He moistens the lips, but leaves the palate dry.
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He moistens the lips, but leaves the palate dry. [Trifling assistance, of little or no use. ]
September, 1918
This afternoon was the colour of water falling through sunlight;
The trees glittered with the tumbling of leaves;
The sidewalks shone like alleys of dropped maple leaves,
And the houses ran along them laughing out of square, open windows.
Under a tree in the park,
Two little boys, lying flat on their faces,
Were carefully gathering red berries
To put in a pasteboard box.
Some day there will be no war,
Then I shall take out this afternoon
And turn it in my fingers,
And remark the sweet taste of it upon my palate,
And note the crisp variety of its flights of leaves.
To-day I can only gather it
And put it into my lunch-box,
For I have time for nothing
But the endeavour to balance myself
Upon a broken world.
poem by Amy Lowell
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The Last Supper
Marie Vaux of the Painted Lips,
And the mouth so mocking gay,
A wanton you to the finger-tips,
Who break men's hearts in play;
A thing of dust I have striven for,
Honour and manhood given for,
Headlong to ruin driven for,
And this is the last, you say. . . .
Drinking your wine with dainty sips,
Marie Vaux of the Painted Lips.
Marie Vaux of the Painted Lips,
ong have you held your sway;
I have laughed at your merry quips -
Now is my time to pay.
What we sow we must reap again;
When we laugh we must weep again;
So to-night we will sleep again,
Nor wake until Judgement Day. . . .
'Tis a poisoned wine that your palate lips,
Marie Vaux of the Painted Lips.
Marie Vaux of the Painted Lips,
Down on your knees and pray;
Pray your last ere the moment slips,
Pray ere the dark and the terror grips,
And the bright world fades away.
Pray for the peace and the rest of us:
Here comes the Shape in quest of us,
Now we must go away. . . .
You and I in the grave's eclipse,
Marie Vaux of the painted Lips.
poem by Robert William Service
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After all, it is not where one washes one's neck that counts but where one moistens one's throat.
quote by Djuna Barnes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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ecstatic dawn
moistens the glowing meadows
eye feasts
haiku by Indira Babbellapati
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A Kiss
Exiled on the isle of passion and shackled in the prison of craving.
Bottled up emotion - screaming and shouting and searching for an escape.
Like a dehydrated deer tracking water -Like a desert hunting an oasis.
Deluge of flames enrapture my being with the fervor of a thousand fire.
Tranquillized by cloud of restraint yet burning with the inferno of love.
Raining from the sky of my being- cascading from my connubial essence.
Sunshine from the hub of my heart, moistens my lips in the dew of desire.
Pregnant with the passion of the sun and birthing the beauty of a rose.
Visuality captures my appetite like predator pouncing on prey.
Tenderly touching - meticulously massage like a cool breeze in summer.
Flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone, lips of my lips, tongue of my tongue.
Giving and receiving, urging and merging, tightening and heightening.
Sugar cane and honey splashed together-overflowing into a river of release.
Floating on ecstasy, as time stands still to salute the creation of art.
poem by Howard Simon
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Experience
THE world was made when a man was born,
He must taste for himself the forbidden springs;
He can never take warning from old-fashion'd things;
He must fight as a boy, he must drink as a youth,
Of the friend of his soul; he must laugh to scorn
The hints of deceit in a woman's eyes--
They are clear as the wells of Paradise.
And so he goes on till the world grows old,
Till his toung has grown cautious, his heart has grown cold,
Till the smile leaves his mouth, till the ring leaves his laugh,
And he shirks the bright headache you ask him to quaff.
He grows formal with men, and with women polite,
And distrustful of both when they're out of his sight.
Then he eats for his palate and drinks for his head,
And loves for his pleasure,--and 'tis time he was dead.
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
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I Can't Kiss You
I can't kiss you as one drop
my lips are a boat that loves to wave your ocean
I can't kiss you as one match
my lips are the matchbox that lights your lips' fire
I can't kiss you as one moment
my lips are the clock that loses its hours
I can't kiss you as one lips' graze
my lips like to write long carmine stories
I can't kiss you right now
my lips need a romantic cosiness
I wouldn't like just to kiss you
my lips would like to pad into your lips' flower
(eternity)
poem by Ata Augustyn
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A Passage
THE world was made when a man was born;
He must taste for himself the forbidden springs,
He can never take warning from old-fashioned things;
He must fight as a boy, he must drink as a youth,
He must kiss, he must love, he must swear to the truth
Of the friend of his soul, he must laugh to scorn
The hint of deceit in a woman's eyes
That are clear as the wells of Paradise.
