Cat & I
There we sat
Just me and the cat,
Upon a bench overlooking the river Thames,
The cat turned to me
And said, I believe I see
Some approaching cranes.
To the cat with eyes
Always looking rather wise,
I smiled and replied thus,
Is the crane afloat
Aboard a wayward boat
Or arriving atop a bus?
The cat and I
Both did sigh,
For we had come to understand,
Never could we see things quite the same
Life as serious or life as game
For she is a cat and I a man.
So now on the bench she and I continue to sit
Without expressing thoughts one bit,
And thus it shall remain until one or the other does die,
When arrives that lonely day
So long pal will be the only words to say
A simple understanding between intimate friends... the cat and I.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Related quotes
Memories On A Park Bench
He sat on a park bench
just to pass the time away
when he saw her there
from the corner of his eye.
She was older now,
but her beauty had not faded.
She turned in his direction
and he smiled at her.
At first, she looked at him strangely
until there was recognition.
She smiled back
and then joined him.
They sat there on the park bench
the sun smiling down on them
as the daffodils swayed in the breeze.
For both of them came a flood
of memories of when they were young
before the world spirited them away.
Both had walked down many roads,
had some hard knocks along the way.
Both recalled them now
the way old friends meeting do.
As they sat there
recalling memories from happier days.
All too soon they would be parting
and as they would go,
they would take with them
a little of each other
in the form of memories
that they acquired on a park bench.
5 April 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Place To Sit
Smoochers and snoggers, and resting joggers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Ramblers and walkers, and street hawkers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Mini’s and Roller’s, and lady strollers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Old folk and young folk, and dogs with no folk
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Market traders and cavers, and money savers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Children that play who meet everyday
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Students and teachers, and lay preachers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Loose women and boys the ‘for sale’ toys
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Addicts and dealers, and police squealers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Dogs out for a pee who can’t find a tree
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Drunks in the night who like to fight
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Spray painters and doodlers, and bench abusers
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Vandals and hooligans, and booted ruffians
all seem to stop at this concrete bench.
Demolishers and breakers, and obliterators
never stopped until they destroyed this concrete bench.
poem by Orlando Belo
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The old man and his stone
an old man
seated alone
on his stone bench
invited me
almost invisible
gesticulating with his hand
sit down beside me
we did not say a word
together we just heard
nothing but our silence
he invited me
to take a look in his garden
he took me by my hand
guiding me
through the open gate
he gave me a grand tour
in his Japanese paradise
and wanted to know
if I would be able
to show him
that spot
he was searching for
all his life
so he could also see
all the larger stones
at once
I'll wait
and watch you
I stood
I sat down
I climbed a tree
while being up there
I could see
a smile on his face
expressing understanding grace
I walked around
accompanied
by the sound
of crackling shelves
I can count endlessly
maybe even further
In that serene garden
I could not find the spot
that place where I could see
all his stones
although I learned
during that search
there were fifteen different larger stones
that unknown space
where I see and count
the old man's 15th stone
there I was on my own
still searching
it was late
at last I returned
sat down beside the old man
on the other stone bench
he offered me his silence
and told me with his eyes
that a man or a woman
is wise
when admitting
accepting
a simple fact
you can see
you can count
all the stones
not at once
not on your own
©Ellie Daphne van Stralen 2012
poem by Ellie Daphne van Stralen
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I respect people who feel things passionately. I do. But when someone is a judge, that is not what they should bring to the bench. It is not really passion, except in rare instances, that serves the bench well. It is, rather, an ability to understand the law and follow it.
quote by Charles Schumer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I See A Boat On A River
He left on a boat
Just to follow a dream
He had to find.
You can't hold a man
When he follows a dream
That's on his mind.
I see a boat on the river,
It's sailing away
Down to the ocean,
Where to i can't say.
Boat on the river,
It's sailing away
Down to the ocean,
Where to i can't say.
I waited for him
Such a very long time,
Don't know what for
'cause i should have known
When he left on the boat
We'll meet no more.
