En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Fornicator

Ye jovial boys, who love the joys,
The blissful joys of lovers,
And dare avow wi' dauntless brow,
Whate'er the lass discovers;
I pray draw near, and you shall hear,
And welcome in a frater,
I've lately been in quarantine,
A proven fornicator.

Before the congregation wide
I pass'd the muster fairly,
My handsome Betsy by my side,
We gat our ditty rarely.
My downcast eye, by chance did spy
What made my mouth to water,
Those limbs so clean, where I between,
Commenced a fornicator.

Wi' ruefu' face, and signs o' grace,
I paid the buttock hire;
The night was dark, and thro' the park,
I couldna but convoy her.
A parting kiss, what could I less ;
My vows began to scatter,
Sweet Betsy fell, fal, lal, de ral,
And I'm a fornicator.

But by the sun and moon I swear,
And I'll fulfill ilk hair o't,
That while I own a single crown,
She's welcome to a share o't.
My roguish boy, his mother's joy,
And darling of his pater,
I for his sake, the name will take,
A hardened fornicator.

poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Babylon

Carried away by inuendo's
Your body language emulates
I sit in a dazed fantasy world
Wanting to re-create
Fornicator's are we?
Like the great City to All?
Babylon, she did the wrong
It brought about her fall
But temptation of your sweet lips
The essence of your drive
Makes me a solitary slave
Sensually so alive
But chained and tethered-bondage kept
Under your complete control
Sandwiched between the two of you
Is this how your garden grows?

poem by Theodora Onken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If You know Me

I dont want you
To know me,
If you know me,
You will
Not respect me.
I want you
To respect me
Like I respect you.
.
I dont want you
To love me
'Cause you
Don't know me,
If you love me,
I might break
Your heart like
Someone like you
Broke my heart.
.
I dont want you
To come to my house
'Cause I don't want
To be a fornicator,
Like I was before
I changed my life.
.
These Things are
Not part of my life,
Love and lust
Are not my priority,
I want you to see
This reality.

poem by Efe Benjamin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poets's Welcome to His Love-Begotten Daughter

Thou's welcome, wean; mishanter fa' me,
If thoughts o' thee, or yet thy mammie,
Shall ever daunton me or awe me,
My sweet wee lady,
Or if I blush when thou shalt ca' me
Tyta or daddie.

Tho' now they ca' me fornicator,
An' tease my name in countra clatter,
The mair they talk, I'm kend the better,
E'en let them clash;
An auld wife's tongue's a feckless matter
To gie ane fash.

Welcome! my bonie, sweet, wee dochter,
Tho' ye come here a wee unsought for,
And tho' your comin' I hae fought for,
Baith kirk and queir;
Yet, by my faith, ye're no unwrought for,
That I shall swear!

Sweet fruit o' monie a merry dint,
My funny toil is no a' tint,
Tho' thou cam to the warl' asklent,
Which fools may scoff at;
In my last plack thy part's be in't
The better ha'f o't.

Tho' I should be the waur bestead,
Thou's be as braw and bienly clad,
And thy young years as nicely bred
Wi' education,
As onie brat o' wedlock's bed,
In a' thy station.

Wee image o' my bonie Betty,
As fatherly I kiss and daut thee,
As dear and near my heart I set thee
Wi' as gude will
As a' the priests had seen me get thee
That's out o' hell.

Lord grant that thou may aye inherit
Thy mither's person, grace, an' merit,
An' thy poor, worthless daddy's spirit,
Without his failins,
'Twill please me mair to see thee heir it,
Than stockit mailens.

For if thou be what I wad hae thee,
And tak the counsel I shall gie thee,
I'll never rue my trouble wi' thee -
The cost nor shame o't,
But be a loving father to thee,
And brag the name o't.

poem by Robert Burns
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Ballad Of Ole Betsy

Betsy, betsy, ahhhhh
She was born in 32, and was she ever pretty
She rode a freight train west, all the way from detroit city
Betsys seen more places than Ill ever hope to see
Betsys been more loyal than any friend could be
With some she traveled fast, with others it was slow
Betsys seen them all, shed seen them come and go
She must have had some others before I finally met her
And now that shes all mine, theyd better just forget her
Betsy was a lady and that she will remain
Betsy took some beatings but she never once complained
She had a classic beauty that everyone could see
I was the last to meet her, but she gave her life to me
She may be rusted iron, but to me shes solid gold
And I just cant hold the tears back
cause betsys growing old

song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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American Boys, Hello!

