En.Citatepedia^®.ro

My Feelings of the Wrong and Innocent Part 1

I cry on a dark night.
In my room looking out the window
Nothing in sight,
Only my reflection out the window
As I cry.

I cry because I'm angry.
I see the boys in the street
With poor innocent ladies,
Scared to death, why?
As I cry.

47th street of Chicago filled with women
Trying to make a living.
They need guidence,
But who when all the women are gone
To takecare of their kids.
In my window I cry.

poem by Paris.O Johnson
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Forcing The Window To Flow

At the window, rain drives
Drizzles and drizzles glow and go
Pushing and loosing the window to and fro
And some-one asked, who is at the window?
Pushing and pushing the window and dash?

In the dark of the night free and roll
Going for the next fresh candle of the day
At the window a hand goes and more, who is at the window?
She cried and roared the mall
And forced the window and banged and go.

poem by Paul Mwenelupembe
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Thru The Window

Thru the window, I slip away
Into the darkness, time has come
I must use caution, summer nights are here, Ill race for the shadows, Ill make a trail
No one can follow, and all I feel
Is the breeze rushin by my face
Runnin free thru the night in the street
Like it best when I feel the heat
I know my babys waitin just for me
Creepin, thru her neighborhood
I hope nobody, has seen or heard
My intentions, are driven by this flame inside
I see her light on, her silhouettes
In the window, shes waiting for
My arrival, on this summer night
Runnin free thru the night in the street
Like it best when I feel the heat
Runnin free thru the night in the street
I know my babys waiting just for me
Runnin free thru the night in the street
I like it best when I fell the heat, oh yeah
Thru her window, she slips away
I hear her heartbeat
High emotion, takes us where weve never been before

song performed by by Reo Speedwagon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Mirror

Standing in front of the mirror,
The reflection tells me to look behind.
The focus of the mirror is myself,
And also what lies behind.
I can move to the left,
I can move to the right,
But to the mirror I am always within it's sight.
As are things past.
I look out a window,
It tells me to see what lies ahead.
In the window, I do not see myself.
I see others.
I see nature's beauty unfolding.
I know I am there,
But I am just merely a part of the surroundings.
To the mirror, it is all about me.
The mirror tells me to worry about how I look.
The window tells me to worry about how the world looks.
The eyes are the window to the soul.
Not the mirror.
The mirror deceives.
To the mirror, everything is backwards.
As I look into my own eyes.
My soul becomes filled with self.
As I look into the eyes of another.
My soul becomes filled with life.
While the mirror holds my reflection.
It is the window that holds the truth.

poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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A Window Into The World

The crow flaps its dark wings up there,
hungryor death,
and the dark opened its mouth down there,
hungry for poverty.
Both are permanent visitors on 134th street,
the street of my childhood,
where I returned to after fifty years of straying.
Nothing has changed,
apart from the poverty
which became bigger and darker.
The orphanage is still in the same place
where I used to daydream of the outside world
for hours, days and months on an end I used to stand by the window,
shyly stealing smiles from other kids
who cheerfully jumped around their parents,
dreaming that someday I might hold a child by their hand,
and walk far away from the orphanage.
But that world,
the world I used to watch with so much desire
through the little hole of poverty,
became even colder, lonelier and darker than the orphanage to me.
Yes, Lord, I admit to this standing next to the old orphanage's window,
from my dear and sad sight of the world,
that I am coming home poorer and lonelier,
much sadder and poorer
than I was back in my childhood,
because back then I was rich with youth and hope,
and now I am so hopelessly old and lonely.
I am looking at my old orphanage,
and Patrick's reverberant voice crosses my mind,
Patrick who is long since reading his dear little poems
to angels in white heavenly fields.
When I used to stray the dark streets of the world,
the memory of his precious and clear eyes
was my lighthouse,
and now I am left without youth and friends,
hopelessly old and lonely,
in the company of crows, darkness and poverty.
While I am standing at my little sight of the world,
the wind is carrying around the cigarette ember
along the street of my childhood,
leaving behind a fiery trail for my poverty,
and the old orphanage window,
my small sight of the world,
is creaking like the bones of an old homeless man,
as if it arrived at its end too.
I wonder how many views that old window had provided,
and how many gazes and scorn it withstood?
My old window into the world squeaked again,
and now I know that it is time for me to venture into the dark,
to return into the world,
because my old window
is providing a new hope and new view of the world
to a new resident of the orphanage now.

