Retirement Sometimes Comes...
On a cold winter night
she sits by the fire-place
nesting her frail frame
on grandma’s rocking chair
listening to the burning wood
the crackling sound of embers
tickle her ears like a lover’s tongue
her brooding eyes focus in deep study
she is reading Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code
unmindful of Angel taking a nap
by the lamp post
with her cute manicured paw
balancing her milky face
empty of purr and punishment
ears twitching like a disturbed twig
on a potted plant
in a moment of broken silence
my padded feet screeched across
the oak-finished wooden floor
proximity of distance where she sat
is almost measured in six or ten winks
of my sleepy eyes
maybe equal to two arms length, not sure
in my right hand is cupped a soft ball
with feathered rubber skin
and just as the night wants to relax
without knowing the color of day
I roll the ball across her back
in sensuous massage meandering
without knowing the color of her pain
retirement sometimes comes
with mysterious prices..
poem by Leonard Dabydeen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Night Is A Good Listener
The night is a good listener
How I wonder how huge its ears are,
How deep its patience in the silence
Of an ocean floor, how wide its embrace,
Like a cool thick forest, like a coiling river,
As though time does not even exist,
The night is listening to me
Intently, like I were her only son,
Because the rest of her servants and mistresses
Are all asleep,
She is so silent, in tiptoes, in a hush,
This night, I can hear how the ants crawl for crumbs,
How the lizards run and play & catch its prey on the ceiling,
How the prey on the other hand, struggles to escape,
How the air gushes on the window pane,
How the whispers of my heart sound like
Some dews dropping on some soft green blades of grass,
Indeed night is so patient, so ever silent,
Though sleepy, it gazes in me, trying to
Understand what all these silent conversation is all about,
The night understands, lip-reading my thoughts,
Listening intently, the night sits, and
Now, signals for an embrace, with arms and heart wide open
Some of her tears are starting to fall.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Red Is The Color I See
Red Is the Color I See
Red is the only color she can see
Dripping from the sky sliding from the trees
Red is the only color she sees
From the blink of an eye to a dropp of a penny
Red is the only color she sees
From the pain exploding within
To the drink being mixed with vodka or Gin
Red Is the Color Hanging On the Walls
Crawling on the floor and sliding down the halls
Red it the blanket that covers her a night
The color that hugs her skin so tight
Red is the Color that whispers death
That suck up the air and your last breathe
Red is the color tell her it will be ok
Just lay down close your eyes and pray
Red is the color that didn't make it through the night
Eyes closed no more memories in sight
Red it the color that hung on the knife
Gone was a life
No a breathe or a blink
The knife now lies in the sink.
poem by Jamelia Lane
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Hot Toddy
Warm
Brown
Sugar
Vanilla
Silky smooth
Makes me relax and forget about my day
As she infects me
Everything inside me begins to sing
Steam rises
And in its wafting presence
Is her scent
Her sweetness is not overpowering
Because it's all real
I place her at my lips and take a drink
Instant comfort
Makes me feel like I'm covered in a perfect
Warm
Soft
Cozy
Feels like I'm home
A place I felt safe
Blanket
She's the perfect mix of sweet with a kick
The color of brown amber liquid
Soothing, as I taste her on my tongue
Instantly, I want another drink of her
She travels through and through me
Leaving warmth in her wake
A low flame in my veins
A dying fire on a winter's night..
Giving me just enough heat to want to stay close
I take another sip..
