Upon Your Request
it is
upon your persistent request
that they all learned to
speak to you
the floor of course keeps its
deep voice
like the voice of the cave
and the well
and the windows have mastered
the songs of the soprano
aided by the wind
the ceiling keeps the alto
tickled by the spider and the
lizards
but the door keeps itself
mum
treasures its silence
closed
with hinges that never budged
that keeps the impossibility
of this harmony
as others sing that single door
shows its protest
you kicked it once
on a Sunday.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
From A Distance
From a distance, the world looks blue and green,
And the snow capped mountains so white.
From a distance the ocean meets the stream,
And the eagle takes to flight.
From a distance, there is harmony
And it echoes through the land.
Its the voice of hope, its the voice of peace,
Its the voice of every man.
From a distance, we all have enough,
And no-one is in need.
There are no guns, no bombs and no disease
No hungry mouths to feed.
For a moment we must be instruments,
Martching in a common band,
Playing songs of hope, playing songs of peace,
Theyre is the songs of every one.
God is watching us, God is watching us,
God is watching us, from a distance.
From a distance, you look like my friend,
Even though we are at war.
From a distance, I cant comprehend,
What all this war is for.
What we need is love and harmony,
Let it echo through the land.
Its the hope of hopes, its the love of loves,
Its the heart of everyone.
Its the hope of hopes, its the love of loves,
Its the song of everyone.
Sing out, songs of hope,
Sing out, songs of freedom,
Sing out, songs of love,
Sing out, songs of peace,
Sing out, songs of justice,
Sing out, songs of harmony,
Sing out, songs of love,
Sing out, everyone,
Sing out, songs of hope,
Sing out, songs of freedom,
Sing out, songs of love,
Sing out, songs of peace,
Sing out, songs of justice,
Sing out, songs in harmony,
Sing out, sing about love,
Sing out, everyone.
Sing out.
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunday Morning
Sunday morning silence, curtain stay closed late
No one thinks of kitchens mornings in a filthy state
Dishes cups and beer stains, ashtrays on the floor
Sunday morning papers are left outside the front door
Sunday school and sunday roast
Sunday papers sunday post
Sunday morning sunday rest
Sunday sermon sunday best
(sunday, bloody sunday rest)
Glass of fizzy water helps to start the day
Sit and listen to sunday silence, problems fade away
Sunday cars and drivers break the morning air
Uncollected milk outside reveals theres no one there
Sunday school and sunday roast
Sunday papers sunday post
Sunday morning sunday rest
Sunday sermon sunday best
Sunday school and sunday roast
Sunday papers sunday post
Sunday morning sunday rest
Sunday sermon sunday best
Bathrobes hang in waiting, windows steaming up
Somewhere in the sink downstairs lies an unwashed cup
Tea and toast for breakfast clear away the plates
Wash-up prepare for cooking sunday lunch awaits
Sunday lunch awaits
Sunday lunch awaits
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Swindle
A request to have a door,
On hinges installed...
Is a great idea,
For one seeking privacy.
But a door on hinges,
That does not close...
Or has a lock with a key,
Is just another swindle!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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And This Will Be All....
And this will be all?
And the gates will never open again?
And the dust and the wind will play around the rusty door hinges and the songs of October moan, Why-oh, why-oh?
And you will look to the mountains
And the mountains will look to you
And you will wish you were a mountain
And the mountain will wish nothing at all?
This will be all?
The gates will never-never open again?
The dust and the wind only
And the rusty door hinges and moaning October
And Why-oh, why-oh, in the moaning dry leaves,
This will be all?
Nothing in the air but songs
And no singers, no mouths to know the songs?
You tell us a woman with a heartache tells you it is so?
This will be all?
poem by Carl Sandburg
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Dry Leaves Beside My Door
a door half-closed
the wind comes with some dry leaves
coming in
through it
and then
spread on the floor
under my bed
i watch it
feeling that i am junked
even the wind
has mistaken me as
another
garbage
and so i finally closed my
door
tight
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Witch
I HAVE walked a great while over the snow,
And I am not tall nor strong.
My clothes are wet, and my teeth are set,
And the way was hard and long.
I have wandered over the fruitful earth,
But I never came here before.
Oh, lift me over the threshold, and let me in at the door!
The cutting wind is a cruel foe.
I dare not stand in the blast.
My hands are stone, and my voice a groan,
And the worst of death is past.
I am but a little maiden still,
My little white feet are sore.
Oh, lift me over the threshold, and let me in at the door!
Her voice was the voice that women have,
Who plead for their heart's desire.
She came--she came--and the quivering flame
Sunk and died in the fire.
It never was lit again on my hearth
Since I hurried across the floor,
To lift her over the threshold, and let her in at the door.
poem by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge
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Betrayed
I WENT back to our home to-day
That still its robe of roses wore;
My feet took the old easy way,
And led me to our door.
