Perfumed Kisses
Your perfumed kisses
so tender and warm
like translucent
scarlet red roses
of the taciturn sunset
softly fade away
through the whispering lips
of my diaphanous dreams
poem by Nizamettin Esen Haymanali
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Related quotes
Margaret's Bridal Eve
I
The old grey mother she thrummed on her knee:
There is a rose that's ready;
And which of the handsome young men shall it be?
There's a rose that's ready for clipping.
My daughter, come hither, come hither to me:
There is a rose that's ready;
Come, point me your finger on him that you see:
There's a rose that's ready for clipping.
O mother, my mother, it never can be:
There is a rose that's ready;
For I shall bring shame on the man marries me:
There's a rose that's ready for clipping.
Now let your tongue be deep as the sea:
There is a rose that's ready;
And the man'll jump for you, right briskly will he:
There's a rose that's ready for clipping.
Tall Margaret wept bitterly:
There is a rose that's ready;
And as her parent bade did she:
There's a rose that's ready for clipping.
O the handsome young man dropped down on his knee:
There is a rose that's ready;
Pale Margaret gave him her hand, woe's me!
There's a rose that's ready for clipping.
II
O mother, my mother, this thing I must say:
There is a rose in the garden;
Ere he lies on the breast where that other lay:
And the bird sings over the roses.
Now, folly, my daughter, for men are men:
There is a rose in the garden;
You marry them blindfold, I tell you again:
And the bird sings over the roses.
O mother, but when he kisses me!
There is a rose in the garden;
My child, 'tis which shall sweetest be!
And the bird sings over the roses.
O mother, but when I awake in the morn!
[...] Read more
poem by George Meredith
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Venus and Adonis
'Vilia miretur vulgus; mihi flavus Apollo
Pocula Castalia plena ministret aqua.'
To the right honorable Henry Wriothesly, Earl of Southampton, and Baron of Tichfield.
Right honorable.
I know not how I shall offend in dedicating my unpolished lines to your lordship, nor how the world will censure me for choosing so strong a prop to support so weak a burden only, if your honour seem but pleased, I account myself highly praised, and vow to take advantage of all idle hours, till I have honoured you with some graver labour. But if the first heir of my invention prove deformed, I shall be sorry it had so noble a god-father, and never after ear so barren a land, for fear it yield me still so bad a harvest. I leave it to your honourable survey, and your honour to your heart's content; which I wish may always answer your own wish and the world's hopeful expectation.
Your honour's in all duty.
Even as the sun with purple-colour'd face
Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn,
Rose-cheek'd Adonis hied him to the chase;
Hunting he loved, but love he laugh'd to scorn;
Sick-thoughted Venus makes amain unto him,
And like a bold-faced suitor 'gins to woo him.
'Thrice-fairer than myself,' thus she began,
'The field's chief flower, sweet above compare,
Stain to all nymphs, more lovely than a man,
More white and red than doves or roses are;
Nature that made thee, with herself at strife,
Saith that the world hath ending with thy life.
'Vouchsafe, thou wonder, to alight thy steed,
And rein his proud head to the saddle-bow;
If thou wilt deign this favour, for thy meed
A thousand honey secrets shalt thou know:
Here come and sit, where never serpent hisses,
And being set, I'll smother thee with kisses;
'And yet not cloy thy lips with loathed satiety,
But rather famish them amid their plenty,
Making them red and pale with fresh variety,
Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty:
A summer's day will seem an hour but short,
Being wasted in such time-beguiling sport.'
With this she seizeth on his sweating palm,
The precedent of pith and livelihood,
And trembling in her passion, calls it balm,
Earth's sovereign salve to do a goddess good:
Being so enraged, desire doth lend her force
Courageously to pluck him from his horse.
Over one arm the lusty courser's rein,
Under her other was the tender boy,
Who blush'd and pouted in a dull disdain,
With leaden appetite, unapt to toy;
She red and hot as coals of glowing fire,
He red for shame, but frosty in desire.