She leaves a smile on my face
And, when I'm done
I finish with a knowing
That soon,
I'll want her again
poem by Rabia Minhas
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Suffering Is Always Personal and Better Left Unshared and Unspoken
my words are waking me up
my hand is ready, the computer beeps
i like to write an email for you
how many times shall this happen?
this urge to let you know
this morning, i again blame myself
because i can't
i am thinking of the consequences
i know how painful is it to fall
how empty can the house become
how a night without a stars can make us cry
sometimes
how the sound of the river when you walk alone
gives you the sound of the cry of the pebbles
they break their silence
they scream
for truths still untold
to rules that cannot be broken
when you enter that empty room again
a ball of silence meets you
you sit beside it
it speaks to you
this is the first time that you have seen
its nature
it is dressed with lips
and when they begin to open to about to speak to you
you close your hands
turning them into fists
and you hit your chest
and the ball of silence moves away from you
it is respect for pain
when silence pretends again that it is just a ball
and that it can go away
for men suffer all alone
on unsaid proportion
with that ability to embrace no
description
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A wold made of pink
It's just a new obsession
A color which makes me go insane
Pink is not any kind of fiction
Pink always helps me gain
Faith, confidence and everything I need
Trust, joy and a bit of laughter
This color helps me succeed
Pink is the color of my eyes
Only when I look at you
Pink makes me an angel in disguise
It's the color which brings joy to me and my crew
Pink is a color so mighty, so great
Pink is the color my face
Turns when I'm late
Pink is the color which nothing can replace
It's the color which I can't stop thinking of
Neither day nor night
Pink symbolizes my love
Pink is the color of the light
Which shines in my heart for you
It's the color of a wonderland
This color shouldn't be withdrew
It's the color of my imaginary sand
Pink is the color my cat wants to be
Pink is the color of the sun which shines
Pink is the color the world can see
Pink is the color which gives me signs
poem by Mia Peterson
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What Color? (Hope)
what color
was the dust
from which the stars
were made?
what color is the hunger
written on the child's face?
what color is justice,
forgiveness, desire, truth?
what color is the wind....
the rain, gravity,
and knowledge?
what color is equality?
what color is freedom?
what color is eternity?
what color is redemption?
what color is God?
what color were the nails
that hung Jesus on the cross?
what color was enlightenment
falling on the Buddha as he sat
'neath that tree?
what color is prejudice, hatred,
fear, greed, apathy.....
what color your skin?
nay, what color is your blood?
and what color are the eyes
of humanity staring through the darkness?
and what color is hope?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Grandma’s Little Angel
Grandma’s little angel is what you will be called, sent to us from the wings of another angel, heaven has a kiss of blessing with your name all around it, a loving gift from God “Grandma little Angel.”
Grandma’s little angel is who we are waiting for; I have been blessed with a grandchild that I will love forever more.
Grandma’s little angel I will truly adore, cherish the ground she walk upon, kiss her baby feet, hold her tiny hands until she falls to sleep.
Grandma’s little angel the apple of my eyes a wonderfully feeling of joy until the day I die. Little angel kiss my heart, touched my soul I can’t wait until the day comes that I could behold “Grandma’s little angel.”
Grandma’s little angel has already embraced my soul, our eyes has not yet seen the love that will soon unfold. She is my little light the fire that burns deep from within Grandma’s little Angel a kiss from heaven sent.
Grandma’s Little Angel from blossoms flowers grows, beautifully like a red wine rose touched my heart like no one really knows.
Grandma’s little angel I did not fully understand the blessing that was sent from God’s loving hand, he opened my eyes so I can clearly see the love that he in trusted in thee.
poem by Kimbaline Navas
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Color Red
to everything that life stands for in this color
Red is the color of my life
Still stop at cross roads may
Not knowing to proceed or go back
Look to God to show me the way
Red is the color of my passion
It wills that life screams new
A wish that dreams are fulfilled
If really, god did wish it true
Red is the color of my search
For the intelligence crackling few
They confidently take the path
I wish I also just knew
Red is the color of my dreams
They stand alone at sway
I beckon them within my reach
They will, to be far away
Red is the color of my hope
It cries to me to just trust
How do I, the world's so bad
If I do, I feel I just must
Red is the color of my faith
I hold it strong, in awe
I fail at every cornerstone
I breathe, not knowing how
Red is the color of my strength
It overtakes the weak in me
But when it comes to deciding
I feel so weak, you see
Red is the color of my belief
I feel it true but strange
The will to make it my own
For anything, it shall not change
Red is the color of my blood
It spills, in spurts through me
The pressure, it seeks release
It's God's wish, true must be
By aryaindia
Author's comments:
There is no doubt about the effect of the color red on our emotions.
