Mystery Date
You are a master of suspense
Hitchcockian so to speak.
The air is thick with confusion
I don't know whether to breathe in or out.
It is impossible to speak
you tie my tongue in knots.
The veil you wield throws darkness
not a sliver of light escapes.
There is a no vacancy sign in your eyes
no room at the inn and
the manger is spoken for.
Your expression is not blank
it is encrypted.
You are a mystery to me
and every clue a delight.
poem by Ronald Shields
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Related quotes
Neptune
Nobody seems to dream of visits on Neptune.
With a giving of its wonder and suspense.
There is nobody that seems to speak with curiosity,
Of how life lived on Neptune would be.
What is it about it that escapes wishes to adventure it?
Does it not appear to be intimate?
What is it about it.
Is it too far out there for imaginary visits?
What is it about it.
Is it too much like Uranus?
And Saturn and Jupiter have captured its magic.
What is it about it.
Although depicted by the Romans as god of the seas...
Neptune is rarely mentioned or romanticized,
As a place to be!
What is it about it that escapes our fantasies.
Eight from the Sun to see in orbit.
But no one mentions Neptune for that odyssey.
What is it about it.
So vast it is...
Sixty Earths could sit within its grasp.
But no one wishes a visit with it.
Nobody seems to dream of visits on Neptune.
With a giving of its wonder and suspense.
There is nobody that seems to speak with curiosity,
Of how life lived on Neptune would be.
What is it about it that escapes wishes to adventure it?
Does it not appear to be intimate?
What is it about it.
Is it too far out there for imaginary visits?
What is it about it.
Is it too much like Uranus?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Only The Strong
When Im locked in my room
I just want to scream
And I know what they mean
(one more day of eating and sleeping)
Speak to me, speak to me
Im not spoken for, Im ready to talk
Look at me, look at me
Ive been broken up and shaken down
Speak to me, speak to me
Im at the edge of myself Im dying to talk
Look at me, wont you look at me
Back once more at the point of no return
When Im locked in my room
I just want to scream
And I know what they mean
Only the strong
(hirst/moginie)
song performed by by Midnight Oil
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silentium
Speak not, lie hidden, and conceal
the way you dream, the things you feel.
Deep in your spirit let them rise
akin to stars in crystal skies
that set before the night is blurred:
delight in them and speak no word.
How can a heart expression find?
How should another know your mind?
Will he discern what quickens you?
A thought once uttered is untrue.
Dimmed is the fountainhead when stirred:
drink at the source and speak no word.
Live in your inner self alone
within your soul a world has grown,
the magic of veiled thoughts that might
be blinded by the outer light,
drowned in the noise of day, unheard...
take in their song and speak no word.
poem by Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
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Speak With Kindness (Or Do Not Speak At All)
speak with kindness,
or do not speak at all.
speak not of judgement,
you are not the judge.
speak not of salvation,
let your living be your scriptures.
speak not of scriptures,
let your actions be your holy book.
speak not as apostle or teacher,
speak as a human being.
speak not of god,
then god will speak through you!
speak not as a man,
for you are woman too.
speak not with hateful malice,
for love does not work that way.
speak not as a prophet or seer,
speak as compassion made flesh.
speak not of morality,
speak of connection.
speak not of authority,
the tree and the leaf have just as much.
speak not of holiness,
for all that lives be holy.
speak with kindness...
or do not speak at all!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Untie My Tongue
Untie my tongue.
Let me speak what it is I feel.
Reveal it from its depth...
Upon surfaces unknown.
To be shown with sincerety.
And a calm and ease of breath.
The peace resting within me,
I seek to be released.
No longer do I accept escapes...
To hide or deny my wish to be freed!
Let me speak what it is I feel.
Untie my tongue...
To share what I have been able to overcome.
With someone there...
