Related quotes: A car pulled up, in...

At the time...

A car pulled up, in front of a house, at four o'clock in the morning.
A man came out of the car, and stood in silence in the dark, dark dark.
Quiet as a mouse, a woman came out of the house, opened the gate and walked into a garbage bin, making a godawful clattering.

Drowsy neighbours, across the road, peeked out
from behind the nosy curtains of their boring bedroom.
But nothing happened, while the clouds moved on,
and the frail moonlight was well again.

Under a blanket of glittering stars, she handed him two suitcases
and he hurried 'round to open the boot but just then,
the toilet lights on the second floor came on.

The neighbours behind the curtains froze like statues.
Swiftly, the man and the woman crouched down behind the car.
In the quiet of the night, they could all hear the urine
gurgling long, loud and plenty into the toilet bowl.

Behind the car, the man and the woman started
groping and kissing and groping and kissing furiously.
The neighbours saw them do it by the light of the moon and stars.

When the toilet flushed, they quietly shut the boot,
tiptoed to the front, got into the car,
and the roar of the car engine died away.

The neighbours closed the curtains. Didn't say much.
Ate sandwiches and milk. Still couldn't sleep.
Started to make love loudly, as if to drown out forever
the drunken snoring beginning again
across the road.

Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time.

(1989)

poem by Simmon Tan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Ballad of Old Clonbroney

The Ballad of Old Clonbroney

One night dark walking along
A lane onto its end,
A neighbour walked up to a house
To call upon a friend.
The neighbour was new, his friends wife too
Had arrived not long ago,
And friendship new as neighbours do
They called on one another each other to know.

And as he approached the house,
He wondered at how strange shadows moves,
It looked as if it were a hearse,
And all of a sudden a sound of hooves,
And a wall through at terrific speed,
Driven by a horseman with no head,
A hearse up through the feilds fleed
To Old Clonbroney with its dead.

Our hero stood there shaking,
Wondered if he imaged was what he had seen,
When the woman opened the door to the house,
Asked where the horses had been?
He raced into the house so fast,
Slammed behind him the door,
Told how the hearse before him passed,
And where it came from before...

That it went up to Old Clonbroney,
After driving through a wall,
But it was not real: twas but a ghost,
For the wall was not damaged at all.
And drinking whiskey strong his nerves setlled down,
Though still great in him was fear,
Though you may mock and you may frown,
You too would shake if the headless horseman did appear...

And in time the husband returned,
A miller he was by trade,
He came to see his wife terrified,
And his neighbour, a man strong, afraid,
They told him of the horseman,
Of the hearse, that the man had no head,
He srugged his shoulder with a sigh,
Declared one of the neighbours dead.

It was like the banshee,
The miller said of the apparition,
When these neighbours died, the spectre youd see,
So was local superstition,
And so all a prayer they said,
For their own and the deceased sake,
Its not told the name of who was dead,
Or if the miller and his neighbour slept or stayed that night awake!

===========================

The story of a man who met a headless horseman when calling on a neighbour after moving into the area.
Apperantly this is actually true, the miller he was calling on was an uncle of mine who lived in Clonbroney, where an old road led up to a disused cemetry, and a new road now led to the village. The old road partly made the lane to his house and mill that used to be on the side of the old road, but the road was blocked of at the rear, where both sides had grown in to form one hedgegrow that went up the fiends to the old cemetry.
The poem is to be edited later to make sure the information is correct, but this is the first draft.

poem by Tomás Ó Cárthaigh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Fear

