Quotes about alleys, page 9
Turn To Rust
turn down the wick!
there's a time for fighting,
a time for prayer, and
a time for just being...
in stillness.
you and i have felt things,
known things, seen things,
that most people never notice
in their mad rush to the grave!
feel the wind blowing through
the alleys, tugging at the doors
of vacant buildings... you know
its name... it has been
your lover, and your companion!
watch the sunlight dancing through
the shadows, lapping up darkness
like a thirsty dog... i am that dog!
[...] Read more
poem by Eric Cockrell
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Blest many days
Blest many days
Blest many days, I wore your cross,
dim lantern alleys, remote felt me,
content wishes - hopes to emboss,
in musing scripts of my ink blue sea.
In my files I was values unaltered,
ways of solitude and rhythmic waves,
an unworldly ode of notes clustered,
where prowess smiles from graves.
In these scripts I became a reason,
for pondering minds to express light,
in wars innumerate sheds of crimson,
where eligible Nymphs tend my rite.
And there Dryads smiled friendly,
so I became a verse and a rhyme;
we were in a far prairie, unworldly,
[...] Read more
poem by Giorgio Veneto
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
the rites for Cousin Vit
Carried her unprotesting out the door.
Kicked back the casket-stand. But it can't hold her,
That stuff and satin aiming to enfold her,
The lid's contrition nor the bolts before.
Oh oh. Too much. Too much. Even now, surmise,
She rises in the sunshine. There she goes,
Back to the bars she knew and the repose
In love-rooms and the things in people's eyes.
Too vital and too squeaking. Must emerge.
Even now she does the snake-hips with a hiss,
Slops the bad wine across her shantung, talks
Of pregnancy, guitars and bridgework, walks
In parks or alleys, comes haply on the verge
Of happiness, haply hysterics. Is.
poem by Gwendolyn Brooks
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Revenente
The bells of memory sound this summer day
Down the long alleys of the blue-skied years;
Shy cowslip, thyme, the haunting scent of hay,
Pleached gardens nourished by a lover's tears,
And honeysuckle, shy maid in the hedge,
Are all Her handmaids; blessed is the sight
The mirror-pool caught of Her. So the stage
Is set for entrance, and a girl in white
Walks in my heart again, out of pale death,
Kingdom of shrivelled mouth and powdering bone,
Touching my cheek with flower-laden breath,
And whispering, 'Poor love, and still alone?'
Was any man so lucky, dear God?
It will be dawn before She takes the road.
poem by Henry Treece
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
A Demon In Her Vanity
In the night's harried soliloquy
You tousle your hair and wipe
The miasma of the panthoms'
Breath flushing your pallid face
With such arrogance and grace
A complacence that synergize
With the stellar distractions
That your pristine poise behold,
You smudge the rouge and stains
Of the derided warfare in the world
Of alleys and myriad of empty stations
A fastidious ballet in front
Of the mirror's godly fingers
You grinned, oscillated your lips
Red as the devil swaying its legs
In the inveigling undulations
You whetted your piercing eyes
And fooled yourself again
In the pristine reflection.
poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Hiatus
The alleys collapsed as the lungs did
As the lampposts flickered with the vision
A shadowy mirage lingered to caress
The soft yellow lights, the singeing blood
Searing from the charred soles
I walked with the roaring fire
The fire pranced with the songs
Hiding in the browning calendar
I halted, panted, eviscerating
Amassing vigor, accumulating air,
I'd watch you from here;
Until I feel my legs again
Until I relearn the tempo
To sway with the grace
Of your wandering pendulums.
The cinders flounced
A message from the sirens
Cutting the swath
Of these drunken roads
[...] Read more
poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
As If... (You Never Owned A Thing!)
if you listen at night,
the trash in the alleys comes alive.
there is a whispering
that fills the cardboard boxes.
the cans and bottles play
an unearthly music.
and vacant houses talk to god,
or perhaps the demons of poverty.
the wind stops blowing,
and the stink hangs like a cloud...
the evidence of blind excess!
the bodies of the nameless ones,
rise from the filth of forgotten.
the rats join ranks with stray dogs,
and testify against your indulgence!
soon, probably sooner than you think,
your eyes will be covered with dirt.
[...] Read more
poem by Eric Cockrell
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Escapism
The lines in our palms is our map
but we hold nothing but the moonshine
so this vacant abyss drenches our paths
like our empty hands, we meander
without any purpose at all
We learned the phantom's secret
in riveting themselves in forlorn circles
like the rain, we free fall and
when we slap the ground
we are water no longer
Still, your shadows perpetually traipse
back and forth my dark alleys
like a song effulgently whistling
promises in these aberrant ears
And in this times, the hour stops
the larcenous chase of our feet
to halt and stare upon the circles
[...] Read more
poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Love Sonnet 159 You Left A Spectral Smile That Stalks My Mind
You left a spectral smile that stalks my mind,
To haunt my only niche in Time and Space,
My every thought in reverie I find,
Reminisces its curvature and grace;
You've gazed into my eyes, fathomed my soul,
To bare intricacies of my desires,
Then groped in darker alleys of our stroll,
But looked up to ideals, my heart aspires;
Thus, an open book to your touch, I'd been,
That you could read, by browser or by braille,
Times of my life, the hues and shades, you've seen,
With their secrets, but not for me to wail;
......A book you can treasure and read again,
......Or its pages might shade you from the rain.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
In The Train, And At Versailles
In a dull swiftness we are carried by
With bodies left at sway and shaking knees.
The wind has ceased, or is a feeble breeze
Warm in the sun. The leaves are not yet dry
From yesterday's dense rain. All, low and high,
A strong green country; but, among its trees,
Ruddy and thin with Autumn. After these
There is the city still before the sky.
Versailles is reached. Pass we the galleries
And seek the gardens. A great silence here,
Through the long planted alleys, to the long
Distance of water. More than tune or song,
Silence shall grow to awe within thine eyes,
Till thy thought swim with the blue turning sphere.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!