This Is Think I Know
that when you are holding
a thread
and you know that the end of the thread is this..
then you don't mind giving up everything
whatever that was hidden
a hundred fathoms down
whatever was unsaid because you have been muted
at the end of the last dot
you don't mind who listens at you
a priest or a prostitute
a snail or a snake
you tell them all
you let go what winged creature stays in the nest of your hair
and then
you smile
close your eyes
totally
embrace the darkness and expect
the meeting of another light
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Realize My Mind
I wake in the morning to the darkness of my soul
Look into your eyes and my body senses the fire below
Move myself close to you and lay upon your breast
Reach up and light your long black cigarette
My winged angel your embrace surrounds me
You realize my mind
My winged angel your touch binds me
You realize my mind
My winged angel cast your spell on me
You realize my mind
My winged angel give myself to you
You have all of me
You move smooth, dance slow I feel your dark tenderness
Wings around me, mesmerize me love to serve my hearts temptress
Feeling free touching you, you accept your little pet
You have a walk so bold and I know
Your eyes burn me to death
My winged angel your embrace surrounds me
You realize my mind
My winged angel your touch binds me
You realize my mind
My winged angel cast your spell on me
You realize my mind
My winged angel give myself to you
You have all of me
I give my words to you to please you each and everyway
They spring forth from truths you release within me with the games you play
This girl is grateful to be so uninhibited and free for you
This girl knows girl is so happy to serve you
My winged angel your embrace surrounds me
You realize my mind
My winged angel your touch binds me
You realize my mind
My winged angel cast your spell on me
You realize my mind
My winged angel give myself to you
You have all of me
poem by Barbara Vanier
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The Old Army Blanket
Coarse and ruff quite often thread bare
The soldier did not seem to care
Let the enemy try to take if he dare;
Coarse and ruff quite often thread bare
Driving rain or snow wearing his blanket
Coarse and ruff quite often thread bare.
Being a soldier he could expect no better fare,
Coarse and ruff, quite often thread bare
His fight done, read over with a prayer
Wrapped in the old grey Army blanket
Coarse and ruff quite often thread bare.
He did his duty few could compare,
Coarse and ruff, quite often thread bare
poem by Derrick Fernie
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The lost smile
The lost smile
a magic smile as a reverie
Oh! a life full of revelry
a welcome smile unsaid
leading all my way to bed
smile a seductive one
absorb me to be won
your smile tickling my cheeks
ah! raise me into the highest peaks
my hidden smile weaving silence
without sense, wait for your presence
a smile totally forgotten
drowns us all in pricking pain
a tear-laden smile on the face
speaks volumes beyond words
smile whispering colors
full of blushing pleasures
a vanishing smile with heaviness
light leaving for darkness
and me and me wandering awhile
in search of my lost smile
poem by Prasanna Kumari
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Unspoken
some things need not be spoken
they serve no purpose
no use, like peripheries
of a used clothing
anger for instance
not just any kind of anger
but anger for love that was never there
in bed, in the first place, when what you
offer is only your body
your mind goes somewhere
in one corner of your self, like a ball
of thread
a blue ball of thread rolling on the floor
and stopping beside
one of the feet of the lonely table
you try to pull the thread
endlessly wanting to find the end of this
misery,
there is no end to the bad colors of your
dream, there is no light in this darkness
when the morning comes
you tell yourself, this is another day
another awakening
you go outside and look at the garden
and around the fence
carefully surfing each pathway
you pretend again to like the flowers
that bloom for the sun
you pretend some more that you are
sad of its wilting
at noon
you stop on a shade under a tree
and then you begin to think
and tell a story to yourself....
once upon a time, there lived a princess
far away in a castle on the clouds....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hope
When ravages of Fate leaves but a thread,
On which to cling, so not to fall so hard,
The mind would bask on glories it once led,
Though now sadly unsung by any bard;
Will Time turn round half circle towards the past?
To, once again, relive the days gone by?
When future climes had run their course at last,
Could History still, once more, glorify;
With thread on which our dreams are made to hang,
Above the flood Adversity may bring,
To wait until the larks again have sang,
When hearts have found new happy tunes to sing;
.......When all the dreams had fled before men's eyes,
.......Hope stays until the end, and never dies.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
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Lifeboy
Swinging on the lifeline
Fraying bits of twine
Entangled in the remnants of the
Knot I left behind
And asking you to help me make it
Finally unwind
But God never listens to what I say
God never listens to what I say
And you dont get a refund
If you overpray
And when the line is breaking
And when Im near the end
When all the time spent leading
Ive been following instead
When all my thoughts and memories are
Left hanging by a thread
God never listens...
