Vissions From My Window
Pollution, death and dispair
vissions from my window, sitting on my chair
Endless disease surrounds our air
vissions from my window, sitting on my chair
Every minute gone by, worser conditions
many believe, they are solved with petitions
Lesser accolades, for a job well done
hospitality fading, generosity gone
Tensions growing, can be cut with a knife
education failing, changing our life
Brung on by people who do not care
brung on by people who wont play fair
Vissions from my window, sitting on my chair.
poem by White Tiger
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Goodby Mass - In A Chapel Bodily Termination
Sitting on a hard chair try to sit straight
Sitting on a hard chair this moment wont wait
Listening to the speakers theyre talking about you
Look at all the people all the people you knew
Sitting with my back straight it becomes hard to hear
Some people are crying it becomes hard to hear
I dont think youd have liked it you would have made a joke
You would have made it easier youd say tomorrow Im smoke
Sitting on a hard chair how far we have come
Trying hard to listen to your friends who have come
Some of them are famous and some are just like me
Trying hard to listen trying hard to see
Sitting in a hard chair its over time to stand
Some people are crying I turn to grab your hand
Its your daughter saying thank you, you, you would have made a joke
Isnt this something, you say, tomorrow Im smoke
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Goodby Mass
Sitting on a hard chair try to sit straight
Sitting on a hard chair this moment won't wait
Listening to the speakers they're talking about you
Look at all the people all the people you know
Sitting with my back straight it becomes hard to hear
Some people are crying it becomes hard to hear
I don't think you'd have liked it you would have made a joke
You would have made it easier you'd say "tomorrow I'm smoke"
Sitting on a hard chair how far we have come
Trying hard to listen to your friends who have come
Some of them are famous and some are just like me
Trying hard to listen trying hard to see
Sitting in a hard chair it's over time to stand
Some people are crying I turn to grab your hand
It's your daughter saying thank you
You, you would have made a joke
"Isn't this something," you say, "tomorrow I'm smoke
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Watching For Pa
Three little forms in the twilight gray,
Searching the shadows across the way;
Two pair of black eyes, and one of blue --
Brimful of love, and of mischief too;
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!
May, with her placid and thoughtful brow,
Beaming with kindness and love just now;
Willie the youngest, in anguish did lay,
Stealing sly kisses from sister May,
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!
Nellie, with ringlets of sunny hue,
Cosily nested between the two;
Pressing her cheeks to the window pane,
Wishing the absent one home again.
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!
Now there are shouts from the window seat;
There is a patter of childish feet;
Gaily they rush through the lighted hall --
"Coming at last" is the joyful call.
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Standing on the doorstep,
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Standing on the doorstep,
Watching for Pa!
poem by Henry Clay Work
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Expensive Chair - Its A Beautiful Thing B-side
Your face is looking like
Someone you forgot you used to know
You were looking for rhymes and reason
They forgot the things you used to know
You came to rely on good fortune
Your mothers screaming low
With the sky in the eye
And jump through the window
Youve made your own room at the top
Well its getting thin on air
Still you look at me from your most expensive chair
And when youre feeling fit to drop
And you find theres no one there
Still you look at me from your most expensive chair
You dont wanna shout about it
When theres nothing you care to know
Your friends they just laugh about it
In the places that you never go
You cannot deny your good fortune
Your friends they wont let go
See your hair is in place
And see away from the window
Repeat chorus
Youre the judge how high it hangs
When your castles made of sand
Because the people who kill the king
Are the people who move from within
You cant rely on good fortune
Your friends are crying low
Kick your feet from the chair
And let it slip from the gallow
Repeat chorus
song performed by by Ocean Colour Scene
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The lonely old lady
She sits in her favourite chair
her dog lies by her slippered feet
a cup of tea in an arthritic hand.
The television is on in the corner
she sees it as a very close friend
talking to the newsreader about her day.
She stares over at the telephone
praying that someone will call
it hasn't rung for a long time.
The postman has just been
she wishes he'd come in for a chat
but people are so busy these days.
The pretty weather girl is talking
it's going to be a hot and sunny day
the old lady tells her she looks nice.
