Stealing my solitude
Now and then
too many times now
in coffee houses
car parks
and rarely in bars
on longish walks
at practise
stealing my solitude
poem by Shaun McGurgan
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Related quotes
Coffee!
Coffee beans all ground up,
Coffee in my favourite cup,
Coffee black, coffee white,
Coffee dark, coffee light,
Coffee right, to start the day,
Coffee at work, coffee at play,
Coffee midday, coffee at night,
Coffee to sober, coffee to excite,
Coffee weak, coffee strong,
But maybe instead some Lapsang Souchong! ! ! !
TEA! ! ! ! !
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Solitude
How many times have you told me you love her
As many times as I've wanted to tell you the truth
How long have I stood here beside you
I live through you
You looked through me
Ooh, Solitude,
Still with me is only you
Ooh, Solitude,
I can't stay away from you
How many times have I done this to myself
How long will it take before I see
When will this hole in my heart be mended
Who now is left alone but me
Ooh, Solitude,
Forever me and forever you
Ooh, Solitude,
Only you, only true
Everyone leave me stranded
Forgotten, abandoned, left behind
I can't stay here another night
Your secret admirer
Who could it be
Ooh, Can't you see
All along it was me
How can you be so blind
As to see right through me
And Ooh, Solitude,
Still with me is only you
Ooh, Solitude,
I can't stay away from you
Ooh, Solitude,
Forever me and forever you
Ooh, Solitude,
Only you, only true
song performed by by Evanescence
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Bitter Coffee... A Sweet Coffee
The age is running and I am still drinking my bitter coffee,
To when the story of this coffee belongs? !
Coffee and chocolate are so deferent in their tastes
But in several times
It happens that they have the same color.
It seems that the similarity of them is the same of features of the fortune reader.
When she gazes the cup of the coffee
But I am not so familiar with chocolate
Even I am not familiar with the talisman countenances of the hex.
I remember that once I asked him to give me a bitter coffee
Yet he has made a permanent bitter one
Each time he brings me the same coffee in the same cup
A question c0mes to my mind and I ask it to myself:
If we do not like the coffee, why we do drink it?
Do you think it is our destiny as my birth story?
I was born without my desire
Thus with each sip of the coffee
The destiny stops me not to tear the chocolate cover
to sweeten my coffee.
poem by Chnar Namq
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Time crimes
She drove as I fiddled with the radio.
I was stealing looks at her,
young, fresh, clean.
and oh my god her cleavage was hypnotizing.
Her eyes had the same sorrow as mine.
The wounded,
they know each other when they see each other
instinctively.
Like 2 sick junkies passing each other on the street.
They can just TELL.
You can see the emptiness where something or someone use to be.
Spending time with her was like stealing from death.
It was time taken out of time.
She, young and beautiful,
Once she held my corpse and said
'We are the same, you and I'.
I laughed,
A harsh,
mean, laugh that said
'You're right, we are. But that's none of your business'.
She sat on the grass
legs out stretched,
I would lie my head on her thighs.
She looked down at me and sweetly said
'Do you love me a little? '
A line from a film I had intrduced her to.
I answered with:
'What time is it? '
It was all time out of time.
Time stolen from the jaws of death
The death that nibbles away the hours,
the minutes,
the seconds of our lives so slowly we rarely even notice.
Laying there,
in the grass,
in the park,
we were co-conspiritors
stealing time from time
stealing it from death itself.
Stealing time from each other.
Such a fine line,
it occurs to me as I write this
between 'stealing' and 'wasting' sometimes.
-----30----------
poem by Brevet Wilson
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We All Must Face the Defeat of Our Souls
My ship has been tossed
Helplessly on its side upon the shore.
Even beneath beautiful blue skies,
My heart is sunk and my eyes
Just float in a sea of tears.
No Sunday walks in flowery parks
Or beer toasts in friendly bars
Will find me now.