And you are gone and never more
Those little feet of yours will come
To meet me at the open door,
The threshold of our home.
The door unlatched did not protest:
I entered, and the silence drew
My steps towards the little nest
That once I shared with you.
There lay your fan, your open book,
Your seam half-sewn, and I could see
The window whence you used to look--
Yes, once you looked--for me.
Print of your little head caressed
Our pillow still, and on the floor
Still lay, dropped there when last you dressed,
The scarf and rose you wore.
All should have spoken of you plain,
Yet, when I bade the silence tell
Of you, my bidding was in vain,
I could not break its spell.
The silence would not speak, my dear,
Till the last level light grew dim;
Then, in the twilight I could hear;
The silence spoke--of him.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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What else
what else can be heard
when you lend an ear to the sounds
a laughter behind crying
a whisper of love behind the screams of hate
the door opening behind the door closing
my voice behind a waterfall echo
what else can be seen once the eyes closed open
for the twilight of heavenly darkness
I somehow slipped from to be here to talk
fed on silences and solitudes strong
strong enough to recall
a memory behind oblivion
a single torch at the bottom of the cave
the fathers lit up for life
what else can be done once it's time to do it
but draw the lines again and again
merge with colours embrace the hues
before one's run away from the canvas
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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I Step Out Of The Door
i step out of the door
from my dark room the windows are not opened
it is humid
it is cold
and i step out of the door the windows still closed
i lock the door and step upon a patch of green grass
the dews are hanging on the blades
and shaken
i look upon a sky
and there is this star still shining despite the opening of the
mouth of the morning
after a deep sleep
i see your face but i promise there shall be no tears.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Repost Of The Past Poem
i step out of the door
from my dark room the windows are not open
it is humid and cold
i step out of the door the windows are still closed
i lock the door and step upon a patch of green grass
the dews are hanging on the blades and shaken
i look upon the sky
and there is this star still shining
despite the opening of the mouth of the morning
i was in deep slumber
i close my eyes
i see your face but i promise there shall be no tears.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Love We Had Behind That Door One Sunday Afternoon
the love behind that door
one sunday afternoon when all of them were gone to church
we were silly and hot and
thrilled to the tempest of our flesh
the passions that burn like a wildfire in the camp
we closed the door
with our two bodies in fear
but the heat was even more
tempting we set aside
possibilities in hell
all we thought of was
heaven and the songs of angels
we banged the door together
we were afraid no more of conseqences
we had thrown clothes and underwears
under the chairs
the world and its rules did not matter
we were making a stand of
teen-age love
the supple youth that must rule
the world of unfounded fears
what we remembered most
were the volcanoes
they all erupted and we closed our eyes
and the magma flowed
all the lava moved
all the fiery fires and sounds of
cracking pyroplastics
the sweet explosions in our ears
then we listened afterwards
the mellow songs of our hearts
we take our calm seats we hold our tired hands
and then the sunday door opened again
as though nothing important really happened
we assured ourselves by the mutual silent gazes of our eyes
the scented air came in
and we were refreshed again
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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His door
His door is a closed
it doesn't open to anyone
and tells the world he's ferocious
and tells me he's insecure.
His door has numerous bolts,
it has a big sign saying
LEAVE ME BE
and they do, believe me.
This door SHOUTS
in a deep, dark troll's voice
that has grown men weeping
and sirens blaring.
It says, 'you wouldn't want to mess with me'
while he hides, eyes shut,
his back to the world
his shields up.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Cave Canem - Dream Symbol Meaning - Current Version 1107
Damn! drat! and more than that beside sparse tor
Rose imprecations rash, gash tore his thigh, -
Example of what happens should its tie
A Pit Bull slip to pin one to grass floor.
Maybe lapsed leash, which left hitchhiker sore,
Shows cause~effect evolving on the fly.
Youth saw from prone position, just nearby,
Masked entrance, boulder budged showed odd décor.
Behind a bush, hid hole led deep before
Open cavern traced Time would defy,
Lamp showed cave crystals' sparkling glow that, shy,
MEasured aeons since man such treasures saw.
AN image rich which left the man transfixed,
INGredients - stone, water, heaven mixed.
(28 November 2006)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Spied
How was it for you?
Uncle asked, lying
Slumped across Auntie,
Some small-beached
Whale, his voice escaping
His lungs as would air
From a punctured tyre.