Struggling to get to her aching feet
she looks out of her living room window
people and cars go quickly by.
Sitting back down in her favourite chair
she bends to pick up her little dog
and stroking him she starts to cry.
The old lady died in her favourite chair
her little dog sat for weeks by her slippered feet
the postman kept pushing the mail through.
poem by Kevin Halls
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I Am Glad That You Are Into Haiku
i must imagine
you sitting on a chair
facing the void
at the window
and then you see
what reality has long
concealed from you
was it a butterfly
that you have mistaken as
another leaf?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Monobloc Poetry
man sits
on mono bloc
facing a woman
standing beside
a mono bloc
chair, man looks over
the window
woman leaves
mono bloc chair
solo mono bloc
on a monologue
monochromatic
point of view of
a mono bloc
chair overlooking
a window without
sun
night rain
fog and dog howl
mono bloc chair
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Jim Jim
jim jim
your ever so prim
sitting there in your chair
making fun as you do
wondering what next to do
jim jim
you're a fun friend
thank you for being there
evn thow your just sitting there
jim jim
your ever so prim
just sitting there inont know
your chair
whats next you ask to do
oh i dont know
lets have a brew
maybe then you can tell me all
whats going on
oh lets have a ball
jim jim
your fun to know
you make me laugh
did you know
jim jim your ever so prim.
for my friend jim mcElderry...(x-factor winners dad) ...the end
poem by Christina McIntosh
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The Chair Don't make the Man
People see me in this chair and whisper look at that poor man over there. They believe my life is wasted all because I’m in this chair. Well I got some to say that I want you all to hear. Just like clothes don’t really make a man neither does a chair. The chair is just what I use to get me for here to there. Just like people who walk use their legs to get them everywhere. Because besides the chair I’m just like you; I laugh, I cry and yes I have sex too. Now that you all know the next time you see me don’t whisper look at that poor man over there. In fact don’t say anything just remember the chair don’t make the man.
In His Own Way
I feel I’m in heaven when
I hear that music, Father said,
Sitting in the chair in the garden,
Recovering from some old illness,
Hearing the Couperin organ masses
Playing through the open window
From your old black and red hi-fi
Record player. He was nearer to
Heaven than he thought, cancer
Was creeping through him like a
Silent snake. He didn’t go much on
Your Ornette Coleman’s alto runs
And tweaks of free jazz; what racket’s
That he’d say, trying to snooze in the
Afternoon sun, his companion Death
Lingering by, waiting for him in his
Own time to die. The garden’s empty
Now; his chair vacated, no more of
Couperin organ masses or Coleman’s
Free jazz playing out from an open
Window on a summer’s day, just birds
Singing nature songs across the way.
poem by Terry Collett
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Rockin' Chair
I'm older than I'd wish to be
This town hold no more for me
All my life I try to find another way
I don't care for your attitude
You bring me down I think you're rude
All my life I try to make a better day
It's hard enough being alone
Sitting here by the phone
Waiting for my memories
To come and play
It's hard enough sitting there
Rockin' in your rockin' chair
It's all too much to take
When you're not there
It's hard enough being alone
Sitting here by the phone
Waiting for my memories
To come and play
song performed by by Oasis from The Masterplan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Old Man (Faraway)
old man, old man,
sitting in your chair;
tell me the story
behind your faraway stare.
i can see by your wrinkles,
and the scars on your hands.
it's been a long journey
from that faraway land.
tell me who and why you fought,
tell me what you won and lost.
tell me who that you loved,
and who paid the cost.
tell me what you learned,
would you do it all again?
have you made peace with yourself,
are you ready to go 'round the bend?
old man, old man....
sitting in your chair;
tell me the story
behind your faraway stare....
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Just Emote...
a poet without talent
forgive him
for just being himself
forgive me
but we are all poets in some sense
a fly trapped inside
your hand wanting to be free
a bird in a cage
singing
a leaf falling and falling
and falling
eyesight failing and failing
and failing
and old woman on a
swinging
chair with no one caring
for her
a Japanese kid waiting
for help sitting beside
the ruble
a bird alone on a
telephone cable
sands on the shore and
the sea
a boy lost in the marketplace
a mother still searching
the silent crowd in the mall
always window shopping
we may have no talent
but we are expressing feelings
we are writing simply
by what we see....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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An Old Rocking Chair
An old rocking chair
stands on the porch.
