En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Washing Windows

Your mother used to sit on the window
Ledge of the tenement building and
Wash the windows of each of the rooms.
She’d push back the shutters and just
Sit there with a bucket of warm water
And a cloth and wash away. You were
Always afraid she’d lean too far back
And fall out and down to the ground
Several storeys below with a heavy crash
And break bones or neck or maybe die.
But she’d just sit there her legs holding
Onto the wall beneath her and push her
Right hand holding the damp cloth
Over the glass while her left hand held
The metal bucket tight swishing the warm
Water as she moved back and forth like
Some lone trapeze artist on the high wire
Without apparent fear or knowledge of
Was going on in the street below with the
Passing of the walking dead as Father used
To say and Mrs Febrile sitting on her window
Ledge with her daughter watching gossiping
And nosing about who did what to whom
While all the while you were frightened of
Your mother slipping out the window waving
Her hands and arms as she fell to her doom.

poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Girl Who Held Your Hand

You got on the coach
for the day trip
organized by the chapel people
for kids who were poor

and this girl
sat next to you
and said
you can be my boyfriend

for the day
and she took hold
of your hand
and gave it a squeeze

and you looked out
of the window
at your mother
standing there

looking up at the coach
and you thought
is this part of the deal?
Is this girl for real?

And Mother waved
and smiled
and you smiled
uneasily back

with the girl’s hand
holding yours
out of sight
and she looked

over your shoulder
and waved
but no one
waved back to her

because her mother
wasn’t there
maybe she was off somewhere
or had to go to work

or maybe
she was still in bed
with another uncle
beneath the sheets

and maybe
he was holding her hand
and she was holding
something you never knew

or cared about
just sitting there
waving to Mother
beneath a sky of blue.

poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Waterborne love with Neptune’s Daughter

I’m goin’ wash you
right outa my hair
I’m goin ‘to wash you right outa’
this torrid affair,
I’m goin’ wash my hands
of you untrue
Once made my mouth water,
the likes of you,
You held my love like water
on a ducks back
You conniving water nymph
dressed in black,
Plying your waterborne love,
in you I did trust
Lying on your waterbed
goading my lust,
My God I knew this would
not hold water
Are you really the delinquent
Neptune’s daughter,
Swimming off with that
water canon hulk
Hope your water course leads
to the Isle of Sulk.
Now I feel like a water holding
frog waiting for rain
To swim in rivers of
love again and again,
With my tear filled water pistol
I’ll aim at you,
To water you down,
finally meeting your Waterloo.

poem by Ken e Hall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bucket T

Bucket bucket t t, bucket t bucket t,
Bucket bucket t t, bucket t bucket t,
Bucket bucket t t, bucket t bucket t,
Found her in a barn in tennessee
I paid five bucks for my bucket t
Took me three years of sweat and blood
To clean off all that tennessee mud
Chorus:
My bucket t (bucket t)
Bucket t (bucket t)
My bucket t (bucket t)
My bucket t (bucket t)
T t t... bucket bucket bucket...
Cruise down the street in front of school
I wanna rev it up but I gotta be cool
Drivin down the road Ill get my kicks
Apoppin the clutch and aslippin the sticks
[chorus]
I was right, too, shes first in her class
Theres nothing on the freeway she dont pass
All the girls want to take a ride with me
But theres only one seat in my bucket t
[chorus]

song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Touch Of Your Hand

On the day that you were born
I touched your hand so chubby and warm.

I touched your hand when you were one
and helped you walk my beautiful son.

I held your hand when you were two.
We ran, your favorite thing to do.

I held your hand when you were three
as you climbed on my lap and smiled at me.

I touched your hand when you were four
as the ocean touched our toes at the shore.

I touched your hand when you were five
walking you to school but when we'd arrive

I felt the tug of your hand from mine
and I knew that we had crossed a line.

I looked at you and released your hand
and said'it's okay I understand.'