I see a boat on the river,
It's sailing away
Down to the ocean,
Where to i can't say.
Boat on the river,
It's sailing away
Down to the ocean,
Where to i can't say.
Boat on the river,
It's sailing away
Down to the ocean,
Where to i can't say.
Boat on the river.
You're bound for the sea,
If you should find him
Please greet him from me.
There were people who came
And said it's really a shame,
Why did he take off
To follow just a dream.
But i guess they were wrong,
In life you're sailing along
And things don't turn out
As simple as they seem.
Boat on the river,
It's sailing away
Down to the ocean,
Where to i can't say.
I see a boat on the river,
It's sailing away
Down to the ocean,
Where to i can't say.
I see a boat on the river.
You're bound for the sea,
If you should find him
Please greet him from me.
Boat on the river,
It's sailing away
Down to
song performed by by Boney M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Approaching Lavender
If youd like to spend the afternoon approaching lavender
Youll feel just fine but one things sure
Youll never be the same
If youd like to try your hand at understanding lavender
Then you must be very sure
That life is not a game
You might even learn a thing or two approaching lavender
Youll soon be on a one night tour
Forgetting your own name
You wont need a reason just to be alone with lavender
For the light so warm and pure
Will draw you like a flame
The colors that surround you there will be the shade of lavender
Shadows dancing everywhere
Like flowers in the rain
You will find your tongues on fire while lying next to lavender
With words you never spoke before
And will not speak again
Oh sweet lavender I understand you perfectly
There is no way that I can see
You living by yourself
Oh sweet lavendar I must be with you constantly
Your presence means so much to me
Much more that life itself
Oh sweet lavender as fragrant as the name you bear
Please cast away the clothes you wear
And give your love to me
Oh sweet lavender your smile is like the golden sun
Id love to see you laugh and run
As naked as the sea
If youd like to spend the afternoon approaching lavender
Dont try and get the best of her
She will not share the blame
If youd like to try your hand at understanding lavender
Then you must be very sure
That life is not a game
There is no shame
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lonely
There was an old man
sat on a park bench,
his trousers were baggy,
his hair was unkempt.
It flowed long and white
right down to his shoes
and children would pass by
looking bemused.
A glint in his eye
and a glow on his cheek
he sat all day long
not a word did he speak,
but should you have asked him
why he was there
he'd had given you reasons, I'm sure
with a stare.
He sat on the park bench
eating some berries,
he didn't look sad
and he didn't look merry,
then just when the church clock
struck quarter to four
the old man got up
and he fell to the floor
Nobody noticed him tumble
nobody even passed by
and as sunshine hid behind a cloud
that lonely old man, he did die.
But sometimes as I pass that bench
I have a strange feeling inside
that someone is eating a berry or two
and watching the people go by
poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bench
Sitting on a bench watching people go by.
Smiles and frowns, Stares and glares
Wondering what they are thinking?
Is it me greeting them one by one
Or me sitting on a bench.
The seat of comfort and distractions
a place to think and read
Feed the birds, Friendly chats
Surprising hellos, A lot of old fellows
wanting the seat, for they are beat!
Everyone's favorite seat
The bench of life
poem by Michael Peterson
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I See A Boat On The River
He left on a boat
Just to follow a dream
He had to find.
You cant hold a man
When he follows a dream
Thats on his mind.
I see a boat on the river,
Its sailing away
Down to the ocean,
Where to I cant say.
Boat on the river,
Its sailing away
Down to the ocean,
Where to I cant say.
I waited for him
Such a very long time,
Dont know what for
cause I should have known
When he left on the boat
Well meet no more.
I see a boat on the river,
Its sailing away
Down to the ocean,
Where to I cant say.
Boat on the river,
Its sailing away
Down to the ocean,
Where to I cant say.
Boat on the river,
Its sailing away
Down to the ocean,
Where to I cant say.
Boat on the river.
