Related quotes: Warm sun, quiet air an...

Election Day

Warm sun, quiet air
an old man sits

in the doorway of
a broken house--

boards for windows
plaster falling

from between the stones
and strokes the head

of a spotted dog

poem by William Carlos Williams
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House Without Windows

Pockris/tobias
Im gonna move into
A house without windows
So I wont see you walking by, walking by
With your new love
There in the darkness of
My house without windows
I will never see the stars that shine
Shine on you, and your new love
Id rather wonder through this endless night
Than to face the light of another lonely day
Knowing that you wont be there
There to share, these two arms ever again
Ill take all my broken dreams
And Ill take my broken heart
And from now on you will find me there
Crying there, trying to forget
In my house without windows
In my house without windows
And without love.

song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How Deep Below Are You?

I made footprints
On the ceiling
While the mouse
Jumped over the chandelier,
Just missing the pile of stones
Clustered, not falling.

Only the floor falls,
Ground and all.

My blood dripped
On the stones
On the ceiling.

Then, nothing - - - -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The floor boards moved,
pushed from below.
It falls
Exposing the skies.

Then voices float:
'Will we have a rest after this? '
'I heard, your daughter will debut soon.'
'Are you coming to Ted's tonight? '
There he is.'
'He's in delirium.'
'Two days, two nights
In upside-down house
Buried in mud.'

'Any more survivors? '

poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
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Broken Windows

I kick stones, kick stones, kick stones through windows.
I kick stones, which somehow got home.
But i'm not proud, that i'm a broken window.
And i'm not proud, that i can't look through broken windows.
Froze in college, you said it was the wilderness
Froze in college, you said it was the wilderness of...
I kick stones, kick stones, kick stones through windows.
I've kicked stones which somehow got home.
But i'm not proud, that i'm a broken window.
And i'm not proud, that i can't look through broken windows.
Froze in college, you said it was the wilderness
Froze in college, you said it was the wilderness of... frustration.
frustration.
It was the wilderness of...
I kick stones, kick stones, kick stones through windows.
I kick stones which somehow got home.

song performed by by Idlewild
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hidden Drive

there's a dirty house that's falling apart
some want to fix it but they don't know where to start
there's cobwebs and cracks in the walls
this is where rain's relief dares not to fall
no one really cares to help this place
they just look at the face
this old house is kept inside
with a disguising shell to hide
something i noticed as i passed by
at the house where hope will die
the windows were clean and new
though everywhere else the weeds grew
the windows had such an allure
i couldn't take it anymore
i gazed at the windows in awe
then through them i saw
the messy, run-down house inside
where beauty died
then i realized
something about eyes
eyes are the windows
clean and lovely for show
but behind them is the soul
sometimes your eyes will fool
the beauty and shine will not last
for one day, someone will see past.

poem by Alex Manson
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Broken Windows Shattered Mirrors

Broken windows shattered mirrors
The tiny slivers fall like tears
They cut me till my arms run red
They make me wish that I was dead
And though I try to carry on
I know my time here's almost gone
Broken windows shattered mirrors

Broken windows shattered mirrors
I'm surrounded by these fears
I know I shouldn't be afraid
I feel like I'm locked up in a cage
I push and pull try to get out
I scream until I just can't shout
Broken windows shattered mirrors

Broken windows shattered mirrors
I'll have bad luck seven years
I know it's just a superstition
But I also know it's pure intuition
That made me stay not fade away
So I could live another day
Broken windows shattered mirrors

poem by Anonymous Ghurl
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A Broken House

A broken teen
In a divided house
The age of sixteen
Treated like a mouse

There;
She sits and screams
Prepare;
The dropp in self-esteem

She wants out
But she cannot leave
Unbearable to think about
She cries in her sleeve

Trapped in four walls
Hanging lights all around
Awaits her father's call
But only a bickering sound

A broken house
I wish not to see
A broken house
This girl must flee.

poem by Isaak DeMaio
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Falling

(lenny leblanc/eddie struzick)
I think about winter when i was with her
And the snow was falling down
Warm by the fire, i love being by her
When there's no one else around
And i'm falling, i'm falling
I'm falling in love with you
I think about summer, my head was swimming
You wrote my name in the sand
We walk together hoping forever
Please don't let go of my hand
Cause i'm falling, i'm falling
I'm falling in love with you
Fall into spring time, like in between time
You're here and then you're gone away
Oh i just wanted to say that i really wanna stay
Cause i'm falling, i'm falling
I'm falling in love with you
Cause i'm falling, i'm falling
Oh,i'm falling in love with you
In love with you, in love with you

song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Spotted Frog (The Politician)