The studded bridle on a ragged bough
Nimbly she fastens:--O, how quick is love!--
The steed is stalled up, and even now
To tie the rider she begins to prove:
[...] Read more
poem by William Shakespeare
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Venus and Adonis
Even as the sun with purple-colour'd face
Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn,
Rose-cheek'd Adonis tried him to the chase;
Hunting he lov'd, but love he laugh'd to scorn;
Sick-thoughted Venus makes amain unto him,
And like a bold-fac'd suitor 'gins to woo him.
'Thrice fairer than myself,' thus she began,
'The field's chief flower, sweet above compare,
Stain to all nymphs, more lovely than a man,
More white and red than doves or roses are;
Nature that made thee, with herself at strife,
Saith that the world hath ending with thy life.
'Vouchsafe, thou wonder, to alight thy steed,
And rein his proud head to the saddle-bow;
If thou wilt deign this favour, for thy meed
A thousand honey secrets shalt thou know:
Here come and sit, where never serpent hisses;
And being set, I'll smother thee with kisses:
'And yet not cloy thy lips with loath'd satiety,
But rather famish them amid their plenty,
Making them red and pale with fresh variety;
Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty:
A summer's day will seem an hour but short,
Being wasted in such time-beguiling sport.'
With this she seizeth on his sweating palm,
The precedent of pith and livelihood,
And, trembling in her passion, calls it balm,
Earth's sovereign salve to do a goddess good:
Being so enrag'd, desire doth lend her force
Courageously to pluck him from his horse.
Over one arm the lusty courser's rein
Under her other was the tender boy,
Who blush'd and pouted in a dull disdain,
With leaden appetite, unapt to toy;
She red and hot as coals of glowing fire
He red for shame, but frosty in desire.
The studded bridle on a ragged bough
Nimbly she fastens;--O! how quick is love:--
The steed is stalled up, and even now
To tie the rider she begins to prove:
Backward she push'd him, as she would be thrust,
And govern'd him in strength, though not in lust.
So soon was she along, as he was down,
Each leaning on their elbows and their hips:
Now doth she stroke his cheek, now doth he frown,
And 'gins to chide, but soon she stops his lips;
And kissing speaks, with lustful language broken,
'If thou wilt chide, thy lips shall never open.'
He burns with bashful shame; she with her tears
Doth quench the maiden burning of his cheeks;
[...] Read more
poem by William Shakespeare (1593)
Added by Dan Costinaş
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The House Of Dust: Complete
I.
The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.
And the wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams,
The eternal asker of answers, stands in the street,
And lifts his palms for the first cold ghost of rain.
The purple lights leap down the hill before him.
The gorgeous night has begun again.
'I will ask them all, I will ask them all their dreams,
I will hold my light above them and seek their faces.
I will hear them whisper, invisible in their veins . . .'
The eternal asker of answers becomes as the darkness,
Or as a wind blown over a myriad forest,
Or as the numberless voices of long-drawn rains.
We hear him and take him among us, like a wind of music,
Like the ghost of a music we have somewhere heard;
We crowd through the streets in a dazzle of pallid lamplight,
We pour in a sinister wave, ascend a stair,
With laughter and cry, and word upon murmured word;
We flow, we descend, we turn . . . and the eternal dreamer
Moves among us like light, like evening air . . .
Good-night! Good-night! Good-night! We go our ways,
The rain runs over the pavement before our feet,
The cold rain falls, the rain sings.
We walk, we run, we ride. We turn our faces
To what the eternal evening brings.
Our hands are hot and raw with the stones we have laid,
We have built a tower of stone high into the sky,
We have built a city of towers.
Our hands are light, they are singing with emptiness.
Our souls are light; they have shaken a burden of hours . . .
What did we build it for? Was it all a dream? . . .
Ghostly above us in lamplight the towers gleam . . .
And after a while they will fall to dust and rain;
Or else we will tear them down with impatient hands;
And hew rock out of the earth, and build them again.
II.
