Complimentary Versicles to Jessie Lewars
THE TOAST
Fill me with the rosy wine,
Call a toast, a toast divine:
Giveth me Poet’s darling flame,
Lovely Jessie be her name;
Then thou mayest freely boast,
Thou hast given a peerless toast.
THE MENAGERIE
Talk not to me of savages,
From Afric’s burning sun;
No savage e’er could rend my heart,
As Jessie, thou hast done:
But Jessie’s lovely hand in mine,
A mutual faith to plight,
Not even to view the heavenly choir,
Would be so blest a sight.
JESSIE’S ILLNESS
Say, sages, what’s the charm on earth
Can turn Death’s dart aside!
It is not purity and worth,
Else Jessie had not died.
ON HER RECOVERY
But rarely seen since Nature’s birth,
The natives of the sky;
Yet still one seraph’s left on earth,
For Jessie did not die.
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Jesse's Girl
Jessie is a friend,
yeah, I know he's been
a good friend of mine
But lately something's changed
that ain't hard to define
Jessie's got himself a girl
and I want to make her mine
And she's watching him with those eyes
And she's lovin' him with that body,
I just know it
Yeah 'n' he's holding her
in his arms late,
late at night
You know, I wish that I had Jessie's girl,
I wish that I had Jessie's girl
Where can I find a woman like that
I play along with the charade,
there doesn't seem to be
a reason to change
You know, I feel so dirty
when they start talking cute
I wanna tell her that I love her,
but the point is probably moot
'Cos she's watching him with those eyes
And she's lovin' him with that body,
I just know it
And he's holding her
in his arms late, late at night
Like Jessie's girl,
I wish that I had Jessie's girl
Where can I find a woman,
where can I find a woman like that
And I'm lookin' in the mirror all the time,
wondering what she don't see in me
I've been funny,
I've been cool with the lines
Ain't that the way
love supposed to be
Tell me, where can I find a woman like that
(Solo)
You know, I wish that I had Jessie's girl,
I wish that I had Jessie's girl
I want Jessie's girl,
where can I find a woman like that, like
Jessie's girl,
I wish that I had Jessie's girl,
I want,
I want Jessie's girl
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jessie
When I remark her golden hair
Swoon on her glorious shoulders,
I marvel not that sight so rare
Doth ravish all beholders;
For summon hence all pretty girls
Renowned for beauteous tresses,
And you shall find among their curls
There's none so fair as Jessie's.
And Jessie's eyes are, oh, so blue
And full of sweet revealings--
They seem to look you through and through
And read your inmost feelings;
Nor black emits such ardent fires,
Nor brown such truth expresses--
Admit it, all ye gallant squires--
There are no eyes like Jessie's.
Her voice (like liquid beams that roll
From moonland to the river)
Steals subtly to the raptured soul,
Therein to lie and quiver;
Or falls upon the grateful ear
With chaste and warm caresses--
Ah, all concede the truth (who hear):
There's no such voice as Jessie's.
Of other charms she hath such store
All rivalry excelling,
Though I used adjectives galore,
They'd fail me in the telling;
But now discretion stays my hand--
Adieu, eyes, voice, and tresses.
Of all the husbands in the land
There's none so fierce as Jessie's.
poem by Eugene Field
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Miss Jessie Lewars
The sun lies clasped in amber cloud
Half hidden in the sea,
And o'er the sands the flowing tide
Comes racing merrilee.
The hawthorn hedge is white with bloom
The wind is soft and lown
And sad and still you watch by me
Your hand clasped in my own.
Oh, let the curtain bide, Jessie
And lift my head a wee,
And let the bonnie setting sun
Glint in on you and me.
The world seems fair and bright, Jessie
Near loving hearts like you,
But poonith's blast sifts simmer love,
And makes leal friendships few.
How aften in the dreary night,
I clasp my burning hands
Upon those throbbing sleepless lids,
O'er eyes like glowing brands,
And ponder in my weary brain,
If haply when I'm dead
My old boon friends for love of me
Will give my bairnies bread.