poem by Aryaindia India
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I Don't Really Know When Will This End
this silence
when will this end, this silence between us at noon
a harsh noon, hot and humid, where i burn like a pile of wood in the forest
on a very cold night with you on the other side of the bed
facing the full moon and some shooting stars
this silence between us, when will this end when will the space
between our eyes
resolve the distance of the seasons night and day and summer and rain
i sleep on the bed alone on some scorpion thoughts biting one another
inflicting venoms that numb and even kill
and there you are rocking yourself on a chair making some sleep
like a concoction
of vodka and champagne teasing your eyes filled with tears
the soap on tv is busy with their stories of pain and twist and turns
i pray to end this silence so we can talk and
lay down the final plans
of our earthy longings some demarcations of pain and tolerance and
facts and conclusions
this wherefore and therefore finally
you turn off the tv, and you lay beside me touching my hand
i give in, i still miss you, and i think, the silence has come on the soft
wings of a butterfly for a brief flutter at the ceiling
looking at ourselves for another sweeter second time beginning
the cliche: love is sweeter the second time around is still written on the wall
how can i forget it
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Favorite Colors
Blue is my favorite color drawn from the seas and skies.
It beautifies my mother’s and two of my daughter’s eyes.
It also imbues the flag of my country where freedom is dear.
That’s why when I feel blue, I know happiness must be near.
Red is a close second and I’ll always remember why.
As a child I loved fire engines and the Monarch butterfly.
For me the lovely, regal rose created this exquisite color.
Many shades exist, but it’s hard to focus on any other.
Yellow is another color that has always caught my eye.
It explodes from the morning sun; then paints the sunset sky.
I wonder if, in fact, my favorite color might be yellow.
It reminds me of all that is good, positive and mellow.
Green, the color of life, emboldens the countryside.
Eyes of another daughter sparkle this color far and wide.
Though the color of money, it’s more important for me
That it signifies “proceed” toward opportunity.
Brown graces the eyes of my son and wonderful wife.
Before I met my partner, brown didn’t mean much in my life.
Because of her, this color is the most radiant of all.
Her big brown eyes and gentle sighs are why love came to call.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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No Difference
i stared out the window
at the bare frozen limbs
of my favorite old tree...
i closed my eyes...
saw leaves bud forth
and turn green...
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.
i stared at the young girl
reading at a corner table
i closed my eyes...
and saw an old grandmother
washing dishes with her grandbabies
playing in the floor at her feet...
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.
i saw the young man
carrying his son on his shoulders
i closed my eyes...
and saw an old man standing
by his son's casket
draped by a flag...
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.
i saw an old man
standing on the corner begging
i closed my eyes...
i saw a young boy
playing ball in the street
laughing and dodging cars
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.
i saw a crack head shivering
by an electric heater in a bare apartment
i closed my eyes...
and saw a young a/g student
helping some kid with his math
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.
i saw a desperate girl
walking the streets
looking for a john
i closed my eyes...
and saw a young girl's room
stuffed animals on the bed
pictures of her and her daddy on the wall
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.
i saw a young man
wild-eyed with fear
in a prison cell
i closed my eyes...
i saw a young boy gone hunting
with his grandpa on thanksgiving morn
with his dog by his side
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.
i pulled back the veil of time...
