My father's bench!
Dad was sitting on the bench in the verandah,
Looking at the people who passed by the road,
He might have been searching for the children,
That he had reared and sent them to foreign,
As the wedded blissful young brides and grooms,
The silhouette of him getting bigger and smaller in routine,
Lonely he was, rubbing the hands of the hardened skin,
He was a man of few words, whom I forgot all of a sudden,
When my heart was newly occupied by few other hearts,
I wrote letters to him once in a while, apart from greetings,
when the scene has changed after a few decades,
I am Standing here alone and looking throw the windows,
People seem to be having only heads and shadows,
I may need the bench of my father to put near the sliding door,
Of the balcony of the apartment to watch the ants crawling,
Down the street, not even privileged to see their faces,
not blessed to have our village visitors to arrive at any minute.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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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What I Love Most Before The Rain
it is that point
where the rain is about to fall
like a woman
blushing
when the clouds turn gray
and heavy
when it is about to burst
and yet it still
waits for the first
dropp to fall
it is that point when people
are not running yet
for shelter
at that point i am at ease
sitting on a bench
waiting for the
pandemonium of steps
and hands covering heads
and women losing
their grace and men showing
their rage
and people scattering
like ants
that you spray with
insecticide
it is that point when people
begin to
protect themselves
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At the Pond
As I looked around the pond
I see people playing in the snow
Laughing and throwing snowballs at each other
Making snow angles with great pride
Children sledding down the hill as if flying
As I look on the pond
I see people skating
Skating like soaring eagles
Twirling like tornadoes
But graceful as a ballerina dance
As I look around the pond
I see a people having fun
Enjoying themselves
Helping each other as if they were their little sister
I see a peaceful and fun world
But I
I am having no fun
No fun at all
For I am sitting on the bench
Sitting on the bench like a lost dog
For I am cripple
poem by Cassy Taberna
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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
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Elanor Rigby / Eleanor's Dream
Ah, look at all the lonely people
Ah, look at all the lonely people
Eleanor Rigby picks up the rice in the church where a wedding was been,
Lives in a dream.
Waits at the window, wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door,
Who is it for ?
All the lonely people, where do they all come from ?
All the lonely people, where do they all belong ?
Father McKenzie, writing the words to a sermon that no one will near,
No one comes near.
Look at him working, darning his socks in the night when there's nobody there
What does he care ?
All the lonely people, where do they all come from ?
All the lonely people, where do they all belong ?
Ah, look at all the lonely people
Ah, look at all the lonely people
Eleanor Rigby died in church and was buried along with her name;
Nobody came.
Father McKenzie, wiping the dirt from his hands as he walks from the grave;
No one was saved.
All the lonely people, where do they all come from ?
(ah, look at all the lonely people)
All the lonely people, where do they all belong ?
(ah, look at all the lonely people)
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eleanor Rigby
Ah look at all the lonely people
Eleanor rigby picks up the rice
In the church where the wedding has been
Lives in a dream
Inside a window
Wearing a face she keeps in a jar by the door
Who is it for
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong
Father mackenzie writing the words to a sermon no one will hear
No one comes near
Look at him working
Darning his socks
In the dark because nobodys there
What does he care
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong
Look at all the lonely people
Look at all the lonely people
Look at all the lonely people
Look at all the lonely people
Eleanor rigby died in the church
And was buried along with her name
No body came
Father mackenzie wiping the dirt from his hands
Has he walks from the grave
No one was saved
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong
Look at all the lonely people
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Eleanor Rigby
Ah, look at all the lonely people
Ah, look at all the lonely people
Eleanor Rigby picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been
Lives in a dream
Waits at the window, wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door
Who is it for?
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from ?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong ?
Father McKenzie writing the words of a sermon that no one will hear
No one comes near.
Look at him working. Darning his socks in the night when there's nobody there
What does he care?
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?
Ah, look at all the lonely people
Ah, look at all the lonely people
Eleanor Rigby died in the church and was buried along with her name
Nobody came
Father McKenzie wiping the dirt from his hands as he walks from the grave
No one was saved
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?
song performed by by Kansas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eleanor Rigby
Ah ----- look at all the lonely people
Ah ----- look at all the lonely people
Eleanor rigby, picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been
Lives in a dream
Waits at the window, wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door
Who is it for
All the lonely people, where do they all come from?
All the lonely people where do they all belong?