Youre bound for the sea,
If you should find him
Please greet him from me.
There were people who came
And said its really a shame,
Why did he take off
To follow just a dream.
But I guess they were wrong,
In life youre sailing along
And things dont turn out
As simple as they seem.
Boat on the river,
Its sailing away
Down to the ocean,
Where to I cant say.
I see a boat on the river,
Its sailing away
Down to the ocean,
Where to I cant say.
I see a boat on the river.
Youre bound for the sea,
If you should find him
Please greet him from me.
Boat on the river,
Its sailing away
Down to
song performed by by Boney M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Enchanted Wood (Part 4)
All eyes turned towards the back
as the bride made her entrance.
Six small bluebirds held
up her long flowing train
as she moved down the centre isle
towards her husband to be.
Standing side by side,
they took their weddings vows
and when they were pronounced,
man and wife a great cheer rang out
that could be heard across the land.
They rode back through the throngs
of well-wishers who lined the route.
Everywhere everyone was smiling
for the happy couple.
It was a joyous occasion
celebrated by everyone
and all the creatures everywhere.
Arriving back at the castle
an old man with a long white beard
waited there to greet them.
He smiled as they moved towards him.
He first kissed the Princess
and whispered a few words in her ear
and she left them as the old man
took her husband to one side.
Putting his arm around his shoulders
lead him to a quiet area
where they both could talk.
“Do you want to go back? ” The old man asked.
“No sir, I do not.
The old man nodded.
“Then you shall stay here forever
with the happiness you have found.”
“But I am cursed, sir.”
The old man smiled and shook his head.
“You were never cursed.
You came here because you were lonely.
Only sad and lonely people
ever enter the enchanted wood.”
“But I don’t understand.”
Only love prevents the others entering
and you had none, but a lot to give.”
“You now have all your wishes
and all your dreams here.
For the first time in your life,
you have friends, someone to love,
and a world as big as you want it
to roam and explore.
Now go to your wife and enjoy your life
the way you always wanted it.”
The old man smiled and then vanished.
He went to his wife
and gathered her in his arms.
They walked to the top of the castle.
Standing together, they looked out
across the enchanted wood and the land beyond it.
Like the curse said
he never went back,
nor did he want to.
He now lives happily in the world
of his wishes and dreams
with his Princess and his friends.
One day in your dreams,
you might catch a glimpse
of him with his Princess
happy together forever.
The End
poem by David Harris
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Clown With A Frown**********6/19/69
6/19/69
While sitting in the park one day
A man happened to pass my way.
He was dressed up like a clown
With a large and pitiful frown.
As he stopped and turned towards me
I asked myself “ what can it be”
That he continues to stare at me.
He gave a little sigh and sat down by my side
And as he turned towards me
I knew it was something dreadfully.
He said that he lost everything in his life
His home, his children, and his wife.
He lost everything while in his prime
And he thought everything was going just fine.
He had met this woman where he worked
Where she considered all men jerks.
It seemed that she had taken to me.
But that was part of her plan
To get everything she can.
She started going with me to lunch
I never suspected or had a hunch
That it was all part of an elaborate plan
To prove that all men were dumb
That she could use any man just for fun.
So in I fell like a spider in a web
She got me where she wanted me
In a bed.
She had pictures taken while making love
She passed it around the office for
Every one to see, just how she had gotten me.
She sent copies to my boss and wife
While knowing it would be the end for me.
she didn’t care about losing her job too.
She was always in solitude.
So this was the story as it was told to me
And why he would always wear a frown
And by a woman never be put down.
As he got up and left me on the bench
He turned and smiled and said these words.
When you feel life is letting you down
And you’re in despair, - remember me
And what I went through
And soon you’ll climb out of that solitude.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Clown With A Frown********6/19/69
6/19/69
While sitting in the park one day
A man happened to pass my way.
He was dressed up like a clown
With a large and pitiful frown.
As he stopped and turned towards me
I asked myself “ what can it be”
That he continues to stare at me.