Stranded on this slender string
The minutes seem to last a lifetime
Dangling here between the light above
And blue below that drags me down
But God never listens to what I say
God never listens to what I say
And you dont get a refund
If you overpray
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Door Between Two Worlds
this the door between our two worlds
it divides the inside and the outside
the light and the darkness
the choice is yours
there is no lock
there is only the hinge that holds the door to its place
when you open it
there is no sound
and when you close it
there is only this silence of the air sealed inside our minds
my heart does not sing inside
it is muted by the darkness that moment your gentle hands
close the door
it is patient, the mind
the incompatibilities of the things outside us
are too inviting
they tempt us to step outside and promise us
the magical wonders of freedom
we feel so light like our joys like cottons and clouds
they are no different from our wishes
i am in the middle of this door between us
& you look at me like i am the last man of this earth
your heart opens with eyes too careful not to know
what i do next is the suspense of this uncertainty
your eyes close, my heart bleeds
my hands wilt, your mind wanders like a lost wind
the door closes finally
walling us in
it locks upon itself and
the world sleeps soundly curling its feet on the beds of the
heavens
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Thread
I know the thread
That threaded me.
I know the earth
I know the water
The fire and the air
I know the ether the mind
I know the reason the ego.
If you want to go
You may go.
You sustained in me
You strive to realized me.
You know how to disappear
You know I am the thread
You know I am being
Threaded with you.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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A Leave-Taking
She will not smile;
She will not stir;
I marvel while
I look on her.
The lips are chilly
And will not speak;
The ghost of a lily
In either cheek.
Her hair--ah me!
Her hair--her hair!
How helplessly
My hands go there!
But my caresses
Meet not hers,
O golden tresses
That thread my tears!
I kiss the eyes
On either lid,
Where her love lies
Forever hid.
I cease my weeping
And smile and say:
I will be sleeping
Thus, some day!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Origins
The plaster continues to crumble
It's because of the light!
That blasted light!
I see the floors are sinking in
In the derelict of light.
I am a creature of comfort
Because of the light!
Oh, that blasted light!
Lavish me in the finest of things
Without the curse of the light.
The horror within is now revealed
Why, because of the light.
Oh, that blasted light!
And with the darkness, my beauty is healed.
Because of the light, oh the light.
Do you find I have cause to lie?
Yes, I do.
It's because of the light!
For all that my soul is suffering
And I am a creature of night.
I am a creature of comfort
I am a creature of fright
I'm a creature of sensual pleasure
I'm a creature with just one little bite.
I am a creature of legend
I am a creature of night
I'm a creature that stalks in the shadows
I'm a creature that hides from the light.
I am a creature unwanted
I am a creature with might
I'm a creature seduced by the hunger
I'm a creature of mischief and rife.
I am a creature so sadly
I am a creature, that's right
I'm a creature without soul
As low as it goes
I'm the creature to end your life
poem by Katherine Clark
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Origins
The plaster continues to crumble
It's because of the light!
That blasted light!
I see the floors are sinking in
In the derelict of light.
I am a creature of comfort
Because of the light!
Oh, that blasted light!
Lavish me in the finest of things
Without the curse of the light.
The horror within is now revealed
Why, because of the light.
Oh, that blasted light!
And with the darkness, my beauty is healed.
Because of the light, oh the light.
Do you find I have cause to lie?
Yes, I do.
It's because of the light!
For all that my soul is suffering
And I am a creature of night.
I am a creature of comfort
I am a creature of fright
I'm a creature of sensual pleasure
I'm a creature with just one little bite.
I am a creature of legend
I am a creature of night
I'm a creature that stalks in the shadows
I'm a creature that hides from the light.
I am a creature unwanted
I am a creature with might
I'm a creature seduced by the hunger
I'm a creature of mischief and rife.
I am a creature so sadly
I am a creature, that's right
I'm a creature without soul
As low as it goes
I'm the creature to end your life
poem by Maura Herboldsheimer
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Thought Of Ph---a At News Of Her Death
NOT a line of her writing have I,
Not a thread of her hair,
No mark of her late time as dame in her dwelling, whereby
I may picture her there;
And in vain do I urge my unsight
To conceive my lost prize
At her close, whom I knew when her dreams were upbrimming with light,
And with laughter her eyes.
What scenes spread around her last days,
Sad, shining, or dim?
Did her gifts and compassions enray and enarch her sweet ways
With an aureate nimb?
Or did life-light decline from her years,
And mischances control
Her full day-star; unease, or regret, or forebodings, or fears
Disennoble her soul?
Thus I do but the phantom retain
Of the maiden of yore
As my relic; yet haply the best of her--fined in my brain
It may be the more
That no line of her writing have I,
Nor a thread of her hair,
No mark of her late time as dame in her dwelling, whereby
I may picture her there.
poem by Thomas Hardy
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Single Thread
Life is but a single thread
that stretches into infinity.
If the thread is ever broken
life then drifts away,
lost to the eons of eternal night.
There is no mending the thread
that is once severed,
no going back to recover.
Gone forever the control
it drifts endlessly away
into a greater light
than the one we know.