[...] Read more
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Roses Are Red (Jessica)
Roses are red Violets are blue,
Honey is so sweet and so are you darling!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
You've made my dreams come true!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
I have my brown eyes glued on YOU!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
I feel like i have known you!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
You are so FINE that you give me the BLUES!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
Lord knows that im falling for you!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
I just want to Rock with you!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
These lips can't wait to be kissing you!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
I do anything to claim you!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
I bow down to you!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
I've never met anyone as HOT as you!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
never knew i would meet you!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
I'm going to bed would you like to come too!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
I rather spend my precious time with you!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
You are beautiful as sparkling DIAMOND!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
You have me speechless everytime i talk to you!
Roses are red Violets are blue,
May i have this dance with you (JESSICA)
[...] Read more
poem by Obi Onyenwe
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Do I Do
When I see you on the street
My whole body gets weak
When youre standing in a crowd
Your love talks to me so loud
Girl, do I do, what you do, when I do my love to you
When I hear you on the phone
Your sweet, sexy voice turns my ear all the way on
Just the mention of your name
Seems to drive my head insane
Girl, do I do, what you do, when I do my love to you...baby
Sss..mmm
Yes I got some candy kisses for your lips
Yes I got some honey suckle chocolate dripping kisses full of love for you
Yes I got some candy kisses for your lips
Yes I got some honey suckle chocolate dripping kisses full of love for you
My life has been waiting for your love
My arms have been waiting for your love to arrive
My heart has been waiting
My soul anticipating your love, love, love
From the time that I awake
Im imagining the good love that well make
If to me your vibe can do all this
Just imagine how its going to feel when we hug and kiss
Sugar, do I do, what you do, when I do my love to you...all right
Sss..mmm
Yes I got some candy kisses for your lips
Yes I got some honey suckle chocolate dripping kisses full of love for you
Yes I got some candy kisses for your lips
Yes I got some honey suckle chocolate dripping kisses full of love for you
My life has been waiting for your love
My arms have been waiting for your love to arrive
My heart has been waiting
My soul anticipating your love, your love, your love
Ladies and gentlemen,
I have the pleasure to present on my album
Mr. dizzy gillespie...blow!
Blow, blow, blow, blow, blow, blow!
Do I do, what you do, when I do my love to you
Yes I got some candy kisses for your lips
Yes I got some honey suckle chocolate dripping kisses full of love for you
Yes I got some candy kisses for your lips
Yes I got some honey suckle chocolate dripping kisses full of love for you
My life has been waiting for your love
My arms have been waiting for your love to arrive
My heart has been waiting
My soul anticipating your love, your love, your lo-o-ove
Oh, I dont care how long it might take
cause I know the woman for me, you Ill make
And I will not deny myself the chance
Of being part of what feels like the right romance
[...] Read more
song performed by Stevie Wonder
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Two Dreams
I WILL that if I say a heavy thing
Your tongues forgive me; seeing ye know that spring
Has flecks and fits of pain to keep her sweet,
And walks somewhile with winter-bitten feet.
Moreover it sounds often well to let
One string, when ye play music, keep at fret
The whole song through; one petal that is dead
Confirms the roses, be they white or red;
Dead sorrow is not sorrowful to hear
As the thick noise that breaks mid weeping were;
The sick sound aching in a lifted throat
Turns to sharp silver of a perfect note;
And though the rain falls often, and with rain
Late autumn falls on the old red leaves like pain,
I deem that God is not disquieted.
Also while men are fed with wine and bread,
They shall be fed with sorrow at his hand.
There grew a rose-garden in Florence land
More fair than many; all red summers through
The leaves smelt sweet and sharp of rain, and blew
Sideways with tender wind; and therein fell
Sweet sound wherewith the green waxed audible,
As a bird’s will to sing disturbed his throat
And set the sharp wings forward like a boat
Pushed through soft water, moving his brown side
Smooth-shapen as a maid’s, and shook with pride
His deep warm bosom, till the heavy sun’s
Set face of heat stopped all the songs at once.
The ways were clean to walk and delicate;
And when the windy white of March grew late,
Before the trees took heart to face the sun
With ravelled raiment of lean winter on,
The roots were thick and hot with hollow grass.