Oh! we love all the French, and we speak in French
As along through France we go.
But the moments to us that are keen and sweet
Are the ones when our khaki boys we meet,
Stalwart and handsome and trim and neat;
And we call to them-'Boys, hello!'
'Hello, American boys,
Luck to you, and life's best joys!
American boys, hello!'

We couldn't do that if we were at home-
It never would do you know!
For there you must wait till you're told who's who,
And to meet in the way that nice folks do.
Though you knew his name, and your name he knew-
You never would say 'Hello, hello, American boy!'
But here it's just a joy,
As we pass along in the stranger throng,
To call out, 'Boys, hello!'

For each is a brother away from home;
And this we are sure is so,
There's a lonesome spot in his heart somewhere,
And we want him to feel there are friends
right there

In this foreign land, and so we dare
To call out 'Boys, hello!'
'Hello, American boys,
Luck to you, and life's best joys!
American boys, hello!'

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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A Pretty Woman

I

That fawn-skin-dappled hair of hers,
And the blue eye
Dear and dewy,
And that infantine fresh air of hers!

II

To think men cannot take you, Sweet,
And enfold you,
Ay, and hold you,
And so keep you what they make you, Sweet!

III

You like us for a glance, you know—
For a word's sake
Or a sword's sake,
All's the same, whate'er the chance, you know.

IV

And in turn we make you ours, we say—
You and youth too,
Eyes and mouth too,
All the face composed of flowers, we say.

V

All's our own, to make the most of, Sweet—
Sing and say for,
Watch and pray for,
Keep a secret or go boast of, Sweet!

VI

But for loving, why, you would not, Sweet,
Though we prayed you,
Paid you, brayed you
in a mortar—for you could not, Sweet!

VII

So, we leave the sweet face fondly there:
Be its beauty
Its sole duty!
Let all hope of grace beyond, lie there!

VIII

And while the face lies quiet there,
Who shall wonder
That I ponder
A conclusion? I will try it there.

IX

As,—why must one, for the love foregone,
Scout mere liking?
Thunder-striking
Earth,—the heaven, we looked above for, gone!

X

Why, with beauty, needs there money be,
Love with liking?
Crush the fly-king
In his gauze, because no honey-bee?

XI

May not liking be so simple-sweet,
If love grew there
'Twould undo there
All that breaks the cheek to dimples sweet?

XII

Is the creature too imperfect,
Would you mend it
And so end it?
Since not all addition perfects aye!

XIII

Or is it of its kind, perhaps,
Just perfection—
Whence, rejection
Of a grace not to its mind, perhaps?

XIV

Shall we burn up, tread that face at once
Into tinder,
And so hinder
Sparks from kindling all the place at once?

XV

Or else kiss away one's soul on her?
Your love-fancies!
—A sick man sees
Truer, when his hot eyes roll on her!

XVI

Thus the craftsman thinks to grace the rose,—
Plucks a mould-flower
For his gold flower,
Uses fine things that efface the rose:

XVII

Rosy rubies make its cup more rose,
Precious metals
Ape the petals,—
Last, some old king locks it up, morose!

XVIII

Then how grace a rose? I know a way!
Leave it, rather.
Must you gather?
Smell, kiss, wear it—at last, throw away!

poem by Robert Browning from Men and Women (1855)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Reunited

Let us begin, dear love, where we left off;
Tie up the broken threads of that old dream;
And go on happy as before; and seem
Lovers again, though all the world may scoff.

Let us forget the graves, which lie between
Our parting and our meeting, and the tears
That rusted out the goldwork of the years;
The frosts that fell upon our gardens green.

