A small grey box
It was a small, grey box,
seldom noticed,
with a little silver key.
There was glitter
on the outside,
very festive,
not too much.
It didn't tell you,
you'd never guess,
well unless
you studied hard,
it was a very private box.
All he'd noticed
was the glitter.
Such a feminine box,
a decorative piece,
maybe a jewel box,
maybe not?
He'd picked it up
once or twice,
tried turning its key
but the key was stuck.
It was locked
tight shut.
Then one summer night,
while searching for
treasure
he stumbled upon it
and being lucky
turned the key
Magically, it opened
and out sprang
a heart,
pulsating with joy
to be found at last.
It clung to him
that turned the key,
never, no never
to set him free.
Such a needy heart
who'd been locked away
in a small grey box
from the light of day
poem by Ruth Walters
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Silver
There are clouds that hang
silver-grey in the air,
before the winter sun
gives its first rays
of a drawling day.
Silver-grey the Monday starts
and while the day’s hours
pass much to slowly,
I am summoned to the old chief
with his silver-grey hair.
One of the women clerks
who wants to be boss,
wants to push a silver knife
into a colleges back.
I leave them alone to count their silver pounds
and wash my hands in the bathroom,
with a silver ray of water that squirts out of the tap.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The One
'Come over here' he said
'Let's you and me
talk private.
I've noticed you
noticing me
and I wonder if
that is illusion
and am I making it up
or if it is true
and you did
notice me.
If not fine
I'm gone.
If so
let's talk.
What is the truth?
She:
'Yes I noticed you-
I saw you;
I mean
but that is all-
I noticed'
He: 'Well what did you think of me
when you noticed me?
Did you like me? '
She: ,
'Like you?
I don't know you'
.
'Well what did you think.
Well I thought you, , , ,
Actually I didn't
I wasn't thinking
I was just noticing?
'
Ok, nothing
no spark?
'No, no spark.'
In my twenties i would look into every
face and ask
are you my Future One?
And each face I peered into
would be examined and evaluated
and ultimately graded
and done within 3 seconds.
But if one
noticed me
noticing
I would end up
in conversations
like the above one.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Body And Soul
(Nicholas Holmes, additional lyrics by Carly Simon)
The blue of blue
Is mostly grey
Ain't no silver line
No brighter day
Last of the coming up
Didn't come my way
Looks like I'm down here to stay
Down to stay
So kick me, I won't feel a thing
My senses have all been run
And there's nothing left of the used to be
but the weeping that's just begun
That sour taste too late
But now I duck my head
And no cradle rocks this empty bed
If crying's not good for me
Then I guess I'm doing wrong
So I sing this crying song
Cry along
You packed it in too soon
You lose me but not your nerve
Well I guess I know it's what I deserve
Crazy to think that I could keep you on reserve
And so the curtain falls
Curtain falls
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Didn't Mean To Turn You
Let you take me out
I knew what you were all about
But when I did
I wasn't tryin' to lead you on
Now you bring me home
And tell me goodnight's
Not enough for you
I'm sorry baby
I didn't mean to turn you on
You read me wrong
I wasn't trying to lead you on
I want a friend
I didn't mean to turn you on
I didn't mean to turn you on
I know you
Expected a one night stand
When I refused
I knew you wouldn't understand
Boy I told you twice
I was only tryin' to be nice
Only tryin' to be nice
Oh
I didn't mean to turn you on
Oh I didn't mean to turn you on
Turn you on
Tell me why should I
Feel guilty cause I won't give
Guilty cause I won't give in
I didn't mean to turn you on
[repeat chorus]
You think that I'm a fool
Cause I wouldn't play by your rules
(I didn't mean to turn you on)
You don't stand a chance
All I want to do is dance with you
(I didn't mean to turn you on)
I told you twice
I was only tryin' to be nice
(I didn't mean to turn you on)
I loved you for a friend
But I guess this is the
End of our relationship
Cause I didn't mean to turn you on
I didn't mean to turn you on
Sorry.
[Repeat]
song performed by by Mariah Carey from Glitter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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After School Walk
After lessons at junior school
coming down the bricks stairs
Helen said
can I walk home with you?