Father mckenzie, writing the words to a sermon that no-one will hear
No one comes near
Look at him working, darning his socks in the night when nobodys there
What does he care
All the lonely people, where do they all come from?
All the lonely people where do they all belong?
Ah ----- look at all the lonely people
Ah ----- look at all the lonely people
Eleanor rigby, died in the church and was buried along with her name,
Nobody came
Father mckenzie, wiping the dirt from his hands as he walks from the grave
No one was saved
All the lonely people, where do they all come from?
All the lonely people where do they all belong?
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Bench
I saw her and felt very sad
There she was, thinly clad,
Sitting on a bench on a railway station,
Motionless, there was no animation,
No showing of any observation,
Her aura was one of devastation,
Although things were happening all around her,
Nothing seemed to make her move or even stir,
Actually no movement of any kind,
She was acting, totally blind,
No spark of recognition,
Or of making a decision,
Staring blankly into space,
As if lost without a trace.
I wondered what was making her this way,
All I could do for her, was to silently pray,
And watch the tears go sliding down her face,
Oblivious of the place, that was her location,
Which was, sitting on a bench on a railway station.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Eleanor Rigby
This song was first released on the whose garden was this? album. it is the only album it has been released on.
Ah, look at all the lonely people!
Ah, look at all the lonely people!
Eleanor rigby picks up the rice in the church
Where a wedding has been
Lives in a dream
Waits at the window, wearing a face
That she keeps in a jar by the door
Who is it for?
All the lonely people, where do they all come from?
All the lonely people, where do they all belong?
Father mckenzie, writing the words of a sermon
That no one will hear
No one comes near
Look at him working, darning his socks in the night
When theres nobody there, what does he care?
All the lonely people, where do they all come from?
All the lonely people, where do they all belong?
Ah, look at all the lonely people!
Ah, look at all the lonely people!
Eleanor rigby died in the church and was buried
Along with her name
Nobody came
Father mckenzie wiping the dirt from his hands
As he walks from the grave
No one was saved
All the lonely people, where do they all come from?
All the lonely people, where do they all belong?
Words and music by john lennon and paul mccartney
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eleanor Rigby
Ah, look at all the lonely people
Ah, look at all the lonely people
Eleanor rigby picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been
Lives in a dream
Waits at the window, wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door
Who is it for?
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?
Father mckenzie writing the words of a sermon that no one will hear
No one comes near.
Look at him working.
Darning his socks in the night when theres nobody there
What does he care?
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?
Eleanor rigby died in the church and was buried along with her name
Nobody came
Father mckenzie wiping the dirt from his hands as he walks from the grave
No one was saved
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rats
As a toddler I grew up in my
Grandparents ancestral house
Large house with several rooms
Sloping red tiled roof
Semi dark, even during mid day
Located in the centre of vast estate
With reddish gravely soil
Horizontal terrain with several elevational layers
House encircled by tall trees of
Coconuts, Jackfruits, mangoes, bananas
Tamarind, papaya, pepper creepers
Such large house occupied by only
Four human beings
Myself, grandparents and a servant maid
House was infested with
Reptiles, lizards, small crawling snakes
Cockroaches, spiders, squirrels, frogs
Millipedes, centipedes, cats, kitten and rats
Black bats flying and clinging to ceiling, heads down
Best place for zoological research
House was surrounded by foxes, dogs, butterflies
Fluttering between flowers
Big poisonous snakes
Cows, goats and mongoose
Crows, chicken, woodcutters, owls
Cooing doves on red tile roofs
Ground filled up with
Dry leaves fell from trees
Every day when the dawn strikes
I could see solar rays
Fresh after a night sleep
Penetrating through tall trunks of trees
My grandfather used to offer prayers
To Sun God, standing erect
By folding palms facing rising sun
Same time, sitting in our north side verandah
I used to help my grandmother
Killing rats
Trapped in wooden boxes
My grandmother was
House hold totalitarian
She had unfathomable affection towards me
Rats were menace to our food grains
Stored in large wooden granaries
Clock of my grandmother’s life
Stopped when she was only Sixty
And when I was only Ten
Memories about her and rats killed
Still after six decades lingers in my mind
**************
Last three decades I live in a pent house
Located on Fourteenth floor of a residential apartment
My tower is very close to an International Airport.
