Messy Room
Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
His underwear is hanging on the lamp.
His raincoat is there in the overstuffed chair,
And the chair is becoming quite mucky and damp.
His workbook is wedged in the window,
His sweater's been thrown on the floor.
His scarf and one ski are beneath the TV,
And his pants have been carelessly hung on the door.
His books are all jammed in the closet,
His vest has been left in the hall.
A lizard named Ed is asleep in his bed,
And his smelly old sock has been stuck to the wall.
Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
Donald or Robert or Willie or-
Huh? You say it's mine? Oh, dear,
I knew it looked familiar!
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
My Favorite blanket
When I was very little
I had a favorite blanket
I named her (For to me that
fluffy piece of fabric with
threads hanging off it,
was a girl) Yes I named her
Boobie
Now boobie was 'brown'
with small flecks of 'fawn'
she Hung by my side from dusk
until dawn.
One day as I sat in my 'beige' child's seat
with a 'chocolate' ice cream I was trying to eat
it melted and covered me from head to my feet
my boobie and I were stuck to the seat
Chocolate everywhere
Everything turned 'brown' including the 'beige'
little chair I now found.
Mummy would be so angry I knew
so I decided on what I must do
I gathered the mess
took it into the bath
filled up the tub
and then for a laugh
chucked in the chair with me and my clothes
funny thing happened the water just rose
over it flowed onto the floor
a sticky 'chocolate brown' water ran out the door
I remember Mummy did not think it fun
when she saw the mess and what I had done
She sent me to think about things in my room
with my soggy 'brown' blanket
to help ease my gloom
poem by Janice M Pickett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Memory Of Love
I came upon a house so bare.
I knew there could be no one there.
I wished to enter so I knocked.
No one answered. The door was locked.
I saw a window through which I peered
and saw it looked just as I feared,
lonely, deserted, cold and musty
cobwebs hanging, everything dusty.
The need to go inside
was an urgency I could not hide.
Should I break the door or shatter the pane?
Encouragement came when I felt the rain.
I entered slowly and looked around
amazed and astounded at what I found.
Every room was empty but for one,
a bedroom with chair facing towards sun.
Beside the chair was a frame
holding the picture of a girl with no name.
Curiosity got the best of me
so I turned it over and I did see
her name scribbled hastily.
'Janette, my love I give to you
this picture I love to sit and view.'
and then I placed it back.
The house was no longer cold to me
for it housed a loving memory.
I left it right beside the chair
as if the lover still was there.
Upon leaving the bedroom I closed the door
so it would stay as it was before.
My intrusion on this private place
as I exited left a smile on my face.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Walls
Im not ashamed
To say that Ive loved you well
Im not ashamed
To let you know
Im just a name thats all
Scratched upon your wall
Youve used it well but what the hell
Thats what walls are for
Im not ashamed
To listen to the fast-fallin rain
In the morning upon my window
Im not afraid to cry
Im not ashamed to try
To be your friend once again
cause thats whats friends are for
Friends are for sorting out the hang-ups that we hide
Walls are for shutting out the love we feel inside
Im not ashamed no to talk it over once again
To rearrange my vocabulary
But I cant seem to find
Any words to change your mind
Because I left them all behind
And thats what words are for
Words are for explaining the mistakes we might have made
Names are for calling when theres nothing left to say
Im not ashamed, no, to say that Ive loved you well
Im not ashamed, and yet I know
Im just a name, thats all
Scratched upon your wall
Youve used it well, but what the hell
Thats what walls are for
Im not ashamed of wearing out my old grey socks
Chasing you around the back woods
Im not ashamed to darn
Nor to proud to find some yarn
To sew them up once again
cause thats what socks are for
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No Lilies For Lisette
Said the Door: "She came in
With no shadow of sin;
Turned the key in the lock,
Slipped out of her frock,
The robe she liked best
When for supper she dressed.
Then a letter she tore . . .
What a wan look she wore!"
Said the Door.
Said the Chair: "She sat down
With a pitiful frown,
And then (oh, it's queer)
Just one lonely tear
Rolled down her pale cheek.
How I hoped she would speak
As she let down her hair,"
Said the Chair.