Oh, did the poor not help the poor,
Each in their simple way,
With humble gift and kindly love,
God pity them I say.
For many a man who clasped my hand
With friendship o'er the bowl
When the wine halo had passed away
Proved but a niggard soul.
Oh, blessed hope 'midst our distress,
There is a promise made,
That in the day the rough wind blows,
The east wind shall be stayed.
A few short years and those I love
Will come again to me,
In that bright land withoout a sun,
That land without a sea.
Oh, wilt thou gang o'nights, Jessie,
To my forsaken hearth,
And be as thou has been to me,
The truest friend on earth.
So sweetly in your linnet voice,
You'll sing my weans to rest,
While Jessie leans her weary head,
Upon thy loving breast.
Oh, what is fame? Its wealth of lays
Cools not the fevered brow,
Wilt tell his name in future days
Who whistled at the plough
And wrote a simple song or two,
For happier hearts to sing
Among the shining sheaves of corn
Or round the household ring.
Yet would I praise the bubble fame
If but my artless lays
Brought thy true worth and lovingness
For future time to praise.
True friend I bless the poet skill
Which won a friend like thee,
Whose love 'twixt hopes of home and heaven
Is with me constantly.
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song of the Driftweed
HERE’S to the home that was never, never ours!
Toast it full and fairly when the winter lowers.
Speak ye low, my merry men, sitting at your ease;
Harken to the homeless Drift in the roaring seas!
Here’s to the life we shall never live on earth!
Cut for us awry, awry ages ere the birth.
Set the teeth and meet it well, wind upon the shore;
Like a lion, in the face look the Nevermore!
Here’s to the love we were never let to win!
What of that? a many shells have a pearl within;
Some are mated with the gold in the light of day;
Some are buried fathoms deep, in the seas away.
Here’s to the selves we shall never, never be!
We’re the drift of the world and the tangle of the sea.
It’s far beyond the Pleiad, it’s out beyond the sun
Where the rootless shall be rooted when the wander-year is done!
poem by Jessie Mackay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Lover's Lament
In vain do springtime's many charms essay
To chase the gloom in Aray's glen to-day ;
The strains that there once charmed my listening ear
Can ne'er again avail my heart to cheer.
When that fair star, so late my soul's delight,
Hath vanished, never more to cheer my sight,
—
'When my fond heart, sad-missing joy so brief,
Lies in the dust, enamoured of its grief,
—
When, for the couch she soon might reach, fove-led.
The grave becometh Jessie's bridal bed.
Well may the tears of friendship freely flow,
And life to me be an unending woe.
Insatiate Death ! was it to make us see
How all impartial fly thy arrows, we
Are left to mourn her dead, whose graces might
Make even thee ashamed our prayers to slight ?
Alas for Life ! its frail unequal thread
Is, like the gossamer in sunshine spread,
The ready wreck of the first passing blast,
And yieldeth first where it should longest last.
'Tis thus that all too soon in death's cold sleep
Closed Jessie's eyes, while mine are left to weep ;
Better it were, than thus be left, to have
My own last sleep beside her iu the grave.
Shade of my love ! if it indeed be true
That spirits blest, though hidden from our view,
May still be round us, guardian angels rare,
Oh, be it mine to feel thee often near,—
An inspiration ever leading me
To justify thy loving sympathy
By actions such as may alone secure
The conscious favour of thy spirit pure.
Come then, in all thy wonted, loving grace.