Who will hear and know,
My voice!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Speak The Word
Unsettled hearts
Promise what they cant deliver
Bring me the wine
And the cold night air to clear my head
Gray matter memory house
Master of this trembling flesh
Steady still my doubts
Let me speak the word that precedes bliss
Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word
Love love love love love love love love
Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word
Love love love love love love love love
Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word
These weakened knees
Have not touched ground or pew in ages
I havent bowed my head
I offer thanks to any God or to ask for favors
But watch me now
Im falling down
Praying
To speak the word that precedes bliss
To speak the word
To speak the word
Love love love love love love love love
Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word
Love love love love love love love love
Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Room With No Number
Picture a hotel room
Clothes scattered across the floor
Covers pulled back from the pillow
A sign hung on the door
Two lovers locked up tight
Through the endless days and nights
Hiding something they cant show
Something no-one must know
Chorus
Theres a room without a number
While the sign outside says theres
No vacancy as you take your key
They smile at you so understandingly
She cried out in the night
Woke the porter from his sleep
He grinned slyly to himself
As he went to fetch his keys
Look what love has brought them to
This terrible nightmare
His or hers he could not tell
As they were sleeping there
Chorus
And I wish he could be
The man he was before he was me
A girl arrived at first light
And enquired if theyd been seen
And why the numbers ran from twelve
Missing out thirteen
And they said oh my darling
Put it down to superstition
Try to avoid a scandal
And dont arouse suspicion
They re-arranged the furniture
They even papered over the door
Theres a room without a number
While the sign outside says theres
No vacancy as you take your key
They smile just so so you know
Chorus
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Now It's More Than Seven
So maybe I thought that I could be satisfied
I assure you, I tried
But my heart would not corporate
Even though I have yet to even recuperate
From old scar and old pain
My heart still throws itself every which way
I seek a peace I cannot attain
Because the evil of my heart is becoming my master this day
It tries to lead my life and my soul
It tries to lead me again as a whole
Because giving into darkness is natural
Because there's a piece of hell
In the innermost parts, locked away, locked- but not secure
Locked because there's no cure
Striving for light is what is learned
Striving for light should have turned
My darkness into that light
But instead I'm overtaken by more darkness- blackness of night
Darkness, that can be felt, darkness that can speak
I've found the opposite of what I seek
And now it's more than seven
And I feel farther from heaven
Now I've almost lost count
I no longer know that amount
My heart is like a mirror
First darkened and filled with horror
And then shattered into pieces
And each piece only a fraction of who I once was, if that was anything
Criss crossed and broken heart? no more
Shattered
poem by David Knox
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Vacancy
VACANCY is the words on the sign I see,
is this a sign from you to me?
Yes, and No, for you haven’t showed your face,
you might be out in outer-space.
NO VACANCY is the better sign,
Your off feeling better having a fun time.
That’s o.k. I will just move on,
I’ll find a hotel where I belong.
Maybe this Break Heart Hotel wasn’t meant to last that long.
Maybe you’ll visit and sing a different song.
Time will be on my side,
I will know when I do die.
For nothing surprises me anymore,
I learned to live in this Write Off room before.
(August 12, 2011)
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Yourself
T‘is to yourself I speak; you cannot know
Him whom I call in speaking such a one,
For you beneath the earth lie buried low,
Which he, alone, as living walks upon.
You may at times have heard him speak to you,
And often wished perchance that you were he;
And I must ever wish that it were true,
For then you could hold fellowship with me:
But now you hear us talk as strangers, met
Above the room wherein you lie abed;
A word perhaps loud spoken you may get,
Or hear our feet when heavily they tread;
But he who speaks, or he who’s spoken to,
Must both remain as strangers still to you.
poem by Jones Very
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A Cautious Listener
when i speak to you
i always keep my own eyes
sometimes when i speak to
some sort of people like you
i am afraid that after i have spoken
my eyes are no longer in their sockets
i get blinded
and then i find myself lost in the
labyrinth of our thoughts
and then i tell you that you are such
a cruel chatter
leaving me trembling with my fingers
trying to find my way back
home
and you tell me
where is home my friend? is there a home for you?
basic as what is home? depends on what home is
and then i begin to bite my nails
i shrink
a small child
asking where mom is where dad is
when house and home are gone
when the stairs are too high
when the lights are turned off and i am outside the door
when all the friends are saying their prayers with their moms
and when it begins to rain
and i have nothing to run to
and so now i am careful when you start talking to me
i touch my eyes feel my eyelashes
for a touch of home
my tongue gets twisted before
but now as careful as a cat, my tongue is a rope tied on a tree
the other end open ended
like a fork of the snake
spelling each word correctly
when you speak i listen
and i will not let you know that i do not easily believe you
i have a book in my head
and it is enough
it is good.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Shall Speak
I shall speak of rivers
and I shall speak of streams,
And I shall speak of how they flow
and seep into my dreams.
All the waters pure and clean
purify my thought.
I think how marvelous that I've seen
that which can't be bought.
I shall speak of hillsides
and mountains as they rise.
And I shall speak of how they look
and brighten up my eyes.
All the rises grand or small
expand just how I feel.
I think how wonderful that I've known
what no one can conceal.
I shall speak of beauty
and I shall speak of love.
And I shall speak of how they mix
and take me far above
the ordinary happenings
and events that fill my day.