Said the Glass: "Then she gazed
Into me like one dazed;
As with delicate grace
She made up her face,
Her cheeks and her lips
With rose finger-tips,
So lovely - alas!
Then she turned on the gas."
Said the Glass.
Said the Bed: "Down she lay
In a weariful way,
Like an innocent child,
To her fate reconciled;
Hands clasped to her breast,
In prayer or in rest:
'Dear Mother,' she said,
Then pillowed her head,"
Said the Bed.
Said the Room: "Then the gleam
Of the moon like a dream,
Soft silvered my space,
And it fell on her face
That was never so sweet
As her heart ceased to beat . . .
Then the moon fled and gloom
Fell like funeral plume,"
Said the Room.
"Just a whore,"
Said the Door;
"Yet so fair,"
Said the Chair;
"Frail, alas!"
Said the Glass;
"Now she's dead,"
Said the Bed;
"Sorry doom,"
Said the Room. . . .
Then they all,
Floor and wall,
Quiet grew,
Ceiling too;
Like a tomb
Was the room;
With hushed breath
Hailing Death:
Soul's release,
Silence, Peace.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Robinson
The dog stops barking after Robinson has gone.
His act is over. The world is a gray world,
Not without violence, and he kicks under the grand piano,
The nightmare chase well under way.
The mirror from Mexico, stuck to the wall,
Reflects nothing at all. The glass is black.
Robinson alone provides the image Robinsonian.
Which is all of the room--walls, curtains,
Shelves, bed, the tinted photograph of Robinson's first wife,
Rugs, vases panatelas in a humidor.
They would fill the room if Robinson came in.
The pages in the books are blank,
The books that Robinson has read. That is his favorite chair,
Or where the chair would be if Robinson were here.
All day the phone rings. It could be Robinson
Calling. It never rings when he is here.
Outside, white buildings yellow in the sun.
Outside, the birds circle continuously
Where trees are actual and take no holiday.
poem by Weldon Kees
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Get Upon A Room
Baby, we both just sittin here
We need to get somewhere private
Just you and me, listen
Its the middle of the night
And were both just sittin here
Im checking out your body
The hot shorts and tanks you wear
Make me wanna do something freaky to you my baby
Gotta let me know something
Cuz I need to know right here
We need to get somewhere (yeah)
We can be alone (alone)
Somebodys at my crib (thats right)
And you got folks at home
So can we, get up on a
1 - can we get up on a room
(get up on a room)
Baby just me and you
(baby me and you)
Ill go there on you
(Ill go there on you)
If we get up on this room
(on a room)
Bubble bath, you and me chillin in a tub babe
Im gonna wash your body babe
And youre gonna wash my body babe
(gonna wash my body)
All I wanna do is drive you crazy
(yeah, baby, drive you crazy)
Can we
Repeat 1
Baby, ooh
Break it down, break it down
Break it down, break it down
Break it down
Break it down, break it down
Break it down, break it down
Break it down
Throw your underwear on the wall
Whose the greatest lover of them all?
Who makes your love come down like waterfalls?
I thought you knew, come on baby, lets do this
Repeat 1
You and me chillin on the 55th floor
Right before we bump we put the sign outside the door
The more we going up and down the more we wanting more
Its getting hot in this car so what the hell we waiting for
Can we, can we get up on
Can we get up on a room
Repeat 1
You dont have to go far to get a piece of me
You wait in the car while I go get the keys
Double lock the door for complete privacy
No room service baby cuz you will be the feast, can we
Well cuddle up with each other babe, yes we will
And Ill go there on this chair
Yoodle-eh-e-ooh
Repeat 1 until fade
song performed by by R. Kelly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Room
(chris waters/tom shapiro)
When I pull in the drive where your car used to be
It doesnt hurt me like it used to
I can walk through the door, and not wonder anymore
Where you are, like I used to
I can go down the hall, see the pictures on the wall
And not miss you
But I just cant bring myself to go into..
