Port Bou
As a child holds a pet,
Arms clutching but with hands that do not join,
And the coiled animal watches the gap
To outer freedom in animal air,
So the earth-and-rock flesh arms of this harbour
Embrace but do not enclose the sea
Which, through a gap, vibrates to the open sea
Where ships and dolphins swim and above is the sun.
In the bright winter sunlight I sit on the stone parapet
Of a bridge; my circling arms rest on a newspaper
Empty in my mind as the glittering stone
Because I search for an image
And seeing an image I count out the coined words
To remember the childish headlands of Port Bou.
A lorry halts beside me with creaking brakes
And I look up at warm waving flag-like faces
Of militia men staring down at my French newspaper.
'How do they write of our struggle, over the frontier?'
I hold out the paper, but they refuse,
They did not ask for anything so precious
But only for friendly words and to offer me cigarettes.
In their smiling faces the war finds peace, the famished mouths
Of the rusty carbines brush against their trousers
Almost as fragilely as reeds;
And wrapped in a cloth - old mother in a shawl -
The terrible machine-gun rests.
They shout, salute back as the truck jerks forward
Over the vigorous hill, beyond the headland.
An old man passes, his running mouth,
With three teeth like bullets, spits out 'pom-pom-pom'.
The children run after; and, more slowly, the women,
Clutching their clothes, follow over the hill,
Till the village is empty, for the firing practice,
And I am left alone on the bridge at the exact centre
Where the cleaving river trickles like saliva.
At the exact centre, solitary as a target,
Where nothing moves against a background of cardboard houses
Except the disgraceful skirring dogs; and the firing begins,
Across the harbour mouth from headland to headland.
White flecks of foam gashed by lead in the sea;
And the echo trails over its iron lash
Whipping the flanks of the surrounding hills.
My circling arms rest on the newspaper,
My mind seems paper where dust and ink fall,
I tell myself the shooting is only for practice,
And my body seems a cloth which the machine-gun stitches
Like a sewing machine, neatly, with cotton from a reel,
And the solitary, irregular, thin 'paffs' from the carbines
Draw on long needles white threads through my navel.
poem by Stephen Spender
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Dinosaur Adventure 3D
What you waiting for, gazing
what you waiting, what you watching the skies for
what you waiting the holes are for water let the fall
let the clothes in let the clothes on
keep your clothes on
whoever you love,
whoever, you look happy
i feel dazed, i feel day's orange glow
with a pineapple head
walks in the sun
with a friend the mouse, with a friend the shadow
war machine : war machine
wrap her arms : wrap her arms around me
war machine : war machine
come to wrap her arms, tight to wrap her body
she move fast : she move slow
she move down into the water : i remember her
i remember unnatural
i was leaving you
what you looking for babe
your voice, i'm not incredible
your voice is in desperation
i hear you
i hear bleeding
between her arms are tight :
wrapped around her body :
she move fast, she look down :
she won't look in my eyes :
i remember her now :
her unnatural surprise
What you waiting for, gazing
what you waiting, what you watching the skies for
what you waiting the holes are for water let the fall
let the clothes in let the clothes on
keep your clothes on
whoever you love,
whoever, you look happy
i feel dazed, i feel day's orange glow
with a pineapple head
walks in the sun
with a friend the mouse, with a friend the shadow
war machine : war machine
wrap her arms : wrap her arms around me
war machine : war machine
come to wrap her arms, tight to wrap her body
song performed by by Underworld
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Open Arms
If love is what you want
Baby here I am
If tenderness is what you need
Ive got that to give
If you need some affection
Baby these are open arms
Open arms open arms open arms open arms
You come hem youve had a hard day
Every door you tried to open
Was closing in your face
Im right here Ill be right here
Ill embrace you
Ill be open with my heart
Ill let you in
Ill be open with my thoughts
Ill be your best friend
If you need some attention
Baby these are open arms
Open arms open arms open arms open arms
Every corner you turn
Trouble come your way
But when you get home
Ill try to be there
And Ill embrace you
These are
These are
These are
Open arms
If time is what you need
Baby Ill stop the clocks
If youre looking for something
Maybe Ive got what you want
If theres one thing to remember
Dont forget that these are open arms
Open arms open arms open arms open arms
These are
These are
These are
Open arms
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Right Back Here In My Arms
{cuz thats my only mission sample repeats in song}
Oh baby
(right back here in my arms) {x2}
Right back here, yeah
Dont want u 2 write me no letters
Dont want u callin my farm
I just want u, I just want u
I just want u right back here in my arms
Alright
I aint checkin 4 the sweet talk, baby (right)
Talkin bout how ure missin my charms (right)
I just want u, I just want u
I just want u right back here in my arms (thats my only mission)
I just want u, I just want u
I just want u right back here in my arms
(right back here in my arms)
Oh baby
(right back here in my arms)
Oh baby
I know u got a lot on your mind (right)
Thats why I wanna give u some time (right)
Till I get 2, till I get 2
Till I get 2 hug that body so fine
I know u need a little space, just a little
Thats why I aint showin my face (right)
I just want u, I just want u
I just want u right back here in my arms
Oh baby
(right back here in my arms)
(right, right)
Right back in my arms (right back here in my arms)
Right back, right back
Right back here in my arms
(right) (right back here in my arms)
No, no, no 2 the postman bringin me letters
U know a brotha gonna feel much better
If he keep his mind on, u know, whatever
Anything as long as it is makin it wetter
Cuz I cant stop thinkin about what we do
There ought 2 be a law against the hoochie ooh! (ooh!)