poem by Walter William Safar
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Outside My Window - Sarah Buxton

Outside my window,
I see a redbird singin',
Sittin' on a wire,
Wish I knew what he's thinkin'.
Outside my window,
I see a couple kissin'.
Huggin and a-lovin',
Man, that's just what I've been missin'.
These days, when everything is crazy,
Some things are never, ever changin'.
(chorus)
You still need stars when you're wishin' at night,
A best friend to set you right,
A good laugh, a warm bath,
And a beautiful song you can sing along to.
Good news that'll make you cry,
All the little things that money can't buy,
No wars, no more,
Just a big rainbow
Outside my window.
La la la la la la.
Outside my window,
I see the bluest ocean,
Sails in the sunlight,
Rockin' in the sweetest motion.
Outside my window,
I hear the church bells ringin',
Nobody fightin',
Over what hymn they're singin'.
I know, I'm dreamin' like a child,
But some things just don't go out of style, like:
(chorus)
La la la la la la.
(Outside my window.)
La la la la la la.
Outside my window,
I see a flag that's wavin',
Hands joined together,
Everybody's celebrating. (Yeah!)
La la la la la la.
Outside my window.
La la la la la la.
Everybody look outside my window.
(chorus)
La la la la la la.
(Outside my window.)
La la la la la la.
(Outside my window.)
La la la la la la.
(Outside my window.)
La la la la la la.
(Everybody look outside my window.)
La la la la la la.
(Live...live.)
La la la la la la.
Oh, oh.
(Outside, outside.)
La la la la la la.
(Live...live.)
La la la la la la.
(Outside my window.)
La la la la la la.
(Live...live.)
(Outside, outside.)
(Outside my window.)
La la la la la la.

poem by Rebecca Ryan
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The Case Of The Window Pain

an astute answer
discerning shrewd
would surely mention

this wit must be
personification
of a window pane

as for the window pain
perhaps the window is shamed
perhaps the window is dirty

as for the window pain
perhaps the glass is cracked
small large cracks streaked

as for the window pain
perhaps cricket ball punctured
victim of circle game holed

as for the window pain
perhaps the window is broken
glass shards bear crime witness

as for the window pain
perhaps window frame rots
an old window in house derelict

as for the window pain
perhaps the window witnesses
child abuse domestic scenes violent

poem by Terence George Craddock
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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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What You Do Not Expect....

you are on your
way to the tenth floor
go inside
the room and closed
the door
open the window
and get some fresh
air from
the sea
you sit on the
window sill
and the people
down the street
go panicky

you are whistling
a song
and all the while
they are praying
that you do not
jump
from that
high....

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Window On The World

A broken promise I kept too long
A greasy shade and a curtain drawn
A broken glass and a heart gone wrong
That's my window on the world
A cup of coffee in a shaky hand
Waking up in a foreign land
Trying to act like I got something planned
That's my window on the world
That's my window on the world
Could you stand a little closer girl?
Don't let Mama cut those curls
That's my window on the world
In broad daylight that circus tent
Pulled up stakes, I don't know where it went
A closed dark room with a busted vent
That's my window on the world
I think about you and I'm countin sheep
I think about you then I can't sleep
I think the ocean is just so deep
That's my window on the world
That's my window on the world
Could you stand a little closer girl?
The Queen of Sheeba meets the Duke of Earl
That's my window on the world
Down on Indiana Avenue
Where some Jimmy men, they play the blues
I guess they were only passin through
That's my window on the world
That's my window on the world
Could you stand a little closer girl?
Don't let Mama cut those curls
That's my window on the world

song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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About An Open Window

let me now talk about an open window
the one that lives in that room
where the window is open
be it day or in the dangers of the night
its blackness threatening
it was even rumored that a monster flies
and eats the sweet flesh of women

is a woman, oh, she is as beautiful as
the north star that guides lost pilgrims
oh, she is as sweet as the honey of cultured
bees, she as as tender as treated beef,

her window is always open
waiting for the full moon
to make love to her once a month
when she too is on heat
like a wild, wild beast.

that monster brings the moon
and beastly, the beautiful woman knows what love
is there
by the window that is always kept open
because it fears no one
her lover
the beast, none other.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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
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Ladies Pay