As I walked back home I cried some tears
thinking of all our hand holding years.

Holding your hand became sporadic now,
when you were feverish or I felt your brow.

I held your hand a few times as a teen
but always alone so it wouldn't be seen.

I held your hand after you said, 'I do.'
We danced together just me and you.

After some years went by my son
you held the hand of your little one.

And so the times of your life turn around
and now that my hand is old I've found

you take my hand and help me walk
and as you do we intimately talk.

And it takes me back to that bright early morn
when I held your hand so chubby and warm.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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Can You Please Crawl Out Your Window?

He sits in your room, his tomb, with a fist full of tacks
Preoccupied with his vengeance
Cursing the dead that cant answer him back
Im sure that he has no intentions
Of looking your way, unless its to say
That he needs you to test his inventions.
Can you please crawl out your window?
Use your arms and legs it wont ruin you
How can you say he will haunt you?
You can go back to him any time you want to.
He looks so truthful, is this how he feels
Trying to peel the moon and expose it
With his businesslike anger and his bloodhounds that kneel
If he needs a third eye he just grows it
He just needs you to talk or to hand him his chalk
Or pick it up after he throws it.
Can you please crawl out your window?
Use your arms and legs it wont ruin you
How can you say he will haunt you?
You can go back to him any time you want to.
Why does he look so righteous while your face is so changed
Are you frightened of the box you keep him in
While his genocide fools and his friends rearrange
Their religion of the little ten women
That backs up their views but your face is so bruised
Come on out the dark is beginning.
Can you please crawl out your window?
Use your arms and legs it wont ruin you
How can you say he will haunt you?
You can go back to him any time you want to.

song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rachel and You and The Day Trip

It was a day trip out
to some seaside place
arranged by the Gospel church
for kids whose parents

were poor
and having got on the coach
you sat in a seat
by the window

and waved at your mother
standing on the pavement
along Rockingham Street
and she waved back

then this girl sat beside you
who you didn't know
and she smiled and said
all right if I sit here?

sure
you said
and looked back out
at your mother

and waved again
and she waved back
and you thought
who is this girl?

and why is she
sitting next to me?
and she looked at out
the window

and waved to her mother
who started talking
to your mother
and they both waved back

to you and the girl
and you said
do you want to sit
by the window?

and she said
ok yes that'd be nice
and so she got out
and you got out

then she got in
and sat
by the window
and you sat

down beside her
and then the coach
started up
and drove off

and you both waved
at your mothers
until they were out of sight
and the girl turned

and said
I'm Rachel
this is my first time
to the seaside

and you said
you can walk around
with me if you want to
and she said

that'd be good
I don't know
anyone else here
and so she did

all day
walked around with you
along the beach
and on the sands

making sandcastles
and in the cafe
where they took you all
for a meal

of fish and chips
and she talked
and talked
and smiled

and laughed
and once she took
hold of your hand
and it seemed

for a while
that she was happy
at least it seemed so
by the width of her smile.

poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When Push Comes To Shove

Shaking in the forest, what have you to fear?
Here there may be tigers, to punch you in the ear.
With gloves of stainless steel, bats carved out of bricks
Knock you down and beat you up and give your ass a kick.
When push comes to shove, youre afraid of love.
Shaking in the desert, now wherefore do you cry?
Here there may be rattlesnakes, to punch you in the eye.
With shotguns full of silver and bullets made of glass
String barbed wire at your feet, that will not let you pass.
When push comes to shove, youre afraid of love.
When push comes to shove, when push comes to shove,
Youre afraid of love, when push comes to shove.
Shaking in the bedroom, covers on your head,
Are you still in fear of the hand beneath the bed?
Grabbing at the handle, scratching at the door,
Maybe its mystery killer you saw on channel four.
When push comes to shove, youre afraid of love.
Shaking in the garden, the fear within you grows,
Here there may be roses, to punch you in the nose.
Put my arms around you, love you til you cry,
Wrap you in your sweet perfume and squeeze you til you die.
When push comes to shove, youre afraid of love.
When push comes to shove, when push comes to shove,
Youre afraid of love, when push comes to shove.

