Quotes about alleys, page 8
I Am Nothing More...
i am nothing more
than an illiterate priest,
sharing table scraps
thrown out by the rich,
with mongrel dogs...
barking and howling,
and peeing on dreams,
in the alleys of the soul.
a blind plumber
fixing the leaks,
for a cola and a can of beans.
an old man sipping brandy
with tired ghosts,
a child left alone
with discovery!
i am the hand you reach for,
the face you cannot understand.
the tear you buried
[...] Read more
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Letting The Hours Go
the hours run so fast
and you are being left alone
in that room
where you still try to record
an accounting of
the past, as though you are into
a collection case
of those who are indebted to you
when you step out
from the door and close it
behind you
it is already dark and the
street lights
begin to make some islands
along the alleys
there is now a dichotomy between
the hours and your
own pacing
[...] Read more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dans Paris
The beauty of a city
the breathtaking
awe-inspiring
captivating
somewhat magical Parisian charm
Paris captures the hearts of those who step into its glossy boutiques and cafes
Just as a beautiful and sensuous seductress ensnares her defenceless prey
The star-studded Eiffel Tower in all its glory
shining like a beacon of fire across the Parisian night sky
Taking a walk along the breezy boulevard of the Champs Elysees
The romantic artists painting their subjects on Montmartres's quaint streets and alleys
The sun sets over the Seine and the City of Lights comes to life
poem by Salwa Nuseiba
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Sysiphus
Let it go, do not touch it,
you had been negating the bare truth.
I was part of you
once at the shore of tragedy.
Life was treacherous
and I was free to laugh.
Come September and I will be chasing
the fireflies again.
How time takes revenge
from the innocent commitments?
You start returning to your roots
and I was still surfeiting
on the secret fidelity.
Where was the need to be tied down
to god? No body was honest to forsake
the fear of nameless nemesis.
[...] Read more
poem by Satish Verma
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Katrina
That lovely name so vaguely Nordic,
and gently slipping off our tongue
is now a blasphemy of destruction,
death and turmoil.
She brutalized the coastal towns
and clubbed them to their knees,
like a Valkyrie upon a sodden steed,
and in her wake,
the pride and shame of our culture
dwelled in those turbid waters.
Alone and frantic they waited,
aided their colleagues,
sacked their cities,
and waited still longer,
on roof tops and tree limbs,
in shelters, on bridge ramps,
in dusky drowned alleys,
with unslaked thirst and hunger,
[...] Read more
poem by B.V. Dahlen
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Thoughts on a memory
There is so little I can say,
and yet so much thought
has gone in today.
How the mind wanders
on the different alleys.
To retrieve a thought, a memory,
it's brought forth in vivid view,
to haunt my tormented soul..
I cling to the memory
of the almost-nothing.
[...] Read more
poem by Ranger Lady
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Sonnet. On Leigh Hunt's Poem 'The Story of Rimini
Who loves to peer up at the morning sun,
With half-shut eyes and comfortable cheek,
Let him with this sweet tale full often seek
For meadows where the little rivers run;
Who loves to linger with that brightest one
Of Heaven -- Hesperus -- let him lowly speak
These numbers to the night and starlight meek,
Or moon, if that her hunting be begun.
He who knows these delights, and, too, is prone
To moralize upon a smile or tear,
Will find at once a region of his own,
A bower for his spirit, and will steer
To alleys where the fir-tree drops its cone,
Where robins hop, and fallen leaves are sear.
poem by John Keats
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Sonnet
Flesh, I have knocked at many a dusty door,
Gone down full many a midnight lane,
Probed in old walls and felt along the floor,
Pressed in blind hope the lighted window-pane,
But useless all, though sometimes when the moon
Was full in heaven and the sea was full,
Along my body's alleys came a tune
Played in the tavern by the Beautiful.
Then for an instant I have felt at point
To find and seize her, whosoe'er she be,
Whether some saint whose glory doth anoint
Those whom she loves, or but a part of me,
Or something that the things not understood
Make for their uses out of flesh and blood.
poem by John Masefield from Sonnets (1916)
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breaking Of The Covalent Bond
I
Had seen
The union unique
Melting completely like a lead
A spirit full of glass half is you half is me
We drank together to be one and blotting out being two
Blowing out independent existence making a covalent bond
We were one minstrel singing song sweet in alleys and street
A sound boom bang we misunderstood, no more I sing
A bone in the throat and forget the rhythm and tune
Now I am a poet of pain and melancholy I drink
But sorrow, live but without soul, half you
Snatched and half with me Dead I see
Dream but breaking sound
Of cracking sea making
A wave tumultuous
Threatening
Me to tear
Apart.
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Before The Snow
The winter is upon us, not the snow,
The hills are etched on the horizon bare,
The skies are iron grey, a bitter air,
The meagre cloudlets shudder to and fro.
One yellow leaf the listless wind doth blow,
Like some strange butterfly, unclassed and rare.
Your footsteps ring in frozen alleys, where
The black trees seem to shiver as you go.
Beyond lie church and steeple, with their old
And rusty vanes that rattle as they veer,
A sharper gust would shake them from their hold,
Yet up that path, in summer of the year,
And past that melancholy pile we strolled
To pluck wild strawberries, with merry cheer.
poem by Andrew Lang
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