Can we groove? I dont wanna do u no harm
I just want u right back here in my arms
Oh baby (right back here in my arms)
Dont want u 2 write me no letters
I just want u, I just want u
I just want u right back here in my arms
Ooh yeah, right back here in my arms
(right back here in my arms)
I just want u right back here in my arms (right)
Right back here in my arms
(right back here in my arms) (right)
Right back, right back (right)
Ill try 2 write u back
(right back here in my arms)
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Eye
The Atlantic is a stormy moat; and the Mediterranean,
The blue pool in the old garden,
More than five thousand years has drunk sacrifice
Of ships and blood, and shines in the sun; but here the Pacific--
Our ships, planes, wars are perfectly irrelevant.
Neither our present blood-feud with the brave dwarfs
Nor any future world-quarrel of westering
And eastering man, the bloody migrations, greed of power, clash of
faiths--
Is a speck of dust on the great scale-pan.
Here from this mountain shore, headland beyond stormy headland
plunging like dolphins through the blue sea-smoke
Into pale sea--look west at the hill of water: it is half the
planet:
this dome, this half-globe, this bulging
Eyeball of water, arched over to Asia,
Australia and white Antartica: those are the eyelids that never
close;
this is the staring unsleeping
Eye of the earth; and what it watches is not our wars.
poem by Robinson Jeffers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Song of Sydney
(1894)
High headlands all jealously hide thee,
O fairest of sea-girdled towns!
Thine Ocean-spouse smileth beside thee,
While each headland threatens and frowns.
Like Venice, upheld on sea-pinion,
And fated to reign o'er the free,
Thou wearest, in sign of dominion,
The zone of the sea.
No winter thy fertile slope hardens,
O new Florence, set in the South!
All lands give their flowers to thy gardens,
That glow to thy bright harbour's mouth;
The waratah and England's red roses
With stately magnolias entwine,
Gay sunflowers fill sea-scented closes,
All sweet with woodbine.
Thy harbour's fair flower-crowned islands
See flags of all countries unfurled,
Thou smilest from green, sunlit highlands
To open thine arms to the world!
Dark East's and fair West's emulations
Resound from each hill-shadowed quay,
And over the songs of all nations,
The voice of the sea.
poem by Ethel Castilla
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Open Arms
Guess Ive got a lot of learning to do
About the way that you love.
If it had been left up to me,
Id given up a long time ago.
But youve got a way of wooing me,
Tender and true,
And though I dont deserve it,
Im falling into your
Open arms.
Your love has taken hold,
And I cant fight it;
Im giving in to your
Open arms.
They pull me to you;
They wrap your love around me;
Ill rest in your open arms.
Only yesterday the thought came the to me,
Is your love as deep as they say?
Wonder where those questions come from.
Soon as I learn, Ill chase them away.
cause Ive had a taste of tenderness,
Simple and true,
It drives away the doubting
And draws me into your
Open arms.
Your love has taken hold,
And I cant fight it.
Im giving in to your
Open arms.
They pull me to you;
They wrap your love around me;
Ill rest in your open arms.
Open arms.
Your love has taken hold,
And I cant fight it.
Im giving in to your
Open arms.
They pull me to;
They wrap your love around me;
Ill rest in your open,
Open arms.
Your love has taken hold,
And I cant fight it.
Im giving in to your
Open arms.
They pull me to you;
They wrap your love around me;
Ill rest in your open...(open arms).