All the sailors theyre all home from leave
And everybodys waiting for them to try to deceive
The storekeepers have drawn their lace curtains bare
And all the women and the wee young girls all waiting there
Oh, but how the ladies pay
Oh, if they only knew how the ladies pay
Yeah now, how the ladies pay
Oh, when the men theyve gone away
Nobody is standing on upon the door
And nobody is feeding any of the poor
The poor sick soldier lies in bed beside his girl
Thinking of another place on the other side of the world
Ah
How the ladies pay
Oh-oh, oh, how the ladies pay
When the men theyve gone away
Oh, I wish I knew how the ladies pay
Day and night, night and day
How the ladies pay
Day and night, night and day
How the ladies pay
Day and night
Night and day
Day and night
Day and night, night and day, ladies pay now
Night and day, day and night
How the ladies pay
Day and night, night and day
How the ladies pay
Day and night now
Night and day and now
How the pay now
Oh, how the pay now
Ladies pay, ladies pay
Ah, ladies pay the way now
Ladies pay, ah, ladies pay
Ah, ladies pay
Night and day, night and day, night and day
Oh, how the ladies pay
Oh, night and day, night and day, night and day
Oh, how the ladies pay

song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Outside Your Window

Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I feel the seconds slowly pass,
Whilst you I anxiously await.

And behind the glowing glass;
I glimpsed a fading candlelight.
And I with hope was filled and so:
Wished I for love and life this night.

Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I see through the looking glass,
To find my missing soulmate.

And when the light finally flew;
When darkness swamped the room:
A wide smile on my face drew;
And waited I for you to bloom.

Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I feel my feelings all amass,
As I your beauty contemplate.

Seconds felt forever;
Nor beauty I did see.
All alone my eyes did glitter;
Whilst wondering where you would be!

Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I walked on in your impasse;
Wishing it's not yet too late.

Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I lonesome stood for long alas!
And didn't notice your window grate.

Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I tried to drag out of that morass,
Myself; and my lost senses locate.

Outside Her Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I watched my heart swiftly by a lass,
Gets stolen; and did my soul sedate.

Outside Her Window;
I still pass by everyday.
Outside Her Window;
I can't just turn and walk away.

Outside Her Window;
I still have hope that she might show.
Outside Her Window;
I watch my life pass by so slow.

Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I once awaited you alone all night.
But now I know: it's just too late!

poem by Danny The Dreamer Boyd
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Two Grey Rooms

Tomorrow is sunday
Now theres only one day left to go
Till you walk by
Below my window
The weekends drive me mad
Holidays are oh too sad
cause you dont go
Below my window
No one knows Im here
One day I just disappeared
And I took these two grey rooms up here
With a view
When you walk by
Below my window
You look so youthful
Time has been untruthful
Heaven knows I loved you
30 years ago
Hot days your shirts undone
Rainy days you run
Oh and then you fade so fast
Below my window
No one knows Im here
One day I just disappeared
And I took these two grey rooms up here
With a view
Only when you walk by
Below my window
When you walk by
Below my window
Below my window
Hey hey
Below my window
Below my window
Below my window

song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Boys In The Trees

(carly simon)
Im home again in my old narrow bed
Where I grew tall and my feet hung over the end
The low beam room with the window looking out
On the soft summer garden
Where the boys grew in the trees
Here I grew guilty
And no one was at fault
Frightened by the power in every innocent thought
And the silent understanding passing down
>from daughter to daughter
Let the boys grow in the trees
Do you go to them or do you let them come to you
Do you stand in back afraid that youll intrude
Deny yourself and hope someone will see
And live like a flower
While the boys grew in the trees
Last night I slept in sheets the colour of fire
Tonight I lie alone again and curse my own desires
Sentenced first to burn and then to freeze
And watch by the window
Where the boys grew in the trees

song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Room

(chris waters/tom shapiro)
When I pull in the drive where your car used to be
It doesnt hurt me like it used to
I can walk through the door, and not wonder anymore
Where you are, like I used to
I can go down the hall, see the pictures on the wall
And not miss you
But I just cant bring myself to go into..
The room
Where I spent every night with you
And the light of the moon
Came through the window
And I held you
We were so close
And its just too soon
For me to go into the room
Id remember too much if I opened that door
And Im not sure if I could face it
The beds emptiness would remind me youre with
Someone else, and I couldnt take it
So, I sleep on the couch in our living room now
Since our love died
cause Im still not ready yet to go inside...
The room
Where I spent every night with you
And the light of the moon
Came through the window
And I held you
We were so close
And its just too soon
For me to go into the room
Where the light of the moon
Came through the window
And I held you
We were so close
And its just too soon
For me to go into the room

song performed by by Wade Hayes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No Star I Can See