The room
Where I spent every night with you
And the light of the moon
Came through the window
And I held you
We were so close
And its just too soon
For me to go into the room
Id remember too much if I opened that door
And Im not sure if I could face it
The beds emptiness would remind me youre with
Someone else, and I couldnt take it
So, I sleep on the couch in our living room now
Since our love died
cause Im still not ready yet to go inside...
The room
Where I spent every night with you
And the light of the moon
Came through the window
And I held you
We were so close
And its just too soon
For me to go into the room
Where the light of the moon
Came through the window
And I held you
We were so close
And its just too soon
For me to go into the room
song performed by by Wade Hayes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Room
I think the things I own and love
Acquire a sense of me,
That gives them value far above
The worth that others see.
My chattels are of me a part:
This chair on which I sit
Would break its overstuffed old heart
If I made junk of it.
To humble needs with which I live,
My books, my desk, my bed,
A personality I give
They'll lose when I am dead.
Sometimes on entering my room
They look at me with fear,
As if they had a sense of doom
Inevitably near.
Yet haply, since they do not die,
In them will linger on
Some of the spirit that was I,
When I am gone.
And maybe some sweet soul will sigh,
And stroke with tender touch
The things I loved, and even cry
A little,--not too much.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Night To Remember
A Night to Remember.
It is cold here in this room that has wall paper
With faded roses on, which absorb the light.
From a 40 watt bulb stuck naked and hanging
On a thin rubber encased electric wire.
Too dark to read too early for a bed that doesn’t
Look inviting, I wonder who many losers
Have been trying to find sleep looking up to
Silence and asking the same question: “how
Could it come to this? ” I sit on a chair and look
Out of the window, dark shadows move some
With haste in the hope of getting away from,
Here, but they have yet to formulate, to where?
On a ship of dreams I sail, at dawn ice crystals
Glitters on the window pane and tell of hope.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'm Not Ashamed
I'm not ashamed to call you mine,
I'll scream it out til the end of time.
I'm not ashamed to say I love you,
Why some are I have no clue.
I'll never hide you from my life,
Or to others, even those who strife.
You will be known for who you are,
My loving girl, my shining star.
I'm not ashamed to hold your hand,
To stand beside you as your man.
I'm not ashamed to kiss your lips,
Or wrap my arms around your hips.
No matter who is here with us,
It's not just me, I have a plus.
No matter if they fuss or whine,
I'm not ashamed to call you mine.
poem by Adam McKim
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July 1 2009***Giving His Boots a Rest
He is resting
In a comfortable Library chair
With his boots and jacket on
His backpack is nearby
He's reading today's paper
And has three plastic covered
Magazines stacked on the floor
To read next
He's in from the cold and rain
He's in where it's warm and dry
He's been to the men's room to
Wash himself and his socks and shorts
Wrapped in a plastic bag
He'll dry them later
Now he's trying to get his boots to dry
They're damp and well worn
They are not worn out
Just like him
They are well worn
They've covered many miles
He's worked in them
He's slept in them
To keep warm and to see
That they are not stolen
Where do you put your shoes at night?
Under you bed? In your closet?
It's been a long time
Since he's had either
How do you
Keep your feet from freezing
In the long hard-frost winter nights?
How do you keep warm?
If you'd never had to worry
You wouldn't appreciate
The warm dry Library chair
That gives his boots a rest
poem by Tom J. Mariani
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You know the first time I sat in the chair I felt anything but up, it was very emotional for me. I had a chair in my hotel room, a chair at rehearsal, and I was trying to spend as much time as I could in the chair.
quote by Gregory Hines
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Worn Out
last night after the usual
three-hour lecture of the law
i arrive late in the house
without the lights on
it is a blackout of some
metaphors
but the heart has been
numbed
and the mind has been
shut out
from having any contact
with any object
of affection
the hands open the car
and the feet move on
to the room
where the bed waits
it is dark in here
and the window is closed
and the air is thin
and the walls are damp
with all the
mildews still clinging
on the white tiles of
the bathroom
as though in a trance
i have thrown all the books
on the dusty floor
and without having to remove
my shirt
and pants and socks
and shoes
i retreat to the nooks
of a very sound sleep
i must have been dreaming
hearing my own
snore
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dreamin'
If I close my eyes I see your face and I'm not without you
If I trying hard and concentrate I can still hear you speak
I picture myself in your room by the chair
you're smoking a cigarette
If I close my eyes I can see your face you're saying, "I missed you"
Dreamin' - I'm always dreamin'
If I close my eyes I can smell your perfume you look and say "Hi baby"
If I close my eyes pictures from China still hang from the wall
I hear the dog bark I turned and say, "what were you saying?"