There he sits
A spotted frog
He grins from ear to ear
Waterbugs quake across the
Pond's surface
The spotted frog sits
Stone-still on his perch
Silently stalking a humming dragonfly
His eyes shimmer
His mouth waters
His tounge is itching to snap out
And snatch the poor bug's life
His prey draws closer to his
Invisible enemy
All of the sudden
The urge is too strong to contain
His tounge snaps
The dragonfly silently flaps his last
Wingspan, breathes his last breath
The frog has devoured the innocent
Creature
There he sits
A spotted frog
Silently stalking another dragonfly
The urge to hurt and devour
Too strong to subdue

poem by Shannon Hughes
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Factory Windows Are Always Broken

Factory windows are always broken.
Somebody's always throwing bricks,
Somebody's always heaving cinders,
Playing ugly Yahoo tricks.

Factory windows are always broken.
Other windows are let alone.
No one throws through the chapel-window
The bitter, snarling, derisive stone.

Factory windows are always broken.
Something or other is going wrong.
Something is rotten--I think, in Denmark.
End of factory-window song.

poem by Vachel Lindsay
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IX. Part 6

We bought a small house
along the river, in Southside barrio.
A shack I pried boards from the front door to get in-
half-acre of land in the back
heaped with decades of scrap-rusted wire fencing, creosote
railroad ties, tumbleweeds, a mountain of decaying
harvest never picked, weaving itself
slowly into the dirt again.

I gutted the plaster frame house,
nailed, puttied, roofed, plumbed,
poured cement, sheet-rocked, tiled, carpeted,
tore-out, re-set,
piled, burned, cleaned, cemented, installed,
washed and painted,
trimmed, pruned, shoveled, raked,
sawed, hammered, measured, stuccoed,
until,
calloused handed, muscle-firmed, sleek hard bodied,
our small house rose
from a charred, faded gravemarker,
a weather-rotted roost
for junkies and vagrants,

wind, rain, and sun splintered
jagged stories of storms on,
I corrected,
re-wrote upon
this plaster wood tablet,
our own version of love, family and power.

poem by Jimmy Santiago Baca
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They Are Tearing Down My Grandfather's House

(An NLP Editor's Choice Award Winner in Verdant Lands of Spring) They are tearing down my Grandfather's house,
it's made of wood and brick and stone.
The windows they've removed. To them it's real
estate, to me it's my heart being ripped in two.
The realtors, the bankers, the moneymen don't understand.
A house is more than made of wood, a house is made of man. My Grandfather's house is a memory that will
endure after it's torn down.
He's been gone for near thirty years, but his
house had lived on.
I know the world is made of change, and change
is all that's real. But one thing I cannot change,
that is the way I feel. I wipe a tear in the falling rain,
because they are tearing down my Grandfather's
house, and it gives me pain.
I love him as if it were yesteryear,
his wit and smile as warm as the sun.
The house once stood to remind me, but that too
is gone. They are tearing down my Grandfather's house,
it's made of wood and brick and stone.
Yet a house if more than made of wood,
a house is made of love.

poem by David A. Webb
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In This House

in this house
where you've been
what you've seen
were the windows

in this house
where you've been
what you've seen
were the doors

in this house
where you've sat
what you ate
was your food

in this house
where you've sat
what you ate
was the word

in this house
where you stood
what you could
something say

in this house
you could open
windows doors clapping wings
in this house
you could open
soul that heaven upward sings

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Meetings At Sis' Beauty's Place

she moves swiftly between tables
decorated by empty schooners
and empty bottles of beer manned
by drunks calling for refills everytime
she passes by

behind the coounter,
walled by cases of distilled beer,
she sits listening to yesterday's reminiscents,
the same euphoria, the same fulminations
like broken records
emptying kegs lilke they're drops of tears
falling on vast oceans

or play referee in a feud
over the kings of local football
and utter vile imprecation over her broken chairs,
smashed windows and threatening bottle pieces
awaiting prey

she serves lost-love victims
avoiding all thoughts of alimony
and the retrenched completely falling apart
but that's none of her business
as long as they settle their debts

poem by Stella Sisanda Qishi
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Plaster Caster