Sure
you replied
and she set off with you
along St George's Road
the traffic and smoke fumes
setting the scene
she in her school frock
and cardigan
and white ankle socks
beside you in your grey jacket
and grey short trousers
and she said
I don't usually walk home alone
but mum said I can walk home
with you save her coming along
to the school with the other kids
and pram with baby
you took in
her two plaits of hair
and thin framed glasses
with large lens
which made her eyes
larger than they were
her small hands
by her side
a small school bag
over her shoulder
and did you know
Janice likes you?
Her grandmother
told my mother
the other day
after school
but I like you better
do you like me?
she asked
you noticed
she had small white teeth
with a thin brace
along the top
sure I do
you replied
I like Janice too
but you I like more
and she smiled
and put her right hand
in yours and squeezed it
and you smiled
but hoped none
of the other boys around
noticed the hand holding
after all a tough boy
has a reputation to maintain
and as you squeezed
her hand back
clouds darkened
and it started
to piss with rain.
poem by Terry Collett
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The Fairy Clock
Silver clock! O silver clock! tell to me the time o' day!
Is there yet a little hour left for us to work and play?
Tell me when the sun will set--tiny globe of silver-grey.
It has been so glad a world since the coming of the morn,
Oft I wondered when I met any souls who seemed forlorn--
And I scarce gave heed to those who were old or travel worn.
Mayhap I have loved too well the merry fleeting things;
Run too lightly with the wind--chased too many shining wings;
Thought too seldom of the night, and the silence that it brings.
Well I fear me I have been but an idler in the sun--
All unfinished are the tasks long and long ago begun--
In the dark perchance they weep, who have left their work undone.
And I know each black-frocked friar preacheth sermons that, alas!
Fain would halt the dancing feet of those careless ones who pass
Down a sweet and primrose path, through the ribbons of the grass.
Silver-clock! O Silver-clock! It was only yesterday
Dandelions flecked the field, starry bright, and gold and gay;
You are but the ghost of one--little globe of silver-grey!
Tell me--tell me of the hour--for there is so much to do!
Is it early? Is it late? Fairy clock! 0 tell me true,
As I blow you down the wind, out upon a road of blue.
poem by Virna Sheard
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Nobody Noticed It
I heard broken footsteps
Was that you limping
Well I wish I that could have spent just a little bit more time with you...yeah
Tears on my ceiling
Werent you watching
Well I guess that none of us will ever know what comes after this
Youre still lovely
You were lovely then
All that you had to endure
I guess nobody noticed it
I know your resemblence
Um its out there walkin
And I wanted you to know that I havent forgotten
When they try to make you look broken
Not while Im livin
But I wanted you to know that I heard what he said when it was rainin
Youre still lovely
You were lovely then
All that you had to endure
I guess nobody noticed it
You made me
I love you
And do you know nothing has changed
Now everyone they notice it
Everyone notices
Youre still lovely
You were lovely then
All that you had to endure
I guess nobody noticed it
You made me
I love you
And do you know that nothing has changed
Now everyone they notice it
Everyone notices
song performed by by Lisa Marie Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Happiest Day
It was early May, I think
a moment of lilac or dogwood
when so many promises are made
it hardly matters if a few are broken.
My mother and father still hovered
in the background, part of the scenery
like the houses I had grown up in,
and if they would be torn down later
that was something I knew
but didn't believe. Our children were asleep
or playing, the youngest as new
as the new smell of the lilacs,
and how could I have guessed
their roots were shallow
and would be easily transplanted.
I didn't even guess that I was happy.
The small irritations that are like salt
on melon were what I dwelt on,
though in truth they simply
made the fruit taste sweeter.
So we sat on the porch
in the cool morning, sipping
hot coffee. Behind the news of the day--
strikes and small wars, a fire somewhere--
I could see the top of your dark head
and thought not of public conflagrations
but of how it would feel on my bare shoulder.
If someone could stop the camera then...
if someone could only stop the camera
and ask me: are you happy?
perhaps I would have noticed
how the morning shone in the reflected
color of lilac. Yes, I might have said
and offered a steaming cup of coffee.
poem by Linda Pastan
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That Light - That Sound
'I've noticed that light before, ' she said,
'In the pale of the dawn
In a passing storm,
In the eyes of a child having fun;
In the stories I'm told
In the glitter of gold
In the habit of many a nun.'