song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Happiness Is A Warm Gun (Danny Saber Remix)

Happiness is a warm gun
Happiness is a warm gun
She's not a girl who misses much
She's not a girl who misses much
Mother Superior jump the gun
Mother Superior jump the gun
Mother Superior jump the gun
Mother Superior jump the gun
Happiness is a warm gun
Happiness is a warm gun
She's well acquainted with the touch of the velvet hand
Like a lizard on a window pane
The man in the crowd
With the multicoloured mirrors on his hobnail boots
Lying with his eyes wide open
And the hands busy working overtime
A soap impression of his wife which he ate
And donated to the National Trust
Hey, I need a fix 'cause I'm going down
Happiness is a, a warm gun
Happiness is a, a warm gun
Happiness is a, a warm gun
Happiness is a warm gun
Happiness is a warm gun
Happiness is a warm gun
I need a fix cause I'm going down
I need a fix cause I'm going down
I need a fix cause I'm going down
To the bits that I left uptown
I need a fix cause I'm going down, uptown
Need a fix cause I'm going down, uptown
Happiness is a, a warm gun
Happiness is a, a warm gun
Happiness is a, a warm gun
Happiness is a warm gun
Happiness is a warm gun
[Repeat until end]

song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Apples And Water

Dust in a cloud, blinding weather,
Drums that rattle and roar!
A mother and daughter stood together
Beside their cottage door.

'Mother, the heavens are bright like brass,
The dust is shaken high,
With labouring breath the soldiers pass,
Their lips are cracked and dry.'

'Mother, I'll throw them apples down,
I'll bring them pails of water.'
The mother turned with an angry frown
Holding back her daughter.

'But mother, see, they faint with thirst,
They march away to die,'
'Ah, sweet, had I but known at first
Their throats are always dry.'

'There is no water can supply them
In western streams that flow,
There is no fruit can satisfy them
On orchard trees that grow.'

'Once in my youth I gave, poor fool,
A soldier apples and water,
So may I die before you cool
Your father's drouth, my daughter.'

poem by Robert Graves
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Watching For Pa

Three little forms in the twilight gray,
Searching the shadows across the way;
Two pair of black eyes, and one of blue --
Brimful of love, and of mischief too;
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!

Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!

May, with her placid and thoughtful brow,
Beaming with kindness and love just now;
Willie the youngest, in anguish did lay,
Stealing sly kisses from sister May,
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!

Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!

Nellie, with ringlets of sunny hue,
Cosily nested between the two;
Pressing her cheeks to the window pane,
Wishing the absent one home again.
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!

Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!

Now there are shouts from the window seat;
There is a patter of childish feet;
Gaily they rush through the lighted hall --
"Coming at last" is the joyful call.
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Standing on the doorstep,
Watching for Pa!

Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Standing on the doorstep,
Watching for Pa!

poem by Henry Clay Work
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Not Nearly As Painful

I remembered when I first had my virginity taken away.
It was a frightening experience.
And I was still in my mid-teens.

'You don't have to talk about it.
I can understand.
You still have 'issues' about dealing with it?
To have it happen like that is painful.'

Yeah...
My dad caught me the first time,
Sneaking out the window.
I had to convince him I was sleep walking.
And twice I fell off the ledge...
During the rain.
And landed into the bushes below my bedroom window.
Look...
I still have the scar on my arm from the second fall.
Ten stitches.

'So 'who' took your virginity? '

I forget her name.
But one night she forgot to chain her Doberman.
That's when I busted my kneecap.

I told my dad I fell out the window.
He took me to some doctor!
And guess what?

'What? '

It was the girls' father.
He had her picture on the desk in his office.
How about you?
What was yours like?