Babys getting anxious, the hours getting late
The night is almost over, she cant wait
Oh, things are complicating, my love is in her hands
And theres no more waiting, she understands
The plasters gettin harder and my love is perfection
A token of my love for her collection, her collection
Plaster caster, grab a hold of me faster
And if you wanna see my love, just ask her
And my love is the plaster
And yeah, shes the collector
She wants me all the time to inject her
The plasters gettin harder and my love is perfection
A token of my love for her collection
Plaster caster, plaster caster
Grab a hold of me faster, plaster, faster
And if you wanna see my love, just ask her, ask her
Go on, ask her
The plasters gettin harder and my love is perfection
A token of my love for her collection, her collection
Plaster caster, plaster caster
Grab a hold of me faster, plaster, faster
If you wanna see my love, just ask her, ask her
Plaster caster, plaster caster
She wants my love to last her, last her, last her
And she calls me by the name of master, master
Plaster caster, plaster caster
Grab a hold of me faster, plaster, faster
If you wanna see my love, just ask her, ask her
Plaster caster, plaster caster
Grab a hold of me faster, plaster, faster
And if you wanna see my love, just ask her, ask her
Plaster caster, plaster caster

song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Brick Windows

Been bangin my head against the window
Just trying to see the world outside
Some people say it doesnt matter
Some people take you for a ride
I am covered in blood and broken glass
It seems the window likes to fight
Some people say the worlds on fire
Some people say the worlds on ice
Some people say the worlds on ice
? all alone in a relation
Brick windows
I am sticking my face right through the glass
Just trying to see if the worlds alive
Some people will say the windows broken
Some people will say its all right
Some people will say its all right
Keep bangin my head against the wall oh
Just trying to keep the past alive
Some people who make the windows shatter
Some people who make it airtight
Some people who make it airtight
? all alone in a relation
? all alone in a relation
Brick windows
Brick windows

song performed by by Ministry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When No One Really Cares

my role has
always been
to fix
broken stairs

to oil the
rusty hinges of
the door &
wipe those
misty
glass windows
of their
haze

to plant the
runners
along the stony
pavements
of the house

i like it when
it is green
and covered
as things appear
cool
and vibrant against
the walls
beneath the sun

i replace old
lamps
i like it when
the room is
bright with
light
at night

i like it when
everyone of you
in this house
is comfortable with
warm soup on the
table
when the cold nights
of November
begins to
shiver

when you look
for a candle
and a lighter
i always have
them with
me

what i think is
hurting is that
i am not fixed
myself

i am a broken rail
a malfunctioning lamp
a dark room
a cold soup a
rusty hinge
a missing stair
and yet
no one
no one really
cares.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Panted

Fearfulness,
Terrified,
Panted;
For the night of your pleasure has now turned into fear! !
Because the bombs are now falling unto everyone's house,
And the hospitals cannot take care of the dead!
The shield of war is now broken into pieces,
And the bombs are now falling unto everyone's house;
But, is there any hope for us? !

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Head On Collision

I've been waiting for a good day
I've been holding back long enough
I've been hurting to tell you some things
it's not the falling of the temperature
that's making all our bones run cool
it's the breeze you make
the presence felt when you're around me

and I'm still waiting for a good day
I think I've held this long enough
I think it's safe to tell you some things
it's not just what you say to people
and it's not the way you look at me
it's the way you present yourself
for all your worst critics to see

then you were gone
you were gone
all this time you just didn't know it yet
you were gone
all this time you just didn't know it yet
you were gone

and it feels like I'm at an all-time low
slightly bruised and broken
from our head on collision
I've never seen this side of you
another tragic case of feeling
bruised and broken
from our head on collision
I've never seen this side of you
another tragic case
another tragic case of feeling
bruised and broken
another tragic case and I've been
still waiting for a good day
still waiting for a good day

song performed by by New Found Glory from Sticks And Stones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Past a house

We yesterday
drove past a house
near a shopping centre

and at the front wall
the plaster was broken,
the garden that was something
at a time
was treaded to pieces
and left uncared.

The front door hanged decaying
and when my eyes
walked down the corridor
some of the ceiling was missing,
and the wooden floor
was being used for firewood

It seemed as if the house
was now really becoming a ruin
and a naked black toddler
were crawling outside

and a very thin dog
looked as if it never got food
and my darling said:

“We stayed here at a time
and once this house
belonged to us
and it was a beautiful place
and just see how it looks now.”

poem by Gert Strydom
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Wistfully Watching

They explore the world
through windows,
church windows,
school windows,
two up, two down windows,
castle windows,
large windows,
small windows.

They see it all,
from blameless to guilty,
from noble to treacherous,
through windows.
From skyscraper windows,
to basement flat windows,
from paupers windows,
and palace windows

they watch, absorb, suck it in.

Later when they have grown
they will remember,
try to empathise,
rationalise
decipher the coded metaphors,
but some day
they will be demoralised
by the windows of life.

There they sit __ wistfully watching __
the children

of our times.

poem by Ruth Walters
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