'I've noticed that sound before, ' she said,
'In the tinkle of glass
In the whisper of grass
In the ring of an ambulance bell;
In the patter of rain
In a whimper of pain
In the secrets that children tell.'
18 May 1971
poem by David Lewis Paget
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When a kid didn't have any love when he was small, he begins to wonder if he's good enough. You know if my mother didn't love me, and I didn't have a father, I mean, well, I guess I'm not very good.
quote by Steve McQueen
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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You'd Be Making a Lot More Money
Why don't you go somewhere else,
Where you can become more 'noticed'.
'Noticed?
Noticed for what? '
What it is that you do.
'I don't know what you mean by that,
However...
What makes you 'think' I am not noticed? '
You can't be.
Not here.
'Oh...
I see where you're going with this.
You mean 'noticed' in a way,
That celebrities and stars are noticed'
Yeah, yeah...
Exactly.
'So you can say you know me?
Is that it? '
NAW!
So 'you' can be happy!
'And...
I'm not happy? '
You can't be!
'Why? '
Because you live 'here'!
'OH...
So I can not be happy,
Doing exactly what I choose to do...
AND live here.
Is that it? '
People don't have respect,
For someone like you...
Here!
'And what makes you think,
I am not accustomed to being disrespected?
That has nothing to do with what it is I do.
Nor my choice to live here.
I love what I do.
I love where I live.
I love the people I come in contact with.
Why would I choose to go somewhere else?
I can expect to get disrespected.
AND...
Check it out!
That has helped me achieve my success!
And I couldn't afford to get that anywhere else,
But right here.
That may seem foolish to you!
But my mama didn't raise no fools! '
You'd be making a lot more money!
'To have you calling me every five minutes,
To borrow some?
No thanks! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Girl Who Came from the Moon
I noticed the glow through my window-pane,
A glow, set deep in the wood,
I thought that it might be a tree on fire
And it didn't enhance my mood,
I took the jeep, an extinguisher,
And stuck to the well worn trail,
My headlights picked out a wreck of a car
Ablaze, and a girl, quite pale.
Beyond the car was a meteorite
That glowed and pulsed in the dark,
The girl stood shivering, next to a tree
Reached out, and picked at the bark,
She wore a jacket of silver thread
That was scorched, and torn at the seams,
‘So this is the place that the Master said,
A planet, cocooned in dreams! '
I thought she was probably quite deranged
And helped her into the jeep,
Her form was slender and angular
And she promptly fell asleep,
I doused the fire in the burning wreck
But the meteorite still glowed,
Buried quite deep in the undergrowth
It was only the top that showed.
I sprayed it all with a burst of foam
But the foam dispersed in the air,
It floated away like candy floss,
The kind you see at the fair,
I turned and made for the Willy's Jeep
And raced back out on the track,
I don't know why, but a shiver ran
From my neck to the small of my back.
Back at the house she looked around
And a smile lit up her face,
‘So this is the place you hide at night,
From the monsters, deep in space! '
Her cheekbones were quite angular
And her forehead broad and square,
But the feature most that startled me
Was the sheen of her silver hair.
It fell straight down to her shoulders, swept
Around like a silver bowl,
And looked much more like a helmet, set
For it didn't move at all,
‘We'd better see where you're from, ' I said,
‘Your folks will be worried soon.'
She laughed, a tinkling bell-like sound,
‘I just dropped in from the Moon! '
I thought, ‘Oh yes, here's a likely one,
Perhaps she should be restrained? '
The shock of the car and the meteorite
Had rendered her quite deranged.
‘I came to warn you, the Argonauts
Are waiting, up in the sky,
When Pluto enters Aquarius
They will come, and your race will die! '
I settled her down to sleep the night,
In the morning she was gone,
But out in the woods there were flashing lights
And cars and trucks in a swarm,
There were Police and Special Agents there
And the Army in full force,
While standing silent, watching them there
Was a grey and silver horse.
It watched as a truck had pulled away
With a globe strapped under a tarp,
A bevy of Military Police were there,
By now, it was almost dark,
Then the horse looked back and it stared at me
And I noticed the silver mane,
That swept down over its shoulders
As it cantered off, in the rain.