'Not nearly as painful! '

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Radio With Guts

it was on the 2nd floor on Coronado Street
I used to get drunk
and throw the radio through the window
while it was playing, and, of course,
it would break the glass in the window
and the radio would sit there on the roof
still playing
and I'd tell my woman,
"Ah, what a marvelous radio!"
the next morning I'd take the window
off the hinges
and carry it down the street
to the glass man
who would put in another pane.
I kept throwing that radio through the window
each time I got drunk
and it would sit there on the roof
still playing-
a magic radio
a radio with guts,
and each morning I'd take the window
back to the glass man.
I don't remember how it ended exactly
though I do remember
we finally moved out.
there was a woman downstairs who worked in
the garden in her bathing suit,
she really dug with that trowel
and she put her behind up in the air
and I used to sit in the window
and watch the sun shine all over that thing
while the music played.

poem by Charles Bukowski
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Happiness Is A Warm Gun

Happiness is a warm gun
Happiness is a warm gun
Shes not a girl who misses much
Shes not a girl who misses much
Mother superior jump the gun
Mother superior jump the gun
Mother superior jump the gun
Mother superior jump the gun
Happiness is a warm gun
Happiness is a warm gun
Shes well acquainted with the touch of the velvet hand
Like a lizard on a window pane
The man in the crowd
With the multicoloured mirrors on his hobnail boots
Lying with his eyes wide open
And the hands busy working overtime
A soap impression of his wife which he ate
And donated to the national trust
Hey, I need a fix cause Im going down
Happiness is a, a warm gun
Happiness is a, a warm gun
Happiness is a, a warm gun
Happiness is a warm gun
Happiness is a warm gun
Happiness is a warm gun
I need a fix cause Im going down
I need a fix cause Im going down
I need a fix cause Im going down
To the bits that I left uptown
I need a fix cause Im going down, uptown
Need a fix cause Im going down, uptown
Happiness is a, a warm gun
Happiness is a, a warm gun
Happiness is a, a warm gun
Happiness is a warm gun
Happiness is a warm gun
[repeat until end]

song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Happiness Is A Warm Gun

she's not a girl who misses much
Do do do do do do do do
She's well acquainted with the touch of the velvet
Hand
Like a lizard on a window pane.
The man in the crowd with the multicoloured mirrors
On his hobnail boots
Lying with his eyes while his hands are busy
Working overtime
A soap impression of his wife which he ate
And donated to the national trust.
I need a fix 'cause i'm going down
Town to the bits that i left uptown
I need a fix cause i'm going down
Mother superior jump the gun
Mother superior jump the gun
Mother superior jump the gun
Mother superior jump the gun.
Happiness is a warm gun
Happiness is a warm gun
When i hold you in my arms
And i feel my finger on your trigger
I know no one can do me no harm
Because happiness is a warm gun
-yes it is.

song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Hurt Ego....

some windows really are kept open
even at midnight
the moon in its fullness has always been
that welcome visitor
that sense of mystery long gone

opening a window has always been considered
a healthy option

and people who pass the street look at you
standing by the window

in openness
you trust that openness being arms that know the value of embrace
can be redeeming
in fact some children who play in the yard
have a way of looking at you as their idol

they clap their hands and dance for you

it happens almost all days of the year
the open window appears like a warm smile on the face of sorrow

not everyone likes it though
there is a crazy old man and he picks a stone and throws it against
your glass window

your window cracks and your smile become a word
with double meaning

what damage must have the old man caused?
you should know, you have too

wisdom still lies with the old
their discipline is still in the stone
that leave a scar
on the shattered glass

the ego, this self.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Summer Recess of 62.