A lantern light from deeper in the barn
Shone on a man and woman in the door
And threw their lurching shadows on a house
Near by, all dark in every glossy window.
A horse's hoof pawed once the hollow floor,
And the back of the gig they stood beside
Moved in a little. The man grasped a wheel,
The woman spoke out sharply, 'Whoa, stand still!'
'I saw it just as plain as a white plate,'
She said, 'as the light on the dashboard ran
Along the bushes at the roadside-a man's face.
You must have seen it too.'
'I didn't see it.
Are you sure--'
'Yes, I'm sure!'
'-it was a face?'
'Joel, I'll have to look. I can't go in,
I can't, and leave a thing like that unsettled.
Doors locked and curtains drawn will make no difference.
I always have felt strange when we came home
To the dark house after so long an absence,
And the key rattled loudly into place
Seemed to warn someone to be getting out
At one door as we entered at another.
What if I'm right, and someone all the time-
Don't hold my arm!'
'I say it's someone passing.'
'You speak as if this were a travelled road.
You forget where we are. What is beyond
That he'd be going to or coming from
At such an hour of night, and on foot too.
What was he standing still for in the bushes?'
'It's not so very late-it's only dark.
There's more in it than you're inclined to say.
Did he look like--?'
'He looked like anyone.
I'll never rest to-night unless I know.
Give me the lantern.'
'You don't want the lantern.'
She pushed past him and got it for herself.
'You're not to come,' she said. 'This is my business.
If the time's come to face it, I'm the one
To put it the right way. He'd never dare-
Listen! He kicked a stone. Hear that, hear that!
He's coming towards us. Joel, go in-please.
Hark!-I don't hear him now. But please go in.'
'In the first place you can't make me believe it's--'
'It is-or someone else he's sent to watch.
And now's the time to have it out with him
While we know definitely where he is.
Let him get off and he'll be everywhere
Around us, looking out of trees and bushes
Till I sha'n't dare to set a foot outdoors.
And I can't stand it. Joel, let me go!'
'But it's nonsense to think he'd care enough.'
'You mean you couldn't understand his caring.
Oh, but you see he hadn't had enough-
Joel, I won't-I won't-I promise you.
We mustn't say hard things. You mustn't either.'
'I'll be the one, if anybody goes!
But you give him the advantage with this light.
What couldn't he do to us standing here!
And if to see was what he wanted, why
He has seen all there was to see and gone.'
He appeared to forget to keep his hold,
But advanced with her as she crossed the grass.
'What do you want?' she cried to all the dark.
She stretched up tall to overlook the light
That hung in both hands hot against her skirt.
'There's no one; so you're wrong,' he said.
'There is.-
What do you want?' she cried, and then herself
Was startled when an answer really came.
'Nothing.' It came from well along the road.
She reached a hand to Joel for support:
The smell of scorching woollen made her faint.
'What are you doing round this house at night?'
'Nothing.' A pause: there seemed no more to say.
And then the voice again: 'You seem afraid.
I saw by the way you whipped up the horse.
I'll just come forward in the lantern light
And let you see.'
'Yes, do.-Joel, go back!'
She stood her ground against the noisy steps
That came on, but her body rocked a little.
'You see,' the voice said.
'Oh.' She looked and looked.
'You don't see-I've a child here by the hand.'
'What's a child doing at this time of night--?'
'Out walking. Every child should have the memory
Of at least one long-after-bedtime walk.
What, son?'
'Then I should think you'd try to find
Somewhere to walk--'
'The highway as it happens-
We're stopping for the fortnight down at Dean's.'
'But if that's all-Joel-you realize-
You won't think anything. You understand?
You understand that we have to be careful.
This is a very, very lonely place.
Joel!' She spoke as if she couldn't turn.
The swinging lantern lengthened to the ground,
It touched, it struck it, clattered and went out.

poem by Robert Frost
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0300 Dante on Mowing the Front Lawn

Let's not go into the matter of that
dark wood in our back garden which
shames us in the eyes of our
prissy neighbours (we call it
our 'poetic arbour', where
camelopards roam) -

mowing the lawn - that's all I can manage
between poetic stints:
it's hell when you put it off -
the wife, the pointed looks from
those prissy neighbours, the
pricks of social conscience, and
the guilt...oh the guilt...
sins of omission, all that stuff, I'm
in and out of the confession box...

then when I get round to it at last
it's purgatory - the grass is long,
gets in the rollers at the hub, it's
wet at the roots, tears when it should cut,
bald brown patches revealed -
the neighbours' children do their
'watch and pretend to hide their suppressed
laughter with a hand and a smirk' act... but

it's sheer (sheared?) paradise when
it's done and I can look the neighbours
in the eye and dare them to
make some pointed remark in
the guise of compliment - how I hate
this pre-modern irony, Juvenal started it...

all this to get a whiff of paradise...
and now it's just rained this morning and
the bloody grass looks unshaven
already... lawnmowing, it's just
one eternal round - look,
the neighbour's out already with his
swanky new machine; it's
a real human comedy

(thanks to Adam and The Poetry Society for the initial inspiration)

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Into The Happy New Year (Catena Rondo)

There was some rain earlier in this dark night,
outside rockets again do whoosh and thump
in through the open window the cat jumps,
there was some rain earlier in this dark night;

outside rockets continually whoosh and thump,
crackers go bam, bam, ka-boom and ka-boom
dogs bark in fear, howl hysteric outside my room
outside rockets continually whoosh and thump,

crackers go bam, bam, ka-boom and ka-boom
and it is old year’s day that’s almost gone
while the brand New Year is now rushing on,
crackers go bam, bam, ka-boom and ka-boom

and it is old year’s day that’s almost gone
at half-past eleven the neighbours celebrate
a new message my cell-phone indicate
and it is old year’s day that’s almost gone,

at half-past eleven the neighbours celebrate
while they jollily loudly dance and sing
and with their music my ears do ring
at half-past eleven the neighbours celebrate

while they jollily loudly dance and sing
as if the New Year does hold something great
and not a moment longer they can wait,
while they jollily loudly dance and sing

as if the New Year does hold something great;
very later things quiet somewhat down
and in sleep I am coming to my own,
as if the New Year does hold something great

very later things quiet somewhat down
until at three a car hoots across the street
as if it wants the neighbourhood to meet,
very later things quiet somewhat down

until at three a car hoots across the street,
as if all my resolutions and patience to test,
the dogs, the cat and I get some rest
until at three a car hoots across the street,

as if all my resolutions and patience to test
before a thunderbolt crashes electric blue,
blazing at my eyes with its terrible white hue
as if all my resolutions and patience to test,

before a thunderbolt crashes electric blue
there was some rain earlier in this dark night,
people laugh at the car’s bright lights
before a thunderbolt crashes electric blue;

there was some rain earlier in this dark night,
outside rockets again do whoosh and thump,
in through the open window the cat jumps,
there was some rain earlier in this dark night.

poem by Gert Strydom
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The Watcher on the Tower

I
The Voice of a Man

WHAT of the Night, O Watcher?