After retirement, I sit in my balcony
And watch busy aircrafts landing and taking off
Recently I noticed my neighbour Dr.Krish
Standing in his balcony holding a glass casket
A struggling, black creature was inside the box
Dr.Krish was head of zoology department
In University located in our city
Out of curiosity I asked him
“What is that doctor? ”
“A rat”
“Where did you get it? ”
“From a village in North Malabar
My research assistant who hails
From that village brought it
We are preparing thesis on
Rats, mouses and bandicoots “
Rat held inside could not be from my
Ancestral home in North Malabar
My old house of grandparents and tall trees were
Bulldozed long back for
Construction of luxurious resorts
Meant for foreigners and their currency.
P.M.CHANDRASEKHARAN
poem by Chandra sekharan
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On Bidding Farewell
When there is no one around me,
I peep out through the window,
That opens to the back yard of past.
When I was a child very small,
Could hardly run about in the streets,
Came out holding finger of my mother,
To bid farewell to the young-men,
Of the village who enlisted themselves,
To render the daring sacred job,
Of defending the feeding motherland.
Still I recall the time remote,
And see men, women and children,
Bidding farewell, waving their hands,
The old mothers kissing the faces,
The fathers embracing them with love,
Patting the backs of well-built sons,
Well-bred with milk and pure butter.
The damsels weeping smiled,
To conceal sighs of their hearts,
Hoping their soon return,
To make them their own brides,
And award them wedding pleasures,
But the innocent hearts knew not.
Seldom return whom the country calls.
The great people whom I remember,
Passing away to the world of eternity,
Made the streets despairingly desolate.
The life forced me to leave the place,
Often I visit, find it the village of the dead,
Inhabitants are confined in the walls,
They neither laugh nor share the tears.
Ah! Lust for wealth has hardened,
The soft fertile lands of hearts,
Making us all devoid of sentiments.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Think For A Minute!
Somethings going on, a change is taking place
Children smiling in the street have gone without a trace
This street used to be full, it used to make me smile
And now it seems that everyone is walking single file
And many hand their heads in shame
That used to hold them high
And those that used to say hello
Simply pass you by
Think for a minute, stop for a minute
Think for a minute, stop for a minute
I always said it could, they never though it would
The people look so pitiful, Im thinking that it should
And now its almost here, now its on its way
I cant help saying told you so and have a nice final day
And nothing I could say
Could ever make them see the light
Now apathy is happy that
It won without a fight
Think for a minute, stop for a minute
Think for a minute, stop for a minute
And many hang their heads in shame that used to hold them high
{think for a minute}
And those that used to say hello simply pass you by
{stop for a minute}
Think for a minute, stop for a minute
Think for a minute, stop for a minute
song performed by by Housemartins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Attorney's Blank Eyes
single at 50
it is his birthday today
and he sits there on the bench
with blank eyes
(i am unkind to ask
what sins must his father commit
to punish him now?)
(i am judgmental.
i am silent. i look at him with curiosity.
as though he is a stray cat
on the road, deserted by
the bitch)
his hands are clasped.
he looks bound.
got no girlfriend at 50
(but he is not gay
in fact, he had many girls
around him.
a harem of his
Arabian nights, but he has lonely eyes
white skin,
frail bones, he is losing hair)
got nothing, despite
his fortune and luck.
another lonely creature in court.
lost dragonfly
wanting to be crushed by a hammer.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Big Black Crows
big black crows
keep following me
everywhere i go....
and this morning i heard
the trees whsipering,
as we rode down the road......
drifting clouds, and vacant buildings,
people walking, heads bent down.
children's faces staring out frosted windows,
old dog lying in the sun.
shadows forming faces,
then dissolving back to shadow.....
memories hang like nails on the wall,
that the Painter's brush cant quite hide.
the scent of perfume, wind devils and rust....
big black crows and ashes drifting,
from a heart set on fire!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Visitor Clever Theme Words
my visitors are voices clever words
my visitors arrive anywhere anytime
my visitors script film opera words
my visitors mirror parody depths mime
my visitors initiate connect life dots
my visitors represent patterns to define
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Raise A Smile
Once in a while we sit on a bench
and watch the people pass by.
We gaze at their faces,
raise a smile to them,
cheering up their lives we hope
as they pass on their way.
One day one of these faces
may recognise us an old friend.
They may even stop
and chat to us for a while
before they again carry on their way.
It is always nice to smile at people
for you never know,
one of them may be an old friend
you have not seen in a long while.
19 January 2009
poem by David Harris
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