He gave a little sigh and sat down by my side
And as he turned towards me
I knew it was something dreadfully.
He said that he lost everything in his life
His home, his children, and his wife.
He lost everything while in his prime
And he thought everything was going just fine.
He had met this woman where he worked
Where she considered all men jerks.
It seemed that she had taken to me.
But that was part of her plan
To get everything she can.
She started going with me to lunch
I never suspected or had a hunch
That it was all part of an elaborate plan
To prove that all men were dumb
That she could use any man just for fun.
So in I fell like a spider in a web
She got me where she wanted me
In a bed.
She had pictures taken while making love
She passed it around the office for
Every one to see, just how she had gotten me.
She sent copies to my boss and wife
While knowing it would be the end for me.
she didn’t care about losing her job too.
She was always in solitude.
So this was the story as it was told to me
And why he would always wear a frown
And by a woman never be put down.
As he got up and left me on the bench
He turned and smiled and said these words.
When you feel life is letting you down
And you’re in despair, - remember me
And what I went through
And soon you’ll climb out of that solitude.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thames! Beautiful Thames!
Thames! Beautiful Thames!
Thames River arises at Gloucestershire,
flows thro' London, the capital of U.K;
Thames River is tidal in London
With a rise and fall of 7 meters,
The river is fed by more than 20 tributaries;
The Thames River which flows alongside
several other towns and cities -
Oxford, Reading, Henley-on-Thames,
Windsor, Kingston upon Thames and Richmond -
is beautiful;
Thames River has a total length of 215 mile,
River banks on either side are beautiful,
Pavement strolling stretch on either side
is beautiful;
Boats sailing in Thames river are beautiful,
Young women who sail in the boats are beautiful,
White swan pairs' which swim in the river are beautiful;
Watching swans from the bridge,
- which spans Reading and Caversham -
somersaulting to catch the fish
is still more exciting and beautiful!
Thames! Beautiful Thames!
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Old Man
The old man sat on a park bench
just watching the people pass by.
He did it day after day
alone in everyone's eyes.
He would smile occasionally
but no one ever knew why.
Everyone who saw him
wondered why he sat so still
and just looked out
at everyone who passed him there.
The old man sat in repose
from dawn until dusk fell.
He sat there in the summer sun
and as winter's bleakness fell.
He looked for some face
he might remember from his past
so they could reminisce for a while.
Sadly, the years slipped away.
Everyone spoke about him,
but no one ventured to talk.
Then one day the old man
wasn't on the park bench
and he was nowhere to be seen.
Now a different question was asked.
Day after day, the bench was empty.
Where had the old man gone?
Had he simply passed away?
The questions remained unanswered
because no one ever stopped
to enquire of his name.
I would like to think
that in the dying hours
on the park bench one day
that he had found
what he was waiting for
and then happily he faded away.
12 July 2012
poem by David Harris
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Happening 1961
Greenfield said
where you from?
London you replied
I don’t like Londoners
he said as a bee
buzzed in the greenhouse
where the rural science teacher
Gable had sent you.
Greenfield pushed you
against the potting bench
and you pushed him
against begonia plants
which fell to the floor
and he punched
your arm
and you punched
his jaw
and he grabbed you
around the waist
and you both
fell to the floor.
You smelt his sweat
and saw blood
drip from his lips.
Get up you gits
another boy said
Old Gable’s coming
and so you pulled
Greenfield up
by the hand
and he brushed off
your school jacket
and you pushed
your fingers
through your hair
and he wiped blood
from his lips
and in came Gable
and said
what’s happening here?
And why are the begonias
on the floor?
My fault you said
I knocked them
with my elbow
and Greenfield
was going to
pick them up
when he banged his jaw
on the bench by accident.
Gable glared
at you both
and said
well bloody well
pick them up
and clean up the mess
and left.
Greenfield held
his handkerchief
to his lip.
You picked up
the begonias
one by one
and put them
on the bench.