I pictured you in the red chair inside the pale room
You sat in your chair with a tube in your arm - you were so skinny
You were still making jokes I don't know what drugs they had you on
You said, " I guess this is not the time for long term investments"
You were always laughing but you never laughing at me
They say in the end the pain was so bad that you were screaming
Now you were no saint but you deserved better than that
From the corner I watch them moving things from your apartment
But I can picture you red chair and pale room inside my head
If I close my eyes I see your face and I'm not without you
If I try hard and concentrate I can gear your voice saying,
"Who better than you"
If I close my eyes I can't believe that I'm here without you
Inside your pale room your empty red chair and my head
Dreamin' , I'm always dreamin'
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Time To Sit
A time to sit, the doctor said.
The room silent,
the walls a dull grey,
painted God knows when.
The chair uncomfortable,
hard on the arse.
You look around,
cock your ears,
sniff the air.
Tell me, the doc said,
do you hear voices?
The carpeted floor
beneath the feet.
The shoes touch it.
You push hard down on it.
Not springy.
A small window high up
lets in light. The air is stale.
Body smell, sweat.
As if many have sat here
just like you on this chair.
The mind is a complex thing,
the doc said, layer upon layer
of memories and sensations
are buried there.
As if you didn’t know.
He spoke with an Irish lilt.
Just like you. Softer though.
Photographs were on his desk in his room.
You gazed at them as he spoke.
The wife of his some posh bit,
clothes aplenty, eyes just staring.
And two kids staring at you
from another photo: well fed,
nothing much wrong with them.
No screw loose, all right in the head.
The sitting in the room does you no good.
The voices are back,
never been away.
Good day, good day, they say.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Her Hands Are Stronger Now
she greets you by the door. She knows you are coming.
Her heart pounds for you.
She shows the room. It looks for you for many years.
Now she brags the room is alive.
she opens the window and lets the air
and the trees know that you are here finally.
they all talk about you know.
they nod, you are no longer a dog.
Or a parakeet.
The chair opens its arms for you.
You take your seat.She asks you if you miss coffee.
Black coffee, without sugar.
You look around. There is nothing changed here.
20 years ago, all the structures are faithful
to their positions.
They miss you and like to embrace you.
She is restrained like a dam.
No tears this time.
Not even some tears of joy.
She knows why you are here.
The room, the tree and the window,
the floors are blind.
She knows that this will be the last time
of your compromise.
She is dead 20 years back
when you told her
about the truth.
How can she feel like the room, the floor,
the tree and the window
How can she be as foolish as air and cloud?
Her hands are strong now.
They write her name, her signature to sorrow.
Her heart notes the final statement.
Life is over.
Game is over.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gravity Is My Enemy
He walks into the room
Doesnt even know his name
Hes looking for the answer
His familys to blame
We all know where he came from
And who hes looking for
Uncovering the window
You watch out for the door
In and out the thing goes
Back and forth the looks flow
He walks into the kitchen
Doesnt even know the score
I try to look him in the eyes
He looks towards the floor
Hes only doing what he knows
In the way that he knows best
The doctor felt quite confident
He passed the entrance test
In and out the thing goes
Back and forth the looks flow
Hes standing by the canopy
Thirty paces from the door
Hes looking at your shoulder
That means he wants some more
Dont give him what he came for
Dont let him know you care
If he looks at you just look away
He cant tell from over there
In and out the thing goes
Back and forth the looks flow
He walks into the room
Doesnt even know his name
Hes looking for the answer
His familys to blame
We all know where he came from
And who hes looking for
Im covering the window
You watch out for the door
In and out the thing goes
Back and forth the looks flow
He walks into your bedroom
Checks the posters on the wall
Hes looking through the closet
Looking for something small
He looks inside your handbag
He rips apart your drawers
He asks you for a crowbar
Wants to check beneath the floors
In and out the thing goes
Back and forth the looks flow
song performed by by Men Without Hats
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No place for a courting-candle
A girl’s voice laughing softly
cuts through the night
and enters by the room’s window
and wide awake
I (six year old child) sneak out
to find the source of the excitement.
