Today I Give Pain Its Freedom
i will be a little lax today
setting pain carefully and letting them go
giving them wings to fly away from me
and telling them not to come back
for a while, giving them a break
i open the entrance at the front door
with some streamers and flowers
some bees and dragonflies and butterflies
on the stairs of the house
beside the door and the windows
welcome happiness, welcome home!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
The House With Many Doors
the house i love is a house
with many doors
the usual house you have
a front door and the back door
when one enters and there is nothing
to hide, one simply takes the back door
and be gone to the woods,
i can be imaginative at times
one door must open to the earth
another door must open to
the sky
and now, i must find a way
how to grow wings
or if destiny is too cruel
i must grow sharper claws
for digging the rocks of this
earth
now you must know that i have
many choices
up or
down.....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Joy Of Loving
the joy of loving
is not in that taking but in the giving
i tried taking too much and put them in my hands
oh! everything becomes a mess
there are spills and dirt everywhere
i take the other option
of simply opening my hands and letting things go
like letting five butterflies fly away from my palms
into the garden of flowers
like setting free the two lovebirds spending all their lifetime
inside the metal cage that mother bought
like giving away the last saving of my life
so that you may find finally the person that you really love
i have emptied myself of everything i keep
now happiness comes
and fills every hollow corner of my being
i walk along the shores of my life.
singing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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for John on his first frustration
let me draw you a house
with an entrance gate
leading to an entrance
door and some windows
to let in air.
just that, there will be no
exit doors, no exit gate,
all the windows open,
not designed to close,
that precisely is success
and failure.
there is a sense of
entrance triumphant
ditto an exit for some
ordinary and even
inevitable failures of
our lives.
the windows are some
of our other options, we
let in air to breathe
for a while. we must.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Hate You!
I hate you for giving me hope in this life
when all there is, is despair.
I hate you for giving me this strife
and making the world seem so unfair.
I hate you forever wanting and letting
me know such happiness.
I hate you for leaving me to feel
the worst loneliness.
I hate you for telling me lies when i believe all
that you said
I hate you for letting me DIE
as i lay helpless in my bed.
I hate you for holding my hand
when it swung content by my side.
I hate you for EXISTING in this land
where we must coincide.
i hate you for smiling on a dreary day
when my frown is seen through the haze.
I hate you for letting come what may when
you could of stopped it in so many ways.
I hate you for saying YOU LOVE ME
when i asked you not to say it back.
I hate you for letting me see our relationship
CRACK!
I Hate you for not letting me hear
the cruel things you say when im not there.
I hate you for not letting me near
when my soul i need to bare.
I hate you for giving me a glance
when i think i look beautiful.
I HATE YOU 4 THE SECOND CHANCE
that left me incredibly hopeful.
I HATE YOU 4 NOT HEARING ME OUT
when i want to BEG AND PLEAD.
I hate you for making me doubt my opinion
to which i pay heed.
I hate you for all the things you said
that made me most content.
I hate you for turning my head beacuse
I still think your a GOD-SEND
I HATE YOU FOR THIS EXCRUCIATING PAIN I BARELY
ENDURE EVERY NIGHT.
i hate you for the constant rain my soul must fight.
i hate you for being there so now im doomed
to MISS & REMEMBER.
I hate you for giving me a reason to CARE.
what happened back in September?
I hate you for saying GOOD-BYE and leaving
me not knowing what to do.
But most of all
I hate you for letting me CRY
'cuase i can't have you!
poem by Aleisha Luyt
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07. Love, what is Love?
love, oh what is love?
flowers in so many shapes and hues
giving sweetness to butterflies and bees
in so many shapes and hues
in the field, a buzz, a joy, these insects
help create another world
another paradise, warm colourful flower garden
for lovers of the world
help spread cheers everywhere
with the sweetness the flowers
where the flowers are, the butterflies, the bees are
where there is love, joy spreads
wide as the field
just look at the butterflies and the bees
how they cheer up the field with their songs and dance
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Wild bees, lost souls
The bees, this year,
have come before the swallows dare
and take the wings of April
inadvisedly;
ignoring the cloud of jasmine around the open door,
incurious, it seems, about the front garden’s offerings,
they swoop into the house,
take a left turn where the corridor gets darker,
and land up in the front room; where
they swoop again, then like lost souls
start for here and there, change flight-plan,
and end up nosing uselessly against the window
which doesn’t open; crawl a bit; and
surprisingly soon, fall down, on their backs,
legs folded in some final surrender
just enough like a human being, to chill…
I take the kitchen strainer
since it’s larger than a jam-jar, reaches further,
dab a touch of first-aid honey on the rim,
persuade them to settle on its promise,
and whisk them off to the front door,
tap them into freedom.