The only songs I have to sing
Are desolate dirges
To the desperate moon.
My thoughts of love
And romantic sway of words
Sadly give way
To all the loneliness inescapable.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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(V – 2010) The Serenity of Solitude
At times lonely
When we go for a solitary walk
Down the silent valley of solitude:
As we whisper a casual word
It echoes back to us with a renewed energy!
That’s the serenity of solitude.
As we throw a casual glance
It captures for us a hitherto unseen beauty!
That’s the serenity of solitude.
As we touch a casual thought
It blooms before us as profound poetry!
That’s the serenity of solitude.
At times busy
Something entices us to take a solitary walk –
That’s the serenity of solitude!
Iron Bars Of Mine
I stand behind these old iron bars,
To see the things, that I can see
I see a world that is changing everyday,
A world, that will not wait for me.
Behind these iron bars where I must lay,
Behind these bars where I must stay.
In this world where I am alone
Its a world that I helped build,
I make not the laws for how I live,
Time for me, she is held still.
As tomorrow is the same as it is today,
And today is the same, as yesterday.
Behind these bars, its where I am
It is the place where I sit and lie,
My destiny for me has already been chose,
For this is the place where I will die.
When the youth of mine turns into old,
When the dewdrops of dreams turn into snow.
The world that I made out of iron and stone
Where freedom and life is locked away
Where life is a waste, and living a haste,
It is where myself alone will forever stay.
Days and years for me, I have no care.
My only solitude, is sleep and prayer.
My day for me; she will someday come
When from my bars I am allowed to leave,
I will welcome that day with open arms and hope,
As those iron bars, will close behind me..
And for that day I will constantly pray,
As I leave those bars, for the bars of my a grave.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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The thing about drugs and sex is that you lose all your inhibitions. I've had sex in trains, planes, wine bars... and quite a few car parks!
quote by Robbie Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Prose Poetics-9
Stealing flowers
Without the plant
Itself knowing...
I've seen it
Happening in
Many independent
Houses here
Even the respectable do
Jogging, walking, stealing
In early dawn-hours
So too many common folks
Surprisingly it's a shock
Occuring even in 'apartments'
The whole horticulture is stolen
None other than
The blind watchman is supporting
I heard it's common
In apartments everywhere
'So what' you ask?
Just my agony..
poem by Indira Renganathan
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the rites for Cousin Vit
Carried her unprotesting out the door.
Kicked back the casket-stand. But it can't hold her,
That stuff and satin aiming to enfold her,
The lid's contrition nor the bolts before.
Oh oh. Too much. Too much. Even now, surmise,
She rises in the sunshine. There she goes,
Back to the bars she knew and the repose
In love-rooms and the things in people's eyes.
Too vital and too squeaking. Must emerge.
Even now she does the snake-hips with a hiss,
Slops the bad wine across her shantung, talks
Of pregnancy, guitars and bridgework, walks
In parks or alleys, comes haply on the verge
Of happiness, haply hysterics. Is.
poem by Gwendolyn Brooks
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The guy who takes a chance, who walks the line between the known and unknown, who is unafraid of failure, will succeed.
quote by Gordon Parks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Empty Old Houses
Empty Old Houses
Empty old houses can talk…
But one must know how to listen…
to hear them
Empty old houses have stories…
But one must be eager to listen…
to hear them
Empty old houses can suffer..
But one must have empathy …
To feel it
Empty old houses can feel pain
But one must be able to bear it …
To feel it
Empty old houses have memories
But one must believe … that they have…
To share them
Empty old houses contain people’s lives
But one must believe…that they do…
To share them
Empty old houses can seem dead and deserted
But one must know that they’re not..