Some roods away a lordly house there was,
Cool with broad courts and latticed passage wet
From rush-flowers and lilies ripe to set,
Sown close among the strewings of the floor;
And either wall of the slow corridor
Was dim with deep device of gracious things;
Some angel’s steady mouth and weight of wings
Shut to the side; or Peter with straight stole
And beard cut black against the aureole
That spanned his head from nape to crown; thereby
Mary’s gold hair, thick to the girdle-tie
Wherein was bound a child with tender feet;
Or the broad cross with blood nigh brown on it.
Within this house a righteous lord abode,
[...] Read more
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Roses In Madrid
Roses, Senors, roses!
Love is subtly hid
In the fragrant roses,
Blown in gay Madrid.
Roses, Senors, roses!
Look, look, look, and see
Love hanging in the roses,
Like a golden bee!
Ha! ha! shake the roses--
Hold a palm below;
Shake him from the roses,
Catch the vagrant so!
High I toss the roses
From my brown palm up;
Like the wine that bubbles
From a golden cup.
Catch the roses, Senors,
Light on finger tips;
He who buys red roses,
Dreams of crimson lips!
Tinkle! my fresh roses,
With the rare dews wet;
Clink! my crisp, red roses,
Like a castanet!
Roses, Senors, roses,
Come, Hidalgo, buy!
Proudly wait my roses
For thy rose's eye
Be thy rose as stately
As a pacing deer;
Worthy are my roses
To burn behind her ear.
Ha I ha! I can see thee,
Where the fountains foam,
Twining my red roses
In her golden comb!
Roses, Donnas, roses,
None so fresh as mine,
Pluck'd at rose of morning
By our Lady's shrine.
Those that first I gather'd
Laid I at her feet,
That is why my roses
Still are fresh and sweet.
Roses, Donnas, roses!
Roses waxen fair!
Acolytes my roses,
[...] Read more
poem by Isabella Valancy Crawford
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The Dream
'TWAS summer eve; the changeful beams still play'd
On the fir-bark and through the beechen shade;
Still with soft crimson glow'd each floating cloud;
Still the stream glitter'd where the willow bow'd;
Still the pale moon sate silent and alone,
Nor yet the stars had rallied round her throne;
Those diamond courtiers, who, while yet the West
Wears the red shield above his dying breast,
Dare not assume the loss they all desire,
Nor pay their homage to the fainter fire,
But wait in trembling till the Sun's fair light
Fading, shall leave them free to welcome Night!
So when some Chief, whose name through realms afar
Was still the watchword of succesful war,
Met by the fatal hour which waits for all,
Is, on the field he rallied, forced to fall,
The conquerors pause to watch his parting breath,
Awed by the terrors of that mighty death;
Nor dare the meed of victory to claim,
Nor lift the standard to a meaner name,
Till every spark of soul hath ebb'd away,
And leaves what was a hero, common clay.
Oh! Twilight! Spirit that dost render birth
To dim enchantments; melting Heaven with Earth,
Leaving on craggy hills and rumning streams
A softness like the atmosphere of dreams;
Thy hour to all is welcome! Faint and sweet
Thy light falls round the peasant's homeward feet,
Who, slow returning from his task of toil,
Sees the low sunset gild the cultured soil,
And, tho' such radliance round him brightly glows,
Marks the small spark his cottage window throws.
Still as his heart forestals his weary pace,
Fondly he dreams of each familiar face,
Recalls the treasures of his narrow life,
His rosy children, and his sunburnt wife,
To whom his coming is the chief event
Of simple days in cheerful labour spent.
The rich man's chariot hath gone whirling past,
And those poor cottagers have only cast
One careless glance on all that show of pride,
Then to their tasks turn'd quietly aside;
But him they wait for, him they welcome home,
Fond sentinels look forth to see him come;
The fagot sent for when the fire grew dim,
The frugal meal prepared, are all for him;
For him the watching of that sturdy boy,
[...] Read more
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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The Door Of Humility
ENGLAND
We lead the blind by voice and hand,
And not by light they cannot see;
We are not framed to understand
The How and Why of such as He;
But natured only to rejoice
At every sound or sign of hope,
And, guided by the still small voice,
In patience through the darkness grope;
Until our finer sense expands,
And we exchange for holier sight
The earthly help of voice and hands,
And in His light behold the Light.
