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Beautiful Bashful Eyes
Big beautiful bashful eyes
with lashes oh so long
I love your beautiful bashful eyes.
They remind me of a song.,
a song to describe their color
and their lids that are half closed.
They never let me see behind them.
What they're feeling is never exposed.
Big beautiful bashful eyes
are lost in timid intent.
I wish for them to open wide
to see where they have spent
their shy-retiring gazes?
Were they ever looking my way?
Or were they lost in silent thought
afraid that they might stray
And find that all around you
eyes would be looking your way?
My eyes would be among them
and you would hear me say.
'Big beautiful bashful eyes
with lashes oh so long
you've captivated my attention
and are now the words to my song.
'Beautiful eyes, bashful and blue
my thoughts are lost in you.
Your lashes long, your lids dreamy-eyed,
no one can tell what secrets they hide.
I have secrets my eyes hide too.
They're all about my feelings for you.
Those bashful eyes have become for me
everything that I dreamed they would be.'
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In America, people rarely stay in the town where they grew up, rarely stay in close proximity to their parents throughout their lives. You rarely find parents in their old age being taken care of by their children.
quote by Robert Benton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poem For The People
If the people only knew
If they could visualize
Just open their eyes
Even stop to think about
If they could open their minds
They could get beyond
The worlds a funny place you know
Most of what goes on
Is rarely funny
Rarely funny
Could the people understand
In only whisper and screams
And colorless dreams
Could they finally comprehend
If they could suddenly see
And suddenly feel
The worlds a funny place you know
Most of what goes on
Is rarely funny
Rarely funny
song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I very rarely get nervous as an actor. Very rarely.
quote by Corin Nemec
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We Rarely See
In our busy world, we rarely see
what is right before our eyes.
The sky that leaks its teardrops
to cleanse and refresh the day.
The two hearts that beat as one
before one of them has to go away.
The patterns of a snowflake
on a wintry day.
The turning of each season
that passes on its way.
We rarely see the things we should
that help to shape our lives
as we are trapped on the treadmill
of earning money to pay our way.
One day we may notice them
when we step off the treadmill
letting the rest of the world
go on its merry way.
Then we will see what we rarely see
the life and love we are living.
14 July 2009
poem by David Harris
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Rarely Do We Reflect
We choose what we wish.
And dish it.
As it sits with others,
To comfort or make sick.
What is that we hold,
That increases conflict?
Is it to betray ouselves?
In an eventual abyss.
We may elect to dismiss it.
And rarely is that done,
In self examination.
Rarely do we reflect,
Upon the effects of our deeds.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Rough Ride
The path of love is rarely smooth
but love can obstacles surmount.
True love will find a way to soothe.
Objections which it can’t remove,
pitfalls too numerous to count.
The path of love is rarely smooth
These words I say are simple truth.
An old adage which I recount.
True love will find a way to soothe
With the resilience of youth
if you should fall you will remount.
The path of love is rarely smooth.
You know just what you have to prove
and play your cards to good account.
True love will find a way to soothe
Though you have hurt feelings, forsooth
a lesser or a great amount.
True love will find a way forsooth
the path of love is rarely smooth.
11-Jul-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The deduction of the causes
Why does a woman adulterate?
The hunger? Rare.
The poverty? No possibility.
The proximity? No guarantee.
The boredom? Seldom at all.
Being estranged? Rarely a revenge.
The neglect? Hardly so.
Being insecure? Not sure.
Over lust? Might be a bit.
The curiosity? No certainty.
There are ten causes to push her to
adultery.
Yet rarely does she adulterate
06.01.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I don't mean to be bashful, but I was.
quote by Willie Mays
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Searching To Pass An Exaggeration
Rarely are those of deed doing,
Heard or seen flashing a résumé around...
To impress those within listening distance.
Or found searching to pass,
An exaggeration of accomplishments.
And rarely are those of optimistic conversation,
Known to gossip or deflate another's achievements.
But there are times when encouraging words,
Are expressed...
There will be those to address them,
With a negativity some enjoy as if to infest.
Environments wherever lived,
Are diminished by these activities.
And those who spew from tainted lips,
Do not recognize that is what they do!
They are a part of the whole...
But not amongst the few,
Who energize and supply a motivation felt...
That is quickly delivered when it arrives!
And rarely does one like this,
Show up late with excuses to initiate sparks...
That causes others to react,
With an attacking done on those lethargic.
An apathetic atmosphere seems to drift,
When boosted with a lift by those determine.
Irritating pessimists and the ones accustomed,
To clinging onto their procrastinations.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The bashful are always aggressive at heart.
quote by Charles Horton Cooley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Miss Child is never bashful with butter.
quote by Phil Donahue
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Common Addiction among Poets
Intoxicated by the inspiration
Of his trade—
With mental powers at work,
A true poet rarely sleeps.
His mind ever churning
With powerful imagery
That produces thought,
Sound, rhythm and gesture.
He molds with metaphor,
Shapes with simile,
And paints with irony—
To produce a beautiful symphony
(Like some great maestro) ,
For himself and all who would enjoy.
Little wonder he rarely sleeps.
© 2009
poem by Walterrean Salley
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In this world, a bashful majority starve on account of a shameless minority.
aphorism by Hasier Agirre, translated by Dan Costinaş
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Strange to the world, he wore a bashful look, The fields his study, Nature was his book.
quote by Robert Bloomfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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