I thought that bees were focussed, busy, pretty bright,
with radar, iPods, mobile/ cell-phones all built in;
this year, they’re aimless as illegal immigrants
hoping to exist, but not to work..
surely even wild bees have a sense of home?
‘Go back where you came from…’ I yell at them
like some nationalist speaker at a rally…
there is now no Limbo for these lost souls, it seems;
bees, who through the centuries
were said to have close links to human souls…
it’s puzzling, disturbing, too close for comfort,
or for ignoring.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Sebokarang Villages
Every evening
I always go to the Sebokarang villages
bike to break through the twilight
In the Bamboo threes
and the field of sugar plantantion
its flower blossom, yellow and
to bend in the street
to be fenced in kembang sepatu
and than turn to her hause
the wall of her house made from teakwood
and around her house planted
The Ceplok Piring flowers
in front of the door of her houses
I knocked its with my thremble fingers,
With my thremble heart
Where my blood flow fastly
The evening wind
Blowing softly
And start to be darkness
Its covering the leaf
Eat the tree near the street
Where the people pass and through
So cat run to catch the mouse
the mouse jump
To the path of the villages
I fell loneness
in front of the door
waiting for you
open the door
when the door opened
the light of petromax lamp is lighting
to my eyes wonder
of your smile
from the red lips
open, just open the door
the door of your heart
again and again
till I could stay
in the wide room of your heart
forever
poem by Prasetya Utama
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Deep Down Inside
Deep down inside hidden within
hides the pain of my soul, dark memories from back then
so fresh in my heart they seem never to leave me alone
and just when i think happiness is mine, pain reminds me its not gone
in the windows of my soul, pain sits near
leaking out every now and then in the form of a innocent tear
the pain behind the tear is far greater than the little water that slides down my face
its the origin that holds the pain, reality that fills the space
for my tears never reveal the pain in my cry
and happiness is all thats seen to the naked eye
never letting anyone truly understand the reason behind tears rain
for they always hear the story, not once seeing the pain
as if it could be understood, the reason for hearts cry
for my mind has already concluded reality as being the reason why
in all my pain and struggles ive never been able to stop time
ive only allowed pain to pile giving it permission to forever be mine
but the windows of my pain tell a truth, that even i sometimes cant see
all the pain and struggles that ive swallowed through the years has made a warrior out of me
for i am a ball of strength, only revealing a smile
and wisdom has led me to believe throughout the years its strength and not pain that has continued to pile
sometimes my wisdom and heart just dont agree
my soul has to be reminded that this is my reality
that all this pain was built from way back then
and behind hearts door, and souls window my true pain hides within
poem by Wanda Askew Scott
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Shes Knocking At My Door
Music :rudolf schenker
Lyrics:klaus meine
Shes knocking at my door
That little angel knows the score
Shes knocking at my door
But I wont let her out no more
I want a piece of that pie
Shes driving me completely wild
Shes giving me a private dance
Shes playing with my confidence
The way shes coming down the stairs
Makes me surrender just right there
This girl is out of this world
Heaven must be a place on earth
Shes knocking at my door
That little angel knows the score
Shes knocking at my door
But I wont let her out no more
Shes like a shot of adrenaline
She made me fly with broken wings
With nothing but the radio on
Her body is the song I want
Shes knocking at my door
That little angel knows the score
Shes knocking at my door
But I wont let her out no more
The light is on but no ones home tonight
We lock the door, we turn the key
And throw it right outside
Come on and set me free
If you had candy once before
For you keep coming back for more
Shes got the sweetest touch of all
The longest legs that I recall
Before she leaves she turns around
The elevator takes her down
She says oh well the city rocks
I go to sleep but then it knocks
Shes knocking at my door
That little angel knows the score
Shes knocking at my door
But I wont let her out no more
...
song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Path To My Happiness
To stretch my wings and, far away, fly
To cut these chains and say goodbye
To break the bars of this prison in which im held
To silence the voices that constently yell
To flee with my love and escape Hurt's sting
Oh...what happiness that would bring
To break the door that holds me in
To get rid of the anger and hurt within
To open the lock that secures the chains
To flush out the anger that runs through my veins
To escape those people and they pain that they bring
Oh...what happiness that would bring
So to break the bars and cut the chains
The break down the door and flush out my veins
To silence the voices and escape the pain
Is what it will take for complete happiness to gain
'He' and 'I' will be a 'We' for the rest of life's years to come
Oh...the happiness for us to come. :)
poem by Shelby Renee
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Thank You
My teas gone cold,Im wondering why I got out of bed at all
The morning rain clouds up my window and I cant see at all
And even if I could itd all be grey, but your picture on my wall
It reminds me that its not so bad
Its not so bad
I drank too much last night, got bills to pay
My head just feels in pain
I missed the bus and therell be hell today
Im late for work again
And even if Im there, theyll all imply that I might not last the day
And then you call me and its not so bad
Its not so bad and
I want to thank you for giving me the best day of my life
Oh just to be with you is having the best day of my life
Push the door,Im home at last and Im soaking through and through
Then you handed me a towel and all I see is you
And even if my house falls down now, I wouldnt have a clue
Because youre near me and
I want to thank you for giving me the best day of my life
Oh just to be with you is having the best day of my life
Written by d.armstrong & p. herman
song performed by by Dido
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Consent
i
only knock
you are the owner
of the door
of the house
if
you open it
then i
enter
but you close
the door
and the windows
of your house
airtight
and so
i turn my back
and walk
away
if you change
your mind
however
i am just
a stone
throw
away...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Part Of Life, That is
Few get to sit in the midst of it.