I
Let there be Light! The self-same Power
That out of formless dark and void
Endued with life's mysterious dower
Planet, and star, and asteroid;
That moved upon the waters' face,
And, breathing on them His intent,
Divided, and assigned their place
To, ocean, air, and firmament;
That bade the land appear, and bring
Forth herb and leaf, both fruit and flower,
Cattle that graze, and birds that sing,
Ordained the sunshine and the shower;
That, moulding man and woman, breathed
In them an active soul at birth
In His own image, and bequeathed
To them dominion over Earth;
That, by whatever is, decreed
His Will and Word shall be obeyed,
From loftiest star to lowliest seed;-
The worm and me He also made.
And when, for nuptials of the Spring
With Summer, on the vestal thorn
The bridal veil hung flowering,
A cry was heard, and I was born.
II
[...] Read more
poem by Alfred Austin
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Narrative And Dramatic The Wanderings Of Oisin
BOOK I
S. Patrick. You who are bent, and bald, and blind,
With a heavy heart and a wandering mind,
Have known three centuries, poets sing,
Of dalliance with a demon thing.
Oisin. Sad to remember, sick with years,
The swift innumerable spears,
The horsemen with their floating hair,
And bowls of barley, honey, and wine,
Those merry couples dancing in tune,
And the white body that lay by mine;
But the tale, though words be lighter than air.
Must live to be old like the wandering moon.
Caoilte, and Conan, and Finn were there,
When we followed a deer with our baying hounds.
With Bran, Sceolan, and Lomair,
And passing the Firbolgs' burial-motmds,
Came to the cairn-heaped grassy hill
Where passionate Maeve is stony-still;
And found On the dove-grey edge of the sea
A pearl-pale, high-born lady, who rode
On a horse with bridle of findrinny;
And like a sunset were her lips,
A stormy sunset on doomed ships;
A citron colour gloomed in her hair,
But down to her feet white vesture flowed,
And with the glimmering crimson glowed
Of many a figured embroidery;
And it was bound with a pearl-pale shell
That wavered like the summer streams,
As her soft bosom rose and fell.
S. Patrick. You are still wrecked among heathen dreams.
Oisin. 'Why do you wind no horn?' she said
'And every hero droop his head?
The hornless deer is not more sad
That many a peaceful moment had,
More sleek than any granary mouse,
In his own leafy forest house
Among the waving fields of fern:
The hunting of heroes should be glad.'
'O pleasant woman,' answered Finn,
'We think on Oscar's pencilled urn,
And on the heroes lying slain
[...] Read more
poem by William Butler Yeats
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[9] O, Moon, My Sweet-heart!
O, Moon, My Sweet-heart!
[LOVE POEMS]
POET: MAHENDRA BHATNAGAR
POEMS
1 Passion And Compassion / 1
2 Affection
3 Willing To Live
4 Passion And Compassion / 2
5 Boon
6 Remembrance
7 Pretext
8 To A Distant Person
9 Perception
10 Conclusion
10 You (1)
11 Symbol
12 You (2)
13 In Vain
14 One Night
15 Suddenly
16 Meeting
17 Touch
18 Face To Face
19 Co-Traveller
20 Once And Once only
21 Touchstone
22 In Chorus
23 Good Omens
24 Even Then
25 An Evening At ‘Tighiraa’ (1)
26 An Evening At ‘Tighiraa’ (2)
27 Life Aspirant
28 To The Condemned Woman
29 A Submission
30 At Midday
31 I Accept
32 Who Are You?
33 Solicitation
34 Accept Me
35 Again After Ages …
36 Day-Dreaming
37 Who Are You?
38 You Embellished In Song
[...] Read more
poem by Mahendra Bhatnagar
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The Undying One- Canto III
'THERE is a sound the autumn wind doth make
Howling and moaning, listlessly and low:
Methinks that to a heart that ought to break
All the earth's voices seem to murmur so.