To know them
Empty old houses can teem with life’s pleasures
But one must walk through
to sense the aura of life
Empty old houses abound in life’s treasures
But one cannot help but…
To admire them
poem by David Whalen
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Java Blues
Rick danko
I walked into a diner
And the blonde behind the counter
She asked if she could help in any way
Hell, I knew by her smile
Her number I could dial
If I was in the need of company
But as I bought some java
Instead she brought me a cup of chicory
I got those java blues
Coffees got me
Java blues
Oh coffee, coffee, coffee
Java blues
Coffees got me
Java blues
Oh coffee
You know that Ill stay high
Ill drink coffee till I die
Dont pour me water just fill up my cup
You know it takes a lot just to keep me up
Cost may be more than you care to pay
What good is money compared to fightin pain
Dont try to cheat
Its impossible to beat
The only pick me up thats here to stay
I got those java blues
Coffees got me
Java blues
Oh coffee, coffee, coffee
Java blues
Oh coffee, oh coffee
Java blues
Coffees got me
You know that Ill stay high
Ill drink coffee till I die
The taste of java is like a cocaine rush
Nobodys gonna stop me from drinkin too much
Down in bolivia the people are insane
They want as much for coffee as they do for cocaine
Dont try to cheat
Its impossible to beat
The only pick me up thats here to stay
I got those java blues
Coffees got me
Java blues
Oh coffee, coffee, coffee
Java blues
The coffees got me now..
Java blues
Oh coffee, coffee
You know that Ill stay high
Ill drink coffee till I die
I got the java blues
Oh coffee, coffee
Java blues
Oh coffee, coffee, coffee
Java blues
Oh the coffees got me
Java blues
Oh coffee, oh coffee
Java blues!
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Panther
His vision, from the constantly passing bars,
has grown so weary that it cannot hold
anything else. It seems to him there are
a thousand bars; and behind the bars, no world.
As he paces in cramped circles, over and over,
the movement of his powerful soft strides
is like a ritual dance around a center
in which a mighty will stands paralyzed.
Only at times, the curtain of the pupils
lifts, quietly--. An image enters in,
rushes down through the tensed, arrested muscles,
plunges into the heart and is gone.
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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Stars define
I recall trees foliage above
a sky was, 'n' distant stars;
the bitter wind and iron bars,
to keep us locked from love.
Lone echoes from night birds,
to cry in vastness and beset,
my pride's error - eyes wet,
hopes left out, and our words.
wishes that absconded young,
in prime times - of eighteen,
sepia tones, trees evergreen,
in foliage of dark sky among.
Abstinent solitude of then
allows love memories hereby
amidst winds that tear decry,
and crowns solitude to begin;
Stars that know only to shine
in worlds acclaim only of pain
there is no life in merit's gain
as lone stars darkness define.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Stealing Rosemary
If you need me
Ill be here
On my knees
On my knees
In the neighbors garden
Where the light is growing long
Stealing rosemary for you, my love
Its the tiny lies I tell
For you to please
You to please
Early in the morning
When the light is growing strong
Stealing rosemary for you, my love
Im stealing rosemary
Flowers crushing on my skin
Tuscan blue
All for you
Caught in rain and running
Home to you
Im coming home
Stealing rosemary for you, my love
Im stealing rosemary for you, my love
Stealing rosemary
song performed by by Bangles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The smell of coffee
The smell of coffee
that is boiling in the early morning
goes right through the room
and it reminds me of you,
that makes the most wonderful coffee.
It stands at work
and boils black in a machine
and I hear it gurgle
like a fountain
that wants to flow over.
I wonder if you
are getting coffee at that place,
or is it too healthy there
that they only stay
with fruit juice.
At times a person needs to be
silent over the things in life,
but I want to grab every day
and build a wonderful life
with you and make the very best of it.
poem by Gert Strydom
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I don't trawl record shops anymore. I usually hear music in bars or at friends' houses.
quote by Andrew Eldritch
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Conscience Pricks First Time
The maiden stealing makes me shy.
Stealing tenth time from home,
I don’t feel that I am stealing.
Conscience pricks me the first time.
(17.03.2011)
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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