It was the second day
of the summer recess
and Judith and you
walked through the field

behind her house
and sat down on the grass
the sky above blue
like an upside-down ocean

with the white clouds
like small fluffy islands
and she said
Mother doesn't trust you

why not?
you asked
she doesn't trust any male
she says they're all after

the one thing
you looked at her
sitting there beside you
her hair brown and curly

and her eyes blue
and bright
and you said
not all males

are the same
she looked up
at the sky
and said

I know but that's
how she sees things
my mother likes you
you said

she says you're good for me
keep me focused
she smiled
and lay back

on the grass
and you lay
beside her
and turned

to look at her there
taking in her profile
and she turned
to face you

and she said
does your mother
trust us to be together?
sure she does

you said
an airplane
went over the sky
a sparrow hawk

hovered above
its eyes watching
and waiting
you put your hand

on her hip
and she placed
her hand on yours
you felt her hipbone

beneath her green skirt
moved your palm
gently over and over
she moved your hand

off of her hip
and said
just in case
mother's looking at us

from the upstairs window
would she?
you asked
of course

she said
she held your hand
and took it
and laid it

on her breast
her heart
somewhere beating
your hand sensing

the softness beneath
the white blouse
and she said
just as well

she never saw us
last Christmas
and you smiled
and remembered

and the sparrow hawk
flew off through the sky
and the sound
of a distant train

and your heart thumping
like the downpour of rain.

poem by Terry Collett
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Out Of My Hands

on the window ledge I don't feel safe,
stay looking down you
it's out of my hands for now
it's out of my hands for now
I can't just walk away
it'd be nice to walk away
but I don't feel safe
get away, all the way up here
it's out of my hands for now
it's out of my hands for now
oh it is down from here
down from here
start to feel insane, betrayed
out on my window ledge
and now our finest hour arrives,
see the pig dressed in his finest fine
and all the believers stand behind him and smile
and the day lights up with fire
let me in
let me in
I stopped feeling crazed, betrayed
out on my window ledge
and now our finest hour arrives,
see the pig dressed in his finest fine
and all the believers stand behind him and smile
watch the day lights up in fire
lookin' down from here
it's out of my hands for now
on my window ledge
it's out of my hands for now
so let me in
let me in

song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Happiness Is A Warm Gun (live Version)

Beatles cover
She's not a girl who misses much
She's well acquainted with the touch of the velvet hand
Like a lizard on a window pane
The man in the crowd with the multicolored mirrors
On his hobnailed boots
Lying with his eyes while his hands
Working over time
A soap impression of his wife which he ate
And donated to the Nation's Trust
I need a fix cause I'm going down
Down to the bitch that I left uptown
I need a fix cause I'm going down
Mother Superior jumped the gun
Mother Superior jumped the gun
Happiness is a warm gun
Happiness is a warm gun
When I hold you in my arms
And I feel my finger on your trigger
I know that nobody can do me no harm
Happiness is a warm gun, mama
Happiness is a warm gun

song performed by by Alanis Morissette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Humble Bucket

There have been some great inventions
and some are not noted for their worth.
Take a humble bucket and all the uses
of it that can be employed.
It can carry water
when you’re thirty for a drink
or when you want a wash.
It can carry clothes
and most objects you can name.
You can put a bag in it
and use it as a waste paper bin
and it can be used as an overnight latrine
in case you are caught out
in the middle of the night.
A humble bucket
is one of the most versatile inventions ever made.
Australia’s most famous bushranger Ned Kelly
used a metal one to cover his head and hide his identity.
The list of uses go on and on,
so the next time you see a humble bucket
raise a glass to him
for all the work he has done for us.

18 September 2009

poem by David Harris
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Remembering Childhood

by accident you come across
an old picture
you recognize the face of your father
beside your mother
with his gun on the side of his body
as reservist of the army
you look closely
your mother pouts
and she is holding on to her
white skirt
you father's right hand grips
his gun
while the left holds on to
the chair just behind your
mother's neck

there is a baby being held
by your mother
it is sleeping and it looks
like you

your father does not like
you and you know it from the very start
you know how to pretend
till he died

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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