The visions that crost
Our path in light--
The things that we lost
In the dim dark night--
The faces for which we vainly yearn--
The voices whose tones will not return--
That low sad wailing breeze doth bring
Borne on its swift and rushing wing.
Have ye sat alone when that wind was loud,
And the moon shone dim from the wintry cloud?
When the fire was quench'd on your lonely hearth,
And the voices were still which spoke of mirth?
If such an evening, tho' but one,
It hath been yours to spend alone--
Never,--though years may roll along
Cheer'd by the merry dance and song;
Though you mark'd not that bleak wind's sound before,
When louder perchance it used to roar--
Never shall sound of that wintry gale
Be aught to you but a voice of wail!
So o'er the careless heart and eye
The storms of the world go sweeping by;
But oh! when once we have learn'd to weep,
Well doth sorrow his stern watch keep.
Let one of our airy joys decay--
Let one of our blossoms fade away--
And all the griefs that others share
Seem ours, as well as theirs, to bear:
And the sound of wail, like that rushing wind
Shall bring all our own deep woe to mind!
'I went through the world, but I paused not now
At the gladsome heart and the joyous brow:
I went through the world, and I stay'd to mark
Where the heart was sore, and the spirit dark:
And the grief of others, though sad to see,
Was fraught with a demon's joy to me!
'I saw the inconstant lover come to take
Farewell of her he loved in better days,
And, coldly careless, watch the heart-strings break--
Which beat so fondly at his words of praise.
She was a faded, painted, guilt-bow'd thing,
Seeking to mock the hues of early spring,
When misery and years had done their worst
[...] Read more
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Heads
Papersnow
From no talking just heads
(a. partridge, c. frantz, j. harrison, t. blast murray, t. weymouth)
Andy partridge: vocals, whistles and lyrics
Tina weymouth: backing vocals and bass guitar
Blast murray: guitar
Chris frantz: bongos, drums and loops
Jerry harrison: keyboards
[transcribed by troy peters
Pink confetti, shotgun wedding
Rocket secrets someones shredding
Nineteenth floor.
Laundry ticket that exploded
Joust with quaker pamphlet goaded
Into war.
Ankle deep we heroes amble
Ankle deep we wade
Ankle deep through someone elses
Ticker tape parade
Softly, softly, softly
Falls papersnow...
Softly, softly, softly
All of our works blow away...
Petals fell on petaluma
Till receipt from montezumas
Burger hut.
Every day a billion dollars
Fall as black and white blue-collars
Plough their rut.
Softly, softly, softly
Falls papersnow...
Softly, softly, softly
All of our works blow away...
Ankle deep we heroes amble
Ankle deep we wade
Ankle deep through someone elses
Ticker tape parade
Jets folded from wall street journal
Shoot down cartons care of colonels
Chicken ranch.
Kleenex where the guys been cryin
Goodbye note from girl whos flyin
To new branch.
Softly, softly, softly
Falls papersnow...
Softly, softly, softly
All of our works blow away...
Letter that Id meant to send you
To torpedo and up-end you
Sheet by sheet.
[...] Read more
song performed by Xtc
Added by Lucian Velea
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Papersnow
Pink confetti, shotgun wedding
Rocket secrets someones shredding
Nineteenth floor.
Laundry ticket that exploded
Joust with quaker pamphlet goaded
Into war.
Ankle deep we heroes amble
Ankle deep we wade
Ankle deep through someone elses
Ticker tape parade
Softly, softly, softly
Falls papersnow...
Softly, softly, softly
All of our works blow away...
Petals fell on petaluma
Till receipt from montezumas
Burger hut.
Every day a billion dollars
Fall as black and white blue-collars
Plough their rut.
Softly, softly, softly
Falls papersnow...
Softly, softly, softly
All of our works blow away...
Ankle deep we heroes amble
Ankle deep we wade
Ankle deep through someone elses
Ticker tape parade
Jets folded from wall street journal
Shoot down cartons care of colonels
Chicken ranch.