Making the grief, now my sole guest, give place
To the sweet hope that, this vain hfe once o'er,
I'll see thee and be near thee evermore.
poem by Evan MacColl
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Ballad Of Jesse James
Jesse james was a man
And he killed many men
He robbed the glendale train
And he took from the richer
And he gave that to the poorer
Hed a hand and a heart and a brain
Oh jesse had a wife to mourn for his life
Three children they were so brave
But that dirty little coward
That shot mr. howard
Has laid jesse james in his grave
(instrumental)
On wednesday night
When the moon was shining bright
They robbed that glendale train
And the folks from miles about (yeah they can)
They all said without a doubt
It was done by her frankie and jesse james (yes it was)
Oh jessie had a wife, to mourn for his life
Three children they were so brave
But that dirty little coward
That shot mr. howard
Has laid (poor) jesse james in his grave
(instrumental)
Well the people held their breath
When they heard about jesses death (yeah)
And they wondered how poor jesse came to die (how did he die? )
It was one of his guys, called little robert ford
And he shot jessie james on the sly
Oh jessie had a wife to mourn for his life
Three children they were so brave
But that dirty little coward
That shot mr. howard
Has laid jesse james in his grave
Has laid poor jesse in his grave
He laid jesse james in his grave
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beautiful Rothesay
Beautiful Rothesay, your scenery is most grand,
You cannot be surpassed in fair Scotland.
Tis healthy for holiday makers, to go there,
For the benefit of their health, by inhaling the pure air
And to hear the innocent birds, on a fine Summer day,
Carolling their sweet songs, so lively and gay,
Therefore, holiday makers, be advised by me,
And visit beautiful Rothesay, by the side of the Sea.
Then sweet Jessie, let us go,
To Scotland's garden of Eden O!
And spend the lovely Summer day,
In the beautiful village of Rothesay.
There you can see the ships, passing to and fro,
Which will drive away dull care, and woe,
And, the heavens breath smells wooingly there,
Therefore, let's away dear Jessie, to inhale the balmy air.
The mansions, there, are most beautiful to be seen,
Likewise the trees, and shrubberies, green.
Therefore, we will feel happy and gay,
Walking hand in hand, together the live long day.
Along the beautiful walks with our hearts fu' cheerie,
My dear love! Until we grow weary.
Then, return home at night, with our spirits light and gay,
After viewing the beautiful scenery of Rothesay.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jessie Mitchell’s Mother
Into her mother’s bedroom to wash the ballooning body.
“My mother is jelly-hearted and she has a brain of jelly:
Sweet, quiver-soft, irrelevant. Not essential.
Only a habit would cry if she should die.
A pleasant sort of fool without the least iron. . . .
Are you better, mother, do you think it will come today?”
The stretched yellow rag that was Jessie Mitchell’s mother
Reviewed her. Young, and so thin, and so straight.
So straight! as if nothing could ever bend her.
But poor men would bend her, and doing things with poor men,
Being much in bed, and babies would bend her over,
And the rest of things in life that were for poor women,
Coming to them grinning and pretty with intent to bend and to kill.
Comparisons shattered her heart, ate at her bulwarks:
The shabby and the bright: she, almost hating her daughter,
Crept into an old sly refuge: “Jessie’s black
And her way will be black, and jerkier even than mine.
Mine, in fact, because I was lovely, had flowers
Tucked in the jerks, flowers were here and there. . . .”
She revived for the moment settled and dried-up triumphs,
Forced perfume into old petals, pulled up the droop,
Refueled
Triumphant long-exhaled breaths.
Her exquisite yellow youth . . .
poem by Gwendolyn Brooks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I dreaded doing close-ups.
quote by Jessie Matthews
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Simplicity is the peak of civilization.
quote by Jessie Sampter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I had a flair for comedy and could give a sustained performance.
quote by Jessie Matthews
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eyes for me
Lonely, till i hear the word, 'lovely! '
lonely, until my mistakes are accepted gladly.
lonely, until i'm missed terribly.
Lovely it is, and without it i'm lonely.
Gladly i'd accept if asked, for i feel lonely.
Terribly i convey my heart and it remains lonely.
Looked for it everywhere,
looked for him without a corner to spare.
Looked but dint see, eyes for only me so rare.
Everywhere i turned, saw others being looked for.
Spared not a tear, for him to be as before.
Rarely it is true, whats said in a folklore.
poem by Jessie Peter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Address of a New Poetess To All Poets Here
As I open my partner this site I see
And closing it too, this site I live
In my mind and my heart I smiled gently
Jessie, at last the search you see.