Let us forget the cold malicious Fate
Who made our loving hearts her idle toys,
And once more revel in the old sweet joys
Of happy love. Nay, it is not too late!

Forget the deep-ploughed furrows in my brow;
Forget the silver gleaming in my hair;
Look only in my eyes! Oh! darling, there
The old love shone no warmer then than now.

Down in the tender depths of thy dear eyes,
I find the lost sweet memory of my youth,
Bright with the holy radiance of thy truth,
And hallowed with the blue of summer skies.

Tie up the broken threads, and let us go,
Like reunited lovers, hand in hand,
Back, and yet onward, to the sunny land
Of our To Be, which was our Long Ago.

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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One Tear

Last night, when at parting
Awhile we did stand,
Suddenly starting,
There fell on my hand

Something that burned it,
Something that shone
In the moon as I turned it,
And then it was gone.

One bright stray jewel -
What made it stray?
Was I cold or cruel,
At the close of day?

Oh, do not cry, lass!
What is crying worth?
There is no lass like my lass
In the whole wide earth.

poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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Sea Ballad - From

“HOW many?” said our good Captain.
“Twenty sail and more.”
We were homeward bound,
Scudding in a gale with our jib towards the Nore.
Right athwart our tack,
The foe came thick and black,
Like Hell-birds and foul weather—you might count them by the score.

The Betsy Jane did slack
To see the game in view.
They knew the Union-Jack,
And the tyrant’s flag we knew!
Our Captain shouted “Clear the decks!” and the Bo’sun’s whistle blew.

Then our gallant Captain,
With his hand he seiz’d the wheel,
And pointed with his stump to the middle of the foe.
“Hurray, lads, in we go!”
(You should hear the British cheer,
Fore and aft.)

“There are twenty sail,” sang he,
“But little Betsy Jane bobs to nothing on the sea!”
(You should hear the British cheer,
Fore and aft.)

“See you ugly craft
With the pennon at her main!
Hurrah, my merry boys,
There goes the Betsy Jane!”
(You should hear the British cheer,
Fore and aft.)

The foe, he beats to quarters, and the Russian bugles sound;
And the little Betsy Jane she leaps upon the sea.
“Port and starboard!” cried our Captain;
“Pay it in, my hearts!” sang he.

“We ’re old England’s sons,
And we ’ll fight for her to-day!”
(You should hear the British cheer.
Fore and aft.)
“Fire away!”
In she runs,
And her guns
Thunder round.

poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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I'm Sick Of You

I'm sick of you ( Pop / Williamson )
Goodbye Betsy im goin' away
I'm sick of you and there aint no way
Dont want to know, dont want to see
Dont you ever bother me
Sick of hanging around your pad
Sick of your Mom and sick of your Dad
Yeah and Betsy,
its sad but true,
now im even sick of you.
No way, no way, no way
No way, no way, no way
No way, for our love
No way for our love
Cuz im sick of You.
Good bye Betsy im going away.
Sick of you and i dont wanna stay
Dont want to know, dont want to see
Dont you ever bother me
Sick of hanging around your pad
Sick of your mom and sick of your Dad
Yes and Betsy its sad but true
Now im even sick of you.
No way, no way, no way
No way, no way, no way
No way, for our love,
No way for our love
Cuz im sick of you
Every evening and every day,
Seem to always turn out this way,
To get an end
I better find new love,
then you'll pay,
then youll pay,
aint no way.
Cuz im sick of you.
Goodbye Betsy im going away,
Sick of you and i dont wanna stay
Dont want to know , dont want to see
dont you ever, bother me ....

song performed by by Iggy Pop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ballad Of Betsy

Betsy now pulls the cart towards sweet home that day
Her size makes pulling baby carts as mere child's play
She's huge, a Labrador, obtained from Russian friend
Trained by cop, we'll call Tim - that isn't his real name

Tim can slug between the eyes crooks across the street
His temper's short, but long the distance he'd shoot straight
His baby, Betsy pulls in cart as they would stroll
Today could be the day, she waits maternal call

