Quotes about wall, page 12
My Bougainvillea
Let it crawl and grow
Things that nature sow
Bright red and blue
Just might be right for you
My Bougainvillea petals blossoming lovely red
Its crawling veins clutching the neighbor's wall without being said
The flowery petal didn’t seem to be in pain
Even though cold winter morning sunlight nothing much to gain
How could I have allowed my flowery plant on my neighbors wall to grow
Well I just hoped Mrs. Basket might just enjoy the sprouting flower show
Let it crawl and grow
Things that nature sow
Bright red and blue
Just might be right for you
But alas my bougainvillea I was terrible wrong
With my views had grown to strong
Said Mrs. Basket-Hello bougainvillea you sure are lovely bright red and blue
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poem by Tashi Dorji
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A Poem About George Doty in the Death House
Lured by the wall, and drawn
To stare below the roof,
Where pigeons nest aloof
From prowling cats and men,
I count the sash and bar
Secured to granite stone,
And note the daylight gone,
Supper and silence near.
Close to the wall inside,
Immured, empty of love,
A man I have wondered of
Lies patient, vacant-eye.
A month and a day ago
He stopped his car and found
A girl on the darkening ground,
And killed her in the snow.
Beside his cell, I am told,
Hardy perennial bums
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poem by James Arlington Wright
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The Hollow Nature Of Being
WALL I:
inside an empty room lies an empty box
and in that box is a four walled inside room within-
on each of the four walls is a mirror reflecting
the deep desertion of the next
and distant within each wall is another
echoing & spiraling back into infinite repetition
with nothing or no one except the physical entities
bearing back upon each other.
WALL II:
an empty room in an empty house
the house itself has no physical attributes because it
was built in a barren field-
there are no animals, no trees,
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poem by Andrew Delapruch
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Fire Ferocious
Fire! Fire! Ferocious fire!
You restless wall of flame.
Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!
Your fury to never tame.
You show no mercy – no regard:
A writhing army uncontrolled.
At least you don’t discriminate,
Selecting to exterminate:
All dealt with equal pain untold.
Fire! Fire! Ferocious fire!
You restless wall of flame.
Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!
Your fury to never tame.
In time of drought you run amok –
An open chimney of the land.
Prefer to scorch than suffocate:
In blinding zeal, incinerate
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Sequel to Grandfather's Clock
Once again have I roamed thro' the old-fashioned house,
Where my grandfather spent his ninety years.
There are strangers in charge, and the change they have wrought--
Oh! it saddens me, even to tears.
Dear old clock! when they found you were speechless from grief,
Then they went and swapped you off, case and all.
For that vain, stuck-up thing
(tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick),
For that vain, stuck-up thing on the wall.
Grandfather sleeps in his grave;
Strange steps resound in the hall!
And there's that vain, stuck-up thing
(tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick),
There's that vain, stuck-up thing on the wall.
While we talked of the old clock they all ran it down.
Tho' they claimed that it couldn't be made to run.
It was useless they said-- it was quite out of style;
Built, no doubt, just about the year One.
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poem by Henry Clay Work
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The Hole in the Bathroom Wall
The cottage was old, it needed some work
The walls were of crumbling stone,
The windows, like eyes in a tumbledown Kirk
Were staring, like sockets of bone;
I hadn't much money, I hadn't much choice,
'I'll take it, ' I said to the man,
If only I'd known what the future would bring
I would never have shaken his hand.
My marriage had failed, I had my young son
Just three and a half in the spring,
We bought an old bed and a table, two chairs,
Drove up there and went to move in;
The floorboards were creaky, the walls were damp,
The place was as filthy as hell,
I sat the young lad on the floor by a lamp
And I cleaned, until darkness fell.
The rooms were all empty, they echoed and stirred,
I thought I heard whispers and moans,
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poem by David Lewis Paget
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Episode 42
A PERILOUS path, it proved, he trod
who heinously hid, that hall within,
wealth under wall! Its watcher had killed
one of a few, and the feud was avenged
in woful fashion. Wondrous seems it,
what manner a man of might and valor
oft ends his life, when the earl no longer
in mead-hall may live with loving friends.
So Beowulf, when that barrow's warden
he sought, and the struggle; himself knew not
in what wise he should wend from the world at last.
For princes potent, who placed the gold,
with a curse to doomsday covered it deep,
so that marked with sin the man should be,
hedged with horrors, in hell-bonds fast,
racked with plagues, who should rob their hoard.
Yet no greed for gold, but the grace of heaven,
ever the king had kept in view.
Wiglaf spake, the son of Weohstan: --
"At the mandate of one, oft warriors many
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poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Love, to a Fault!
They met at the Station of Henley Scarp
Set deep in the countryside,
He told her he'd meet her in London Town
When the hue and the cry had died,
The train pulled in with a blast of steam,
The carriages ground to a halt,
He was sure to tell her to change her train
When she pulled in at Bishops Fault.
They stood at the empty platform then,
And ventured a parting kiss,
He'd always remember the touch of her lips
As a promise of future bliss,
The guard appeared with his little flag
And signalled the train away,
As he hurried on back to the waiting car
On that fresh, first day in May.
He checked his watch, it was four o'clock,
They wouldn't have missed him yet,
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poem by David Lewis Paget
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The Rose Delima
You can sew heem up in a canvas sack,
An' t'row heem over boar'
You can wait till de ship she 's comin' back
Den bury heem on de shore
For dead man w'en he 's dead for sure,
Ain't good for not'ing at all
An' he 'll stay on de place you put heem
Till he hear dat bugle call
Dey say will soun' on de las', las' day
W'en ev'ry t'ing 's goin' for pass away,
But down on de Gulf of St. Laurent
W'ere de sea an' de reever meet
An' off on St. Pierre de Miquelon,
De chil'ren on de street
Can tole you story of Pierre Guillaume,
De sailor of St. Yvonne
Dat 's bringin' de Rose Delima home
Affer he 's dead an' gone.
______
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poem by William Henry Drummond
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Satin Doll
This scary face on the wall
His watch kills every minute
With a sherlock holmes hat
And a rope around his neck
cause she said
Satin doll, satin doll
Step by step
Against the wall, against the wall
Step
cause she said
Satin doll, satin doll
Step by step
Promises
Promises
Is what she said
Whos the vampires praying
He strangles me every minute
These purple eyes talk to him
Get me out of this constraint
Satin doll, satin doll
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song performed by Hooverphonic
Added by Lucian Velea
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