Windows Poems - Poems about Windows

Wounds like windows

Wounds, like windows,
when opened,
let in light and the breath of something new.
But it takes courage
to unlatch what pain has sealed shut.

We board them up,
plaster the cracks,
pretend the draft isn't there—
but silence has a smell,
and you can only hold your breath for so long.

Sometimes, healing sounds like wind
whistling through what broke—
a quiet reminder
that damage doesn’t mean

I want the windows to face the sea

I want the windows to face the sea
Saw the back of a woman standing near the setting sun 
The woman wore clothing that pleased God
Which makes me happy to see the excitement from here

Windows

Oh reapers of the earth, whose vengeance is buried underneath the earth, dig out the trenches of time and fill them with water for the thirsty divine; spread the message of hope and bring peace and comfort to your empty soul. Spread the wings of time and I will show you what is mine. Drop

My first home had no walls or windows

My first home had no walls or windows; it was a warm, wordless place, enveloped in the beating of a heart,
My mother's womb, that dark cathedral of safety where time didn't know how to count the days,
Nor was pain allowed to enter that silent sanctuary, where silence was a sacred vow,
I didn't know I existed,

no more windows, too much time

hints of change in a drink
the juice is bad information
for reasons are gone when
sunshines change and turning
grows into my spelling
Mom teaches me lies about
rules and while i wake
up my angels die from
the worlds upset about sleeping
people yell and run off heavens songs
jumping cars into the explosions
and gods just happy
to hang out and scream back
spraying the

The Windows of Your Soul

Can you hear that musical sound rising up out of the ground
Can you feel that peculiar beat running up and down the vein in your feet, I can’t imagine you are sitting there when all roads leads to over there, the stakes are high and the pilgrims are marching on the colorless clouds way up

Windows

I sit in stillness
framed by glass
the world outside dances

sunlight spills like golden honey.
yet within these walls I stay.
regret coils.....
around me tight as a noose 
lurking in shadows.

I breathe in
inhaling the vastness of 
the ocean's essence.

I can feel it
my heart beats.....
steady as stone.

I glance out and see
islands shimmering like dreams…..
clouds lazily drift by.

like ghostly albatrosses.
heavy with

An angel left her windows open

The eyes are windows to the soul;
That’s what they say, or so I’m told.

Your soul stares back at me, beneath the snow; through icy drops of salty rain, 
stained glass fills the window pane. 

Nothing else could strike me dumb,
But this much beauty ties my tongue.

Your voice reverberates like a song;
that warms me up like

A Monet

A crooked cobblestone street of windows
A maze of windows - creating a mournful meandering mirror
Watching, waiting, and wishing to be magical and magnificent
The brilliance of becoming something more
And as misty darkness undressed the Day
As luck would have it - wish granted, and it was a Monet.

Windows of Hope

The songs of the early nineties keeps ringing in my ears, it is the  joy and the melody that I continue to feel and hear, I can still feel the chills as the snowflakes drops on my window sill and  Santa  with his protruded guts playing pranks in the open dust.

 I

Trapped in the Crowd

Have you ever noticed?
Noticed when everything changed
When all the sudden 
Everyone has something to say 
Everyone but you..
We all know everyone has changed
That's a part of growing up
But when did it start 
When did we all start caring about what people had to say 
Cared about what thought 
What they thought on your life
Your decisions

Dirty windows and broken hearts, like books left open on the table

Dirty windows and broken hearts, like books left open on the table,
On silent streets where morning and night share their last pages,
A generation of brave souls, seeking light between the lines of the day,
Heavy judgments like bookmarks forgotten among memories.
In the game of life, the dice are thoughts cast on the blank page,
I, a reader

Two Windows

There are two windows in my house blest, one is to east and one is to west 
From one I see sunrise and from other sun sets, one face highway and other forest
I observe people from one and birds from others, people seem hustle and birds continue warble
I see streetlight with other moon sight; people

WINDOWS

Windows reflects the world outside
Inside, the soul remains concealed. 

A ticking clock, a relentless reminder
Of moments passing, unreclaimed. 

A diner, a stage for silent dramas
Obsoletion fades stains of trauma.

Each matron, an enigma, unnamed
In the quiet corner, an empty stool...

A cook, a keep, a bartender secretly weeps
polishes glasses, pushing the dregs away.

Waiting for a story untold

In deep nights, when the moon weeps its shadow on the windows of the soul

In deep nights, when the moon weeps its shadow on the windows of the soul,
My thoughts slip along the thin thread of trust, woven from spider silk and shattered dreams.
The eyes of the world, opaque mirrors, hide untold secrets behind cardboard smiles,
And I, a lost traveler on the land of friendship, vainly seek the key

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