Quotes about knock, page 10
For You To Know Whether I Am Afraid To Love Or Not
there is only one way to my heart
and it is not grassy at all,
above this path are blue clouds
and the usual sun
follow the path
and be gentle in your steps
at the other side
you will find a door laced with
red roses
do not just stand there
knock and be patient
use the doorbell of understanding
and wipe your feet
on the mat of purity
knock again, knock again
there is no one in the house anymore.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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~64~
Ooooohhh...
64 Oh 64,
Your knock is loud...
On my front door.
I never thought you'd come so fast.
Soon 63 I will not be...
Again.
To trash like I did my 50's!
I want to boo hoo but to who?
Ooooohhh...
64 Oh 64,
Your knock is loud...
On my front door.
When 60 first appeared to me...
I felt more like I was 43.
But so quickly these years come and go...
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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On A Nun
Of two fair virgins, modest, though admired,
Heaven made us happy; and now, wretched sires,
Heaven for a nobler doom their worth desires,
And gazing upon either, both required.
Mine, while the torch of Hymen newly fired
Becomes extinguish'd, soon - too soon - expires:
But thine, within the closing grate retired,
Eternal captive, to her God aspires.
But thou at least from out the jealous door,
Which shuts between your never - meeting eyes,
May'st hear her sweet and pious voice once more:
I to the marble, where my daughter lies,
Rush, - the swoln flood of bitterness I pour,
And knock, and knock, and knock but none replies.
Chi È?
When for a buonamano
Cometh, at break of day,
Knock at the terzo piano,
A little voice answers, Chi è?
``I, the facchino, awaiting
The bounty of cara lei.''
She droppeth a paul through the grating,
And silently steals away.
When, with a long low mumble
Of lips that appear to pray,
There cometh a knock-so humble-
The little voice answers, Chi è?
``I, the poor monk.'' Just a little
She opens, but nought doth say;
Gives him baiocchi or victual,
And silently steals away.
But when, as the shadows longer
Stretch half athwart the way,
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poem by Alfred Austin
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A Visit From Hell
There came a knock,
a knock on my door.
I looked out the window.
My heart fell on the floor.
The knock came again.
I covered up my ears
for standing outside
confirmed all my fears.
Two military gentlemen
with sad looking eyes
asked to come inside
and tried to sympathize.
My son, they said had died
bravely in the war.
The flag they handed me
I lay gently on the floor.
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poem by Edwina Reizer
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Chapter 8
Goodnight teaser.
With your emptiness,
And suspicous intent!
You sent two drinks,
From the bartender with a wink!
Believing a weakness,
Will provide a hook up to link!
Goodnight teaser.
I've seen you hop from table to stool.
Flirting with your looseness glimpse,
Hoping to attract unescorted fools!
I happen to be in research...
Observing singles at meat bars!
And if you have read the note I've sent,
You'll discover my taste for raw oysters and caviar!
Goodnight teaser.
I will probably be up real late!
I will put some wine on ice at 10.
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Bric-a-brac
On a day you open the door
Hanging upon a keyhole
All those epitomes of yourself
Lying on your doorstep
May merry the hurricane take twist turn
To blow you up
To knock knock knock you down
To ra ta ra ta ta ta ra ta all your preconceptions
About middle age middle class middle life
You might find among these things
A violin key choked by an articulation problem
Once the cords turned into the wires of your cage
Or a message from under the ground
Written on your roots unsettled
The seeds of question marks you sowed
To reap the punctuation of the universe
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poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The Eastern Shrike-Tit
I am brightly alert and exceedingly pert,
And my livery's easily seen;
With a bright golden breast and a black-and-white crest,
And a back of indefinite green.
A conspicuous bird; and, I give you my word,
I am neither incautious nor shy.
Native wit may be read in the cock of my head
And the glint in my shrewd little eye.
'Ho, knock at the door, knock at the door,'
I shout from the top of a tree.
The Bushland's soprano, but never 'piano':
'Fortissimo' ever for me.
But my repertoire's long; and I've many a song,
When Spring is abroad in the land;
And, whatever my call, 'tis the clearest of all,
And as sweet as the best in the band.
I take life with zest; and, when building my nest,
Then the scientist wakens in me.
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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Push Push and Pop It
Push push and pop it!
Don't keep it bottled up!
Or you will dropp like slop to mop.
Leaving specs and pieces left,
To kick and knock your 'ouch' about!
To needle and pick!
You gotta stop it.
To needle and pick!
You gotta stop it.
To needle and pick!
You gotta stop it.
Puuussshhh! Keep pushin'
Push push and pop it!
Don't keep it bottled up!
Or you will dropp like slop to mop.
Leaving specs and pieces left,
To kick and knock your 'ouch' about!
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You Drive Me Crazy
You drive me crazy.
And I must,
Like...
The craze.
You drive me crazy.
You drive me crazy.
Say...
You drive me crazy.
And I must,
Like...
The craze.
You drive me crazy.
You drive me crazy.
All day long...
I knock my head against the wall.
Holding on...
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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