knowing, there is no difference!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Thousand Eyes
Chorus
The night has a thousand eyes
And theyre all on you
The night has a thousand ears
Listening to your cries
Let it work its magic
Let it work its magic
The night has a thousand eyes
Verse 1
You, you had to slip away
After all that spark
You, said all that you could say
And slipped into the dark
I could not let you go
Alone into the night
I had to let you know
The magic there, in the night air
Chorus
The night has a thousand eyes
And theyre all on you
The night has a thousand ears
Listening to your cries
Let it work its magic
Let it work its magic
The night has a thousand eyes
Verse 2
You, somewhere out in the dark
Runs a wounded heart
You, stumbling in the night
In the air of after light
You take along the fears
Did you waste these years,
And did they warn you
Of the night zone all alone
Sometimes it takes a fight
To keep everything on track,
And sometimes it takes a starry night
To bring the magic back
This was the time
And this was the place
With starlight on your face
And the moon on the rise,
The night has a thousand eyes
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Focal Point...
what you are telling me is that you lack focus
i imagine what focus is
when i was a child i held a magnifying glass
and focused it to a ball of dried weeds
i got light from the sun
and of course the ball of weed turns into a ball of fire
i see the sun as the center of the universe inside my heart
i remember what you need: focus
just be careful, you will burn a ball of planets
soon you shall see a conflagration in our universe
all of us
not just watching but burning
now, with focus, comes what you think is success,
be careful, we may never find each other again
me? look at me? i am out of focus, i once burned all my books.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sense of senses
If my feeling going nauseous
I’ll breathe the rain scent that fills my nose
Rather than the cold that kills me
If my breath going lost
I’ll taste the sweet promise that kisses my tongue
Rather than the ache than hungers me
If my tongue going tied
I’ll look at the bright smile that holds my eyes
Rather than the bitter that chokes me
If my eyes going blind
I’ll listen to the gentle sound that tickles my ears
Rather than the darkness that surrounds me
If my ears going deaf
I’ll feel the warm sun that touches my skin
Rather than the silence that shrinks me
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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An Awkward Lie
The course looks soft and silky
Perfectly manicured lying in wait
Fresh ball active on the tee
Every man anticipating ones fate
The sound was deafening from the crack of the drive
Bouncing down the fairway eyes following as if alive
Coming to a rest in the deep rough
Dropping his head now self conscious
Calmly he removes a card from the side poach
Caddy nervously contemplating the approach
Wrongly estimating his clubs heft
Looks of despair as it hocks to the left
Disappearing the crowd let out a sigh
Judge gazing at the awful tricky lie
Man against nature at its best
Now’s the moment to show the rest
This requires an extraordinarily high shot
The golfer knew he had to hit the sweet spot
Hacking down with all his might
The ball dug deeper out of sight
Thinking to himself golf makes man humble
Wishing to search ‘ Awkward Lie ‘ in Google
Takes a breath knowing this ball is going on the green
Skimming off two trees rolls in the cup thats eighteen
poem by David Darbyshire
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Night Of The Cadillacs
Blinded by a million shades
I couldnt see their eyes
I couldnt see their eyes
The eyes of the crazies who drive
I couldnt see their eyes
I couldnt see their eyes
Chrome and plastic wheeled star-fighters
Smiled the psycho pink late nighters
Taking terror to the west end
As the heroes from the east end
Come down to shake the street
On the night of the cadillacs
On the night of the cadillacs
Shaken by a certain vibe
I couldnt read their minds
I couldnt read their minds
The minds of the devils who ride
I couldnt read their minds
I couldnt read their minds
Gleam amp spray canned wild stallions
Manic horsemen drag technicians
Radiators eat the west end
More trophies for the east end
Come round to mince the meat
On the night of the cadillacs
On the night of the cadillacs
Salute as they go by
The ones about to die
Salute as they go by
The ones about to die
Driven by a rock and roll sound
I couldnt reach their ears
I couldnt reach their ears
Driven by a rock and roll sound
I couldnt reach their ears
I couldnt reach their ears
Pinkies versus sidewalk killers
Berserk ballet of taunting thrillers
Mad marauders for the west end
Dread the duellists from the east end
Come watch the new elite
On the night of the cadillacs
On the night of the cadillacs
