ears, my
Eyes are imprinted within your own
My tears still wet your finger tips
And my taste refuses to leave the residence
Of your mouth.
All of who I was continues to live in you.
Live in regret, hollow regret,
As your daily life reminds you of the
Cause of my death.
No one really knows, another couldnt help.
For knowing that the only person
That came close to knowing you,
Caring for you, loving you
Now lives in a silver box, with a
Tarnished violet heart, and simply
Because you asked me to.
poem by Tanya Sanes
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