I know, I know, I know,
And I cant fight it.
Im giving in to your
Open arms.
They pull me to;
They wrap love around me;
Ill rest in your open arms (open arms).
song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Millworker
Now my grandfather was a sailor
He blew in off the water
My father was a farmer
And i, his only daughter
Took up with a no good millworking man
From massachusetts
Who dies from too much whiskey
And leaves me these three faces to feed
Millwork aint easy
Millwork aint hard
Millwork it aint nothing
But an awful boring job
Im waiting for a daydream
To take me through the morning
And put me in my coffee break
Where I can have a sandwich
And remember
Then its me and my machine
For the rest of the morning
For the rest of the afternoon
And the rest of my life
Now my mind begins to wander
To the days back on the farm
I can see my father smiling at me
Swinging on his arm
I can hear my granddads stories
Of the storms out on lake eerie
Where vessels and cargos and fortunes
And sailors lives were lost
Yes, but its my life has been wasted
And I have been the fool
To let this manufacturer
Use my body for a tool
I can ride home in the evening
Staring at my hands
Swearing by my sorrow that a young girl
Ought to stand a better chance
So may I work the mills just as long as I am able
And never meet the man whose name is on the label
It be me and my machine
For the rest of the morning
And the rest of the afternoon
Gone for the rest of my life
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Empty Arms
Empty arms
That long for you
And they wait
Dear just for you
And these arms
Will stay this way
Till you return
To them someday
Each lonely night
I go to bed
I hug the pillow
Where you used to lay your head
Empty arms
But not for long
Cause my babys coming home
And when he
Walks through the door
These empty arms
Ill have no more
And when he
Walks through that door
These empty arms
Ill have no more
These empty arms
Ill have no more
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Here she walks...
Here she walks in the shade of solitary hills
Hair swaying, skin browned, cotton shirt upon her back
And sandals open to the dust, the camera hangs from her neck
And nestles on her breast. She frames
The silent frontier town that lies before her
With the living shutters of her eyes.
The crowds in the oasis know the name she's taken.
As one woman, child and man, they name her in their tongue
And with their gaze demand of her and whisper for each other
The reason for her smile, the playtime of her eyes -
A distant lover, transported? Or a letter
Delivered by mysterious means, unseen hands?
For she is smiling in the solid arms
Of her freedom at each step increasing. No man
Can raise his hand against her, not in rage
Nor with premeditation. No father now
Can make a servitude for her, no mother
Can turn away her face and and close her heart.
The sun freckles her arms and when it rains
The drops beat languidly upon her roof.
The watchman fans the embers of his jiko
To warn the jealous spouse beyond the gates.
The parokeet has learned to serenade the sunrise
And squarks the phraseology of love.
Witless or wise as she may be, the bird talks for me.
Like a young child, ready to show her kindest faces,
The future stands at the corner of the dawn
To beckon her to many of these pathways
To make each day more precious than the rain.
poem by Frank Bana
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Mother and her Dead Child
Looking back
it seemed
the child
was not to be
always there,
not through lack
of love or care,
but something
that came to her
in dreams of dread
at night asleep in bed.
She tries to retake
in dreams
the child back,
to pretend
that through
wishful thinking
she can make up
the lack.
Arms fold
into cradle
as once they had
when child lay
in arm's hold,
snuggled
and warm,
alive and moving,
seeking out with
eyes and fingers
her mother's dug.
Rock-abye-baby
no more,
the arms
and hands
redundant,
the last time
she recalls
the dead child
in arms,
rocking
back and forth,
as if this might cure
and bring back
to life,
might stir open
eyes, jog open
lips and mouth
to suck.
Not to be
just the memory,
ill luck.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The wish of a streetchild..
A needle and some thread to sew the torn trousers,
A heart to share the umbrella while it rains,
A town hall that not switch off the street lights at midnight,
Some coconut oil to spread on the slipper less sore feet,
A shade to hang the wet clothes in rainy days,
To hide from the sun during long summer rays,
Need enough old newspaper to make the bed,
On The folding arms, the head can rest,
No one chase away from this place reserved,
Owner of the shop, kind enough not to splash water,
Tomorrow need not be as hard as today,
Hundreds of children on the streets, not empty,
Struggle to survive in the adult platform,
Those little fingers do the work multiform.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Just A Machine
It’s just a machine,
Just a machine.
Four wheels that travel from A to B.
Why worship this idol that you see,
That’s pretty silly, don’t you agree.
It’s just a machine,
Just a machine.