Fine, it was fine, Auntie
Sighed, her soprano
Voice easing beneath
His sweaty soft bulk,
Unaware their young
Niece was standing silent
By the half open door,
Capturing them in the
Semi light, waiting small
And innocent to ask for
Water, dithering, unsure
Whether to ask and stay
Or simply to close the
Door and walk away.
poem by Terry Collett
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Fengshui of the Face
there are two magic
lakes to hold people dear
so that they soak up
the warmth of your hearts
this is fengshui of
the windows of your soul
look straight into
the lakes of theirs too
- with respect and honour -
and they will reflect to you
how much they hold you dear
fengshui of the wind
it comes from the cave
that transmits the voice of
your passions
in it are treasures
you can share with the world,
your words, your poems,
your knowledge
all carried in the winds
to the ones you love
the hill is where where you can
gather the scents of the
ins and outs of the world
let all the goodwill of the
world reverberate over the lakes
amplify in the cave so that it
echoes throughout the hill
show your love for all
with a great smile
it will light up the lake
fill the cave with songs
and the hill rolling with flowers
smile, smile for the world
show your love for the world
and it will surely love you back
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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One Less Set Of Footsteps
We been runnin away from
Somethin we both know
Weve long run out of things to say
And I think I better go
So dont be getting excited
Oh when you hear that slammin door
Cause therell be one less set of footsteps
On your floor in the mornin
And weve been hidin from somethin
That should have never gone this far
But after all its what weve done
That makes us what we are
And you been talkin in silence
But if its silence you adore
Therell be one less set of footsteps
On your floor in the mornin
Well baby one less set of footsteps on your floor
One less man to walk in
One less pair of jeans on your door
One less voice a-talkin
But tomorrows a dream away
Today has turned to dust
Your silver tongue has turned to clay
And your golden rule to rust
If thats the way that you want it
Oh thats the way I want it more
Well theyll be one less set of footsteps
On your floor in the mornin
Well therell be one less set of footsteps on your floor
One less man to walk in
One less pair of jeans on your door
One less voice a-talkin
But tomorrows a dream away
And today has turned to dust
Your silver tongue has turned to clay
And your golden rule to rust
If thats the way that you want it
Oh thats the way I want it more
Cause baby one less set of footsteps
On your floor in the mornin
Oh baby one less set of footsteps
On your floor in the mornin
song performed by by Jim Croce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Sec Takes
One sec takes to,
build a castle in cloud.
One sec takes to
awaken the droopy crowd.
One sec breaks,
heart's strongly closed door.
One sec takes to
rise lifeless voice to roar!
One sec takes,
to usurp tyrant king.
One sec takes to,
raise democrats' voice to sing.
poem by Nilakshi Das
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In The End
I Saw Red
Warrant
Oo it must be magic
How inside your eyes I see my destiny Every time we kiss
I feel you breathe your love to deep inside of me
And if the moon and stars should fall
They'd be east to replace
I would lift you up to heaven
And you would take their place
Then I saw red
When I opened up the door
I saw red
Heart just spilled on to the floor
And I didn't need to see his face
I saw yours
I saw red then I closed the door
I don't think I'm gonna love you anymore
Everyday I wake up
I thank God that you are
Still a part of me
Opened up the door to which
So many people never find the way
Snd if the sun
Should ever fail to send its light
We will burn a thousand candles
And make everything alright
Then I saw red
Wnen I opened up the door
I saw red
Heart just spilled onto the floor
And I didn't need to see his face
I saw yours
I saw red then I closed the door
I don't think I'm gonna love you anymore
I've been hurt
And I've been blind
I'm not sure that I'll be fine
I never thought it would
End this way
Oo it must be magic
song performed by by Warrant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Song Of The Beggar
I am always going from door to door,
whether in rain or heat,
and sometimes I will lay my right ear in
the palm of my right hand.
And as I speak my voice seems strange as if
it were alien to me,
for I'm not certain whose voice is crying:
mine or someone else's.
I cry for a pittance to sustain me.
The poets cry for more.
In the end I conceal my entire face
and cover both my eyes;
there it lies in my hands with all its weight
and looks as if at rest,
so no one may think I had no place where-
upon to lay my head.
Translated by Albert Ernest Flemming
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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I Saw Red
Ooh, it must be magic
How inside your eyes, I see my destiny
And every time we kiss, I feel you
Breathe your love so deep inside of me
If the moon and stars should fall
They'd be easy to replace
I would lift you up to heaven
And you would take their place
(Chorus): And I saw red when I opened up the door
I saw red, my heart just spilled onto the floor
And I didn't need to see his face...
Cause I saw yours
I saw red and then I closed the door
And I don't think I'm gonna love you anymore
And every day I wake up
I thank God that you are still a part of me
We've opened up the door to it
So many people never find the key
And if the sun should ever fail to send its light
We would burn a thousand candles
And make everything alright
Chorus
I've been hurt, I've been blind
I'm not sure that I'll be fine
I never thought it would end this way
Cause I saw red when I opened up the door
I saw red, my heart just spilled onto the floor
And I didn't need to see his face
Oh, I saw yours
I saw red and then I closed the door
And I don't think I'm gonna love you anymore...
Yeah... ooh, it must be magic...
song performed by by Warrant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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