27 September 2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Day for you (3)
may the grey arms of the morn'
turn into life for a day
may silver meet you just there
where your chest is hollow bare
feeling like a ladder on a stair
sturdy ladder legs standing stronger
on the grey arms of early morning
silver legs staring seeing
seven doves' innocent love
in grey arms of the dawning
Silver Is Just A Shiney Grey
That jewlery you gave me,
I thought was so beautiful.
Silver and gold and presious gemstones.
You said they were a symble of your love.
But silver is just a shiny grey,
And you took your love away.
Bit by painful bit,
You asked for a break.
I saw it coming,
But it still hurts the same.
They say that there's always a silver lining
To every cloud.
Silver lineing is still a grey cloud.
Someday, somehow, I'll find out
Gold is just a shiney yellow.
But yellow is happy and sunny.
Someday I'll find my yellow tounged hero.
poem by Melanie Weeks
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The Parson's Daughter
She always seemed
to be dressed in grey
the parson’s daughter
and had little to say
but there she’d be
on the school bus
each day
a few seats in front
looking out
of the window
and you’d gaze at her
and wonder what thoughts
occupied her mind
and what feelings
ran along her nerves
and that time she fainted
and people muttered things
and you caught words
like must be that
time of month
or she gets that way
when it comes around
and you’d think
of moon shapes
and the moon’s pull
and maybe her father’s
long drawn out sermons
were too much for her
and the time
she looked back at you
on the bus
and you noticed there
a multitude of different
worlds and feelings
swirling around
and maybe one of them
was for you
and the way
you too
sat quiet
and said little
not one
for the small talk
or nit-picking chat
and having a bit more
of young love
which others
might lack
and you smiled at her
but she didn’t smile back.
poem by Terry Collett
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The Grey World
Grey nights in the wind,
And the grey-faced dead.
Grey hairs in my head,
And grey eyes in my mind.
Grey mists in the morn,
And grey waves that rave,
Grey mould on my grave,
And grey eyes forlorn.
Grey clouds in the sky,
And the grey world asleep,
Grey ghosts that sigh,
And grey eyes that weep.
poem by Leon Gellert
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Silver Tear Drop, Crying
Moonlight shatters
The crystals disperse
Flakes of winter
Fright's curse
Grey clouds of nowhere
Silver world awakes
To the silver sun beams
To the silver birds of song
Silver world awakes not to pleasure
Not to rhyme
Silver world awakes to sorrow
To the silver tear drop, crying
And with every tear the color fades
And more silver becomes the day
Spindling more silver
The silver devils play
And in my castle I hear the cry
The sharp shrieks of broken delight
The blinding light
The shivering fright
And in my castle I hear the wind
That humbles the calls
That corrodes my walls
The silver hissing wind
Driving nails into my coffin
The silver hissing wind
A dead heart will never soften
Meaningless are my dreams
Evanescent dreams
Grey clouds
Silver world
Faded clockwork, clicks
The hour passes, the hand ticks
And I awake into my dreams
Decadent reality, bursting seams
The clock now stops and forever so
Till I return but I shall not go
poem by Oves Anwar
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My most enjoyable moment is when we get the word that everything is greenlighted and we’re on the way to shoot.
quote by Wes Studi
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Conceited Mistake
Once upon a time there was a mistake
So silly so small
That no one would even have noticed it
It couldn't bear
To see itself to hear of itself
It invented all manner of things
Just to prove
that it didn't really exist
It invented space
To put its proofs in
And time to keep its proofs
And the world to see its proofs
All it invented
Was not so silly
Nor so small
But was of course mistaken
Could it have been otherwise
Trans. Anne Pennington
Anonymous submission.
poem by Vasko Popa
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Fog
Old movie morning...
The sun barely breathes, silver & grey colours.
Black & white grass heads, crying dew tears.
The land wakes with mugs of stemming smoke.
Revealing absorbing true shapes
Of tree grey morning bones
Wet tongue on my ears.
Whisper shadow from the lamp light.
Blind eyes draw, unintelligible figures.
Not much to see, on the walls' house.
Trapped in mimic cage.
The fog tricks silver and grey hats.
Of smoking breaths.
poem by Luca Menin
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