Kleenex where the guys been cryin
Goodbye note from girl whos flyin
To new branch.
Softly, softly, softly
Falls papersnow...
Softly, softly, softly
All of our works blow away...
Letter that Id meant to send you
To torpedo and up-end you
Sheet by sheet.
Tore up all the beg and bitter
Add them to the drift of litter
On your street.
Softly, softly, softly
Falls papersnow...
Softly, softly, softly
All of our works blow away...
Ankle deep we heroes amble
Ankle deep we wade
[...] Read more
song performed by Xtc
Added by Lucian Velea
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Heads
Papersnow
From no talking just heads
(a. partridge, c. frantz, j. harrison, t. blast murray, t. weymouth)
Andy partridge: vocals, whistles and lyrics
Tina weymouth: backing vocals and bass guitar
Blast murray: guitar
Chris frantz: bongos, drums and loops
Jerry harrison: keyboards
[transcribed by troy peters
Pink confetti, shotgun wedding
Rocket secrets someones shredding
Nineteenth floor.
Laundry ticket that exploded
Joust with quaker pamphlet goaded
Into war.
Ankle deep we heroes amble
Ankle deep we wade
Ankle deep through someone elses
Ticker tape parade
Softly, softly, softly
Falls papersnow...
Softly, softly, softly
All of our works blow away...
Petals fell on petaluma
Till receipt from montezumas
Burger hut.
Every day a billion dollars
Fall as black and white blue-collars
Plough their rut.
Softly, softly, softly
Falls papersnow...
Softly, softly, softly
All of our works blow away...
Ankle deep we heroes amble
Ankle deep we wade
Ankle deep through someone elses
Ticker tape parade
Jets folded from wall street journal
Shoot down cartons care of colonels
Chicken ranch.
Kleenex where the guys been cryin
Goodbye note from girl whos flyin
To new branch.
Softly, softly, softly
Falls papersnow...
Softly, softly, softly
All of our works blow away...
Letter that Id meant to send you
To torpedo and up-end you
Sheet by sheet.
[...] Read more
song performed by Xtc
Added by Lucian Velea
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Fourth Book
THEY met still sooner. 'Twas a year from thence
When Lucy Gresham, the sick semptress girl,
Who sewed by Marian's chair so still and quick,
And leant her head upon the back to cough
More freely when, the mistress turning round,
The others took occasion to laugh out,–
Gave up a last. Among the workers, spoke
A bold girl with black eyebrows and red lips,–
'You know the news? Who's dying, do you think?
Our Lucy Gresham. I expected it
As little as Nell Hart's wedding. Blush not, Nell,
Thy curls be red enough without thy cheeks;
And, some day, there'll be found a man to dote
On red curls.–Lucy Gresham swooned last night,
Dropped sudden in the street while going home;
And now the baker says, who took her up
And laid her by her grandmother in bed,
He'll give her a week to die in. Pass the silk.
Let's hope he gave her a loaf too, within reach,
For otherwise they'll starve before they die,
That funny pair of bedfellows! Miss Bell,
I'll thank you for the scissors. The old crone
Is paralytic–that's the reason why
Our Lucy's thread went faster than her breath,
Which went too quick, we all know. Marian Erle!
Why, Marian Erle, you're not the fool to cry?
Your tears spoil Lady Waldemar's new dress,
You piece of pity!'
Marian rose up straight,
And, breaking through the talk and through the work,
Went outward, in the face of their surprise,
To Lucy's home, to nurse her back to life
Or down to death. She knew by such an act,
All place and grace were forfeit in the house,
Whose mistress would supply the missing hand
With necessary, not inhuman haste,
And take no blame. But pity, too, had dues:
She could not leave a solitary soul
To founder in the dark, while she sate still
And lavished stitches on a lady's hem
As if no other work were paramount.
'Why, God,' thought Marian, 'has a missing hand
This moment; Lucy wants a drink, perhaps.
Let others miss me! never miss me, God!'