The Voice of a Woman

Yea, what of it?

The Watcher

A star has risen; and a wind blows strong.

Voice of the Man

The Night is dark.

The Watcher

But God is there above it.

Voice of the Woman

The Night is dark; the Night is dark and long.

II
Voice of the Man

What of the Night, O Watcher?

Voice of the Woman

Night of sorrow!

The Watcher

Out of the East there comes a sound, like song.

Voice of the Man

The Night is dark.

The Watcher

Have courage! There’s To-morrow!

Voice of the Woman

The Night is dark; the Night is dark and long.

III
Voice of the Man

What of the Night, O Watcher?

Voice of the Woman

Is it other?

The Watcher

I see a gleam; a thorn of light; a thong.

Voice of the Man

The Night is dark.

The Watcher

The Morning comes, my Brother.

Voice of the Woman

The Night is dark; the Night is dark and long.

IV
Voice of the Man

What now, what now, O Watcher?

The Watcher

Red as slaughter
The Darkness dies. The Light comes swift and strong.

Voice of the Man

The Night was long.—What sayest thou, my Daughter?

Voice of the Woman

The Night was dark; the Night was dark and long.

poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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A House With No Curtains

(alan jackson/jim mcbride)
We still wear our rings
We still say I love you
We both play the part
Oh so well
But everyone knows
Its just a sad show
And were only foolin ourselves
Its like living in a house with no curtains
The whole world can see whats inside
You can turn out the lights in a house with no curtains
But the heartache has nowhere to hide
We could pack up and leave in different directions
If we just had somewhere to go
We just keep on pretending
Afraid of the ending
Admitting what everyone knows
Its like living in a house with no curtains
The whole world can see whats inside
You can turn out the lights in a house with no curtains
But the heartache has nowhere to hide
You can turn out the lights
In a house with no curtains
But the heartache has nowhere to hide

song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Bar

On Friday I went into this dimly lit night time bar
the jukebox was playing the blues by some bygone star.
I wanted to be alone so I sat in a dark corner spot,
nearby a couple were kissing and getting passionate.

The atmosphere was relaxing and I was reflecting on my day,
one drink, then two, and then another went down the same way.
The kissing couple had a break and each smoked a cigarette
they spoke softly of love, and kissed each others neck.

Four young guys came in and sat on high-stools at the bar
they were laughing and joking, without going too far.
Suddenly the whole mood changed as one got offended,
but the others apologised, and said no insult was intended.

The offended guy went to the toilet while his friends got in another round.
Then a stag night party came in, who were pouring the booze down.
Some of the party were slightly drunk and a little worse for wear,
but then they became loud and rowdy, and some began to swear.

The man who went to the toilet returned and tried to sit back down,
but one of the drunken party was on his stool and acted like a clown.
The clown was asked to move, in a gentlemanly polite kind of way,
but he wasn’t moving an inch, tomorrow was his wedding day.

Eventually, pushing and shoving managed to get him off the stool
and he ended up on the floor, as clowns do, as a rule.
The clown’s friends rallied around and began poking the other man,
and then his friends joined in, and more shouting, and pushing began.

The manager of the bar ordered them all to leave the place,
and told them their behaviour was an absolute disgrace.
Outside the arguing continued, and punches were thrown,
the clown and his friends weren’t going to leave this matter alone.

The kissing couple also left with their arms lovingly interlocked,
they became caught up in the affray with the man getting socked.
The clown’s friend pulled a knife, and the woman fell to the ground,
she lay in a pool of blood, as the shocked crowd circled around.

A police van arrived and took everyone including me,
all night I was detained along with the clown’s stag party.
As a witness I saw everything from the beginning to the end,
and I’m so glad that I wasn’t there on a date, with my lady friend.

poem by Orlando Belo
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Last Night I Was Talking To Myself

last night i was talking to myself
asking and making answers
like the way i make a knot and
then untie them from a cemented
post at the port
so that the wooden boat
may finally be let loose
and be free to sail
to its chosen destination

the sea was so wide
like all seas that you have seen
but the night was so dark
like no other

last night i was formulating solutions
to a very common problem
like how to cure a cold
with just a glass of water
like how to appease the coldness
of a room with nothing but
a piece of a woolen blanket
and curling feet and
hiding hands in my pocket
so i can have the exact warmth
so i may finally have my much
needed sleep and
dream about the peace
between the clouds
and the stars

last night i could not sleep
and you are beside me
last night i opened the window
of our room while you
were there snoring
last night i was silently
talking about the absence of
stars the loss of the moon

and then the rain fell
heavily on the roof of this house
and then i closed the windows
and then i listened to every sound
and then i noticed a faint light coming
from a leak of these walls

i know
another morning has finally
come
it is broken they say.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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