26 November 2009
poem by David Harris
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Tapestry Of LIfe
I see life
Like a Tapestry
Were you weave
In and out of life
As the journey unfolds
Each thread
Inter woven in your dreams
Have vibrant colours
That burst into being
That burst into life
Then often as in life
You have the black
Grey and white
The hidden nightmares
The hidden dreams
The shadows of life
The beauty of it all
Is how each thread
Intertwines its way through life
Each colour vibrant
With each thread you sew
Even the shadows
Bring out the colours
On a tapestry of Gold
poem by Kaila George
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Thoughts of Phena
at news of her death
Not a line of her writing have I
Not a thread of her hair,
No mark of her late time as dame in her dwelling, whereby
I may picture her there;
And in vain do I urge my unsight
To conceive my lost prize
At her close, whom I knew when her dreams were upbrimming with light
And with laughter her eyes.
What scenes spread around her last days,
Sad, shining, or dim?
Did her gifts and compassions enray and enarch her sweet ways
With an aureate nimb?
Or did life-light decline from her years,
And mischances control
Her full day-star; unease, or regret, or forebodings, or fears
Disennoble her soul?
Thus I do but the phantom retain
Of the maiden of yore
As my relic; yet haply the best of her--fined in my brain
It may be the more
That no line of her writing have I,
Nor a thread of her hair,
No mark of her late time as dame in her dwelling, whereby
I may picture her there.
March 1890.
poem by Thomas Hardy
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Eve- Song
I span and Eve span
A thread to bind the heart of man;
But the heart of man was a wandering thing
That came and went with little to bring:
Nothing he minded what we made,
As here he loitered, and there he stayed.
I span and Eve span
A thread to bind the heart of man;
But the more we span the more we found
It wasn't his heart but ours we bound.
For children gathered about our knees:
The thread was a chain that stole our ease.
And one of us learned in our children's eyes
That more than man was love and prize.
But deep in the heart of one of us lay
A root of loss and hidden dismay.
He said he was strong. He had no strength
But that which comes of breadth and length.
He said he was fond. But his fondness proved
The flame of an hour when he was moved.
He said he was true. His truth was but
A door that winds could open and shut.
And yet, and yet, as he came back,
Wandering in from the outward track,
We held our arms, and gave him our breast,
As a pillowing place for his head to rest.
I span and Eve span,
A thread to bind the heart of man!
poem by Dame Mary Gilmore
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Missing Link
So there you are
The missing link of my life
I was having something
Blank in my mind
And things do not fit
Nothing fits to this “”it”
A square pig
In a hole,
A fish on a hill
A chicken on the sea
A snail in the city
A fan on the freezer
Me to nowhere
You somewhere
For a time I was walking
Without a direction
Without anything in my mind
Things simply do not fit
And there you are
Standing not looking also for
Something specific
And we found ourselves
We fit
We simply talk without bumps
In our throats
We simply enjoy each other’s company
You laugh at my jokes
And I like the way you talk
We fit, now we must live together
I am the thread to your needle’s eye
We fit, you and I
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Broken Thread
Broken Thread
Waking early I hear myself breathing
Covered up in my hand me down hand me down
Hiding under my patchwork freezing
With my wedding dress calling me, calling me
I dress myself in dis-function
Do I drown you in sympathy, sympathy
You could be my winter messiah
Scarred around and around me....around me
Cause im stiched up like an angel chord, I'm fixed up
They try to run and hide somehere in there defense
And now want to hand me down again.....
On a broken thread
On a broken thread
I choose to set you on fire
No-more wearing and tearing me, tearing me
Your still my only desire
And now it seems like your leaving me, freeing me, healing me.
Cause im stiched up like an angel chord, I'm fixed up
They try to run and hide somehere in there defense
And now want to hand me down again.....
They try to run and hide somehere in there defense
And now want to hand me down again.....
On a broken thread
On a broken thread
On a broken thread
On a broken thread
On a broken thread
song performed by by Natalie Imbruglia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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His Bargain
Who talks of Plato's spindle;
What set it whirling round?
Eternity may dwindle,
Time is unwound,
Dan and Jerry Lout
Change their loves about.
However they may take it,
Before the thread began
I made, and may not break it
When the last thread has run,
A bargain with that hair
And all the windings there.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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The Spinner
As I calmly sat and span,
Toiling with all zeal,
Lo! a young and handsome man
Pass'd my spinning-wheel.
And he praised,--what harm was there?--
Sweet the things he said--
Praised my flax-resembling hair,
And the even thread.
He with this was not content,
But must needs do more;
And in twain the thread was rent,
Though 'twas safe before.
And the flax's stonelike weight
Needed to be told;
But no longer was its state
Valued as of old.
When I took it to the weaver,
Something felt I start,
And more quickly, as with fever,
Throbb'd my trembling heart.
Then I bear the thread at length
Through the heat, to bleach;
But, alas, I scarce have strength
To the pool to reach.
What I in my little room
Span so fine and slight,--
As was likely. I presume--
Came at last to light.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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