Costing a fortune, must keep its shine.
Had to have it, this knockout design.
Thought it simply something so divine.
It’s just a machine,
Just a machine.
Depreciates in so quick a time.
Won’t last long, rusty, bang goes its prime.
It certainly won’t be worth a dime.
It’s just a machine,
Just a machine.
A car that travels from A to B.
Not an icon, no god this taxi,
Merely moulded plastic, with a key.
It’s just a machine,
Just a machine.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Millworker
(james taylor)
Now my grandfather was a sailor,
He blew in off the water
My father was a farmer
I, his only daughter,
Took up with a no-good millworking man from massachusetts
Who dies from too much whiskey
And leaves me these three faces to feed
Millwork aint easy; mill-work aint hard
Millwork, it aint nothing but an awful boring job
Im waiting for a day dream
To take me through the morning
And put me in my coffee break
Where I can have a sandwich and remember
Then its me and my machine
For the rest of the morning
For the rest of the afternoon
And the rest of my life
Now my mind begins to wander
To the days back on the farm
I can see my father smiling at me,
Swingin on his arm
I can hear my grand-dads stories
Of the storms out on lake erie
Where vessels and cargos and fortunes
And sailors lives were lost
Yes, but its my life has been wasted,
And I have been the fool
To let this manufacture use my body for a tool.
I can ride home in the evening,
Staring at my hands
Swearing by my sorrow that a young girl
Ought to stand a better chance
So may I work the mills
Just as long as I am able
And never meet the man whose
Name is on the label
It be me and my machine
For the rest of the morning
For the rest of the afternoon
And the rest of my life
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
broken and Numb.
She knows these are her
Last moments with her still
Born babe knows they'll take
The babe away and leave
Her arms empty like the
Cradle at home standing
In the nursery especially
Prepared with the wallpaper
Chosen and the new carpets
Laid and she hugs the babe
Close to her breasts tries to
Bring warmth to the lifeless
Bundle wrapped in a white
Blanket and we'll be back in
A while the nurse had said
and she left the small room
and the door clicked shut
With a small click and she
Walks the room rocking
The babe feeling the weight
Sensing her child there her
Flesh and blood and she
Wants to breathe life into
The tiny lungs want to see
Movement wants there to
Be a miracle to shock them
To say look there is life you
Must have been mistaken
But no matter how hard she
Breathes or rocks the babe
No life comes no movement
No miracle of miracles and
Out of the window as she passes
The trees have that winter
Bareness the sky the greyness
Of cannon smoke and a little
Way off a woman laughs a
Vacuum machine is turned
On and a baby cries but not
Hers for hers is silent unmoving
Becoming cold and stiff and
She kisses the pale cheek the
Forehead seeks out the small
Uncrutching hands the tiny
Curved fingers and holding
The babe up tight against her
She doesn't want the separation
To come doesn't want the nurse
To take away the babe in her
Arms but she knows the minutes
Tick away and the nurse will
Come and the empty arms will
Leave her broken and numb.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Warm Machine
I memorize the basics
Making strange faces
There's a thousand miles to go
Without blinking
Gravitate spacewards
Find a home for the head
From my basement
No darkness ever left
This is the night
This is the sound
Here comes the warm machine
Such a warm machine
Some days are playful
Making play faces
But we will not let it through
The darkness and the sense
Or being born to lose
This is the night
This is the sound
Her comes the warm machine
Such a warm machine
This is the life
This is the sound
Here comes a warm machine
Such a warm machine
If I never know we can only feel
I'll take the help
I'll take a slice
Warm alright now
Cos I feel alright
I memorize the basics
song performed by by Bush from The Science Of Things
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Hold Me Close
Take me in your arms again.
Hold me close once more.
Take me in your arms again
like you've done before.
There's no other feeling dear
like your warm embrace.
You can tell how I feel
from the smile on my face.
Where can I get this feeling
when your arms are gone?
Only the memories of their touch
is what I must rely on.
They say my memories will fade away
as time moves ahead.
But what do they know of my memory?
These are just words that are said.
So take me in your arms again.
Hold me close once more.
Embrace me so I'll never forget
just like you've done before.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Matamoras Banks
(Each year many die crossing the deserts,
mountains and rivers of our southern border
in search of a better life. Here I follow the
journey backwards, from the body at the
river bottom, to the man walking across
the desert towards the banks of the Rio Grande.)