Greenfield put them
tidy and neat
and kicked
the spilt earth
under the bench
with his feet.
Gable’s a toss
Greenfield said
and put out
his hand for
you to shake.
You shook his hand
and smiled
and he laughed
and said
I guess Londoners
aren’t all bad
and the bee buzzed
out the open window
and you watched it go
and was glad.
poem by Terry Collett
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Old Friends
==============================
Simon & Garfunkel - Old Friends
==============================
(2:35)
P. Simon, 1968
Old friends
Old friends
Sat on their park bench
Like bookends
A newspaper blown through the grass
Falls on the round toes
Of the high shoes
Of the old friends
Old friends
Winter companions
The old men
Lost in their overcoats
Waiting for the sunset
The sounds of the city
Sifting through the trees
Settle like dust
On the shoulders
Of the old friends
Can you imagine us years from today
Sharing a park bench quietly?
How terribly strange to be seventy
Old friends
Memory brushes the same years
Silently sharing the same fear...
song performed by by Simon & Garfunkel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hollow
I sit alone at the edge
of a bench, watching the children
as they laugh
and play.
And they run past me
as I smile back and laugh
with their small voices
and wet hair in their eyes.
And they call me their friend,
as they see me often.
I often sit alone on that bench.
In the dust at the corner
of the sunlit park.
With a sagging tree
just over my head,
dappling my clothes
and shading my eyes
from the sun.
Until I stayed the night.
The sun was shooed
out of the sky
and the moon took
her shift.
The shadows grew longer
and the children left,
calling in the faeries.
They wanted me to dance.
I smiled and stood
in the center
of the pure Beauty.
poem by Zoe Guillory
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This Masquerade
This masquerade
Are we really happy with
This lonely game we play
Looking for the right words to say
Searching but not finding
Understanding anyway
Were lost in this masquerade
Both afraid to say were just too far away
From being close together from the start
We tried to talk it over
But the words got in the way
Were lost inside this lonely game we play
(*) throughts of leaving disappear
Each time I see your eyes
And no matter how hard I try
To understand the reason
Why we carry on this way
And were lost in this masquerade
We tried to talk it over
But the words got in the way
Were lost inside this lonely game we play
Repeat (*)
Were lost in a masquerade
song performed by by Carpenters
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our Minds Are Quite Different
Oh no!
I am not here,
To try to understand you.
Not when you have issues,
Dealing with reality.
That is not why I am here!
Nor my responsibility...
To ensure your life is made clear.
If it isn't for you now,
All the understanding I could share...
Will go absolutely nowhere with you.
'That' I already comprehend.
No longer will I defend,
A clarity you will never see.
You wish to perceive a fantisized existence...
That has a resistance to growing pains.
As long as things remain the same...
You are fine!
Our minds are quite different.
I am not trying to hold on,
To what I know should be let go!
And if that includes you,
To continue to pursue my life to live...
That will be done!
I am not the one for charity give aways,
That do not appreciate or value the delivery...
Purpose or reason!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Boredom is in the mind, throw it in the gutter
The day seemed boring
Dull and dreary
I tried reading
Kept the book on the side
After a while
I tried gardening
That wasn’t enjoying
I kept cursing
That didn’t help
Passing time
Became challenging
Irritability increasing
Decided to visit the river nearby
Sat on a bench
To view the flowing water
Sitting on the bench next to mine
Sat an elderly couple
Throwing pebbles in the water
Laughing and giggling
Comparing who threw farthest
After some time
They got up from there
I could see they could hardly walk
Very slowly they inched forward
I ran to help them
Sit in the car parked nearby
They thanked me for my help
Asked, why I was there?
At the time
When I was supposed to work
I replied,
I was getting bored
To pass the time
I came to the riverside
Before departing the old man said
Young man goes and enjoy
Every minute of your life
Never feel bored
Always be on the move
Like the flowing water
Boredom is in the mind
Throw it in the gutter
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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