Quotes about sill, page 11
Leave A Candle
Leave a candle burning bright
So that I may see tonight
The darkness pushing all around
Drowning out my every sound
Leave a candle on the sill
If no one does so then I will
I'll light the candle on my own
And I'll fight on all alone
Leave a candle let it sing
Else I can't stop my cutting
My blood will flow out, drip, and fall
As shadows move across the wall
Leave a candle to the end
It shall be my only friend
Let it burn untill my death
And blow it out with my last breath
Leave a candle in the dark
So it leaves it's glowing mark
And guides me to my final rest
Cause I failed the living test
poem by Anonymous Ghurl
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I passed by the place where you abode
I passed by the place where you abode
Where lofty trees and ivy-beds grow a lot
I left some flowers by the door
And I carved some verses on the wall
The sweet flowers field I plucked and banded
Will wilt and fade away unwedded
It shall not give birth to an heir
Which bears forth its reflection and glare
These lovely cups are doomed to die
While with riotous colors your door sill dye
Their beauty to captive your love serves
As my royal on their mission stand brave
Their soft silken balmy lap is a sacrifice
To entrap a higher beauty and my anguish to pacify
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poem by Isaac Ziv
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The curious cat
As I walk down the street it's there all the time
just sitting there still as can be at the window
this beautiful looking Black shiny cat.
And when I walk back past the cats house
it's still there sitting staring out at it's world.
Now and then I stop and stare back at it
the cats feline eyes looking curiously at me
I wonder what it's thinking and seeing.
What have you seen today I wonder
have you just sat there in your usual place
observing and taking in all that you see?
You are beautiful and mysterious
just sitting there at the window sill
watching the world go by and by.
poem by Kevin Halls
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Writ In A Book Of Welsh Verse
This is the house where I was bred:
The wind blows through it without stint,
The wind bitten by the roadside mint;
Here brake I loaf, here climbed to bed.
The fuchsia on the window sill;
Even the candlesticks a-row,
Wrought by grave men so long ago —
I loved them once, I love them still.
Southward and westward a great sky! —
The throb of sea within mine ear —
Then something different, more near,
As though a wistful foot went by.
Ghost of a ghost down all the years! —
In low-roofed room, at turn of stair,
At table-setting, and at prayer,
Old wars, old hungers, and old tears!
poem by Lizette Woodworth Reese
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Purification
high fever
your eyes losing sight
of some images
crisscrossing your
mind
you speak names
they hear
you mumble some
facts
they understand
you don't
you are on fire
you are burning
with so much heat
your hair
smells of burnt ashes
you are charred
almost to death
[...] Read more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Goodnight Little Houseplant
Goodnight little houseplant asleep on the sill
I'll pull the shades so you don't catch a chill
And tomorrow in the morning don't be breaskfast for two
We'll have ham and eggs for me and nitrogen for you
Goodnight little houseplant tucked in your clay pot
Maske sure you don't catch Huntington's Rot
Remember little houseplant stay away from them bees
I've heard they may carry a social disease
Goodnight little houseplant goodnight
Here's your glass of water should I leave on the light
Tomorrow we'll talk of the things that we did
I love you little house plant who needs women and kids
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Galilee
Some time ago he dumped his little flask,
companion for the hours of still nights,
she came from the great mist, to have him bask
in carnal lust and love, they flew like kites
and landed on the sill of Heaven's dome
where cotton candy lined the window panes,
much later she gave birth to a demented gnome
and he blew out their bright but disappointed brains.
God sat and watched, he even nodded now and then,
as if to say that matters were as they should be,
the Devil meanwhile knew that living things like mice and men
would never rate compassion from their God, in Galilee.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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The Caw, Caw
On your dais of a mango twig
You tune your pitch gently swaying
Even before the sanguine sun trig
Seen on the horizon rising
Your caw caresses me through the window
Like that of the mango breeze
Hazily finding over there a dark halo
I sit up, a little laze
'Good morning crow'
' Caw caw' you beak a hello
8o'clock, a rice-ball at the window sill
Our first guest you're full
There, grand-son querying in haste
'sanaishwar rides this crow? '
Your then caw caw do I translate
'Greatest great grand-pa alone' says this crow
Stone-fixed ever with his Lord'...O crow!
[...] Read more
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Sleep IIII
What shall I tell you about my lover, Sleep?
Sometimes the dews and the dawnlight
Find me with her still, possessive, I
Like a slain bird beneath her cat's paw.
Reluctantly, she says she must go. I say 'No',
And cling to her, but she purposely shakes herself free,
Leeps to the sill, and swathed in it's glow
Faces the new-risen sun. The
Diamond in her ear sparkles a little sec.
She nods farewell and momentarily I see, again,
The deep cleft in her chin. Spreading her wings
She sails to the nether-side of the world
For she loathes the depicting light-perversity
Of Beauty that cannot bear to be seen.
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Sorley’s Weather
When outside the icy rain
Comes leaping helter-skelter,
Shall I tie my restive brain
Snugly under shelter?
Shall I make a gentle song
Here in my firelit study,
When outside the winds blow strong
And the lanes are muddy?
With old wine and drowsy meats
Am I to fill my belly?
Shall I glutton here with Keats?
Shall I drink with Shelley?
Tobacco’s pleasant, firelight’s good:
Poetry makes both better.
Clay is wet and so is mud,
Winter rains are wetter.
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Graves
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