So many pats, did Tim bestow on Betsy's head
As due reward for deeds of bravery she'd made
To Betsy it's worth all to life and what it brought
And with her newborn pups, she's bound for added worth

One fateful day, as Tim was out, the stork came in,
And for Betsy it looks like Fate did show her grin,
But as her seventh pup was out, a wolf came by
It bit the baby that so loud it now did cry

Still in maternity, she sprang to guard duty
To give battle, protect her tuft, succeed ably
She'd killed the wolf, at last, but not without its price
Bloodied and stained, she hardly moves from where she lies

But worse is for the fox that now nary is seen,
Concealed in undergrowth from where it once had been
The stench of death will fill the air in future days
Or else its rotted corpse thereat forever stays

As Tim arrives, she thought a pat would ease her pain
She whined a bit to point out to where she'd lain
Tim saw the baby bleeding red from dangling arm
And felt the matching blood on Betsy's face still warm

To Tim this meant a smoking gun that he has found
As victim and the culprit were all still around
Ten years of Police work taught him to act now fast
He struck at Betsy who just stared feeling aghast

The pat that Betsy yearned now came, but seemed too hard
It split her skull and felt as though there flew a shard
Her pups, too, Tim held nothing back, he game them all
She watched with mournful eyes as last of them did fall

She stared at Tim with eyes where now fresh blood had sprung
As if to say, "If you'd kill me, please spare my young, "
"I've only done the best I can, if not enough,
Then punish me, but please, let live a single pup."

Times that Tim's been judge, jury, executioner
Verdict's been slug between the eyes of whomever
A welcome thought for Betsy to befall that fate
When life has got more stings than even Death itself

Betsy now moves hardly from where she lies
It's been a year ago, yet Tim secretly cries
Her bones nary will know why man could make those slips
Or why often heroes would die in sinking ships.

poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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With a hey and a ho and a txtng to-and-fro

It was a lover and his lass
with a hey and a ho and a texting to and fro
that o'er the sidewalks smiling pass
with ringtones, with ringtones,
with dotty ditty ringtones
while cellphones ring
hi! tingalingaling,
sweet lovers love a ring.

It was that cool dude and his chick
with a hey and a ho and a texting to and fro
swopping tunes and sharing pix
with ringtones, with ringtones
with dotty ditty ringtones
and all the birds
txt lv ya bf wrds
sweet lovers love a ring

poem by Michael Shepherd
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If God Made Thee Mine

If God made thee mine, and willed that I be thine,
What wondrous love with thee I'd daily share!
The world could not contain the joys of Lovers' Lane
Nor bind our hearts more tightly, this I swear!
If God made me thine, I'd kiss those lips of wine,
Anointing them with sighs straight from my soul!
My heart burns like a flame when whispering thy name
To melt within all thoughts of self-control!
If God made thee mine, my precious Valentine,
The yearning years at last would thus be stilled!
My pining would be done for I'd be with the one
Whom God had made to help me be fulfilled!
If God made me thine, I'd praise His love divine
And pray He grant us heirs and happiness!
A gorgeous girl and boy and times we could enjoy...
Yes, if God made thee mine to love and bless...

poem by Denis Martindale
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Cease smilng, Dear! a little while be sad

Cease smiling, Dear! a little while be sad,
Here in the silence, under the wan moon;
Sweet are thine eyes, but how can I be glad,
Knowing they change so soon?

For Love's sake, Dear, be silent! Cover me
In the deep darkness of thy falling hair:
Fear is upon me and the memory
Of what is all men's share.

O could this moment be perpetuate!
Must we grow old, and leaden-eyed and gray,
And taste no more the wild and passionate
Love sorrows of to-day?

Grown old, and faded, Sweet! and past desire,
Let memory die, lest there be too much ruth,
Remembering the old, extinguished fire
Of our divine, lost youth.

O red pomegranate of thy perfect mouth!
My lips' life-fruitage, might I taste and die
Here in thy garden, where the scented south
Wind chastens agony;

Reap death from thy live lips in one long kiss,
And look my last into thine eyes and rest:
What sweets had life to me sweeter than this
Swift dying on thy breast?