I think how fortunate I have been
when my breath was taken away.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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311
today the cat and the dog of this house
have a holiday of their eternal quarrel
and jealousy
none speaks a bad word for each other
none of them
initiates an argument about whom
of them the master
loves better
none of them
speaks ill about the other neighboring cats
or dogs
the dog does not speak about the bone
the cat does not speak about the rats
both of them are silent and sad
and none wants to speak
beside their master
he is sick and dying.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Cat And The Dog In The House Of Their Master
today the cat and the dog of this house
have a holiday of their eternal quarrel
and jealousy
none speaks a bad word for each other
none of them
initiates an argument about whom
of them the master
loves better
none of them
speaks ill about the other neighboring cats
or dogs
the dog does not speak about the bone
the cat does not speak about the rats
both of them are silent and sad
and none wants to speak
beside their master
sick and dying.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Open Speech
Good friend of mine, you feel with me—
Your blood grows hot by sympathy
With something that I say or do;
Then speak—I want a word from you.
Let not the silence wrap you round
While you are living over-ground.
They say that earthly years are few;
Then speak—I want a word from you.
Perhaps I pass you in the street,
And when our eyes a moment meet,
I wonder are you wishing too;
Then speak—I want a word from you.
Are you, too, longing for a sign,
Yet fear to stretch a hand for mine?
What other am I writing to?
Then speak—I want a word from you.
Some way our thoughts together run,
Since both lift brow toward the sun
Beneath the self-same vault of blue;
Then speak—I want a word from you.
poem by John Le Gay Brereton
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The Same Story, The same History
...and so the same story is told
the same history is made....
why always speak of descrimination
why always speak of war
why always speak of class
why always speak of injustice
why always speak of poverty
why always speak of rebellion....
why not speak of equality
why not speak of peace
why not speak of respect
why not speak of wisdom
why not speak of production
why not speak of working together...
...and so the same story is told
the same history is made.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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My Usefulness To You
you see
i burn to the fire
of your
tongue
i realize
that paper self
that
i am
it is not that
thick
and reliable
i am light
and
not safe even
during those
rainy days
i am not afraid
to burn
i guess it is my nature
and so
try it
speak, speak some more
give me that fire
those balls of fire
that must perfect my nature
my smoke is
a beautiful fog on top
of those mountains
some sleep on the
trees
without so much
hassle
when i turn to
ash
perhaps that will just
be enough
for you
to finally shut up.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Speak easy
Ever had so much to say but cannot find the words, when you do you just do not have the nerve.
Waste time, time wasted over what might be said, conversations played out only in your head.
Silence is golden so they say, time keeps ticking its running away.
Never runs back just out of control, do soul searching to find the know.
The words you find seam just too few, say nothing at all keep it in you.
If spoken aloud could set you free, there inside, somewhere in me.
Maybe a magician could bring it to light, maybe a strong man to fight this fight.
Speak easy when spoken, say it so clear, I fear, these words, never hear.
The less you speak the more that is herd, screaming out loud not saying a word.
Speak easy to you, few words need say, speak easy to me, time slipping away.
poem by Gary Kedron
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Preciseness
All this talk about ego.
When no one escapes self expression.
Isn't that what composing is?
For a poet.
And the writing of it is what gets done.
For a poet.
Who unlike critics...
Sit and wait for something tart to remark.
That could be said of most!
Certainly not for everyone.
Is this place offered to those who create.
For those who are innovative in thought.
And not scholared in debated...
Seeking to correct self expressions.
And...
Hoping to find a clue what to do with their own.
If that should happen before the ego does arrive.
All this talk about ego.
When no one escapes self expression.
Isn't that what composing is?
For a poet.
I can pretend I know it all and I know I don't.
So you get no entertaining charades from me.
However,
Expect everything you can imagine,
From those who have none!
Their preciseness is overdone.
With an overbite.
And under-rated is their aggravation.
With an unspoken wish they were out of sight.
And they would get it delivered quickly.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Words Spoken
Words spoken to self in isolation
Mystery not in question but in relation
Simple confusion in mind
Forcing others to find out its kind
Yet nice appreciation,
Applause from all over and no more questions
Mind reveals and heart opens
Ripples created and caught by fans
Why do we try to speak our mind?
Is something necessary of that kind?
Why at all you want sympathy?
That people should have soft corner and feel pity
No one has seen you breaking off?
If so, they would have definitely laughed
As you were boosting of your love at all places
All were jealous of you with frown on faces
You were afraid that you will be made victim
A simple donkey with no sense to reach home
Uncertain mind as was made of you with satire
Now you feared it will be certainly put on fire
So it is better to speak through poetry
It will be race but gaining from back door entry
No one to know who the man behind is?
What will be pain behind or tease
It is nice to appease and find solution
In one way it reduces some what tension
You have little insight with no more confusion
The answer is found within the question
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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