On the night of the cadillacs
On the night of the cadillacs
On the night of the cadillacs
song performed by by Billy Idol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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From The Damage
This time Im done with always screwing up
Im sick of one direction down
Im a broken picture frame
My whole worlds twisted inside out
Streaming voices like a hurricane
Its telling me to wake up
Get out of bed
Put your feet on the floor
Theres fresh air out the door
And Ive been acting so pathetic
Knocking around like a ball on a string
Its taking time for me to get it
Im ready and willing to do anything to make it up to you
My arms are hurting so bad from being so empty
My heart weighs like a ton cause it feels so heavy
Im standing here all alone
Wishing that I couldve known
You just cant walk away
From the damage
Last time Im playing with a broken string
It dont matter no ones listening
Cause losing you has made me see
Ive gotta change
Gotta blame it
All on me
And Ive been acting so pathetic
Knocking around like a ball on a string
Its taking time for me to get it
Im ready and willing to do anything to make it up to you (oh)
My arms are hurting so bad from being so empty (so empty)
My heart weighs like a ton cause it feels so heavy (heavy yeah)
Im standing here all alone
Wishing that I couldve known
That you just cant walk away
From the damage (damage)
My eyes may as well be blind if I just cant see you(if I cant see you)
My hands may as well be tied cause they just cant touch you (touch you)
Before the smoke can really clear away
From fires I started yesterday
I know Ive gotta find a way
Somehow Ive gotta find a way to wake up
From the damage
My arms are hurting so bad from being so empty
My heart weighs like a ton cause it feels so heavy
Im standing here all alone
Wishing that I couldve known
You just cant walk away
From the damage
My eyes may as well be blind if I just cant see you
My hands may as well be tied cause they just cant touch you
Im standing here all alone
Wishing that I couldve known
You just cant walk away
From the damage
Im standing here all alone
Wishing that I couldve known
You just cant walk away
From the damage
song performed by by O-town
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rubber Ball Man
========================
Abba - Rubber Ball Man
========================
(B.Andersson/B.Ulvaeus)
First release 1994 as part of Undeleted medley
The poster on the wall of a dear friend
I wish there was a way that I could show you how your songs set me free
The hero of them all
You're a legend
I guess I'll never get a chance to know you
Still you're close as can be
Make the band stand to a dreamland, Rubber Ball Man
Clapping your hands, let your feet dance, Rubber Ball Man
When you're jumping up and down, nobody's standing still
Some of us dreaming, some of us screaming
Look at your fans, how we love you, Rubber Ball Man!
song performed by by ABBA
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Knowing Your Perimeters
knowing your perimeters is not an easy job,
not really expensive, but it takes the mind of the pensive man,
the wiles of the wise and the wit of the wounded
who am i? where am I? what am i?
where am i heeded? where i will stop?
what can i do? what i cannot do?
knowing the length of your arms and feet
the distance of your vision
and knowing what you can touch and
see, and knowing what you cannot
even touch and see no matter how
wide you open your eyes
knowing your place, your fences, the limits
of your garden, the source of your water,
your air, your food, the quiet imagination
knowing what you can give and you can hold,
knowing what you can let go
and what you must keep in your heart forever
knowing the limits of your mind
the stretch of your hands, the number of times that
you can blink your eye,
the right time to fear and the right time to kill
the right time to love and the right time to hate
or just be the foolish man who is so indifferent
i know my limits and i mark my boundaries.
please do not go any further. i am just staying
within the bounds of my hands and feet.
i am seeing you and i am warning you.
i have this detonator. My finger is ready.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Color Me
I wish that they would color me
The color of the rose
The color of the spring
Or the color of the snow.
If again they’d color me
The color that I would be
Would be the color I could see
As long as I am free.
As I wish that they would color me
The color of the trees
Or the color of the leaves
And then that color I would be.
I wish that I was a rainbow
With the many colors of the sky
Or the single color of a star
Shimmering in the night.
And if again they would color me
The color that I would be
Would be the color that is me
Is the color that I could see.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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