Gardiël studies with Martin
that boards with us
and both are matriculating
because he complains
that his eyes burn
from the old paraffin lamp
that gives light
at their farm house
where there’s no electricity.
A bright electric lamp
burns in the room
hanging ten centimetres
beneath the ceiling
and big moths
fly dark brown around it
caught in flight paths.
Another table lamp
throws a bright yellow glow
that brings heat in the chilly
highveld winter.
I see them through the window
drinking coffee and eating rusks,
before both of them
again turn pages in books
and crawl into the shelter of a bush
to stay hidden from them
and suddenly somebody moves
next to me
and I see her bend
to pickup small stones
that she throws lightly
against the room’s window.
The window opens wide
and I hear them talking softly
without hearing what they say
and the girl again laughs
before she walks to the front door
that opens noiselessly.
l’Envoi
It must have been only ten minutes
before uncle Hendrik (Gardiël’s dad)
comes running along,
open the garden gate with might
almost run the front door
out of its sockets
and with a walking stick in his hand
(that is stronger than a broom)
smashes out the light in the roof,
the table lamp
and the window
in Martin’s room
and I hear lashes
with thudding sounds
fall on both boys
and the girl
screaming hysterically
while she
also get lashed
and he shouts in anger
that this is no place
for a courting-candle.
[Reference: The word uncle used here out of respect and local custom and not to point out family relationship.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Grandpas Rocking Chair for M lady Chitra
On the front porch a rocking chair
nobody uses no one dare
Nor dare they move it anywhere.
Grandpa decreed it must stay there
What grandpa said was what he meant
he left no room for argument.
He simply stated his intent
Though other folk felt different
When Grandpa died the family tried
to set his iron rule aside
You’ll rue this day their Grandma cried
Your Grandpa will not be defied.
They moved the chair to show they could
though grandma did not think they should
She warned them all that nothing good
would come of this. She understood
although she knew Grandpa was dead.
She knew he’d rise in wrathful pride
to reinforce what he has said.
His last command before he died.
The chair was moved despite her pleas.
Her warnings were not listened to.
From that day on they knew no peace
Til grandma told them what to do
The rocking chair must be restored
to where Grandpa said it should be.
They all agreed of one accord
the chair replaced immediately.
Sometimes at night it seems to be
moving gently slowly rocking
Although there’s nothing they can see
they know that Grandpas visiting.
To see his word is still obeyed.
That no one moves his rocking chair.
Nobody will they’re too afraid.
They know sometimes he still sits there.
27-Oct-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poetic piers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dreamin - Escape
If I close my eyes I see your face
And Im not without you
If I try hard and concentrate
I can still hear you speak
I picture myself in your room by the chair
Youre smoking a cigarette
If I close my eyes I can see your face
Youre saying, I missed you
Dreamin, Im always dreamin
If I close my eyes I can smell your perfume
You look and say, hi baby
If I close my eyes pictures from china
Still hang from the wall
I hear the dog bark I turn and say
What were you saying?
I picture you in the red chair
Inside the pale room
Dreamin, Im always dreamin
You sat in your chair with a tube in your arm
You were so skinny
You were still making jokes
I dont know what drugs they had you on
You said, I guess this is not the time
For long term investments
You were always laughing
But you never laughing at me
They say in the end the pain was so bad
That you were screaming
Now you were no saint but you deserved
Better than that
From the corner I watched them removing things
From your apartment
But I can picture you red chair and pale room
Inside my head
If I close my eyes I see your face
And Im not without you
If I try hard and concentrate I can hear your voice saying
Who better than you
If I close my eyes I cant believe that
Im here without you
Inside your pale room your empty red chair
And my head
Dreamin, Im always dreamin
Dreamin, Im always dreamin
Dreamin, Im always dreamin
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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