Quotes about sill, page 7
Lovers Jump To Death From Burning Building
From late night collapse of limes
rum lovers leap to death in each others arms.
Upon the sill they lean resigned,
dead calm revolving in a yellow light.
Neither fright nor anger nor drunken joy
calls them to this moment but habit.
Each morning settles something and so
they resolve half asleep in the window to
disturb the air. With thickened tongues
they obediently fall bidden by fire
hidden in all alarms.
poem by Warren Falcon
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Two Voices in a Meadow
A Milkweed
Anonymous as cherubs
Over the crib of God,
White seeds are floating
Out of my burst pod.
What power had I
Before I learned to yield?
Shatter me, great wind:
I shall possess the field.
A Stone
As casual as cow-dung
Under the crib of God,
I lie where chance would have me,
Up to the ears in sod.
Why should I move? To move
Befits a light desire.
The sill of Heaven would founder,
[...] Read more
poem by Richard Wilbur
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Dark spring
My mother
Foresaw deaths
And walked among
Chrysanthemums,
Winecolored,
Withe red rose,
The earthy blossoms.
My very breath
Disowned
In nights of study,
And page by page
I came on spring.
The rats run on the roof,
These words come hard---
Sadder than cockcrow
In a dreamless, earthen sleep.
The Christ, eternal
In the scented cold; my love,
[...] Read more
poem by Yvor Winters
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Listening Back
There are no comrade roses at my window,
No green things in the lane;
Upon the roof no sibilant soft patter-
The lullaby of rain;
Without is silence, and within is silence,
Till silence grows a pain.
Within is silence, and without is silence,
The snow is on the sill,
In snow the window wreath’d instead of roses,
And snow is very still....
I wonder is it singing in the grasses,
The rain, on Russian Hill?
poem by Ina D. Coolbrith
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Fool's Money Bags
Outside the long window,
With his head on the stone sill,
The dog is lying,
Gazing at his Beloved.
His eyes are wet and urgent,
And his body is taut and shaking.
It is cold on the terrace;
A pale wind licks along the stone slabs,
But the dog gazes through the glass
And is content.
The Beloved is writing a letter.
Occasionally she speaks to the dog,
But she is thinking of her writing.
Does she, too, give her devotion to one
Not worthy?
poem by Amy Lowell
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From the biography of an unknown woman: XL
Looking out through the window
She saw a sky of melancholy
In shades of ink-blue and black
In the ticking of the clock on the wall
She heard the loud and clear hollowness
Filling the empty room
Some stray memories sweet and bitter
Simply struggled like a flickering candle
Placed on the window sill
In the distant night is heard
Painful whining of dogs
As she struggled to close
The window against the blowing wind
13sep2010
14.14hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Still Summer Melodies
What a glorious morning!
The sun's brightly shining
The trees we see from the window-sill
Don't move, they stand still.
A nice yellow kitten
Amidst the trees hidden
Watches vigilant a swallow
He'd like to follow...
Green bushes well-trimmed
Freshly watered they seemed
To spread their fragrance
We breathe around the space.
From that wooden flute
No longer mute...
A sweet melody can be heard
Enchanting us and every bird.
September,2011
poem by Maria C. Costa
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Fateful Death
Blow your mind
Sink in the air
They love you
They loath you
Smile
It makes you look better
Feeling your way through the blindness
Seeing nothing, and everything simultaneously
Let go
Your fate is inevitable
[...] Read more
poem by Makinotsuki Higurashi
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Almost Spring
As winter turns the corner
And spring is on the way
I wait with mounting happiness
To see what comes today.
I also love the cold days
With frost upon the sill
But something special happens
Once winter’s had its fill.
The crocus buds are swollen
The daffodils sprout so tall
Something special happens
As spring time makes its call.
So get ready for the changes
That happens none too soon
When spring time rounds that corner
And flowers start to bloom!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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The Little Children
Hunger points a bony finger
To the workhouse on the hill,
But the little children linger
While there's flowers to gather still
For my sunny window sill.
In my hands I take their faces,
Smiling to my smiles they run.
Would that I could take their places
Where the murky bye-ways shun
The benedictions of the sun
How they laugh and sing returning
Lightly on their secret way.
While I listen in my yearning
Their laughter fills the windy day
With gladness, youth and May.
poem by Francis Ledwidge
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