So Marian sat by Lucy's bed, content
With duty, and was strong, for recompense,
To hold the lamp of human love arm-high
To catch the death-strained eyes and comfort them,
Until the angels, on the luminous side
[...] Read more
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning from Aurora Leigh (1856)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Take on Red
Red for blood –
Pumping out a life;
Paling in a death;
Blushing in a feminine face –
Flushing out her puberty;
Stain a presage for the mother ready.
And red, a flag of hatred in the eye –
The brutal other side –
Blood-release of war;
The sundered heart!
But then the red of simple dress
To give a beauty all she needs –
And flaming hair
And flimsy lace of underwear
And passion in the wanton heart
And dreams of crimson stockinged legs apart –
The rawness in the fantasy that
Only red can be.
And I? To only seek for Autumn
Bleeding in her many hues
Of red and other sister colours –
Those of tiring summer;
The fall of evening chill,
To wake with mist of morn,
Until cerise of dawn
Presents another day.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
[...] Read more
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Added by Poetry Lover
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Laus Veneris
Asleep or waking is it? for her neck,
Kissed over close, wears yet a purple speck
Wherein the pained blood falters and goes out;
Soft, and stung softly — fairer for a fleck.
But though my lips shut sucking on the place,
There is no vein at work upon her face;
Her eyelids are so peaceable, no doubt
Deep sleep has warmed her blood through all its ways.
Lo, this is she that was the world's delight;
The old grey years were parcels of her might;
The strewings of the ways wherein she trod
Were the twain seasons of the day and night.
Lo, she was thus when her clear limbs enticed
All lips that now grow sad with kissing Christ,
Stained with blood fallen from the feet of God,
The feet and hands whereat our souls were priced.
Alas, Lord, surely thou art great and fair.
But lo her wonderfully woven hair!
And thou didst heal us with thy piteous kiss;
But see now, Lord; her mouth is lovelier.
She is right fair; what hath she done to thee?
Nay, fair Lord Christ, lift up thine eyes and see;
Had now thy mother such a lip — like this?
Thou knowest how sweet a thing it is to me.
Inside the Horsel here the air is hot;
Right little peace one hath for it, God wot;
The scented dusty daylight burns the air,
And my heart chokes me till I hear it not.
Behold, my Venus, my soul's body, lies
With my love laid upon her garment-wise,
Feeling my love in all her limbs and hair
And shed between her eyelids through her eyes.
She holds my heart in her sweet open hands
Hanging asleep; hard by her head there stands,
[...] Read more
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Added by Poetry Lover
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Reputation
(brian spence)
(reputation) - (repeat x 12)
Theyre gonna want you
Theyre gonna love you
Theyre gonna make your dreams come true
They dont know the real you, but
Theyre gonna steal you, oh
Theyre gonna take my dreams away
Well you tried, you looked for a way
Of keeping your face, of keeping your face, oh, oh
(reputation)
You try and you try again
(isnt worth the patience)
You leave me to cry again
(who cares what theyre thinking? ) oh, oh
(who cares what theyre whispering? , whispering, whispering)
You know I wont blame you
And I wont defame you, oh
I wont name you in any court of law
Well you tried, you looked for a way
Of keeping your face, of keeping your face, oh, oh
(reputation)
You try and you try again
(isnt worth the patience)
You leave me to cry again
(who cares what theyre thinking? ) oh, oh
(who cares what theyre whispering? , whispering)
Theyre whispering
(reputation)
You try and you try again
(isnt worth the patience)
You leave me to cry again
(who cares what theyre thinking? ) baby
(who cares what theyre whispering? , whispering, whispering), ooh, ooh
You leave me to cry again
Well you tried
Baby, you looked for a way, oh
You dont want to change, but
You still change the same, oh
(reputation)
You try and you try again
(isnt worth the patience)
You leave me to cry again
(who cares what theyre thinking? ) oh, oh
(who cares what theyre whispering, whispering? )
Theyre whispering
(reputation)
You try and you try again
(isnt worth the patience)
You leave me to cry again
[...] Read more
song performed by Dusty Springfield
Added by Lucian Velea
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