Many times I sit there
watching people go on their way.
Occasionally one or two
will stop and talk about the day.
We’ll sit and rock,
chatting about the weather
and about kids and home.
All the time
the old rocking chair
rocks back and forth
with me sitting there.
6 March 2008
poem by David Harris
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Rockin Chair
Im older than Id wish to be
This town hold no more for me
All my life I try to find another way
I dont care for your attitude
You bring me down I think youre rude
All my life I try to make a better day
Its hard enough being alone
Sitting here by the phone
Waiting for my memories
To come and play
Its hard enough sitting there
Rockin in your rockin chair
Its all too much to take
When youre not there
song performed by by Oasis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cant Ignore The Train
[ music: john lombardo/lyric: natalie merchant ]
Steep is the water tower
Painted off blue to match the sky
Cant ignore the train
Night walks in the valley silent
You could swear the earth just moved
Cant ignore the train
Dust to be kicked up
In the crack faced
Idle sinister town
Screen door to the rail station
Devil in her shoe
Ran along side the wasted tracks
Hem pins darted her calves
Cant ignore the train
One spoiled girl with the tidiest apology
Some how wedged inside her throat
Cant ignore the train
Patience their virtue
But I never could abide by that
Dungeon life with electric light
A clean towel and a basin
Mantle figures mind their place
Laughs where they belong
Through adventure we are not adventuresome
Rage to share with a wardrobe mirror
In a room so beige and cold
Cant ignore the train
Window days saw the children pick their
Street games on thirty afternoons
Molly the boys are
Starting in the rhymic again
Teasing more and more....
The second daughter
How she fell
Young locked in some folks prison
Made to dwell
Til theyre braiding
Her grey hair
Sitting in the wishing chair
Sitting in the wishing chair
Sitting in the wishing chair
song performed by by 10000 Maniacs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cogitation
if this chair does not exist
will i, this, chair, me, who asks,
if this chair, exists at all,
can i, exist, too? will i be dependent
on the thought of a chair
a thought of me that i think i
can touch, that i think thoughts
touching this thought of a chair
does the chair think about me,
i ask, looking for that therefore
beside the chair that i thought
is a chair, that i thought is I,
am, therefore, a chair, thinking
chair, on four feet?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Comfort rules. You want to be able to sit in a good chair comfortably for a few hours and be able to talk and enjoy a glass of wine. There's nothing worse than sitting in an uncomfortable chair.
quote by Amanda Pays
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Girl At The Window
In the town lived a girl so fair
Her mother would not dare
To let her anywhere
She was a lonely girl
John and paul and ringo and george
Were playing lovely tunes
From the window of her room
By the light of the moon
Hey girl there at the window I wish you would come and see me
Ive got so much to tell you so much I want you to see
In the fields lived a lonely boy
Whod wander every night
Just to see her window light
Then he was happier
Then hed sit upon the ground
Just to listen to the sound
Of the music going round
And he would call to her
Hey girl there at the window I wish you would come and see me
Ive got so much to tell you so much I want you to see
One night her mother said I think its time for bed
The little girl crept down the stairs free as a bird
Hey girl there at the window I wish you would come and see me
Ive got so much to tell you so much I want you to see
She met the boy sitting on the ground
And they listened to the sound
Growing distant as they found
They were happy now
Hey girl there at the window I wish you would come and see me
Ive got so much to tell you so much I want you to see
(repeat)
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Alone In The Dark
Alone in a dark room
sitting in a chair
confronting life
is it worth the pain
the strain on the brain
pressure all around
perfect, not so perfect
where did I go wrong
no openings, no closing
all alone in the chair
a gun near by
why the pain, why the shame
different i am, different I'll be
why you do care, why you do not treat fare.
the end would be best
why be with the rest
when all alone in the dark
poem by Michael Peterson
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