Or, if that may not be, for Love's sake, Dear!
Keep silence still, and dream that we shall lie,
Red mouth to mouth, entwined, and always hear
The south wind's melody,

Here in thy garden, through the sighing boughs,
Beyond the reach of time and chance and change,
And bitter life and death, and broken vows,
That sadden and estrange.

poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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Water

water for water is water, thirst made me dried
eyes tears flow water, leaves skin broken
need water, cure my pain smooth my rough
surface makes it clean

pure and perfect water made so bright, all the
day expose heat dried my sweat, in my face
and lips tears seen in the eyes

all day long I seat in my brow, waiting the sun
down to lead me low, hunger and thirst open
my throat, water spelled drops like a dew

wash my warm body as you can see, the limps
legs and the hands would be easy, where ever
in my body, the water comes refreshing to me

slowly, slowly, fell the cool water beneath
my delicate skin, in my buttock where you have
to stay, hold on, I sit you in my dream, my living
water makes me the same

oh! water, please always watered me in each
new day and fell the real me

poem by Antonio Liao
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In The Orchard

LEAVE go my hands, let me catch breath and see;
Let the dew-fall drench either side of me;
Clear apple-leaves are soft upon that moon
Seen sidelong like a blossom in the tree;
Ah God, ah God, that day should be so soon.

The grass is thick and cool, it lets us lie.
Kissed upon either cheek and either eye,
I turn to thee as some green afternoon
Turns toward sunset, and is loth to die;
Ah God, ah God, that day should be so soon.

Lie closer, lean your face upon my side,
Feel where the dew fell that has hardly dried,
Hear how the blood beats that went nigh to swoon;
The pleasure lives there when the sense has died;
Ah God, ah God, that day should be so soon.

O my fair lord, I charge you leave me this:
Is it not sweeter than a foolish kiss?
Nay take it then, my flower, my first in June,
My rose, so like a tender mouth it is:
Ah God, ah God, that day should be so soon.

Love, till dawn sunder night from day with fire,
Dividing my delight and my desire,
The crescent life and love the plenilune,
Love me though dusk begin and dark retire;
Ah God, ah God, that day should be so soon.

Ah, my heart fails, my blood draws back; I know,
When life runs over, life is near to go;
And with the slain of love love’s ways are strewn,
And with their blood, if love will have it so;
Ah God, ah God, that day should be so soon.

Ah, do thy will now; slay me if thou wilt;
There is no building now the walls are built,
No quarrying now the corner-stone is hewn,
No drinking now the vine’s whole blood is spilt;
Ah God, ah God, that day should be so soon.

Nay, slay me now; nay, for I will be slain;
Pluck thy red pleasure from the teeth of pain,
Break down thy vine ere yet grape-gatherers prune,
Slay me ere day can slay desire again;
Ah God, ah God, that day should be so soon.

Yea, with thy sweet lips, with thy sweet sword; yea,
Take life and all, for I will die, I say;
Love, I gave love, is life a better boon?
For sweet night’s sake I will not live till day;
Ah God, ah God, that day should be so soon.

Nay, I will sleep then only; nay, but go.
Ah sweet, too sweet to me, my sweet, I know
Love, sleep, and death go to the sweet same tune;
Hold my hair fast, and kiss me through it so.
Ah God, ah God, that day should be so soon.

poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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In the Orchard