I joined and left some sites I register
Thought it's nice I registered as a member
Poetry and friendship I want to share
But in the end discrimination reigns.
Ratings and comments really boost morale
Spirits rises get inspired and poetic as I
Creative and imaginative minds do survive
Knowledge, talents hidden or not described.
Surfing the web for my compositions
A poet friend introduced this portion
Sharing in my heart I thought I found
Comments and ratings not in my mind.
They are good if one needs a push
It is a flavor that a creative may savor
But to the competitors it's not a favor
Bet, surely come and show real color.
As I read and commented to a poem
Reading the history of her comments
Rise both my brows I was surprised,
Here too, a competition trouble arise?
Where on web can I join and may find
A place where no feuds and race arise?
Or can we just let that comments be
A guide for better and competition free?
poem by Jessie Clarete Bernabe Cadsawan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I collaborated on most of my dance numbers, literally 50/50, with the choreographers I worked with.
quote by Jessie Matthews
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hast Thou Forgotten Me?
HAST thou forgotten me? the days are dark—
Light ebbs from heaven, and songless soars the lark—
Vexed like my heart, loud moans the unquiet sea—
Hast thou forgotten me?
Hast thou forgotten me? O dead delight
Whose dreams and memories torture me to-night—
O love—my life! O sweet—so fair to see—
Hast thou forgotten me?
Hast thou forgotten? Lo, if one should say—
Noontide were night, or night were flaming day—
Grief blinds mine eyes, I know not which it be!
Hast thou forgotten me?
Hast thou forgotten? Ah, if Death should come,
Close my sad eyes, and charm my song-bird dumb—
Tired of strange woes—my fate were hailed with glee—
Hast thou forgotten me?
Hast thou forgotten me? What joy have I?
A dim blown bird beneath an alien sky,—
O that on mighty pinions I could flee—
Hast thou forgotten me?
Hast thou forgotten? Yea, Love’s horoscope
Is blurred with tears and suffering beyond Hope—
Ah, like dead leaves forsaken of the tree,
Thou hast forgotten me.
poem by Philip Joseph Holdsworth
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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$50K and a Call Girl: A Love Story
Ross Patterson, Jessie Wiseman, Seth Grossman, Lauren Aboulafia, Asher Roth, Kelly Curran, Keena Ferguson
from $50K and a Call Girl: A Love Story (2014)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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In films, the fact that you can always do a scene again takes a load off your mind, enabling you to strive for perfection, which I always wanted.
quote by Jessie Matthews
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beans
Beans, beans, beans
Jessie had some beans
He was happy, happy, happy
And he ate some beans
Naked, naked, naked
Sitting cross-legged
Naked, naked, naked
And he was happy, happy, happy
And he ate some beans
Wine, wine, wine
Jessie had some wine
He was happy, happy, happy
And he ate some wine
Beans, beans, beans
Daddy ate some beans
And he drank some wine
And he was happy, happy, happy
As he drank some beans
song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Never Learn
There i go
Showing the weakness ididn't know
once again
Unable to learn
Circling, bend after turn
once again
Wishing to fall
Swifter to Angel's call
once again
I try to
Dream again of you
once again
Staring into sky
Where stars and angels fly
once again
Dazing off untill
The tommarrow of chills
once again
Till I'm slain
January 2008
poem by Jessie Li here
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Song: Oh the Tear
Oh the tear is in my eye, and my heart it is breaking,
Thou hast fled from me, Connor, and left me forsaken;
Bright and warm was our morning, but soon has it faded,
For I gave thee a true heart, and thou hast betrayed it.
Thy footsteps I followed in darkness and danger,
From the home of my love to the land of the stranger;
Thou wert mine through the tempest, the blight, and the burning;
Could I think thou wouldst change when the morn was returning.
Yet peace to thy heart, though from mine it must sever,
May she love thee as I loved, alone and for ever;
I may weep for thy loss, but my faith is unshaken,
And the heart thou hast widowed will bless thee in breaking.
poem by Joseph Rodman Drake
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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