Part of life that is.
With the giving of opinion and the giving of lip.
Part of life that is.
Few get to sit in the midst of it.
Part of life that is.
With the giving of opinion and the giving of lip.
Part of life that is.
Stuck with sticking emotions felt in my gut...
Unable to abandon them.
Or give them up...
Had been a place I'd been,
Back then.
With no one but myself...
And faith,
To help me slowly break away...
Of a hold I had on them to mend.
Few get to sit in the midst of it.
Part of life that is.
With the giving of opinion and the giving of lip.
Part of life that is.
I have learned to feel grief deeply,
Where it is felt.
Let it visit.
And then from it to leave!
Not to forget the process...
But to breathe!
Remembering...
With an agony upon my letting go,
Knowing what I felt was painful...
It was also,
Part of life!
A part of life,
That is!
Few get to sit in the midst of it.
Part of life that is.
With the giving of opinion and the giving of lip.
Part of life that is.
Few get to sit in the midst of it.
Part of life that is.
With the giving of opinion and the giving of lip.
Part of life that is.
Few get to sit in the midst of it.
Part of life that is.
With the giving of opinion and the giving of lip.
Part of life that is.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Thrush In A Rush
Our house, once had a visit from a baby thrush,
Who took a wrong turning, during a mad rush.
Our back door was open: the weather was hot;
Then suddenly, over the threshold, he did pop.
The next thing, of which, I was then aware,
Was the young thrush flying up our stairs.
On reaching the top, he turned left, and he zoomed,
Through an open door, in to one of our bedrooms.
In his blind panic, he flapped and flew about;
That he was full of fear, there was no doubt.
Exhausted, he settled down on the floor to rest,
And it was then, that I spotted his speckled chest.
The poor little thing – he really was very scared,
And he knew in his heart, he shouldn’t be there.
I offered words of comfort, but he didn’t understand;
All he knew was that he was in a strange looking land.
Back out on to the darkened landing, he soon took flight,
And headed back down the stairs, out towards the daylight.
Through the open door, a familiar land, he now could see:
A land where, once again, he could fly about, wild and free.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Coming Home
The railings were old and rusty,
The door paint was faded and chipped,
The poor old house had seen better days,
The roof, made of slate, had now dipped.
The windows showed broken hinges,
The path to the door, overgrown,
This was the place where I was born,
The only real home I had known.
The 'rambler' that clung to the front porch,
Was a rose in the deepest red,
Now looking forlorn and so straggly,
I thought that maybe it was dead.
But tiny buds were shooting,
From the root beside the door,
And I was sure that, with a little care,
The house would come alive once more.
I watched as the 'SOLD' sign was erected,
And I felt I had reached home at last,
I knew that I would be happy here,
After what had been in my past.
I washed, swept, scrubbed and polished,
Until everything looked 'brand new',
Then my heart sped back to my childhood days,
My return home, was well overdue.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Saturday Night In Blue
Saturday Night in Blue.
The house key was on the same ring as my car key, couldn’t find
them I had locked myself out. Car neatly parked I never drink drive,
the bar is nearby. I broke a window in the back, got in. Blinking light
outside: police telling me to open the door, I did, was wrestled to
the ground. At the station they came to their senses, let me go,
but refused to drive me back, since I smelled of booze and only had
myself to blame. Long walk home, bars had shut. Climbed through,
the same broken window, the keys, on the kitchen table. I uncorked
a bottle of wine, opened the front door, just in case, no one came,
I went to bed at dawn.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Giving It All Up For Love
Phil lynott
She comes home at 5:30, and though her clothes are never dirty,
Shell change them just the same. she likes to keep her name.
Shes giving it all up for love
Shes giving it all up for love
Shes giving it all up for love
Shes giving it all up for love (up for love, up for love)
Shes got a tattoo on her tummy, and her mummy plays gin rummy.
You might think thats kind of funny, hey, but shes keeping all the money.
Shes giving it all up for love
Shes giving it all up for love
Shes giving it all up for love
Shes giving it all up for love (up for love, up for love)
Shes got a silver armadillo, underneath her pillow.