'I thought you loved me.' 'No, it was only fun.'
'When we stood there, closer than all?' 'Well, the harvest moon
Was shining and queer in your hair, and it turned my head.'
'That made you?' 'Yes.' 'Just the moon and the light it made
Under the tree?' 'Well, your mouth, too.' 'Yes, my mouth?'
'And the quiet there that sang like the drum in the booth.
You shouldn't have danced like that.' 'Like what?' 'So close,
Whith your head turned up, and the flower in your hair, a rose
That smelt all warm.' 'I loved you. I thought you knew
I wouldn't have danced like that with any but you.'
'I didn't know, I thought you knew it was fun.'
'I thought it was love you meant.' 'Well, it's done.' 'Yes, it's done.
I've seen boys stone a blackbird, and watched them drown
A kitten... it clawed at the reeds, and they pushed it down
Into the pool while it screamed. Is that fun, too?'
'Well, boys are like that... Your brothers...' 'Yes, I know.
But you, so lovely and strong! Not you! Not you!'
'They don't understand it's cruel. It's only a game.'
'And are girls fun, too?' 'No, still in a way it's the same.
It's queer and lovely to have a girl...' 'Go on.'
'It makes you mad for a bit to feel she's your own,
And you laugh and kiss her, and maybe you give her a ring,
But it's only in fun.' 'But I gave you everything.'
'Well, you shouldn't have done it. You know what a fellow thinks
When a girl does that.' 'Yes, he talks of her over his drinks
And calles her a--' 'Stop that now, I thought you knew.'
'But it wasn't with anyone else. It was only you.'
'How did I know? I thought you wanted it too.
I thought you were like the rest. Well, what's to be done?'
'To be done' 'Is it all right?' 'Yes.' 'Sure?' 'Yes, but why?'
'I don't know, I thought you where going to cry.
You said you had something to tell me.' 'Yes, I know.
It wasn't anything relly... I think I'll go.'
'Yes, it's late. There's thunder about, a drop of rain
Fell on my hand in the dark. I'll see you again
At the dance next week. You're sure that everything's right?'
'Yes,' 'Well, I'll be going.' 'Kiss me...' 'Good night.' ... 'Good night.'

poem by Muriel Stuart
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Girls Were Made To Take Care Of Boys

Ralph blane
Girls were made to take care of boys
To be kind and dutiful
Hmmm...
Girls were made to take care of boys
Made to share their sorrows
Made to share their joys
Made to help and guide them
With ever a patient hand
Made to give affection
In the right direction
(always understand)
Now boys may think they take care of girls
Just because they pass on their fashions and their curls
But Ive always found
Its just the other way around
(other way around)
If you need the girl
And declare you do
(tell her that you need her)
Shell be there
To take care of you
(shell be there)
(now boys may think they take care of girls
Just because theyre clever with their fashions and their curls)
But Ive always found
Its just the other way around

song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dark Side Of The Moon

Every night we dream of things
half of them we never remember,
but our dreams are only things
our brain is sorting out
what it wants to remember.
The rest are left to visit
the dark side of the moon.

When love comes to us
with all its frills and froth,
then departs with broken hearts.
We always like to remember
the thrill of its coming
and the sadness of parting
is sent to the dark side of the moon.

As with everything in our lives,
we tend to want to forget
we package them together
and parcel them away.
Then on an appropriate day we send them,
on their way to
the dark side of the moon.

The dark side of the moon
where all discarded dreams go.
The dark side of the moon
is where old love letters stray,
to stay forever and a day
on the dark side of the moon.

26 September 2008

poem by David Harris
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Ditty Wah Ditty

(arthur blake)
Theres a great big mistery
And it sure is worrying me
Its a ditty wah ditty
Mister ditty wah ditty
I wished somebody would tell me what ditty wah ditty means
I went out and walked around
Somebody yelled, now whos in town ?
Mister ditty wah ditty
Mister ditty wah ditty
I wished somebody would tell me what ditty wah ditty means
Some little girl bout four-feet-four
Said, come on, papa, and gimme some mo
Your ditty wah ditty
Your ditty wah ditty
I wished somebody would tell me what ditty wah ditty means
I went to church, put my hat on the seat
A lady sat on it and said, daddy you sho is sweet
Mister ditty wah ditty
Mister ditty wah ditty
I wished somebody would tell me what ditty wah ditty means
I said, sister, Ill soon be gone
Just give me that thing that youre sitting on
My ditty wah ditty
Mister ditty wah ditty
I wished somebody would tell me what ditty wah ditty means
Then I got put outta the church
cause I talked about ditty wah ditty too much
Mister ditty wah ditty
Mister ditty wah ditty
I wished somebody would tell me what ditty wah ditty means

song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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