For two days the river keeps you down
Then you rise to the light without a sound
Past the playgrounds and empty switching yards
The turtles eat the skin from your eyes, so they lay open to the stars
Your clothes give way to the current and river stone
'Till every trace of who you ever were is gone
And the things of the earth they make their claim
That the things of heaven may do the same
Goodbye, my darling, for your love I give God thanks,
Meet me on the Matamoros
Meet me on the Matamoros
Meet me on the Matamoros banks
Over rivers of stone and ancient ocean beds
I walk on sandals of twine and tire tread
My pockets full of dust, my mouth filled with cool stone
The pale moon opens the earth to its bones
I long, my darling, for your kiss, for your sweet love I give God thanks
The touch of your loving fingertips
Meet me on the Matamoros
Meet me on the Matamoros
Meet me on the Matamoros banks
Your sweet memory comes on the evenin' wind
I sleep and dream of holding you in my arms again
The lights of Brownsville, across the river shine
A shout rings out and into the silty red river I dive
I long, my darling, for your kiss, for your sweet love I give God thanks
A touch of your loving fingertips
Meet me on the Matamoros
Meet me on the Matamoros
Meet me on the Matamoros banks
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
IDP: Prisoner with out number
walking barefooted without any direction in the humid
dry land, under a wrecked super tank; flesh blood smell racking
the firing canon aim to the mountainous camps of cave fighters,
arms only with their AK’s and rocket lancer, with strength of
dream that freedom be achieved only in exchange of life
wounded as the exchange of bully fire, with high power
machine gun and Apache Helicopter, firing without mercy, to
the fighter of their own land, the night becomes a day of blows
of fire, as the day turn into a living inferno of black of clouds
paving the riders of death to haul as many as the sand
thirst drifted my foot, the heat of the sun burn my forehead
and my skin, waiting the vulture to come with the sweet saliva
the Scorpion hunting for a lunch, the sting of death march to the
doorstep in the fuming smoke of the barrel and the bullets with
out cause, leaving death bodies, in the rocks and dunes, while
the silent of the star watch the night fall in the desert I behold i
lay my hand
thousand and thousands of footprint leaves no mistake, in the
death march, everyone has to go with only a hero’s pay you will
survive, the guardian of every fate no one can stand, where in the
heaven and in the earth, with no food and shelter, the body sleep
in the ground, as snake and poisonous spider ready to bite, our
naked body stay for a hungry bite of the wild animal it display
leave me nothing but to remember if your heart is lucky to see,
the pain and the suffering, the refuges camp we stay, offer with no
food and security, as the day runs for a grave we live and no one
knows the real identity
we are the citizen of the land, with no number we bring, in the
land where everything is free and nobody dare us to live, until you
came in our history….please leave us with no return, and let our
lives flourish in the land, with milk and honey …..as we shout
Freedom we live, freedom we survive……..leave us free
' a tribute to our brothers and sisters who live in the
different refugees camp '
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
White Letters On Green Green Grass
Never had he spoken of what they saw
He’d held it back- his emotions raw
Until this day when it came to pass
He found the name etched in black glass
Before that wall he found himself kneeling
Couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling
His ravaged soul opened up at last
As long-buried memories flooded from the past
Black ink against the paper lined
On and on as he spoke his mind
Comrades-in-arms; friends ‘till the last
White letter on green green grass…..
His tears spilled and on the paper fell
As he wrote it all down; describing their hell
Fevered and hard; the words came fast
Purging his soul as he relived their past
Black ink against the paper lined
On and on as he spoke his mind
Comrades-in-arms; friends till the last
White letter on green green grass…..
poem by Julie Dant
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mouth
You gave me this
made me give
your silver grin
still sticking it in
you have soul machine
soul machine
the longest kiss
peeling furniture days
drift madly to you
pollute my heart drain
you have broken at me
broken me
all your mental armor drags me down
nothing hurts like your mouth
your loaded smiles
pretty just desserts
wish it all for you
so much it never hurts
you have soul machine
stone at me
all your mental armor drags me down
we can't breathe when you come around
all your mental armor drags me down
nothing hurts like your mouth mouth
mouth
your mouth mouth mouth
your mouth mouth mouth
we've been missing long before
never found our way home
we've been missing long before
where we'll find our way
you gave me this
made me give
you have soul machine
broken free
all your mental armor drags me down
we can't breathe when you come around
all your mental armor drags me down
nothing hurts like your mouth mouth
mouth
your mouth mouth mouth
your mouth mouth mouth
all your mental armor
all your mental armor
and your mouth
mouth
song performed by by Bush from Razorblade Suitcase
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!