Some think its a cupie doll, hey, but they got such crazy minds.
Shes giving it all up for love
Shes giving it all up for love
Shes giving it all up for love
Shes giving it all up for love (up for love, up for love)
Shes giving it all up for love (shes giving it up for love)
Shes giving it all up for love (ooh, shes giving it up, giving it up)
Giving it all up for love
Shes giving it up for love
Up for love, up for love
song performed by by Huey Lewis And The News
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Alibi's
(d. pickerill/p. o'donoughue)
It's no use you saying
That you can't be staying
'round this place anymore
Then there's no point remaining
That the sky keeps on raining
'round this particular door
Then it's no surprise
All you keep giving me
All you keep giving me
Are your alibis
They're only alibis
It's no use you dreaming
Of old times and feelings
That just aren't there anymore
Then there's no use you scheming
About ways to stop me leaving
Because i've heard it all before
And it's no surprise
All you keep giving me
All you keep giving me
Are your alibis
They're only alibis
There's no sense in crying
Or sitting down and sighing
It doesn't work anymore
And talking's out of fashion
There's no substitute for passion
And i can't take it anymore
And it's no surprise
'cos all you keep giving me
All you keep giving me
Are your alibis
All you keep giving me
All you keep giving me
Are your alibis
All you keep giving me
All you keep giving me
Are your alibis
song performed by by Lisa Stansfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Novameco A Journey
You are lost and you’re telling me you are lost
And you are so afraid about doing things in the usual ways
So you come out from your window
You do not use the door
Or the stairs because as you said you do not like to things
In the most usual ways
You are tired of the usual ways and they do not appeal to your
Sense of exciting
Journey
A journey to the unusual to the unknown desert to the undiscovered
Ways
When you go home tonight you shall take the path of stars
As you wonder
To this place
Where there are not stairs no doors no windows
Where there is no house
And you take the journey alone and there will be no directions
You will like it
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thanks A Lot, Mom
Thanks a Lot, Mom
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for loving me to no end.
Thanks for being my loving mother.
Thanks for being my thoughtful friend.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for feeding me and giving me a home.
Thanks for clothing me and holding me tight.
Thanks for caring when I felt alone.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for always making me smile.
Thanks for giving me the extra push.
Thanks for going that extra mile.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for living with no regrets.
Thanks for being the life of the party.
Thanks for going all in on bets.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for being my inspiration.
Thanks for helping me with my homework.
Thanks for giving me motivation.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for treating me with respect.
Thanks for knowing I'm growing up.
Thanks for knowing what to expect.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for kicking me while I was down.
Thanks for telling me I'm a liar.
Thanks for knowing what comes around.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for giving me my many scars.
Thanks for making me feel at home.
Thanks for breaking my aching heart.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for taking away my friends.
Thanks for taking away my family.
Thanks for not having to pretend.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for kicking me out of my home.
Thanks for calling me cheap and attention-seeking.
Thanks for putting me out on my own.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for ripping away my Brett.
Thanks for saying you don't remember.
Thanks for saying I should forget.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for believing your husband over your kid.
Thanks for rewarding him for a crime.
Thanks for punishing me for what he did.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for meeting me in court.
Thanks for hiring such a mean lawyer.
Thanks for paying for his every retort.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for going on the witness stand.
Thanks for putting all that on file.
Thanks for not holding my shaking hand.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for watching me cry over you.
Thanks for everything you did to me.
Thanks for everything you didn't do.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for letting me take the fall.
Thanks for telling me to lie for you.
Thanks for letting me lose it all.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for saying no one will believe me.
Thanks for telling me you'll always be there.
Thanks for lying, and screaming, and leaving.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for still wearing your pretty smile.
Thanks for not letting anyone know.
Thanks for going that extra mile.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for letting Brett go without her sis.
Thanks for not showing her my picture.
Thanks for all the memories you know I'll miss.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for letting me have a choice.
Thanks for giving me an ultimatum.
Thanks for never hearing my voice.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for all the inspiration.
Thanks for all the things you've caused.
Thanks for all this motivation.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for giving me something to do.
Thanks to all these heart-wrenching memories.
But most of all, thanks to you.
Now when I'm cutting my wrists in the bathroom,
Or getting pregnant at my prom,
I'll always remember who I should thank.
So thanks a lot, Mom.
When I'm running around being promiscuous,
Like you always thought I would become,
I'll always remember who I should thank.
So thanks a lot, Mom.
When I'm drinking myself to death,
Or when I'm lighting up my bong,
I'll always remember who I should thank.
So thanks a lot, Mom.
When I'm broke and on the street
Or when I'm writing a suicide note like a song,
I'll always remember who I should thank.
Yeah, thanks a lot, Mom.
poem by Rebecca Paul
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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