There is no star,
Which I can see
From my window...
Boundless darkness
Is here in the
Chest of night.
The painted sky,
I saw in the daylight
Now is wiped away
As my last poem
I wrote but made
it vanish from
The page, because
It couldn't tell
The blank story,
Of my desolate
Life...no star
Still is visible
From this window..
Someone has spread
The melted pitch
On the road of my
Moped sky..I stare
And stare all night.
The caged breeze,
The starless sky
And night, none can share
My loneliness, I know
They are no living
Persons like me...
But, they can drown me
In complete void of
Sea of utter darkness.
One star can do this;
Only one star......
Thru my little window,
It's flickering light,
Can fill my dark room,
With its heavenly touch!

poem by Nilakshi Das
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Window

I was staring out the window
The whole time he was talking to me
It was a filthy pane of glass
I couldn't get a clear view
As he went on and on
It wasn't the outside world I could see
Just the filthy pane that I was looking through
So I had to break the window
It just had to be
Better that I break the window
Than him or her or me
I was never focused on just one thing
My eyes got fixed when my mind got soft
It may looked like I'm concentrated on a very clear view
But I'm as good as asleep
I bet you didn't know
It takes a lot of it away if you do
So I had to break the window
It just had to be
Better that I break the window
Than him or her or me
So I had to break the window
It just had to be
Better that I break the window
Than him or her or me
Because the fact in fact
Whatevers in front of me is covering my view
So I can't see what I'm seeing in fact
I only see what I'm looking through
I had to break the window
It just had to be it was in my way
Better that I break the window
Then forget what I had to say
So again I've done the right thing
I was never worried about that
The answer's always been in clear view
But even when the window's clean
I still can't see for the fact
That when it's clean it's so clear
I cant tell what I'm looking through
So I had to break the window
It just had to be
Better that I break the window
Than him or her or me
I had to break the window
It just had to be it was in my way
Better that I break the window
Then forget what I had to say
I had to break the window
It was in my way
Better that I break a window
Then forget what I had to say
Or miss what I should see
Or breaking him or her or me

song performed by by Fiona Apple
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Street Only Knew Your Name

Your street, rich street or poor
You should always be sure of your street
There's a place in your heart,
When you know from the start
And you can't be complete without a street
Keep movin' on, just like a train
Sometimes you gotta look back to the street again
Would you prefer all those castles in spain
Or a view of the street from your window pane
When you were young, so young
So very very young
When you were young, so young
So very very young
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name, oh your precious name, precious name
There was walter and joy, kate and roy
All hung around the corner lamplight
Get together sing some songs
Like boppin' the blues - you make me feel alright
That was long before fortune and fame
No such thing as a star when you've played that game
Everyone knew who everyone was
There was no preference in the street no, no
When you were young, so young
So very very young
When you were young, so young
So very very young
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name, oh your precious name
And you walked around in the heart of town
Listening for that sound
And you walk around in the heart of town
Listening for that sound
Blue suede shoes, it was the blue suede shoes
When you were young, so young
So very very young
When you were young, so young
So very very young
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name
And the street only knew your name

song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ball's Bluff: A Reverie

One noonday, at my window in the town,
I saw a sight - saddest that eyes can see -
Young soldiers marching lustily
Unto the wars,
With fifes, and flags in mottoed pageantry;
While all the porches, walks, and doors
Were rich with ladies cheering royally.

They moved like Juny morning on the wave,
Their hearts were fresh as clover in its prime
(It was the breezy summer time),
Life throbbed so strong,
How should they dream that Death in rosy clime
Would come to thin their shining throng?
Youth feels immortal, like the gods sublime.

Weeks passed; and at my window, leaving bed,
By nights I mused, of easeful sleep bereft,
On those brave boys (Ah War! thy theft);
Some marching feet
Found pause at last by cliffs Potomac cleft;
Wakeful I mused, while in the street
Far footfalls died away till none were left.

poem by Herman Melville
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