And so he goes on, till the world grows old,
Till his tongue has grown cautious, his heart, has grown cold,
Till the smile leaves his mouth, and the ring leaves his laugh,
And he shirks the bright headache you ask him to quaff;
He grows formal with men, and with women polite,
And distrustful of both when they're out of his sight;
Then he eats for his palate, and drinks for his head,
And loves for his pleasure,—and 'tis time he was dead!
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
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Voodooded Lips
VOODOODED LIPS
esspeecee …18.06.09.
In the mirror of silence
I’ll reflect you lips’ eloquence.
In the mirror of silence
I’ll blush-in by your lips’ glittrence.
In the mirror of silence
I’ll unfold your lips’ innocence.
In the mirror of silence
I’ll savor to the lees your lips’ elegance.
In the mirror of silence
I get psychic catharsis
In our lip lock reminiscences.
In the mirror of silence
I’ll siphon in your lips’ effulgence.
In the mirror of silence
I’ll grope your lips
In abyssal absence.
In the mirror of silence
My lips will coalesce
In your lips’ effervescence.
In the mirror of silence
I’ll be vortexed by
Lips’ psychedelic resonance.
In the mirror of silence
We’ll passionately hug
With sensuous confluence.
In the mirror of silence
I’ll smear lips by
Your lips’ fragrance.
In the mirror of silence
We’ll tie-up our lips
In Monalisian resemblance.
In the mirror of silence
I’ll fresco my lips
From your lips’ brilliance.
In the mirror of silence
My lips will stain
By your lips’ every essence.
I’m voodooded by:
In the mirror of silence,
Your lips’ excellence,
And deluxe luminance.
Copyright reserved by the Author
.
poem by Dr. Sakti P. Chakravorty
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We The Busy Ones
we proclaim
we are the busy ones
they call us the
bees
we work all day
extending our arms and legs
to the night
we work till dawn
we too make love
we compose ourselves
arrange our faces
like flowers and leaves
and twigs
we work and work
till we find that
rest....
don't think of death
go find another date
gather the ripe dates
in the desert
have a big plate
savor the taste in your palate.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Autumn Leaves
The falling leaves.... pass by my window
The autumn leaves...of red and gold
I see your lips...your summer kisses
The sunburned hands...I used to know
Ummm...since you went away
The days grow long
And soon I'll hear old winter's song
Ooooh, but I'll miss you most of all
My darling.... when autumn leaves...
start to fall
Ooooh...... I said I miss you most of all
My darling....when autumn leaves
start to fall............
song performed by by Tom Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Autumn Lips
The autumn leaves blend with thee, as thy gently fall from beauties tree
Unto my lips and so sweetly, thou kiss my lips and give life to me
Thy modest lips never touched but by thine own lips pristine
Tenderly kiss my grave lips and raise me from death's terrible scene
Thou cover me in color and with thy death give hope
To my poor soul, who in thy rain of color blindly grope
For thy soul behind autumn color which does so gratuitously give
Me the vivacity to search for thee and live.
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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George Edmunds' Song
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around he here;
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
How like the hopes of childhood's day,
Thick clust'ring on the bough!
How like those hopes in their decay-
How faded are they now!
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around me here;
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
Wither'd leaves, wither'd leaves, that fly before the gale:
Withered leaves, withered leaves, ye tell a mournful tale,
Of love once true, and friends once kind,
And happy moments fled:
Dispersed by every breath of wind,
Forgotten, changed, or dead!
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around me here!
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
poem by Charles Dickens
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Dropping A Hello
i will dropp my hello
like a feather
gently to a little space
where you
are thinking like a
very clear pond
such a hello looks
like a geese
floating on water
and then
it leaves
but i hope that its departure
be like
a word that leaves your lips
like a whisper
life should be like that
nothing shattering like a broken
wine glass dropped
by a drunkard at the bar
everyone is looking.
who cares?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A man who is careful with his palate is not likely to be careless with his paragraphs.
quote by Clifton Fadiman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Steal The Thunder
Here you come again, lookin' for another thrill
With your lipstick, high heel shoes, lookin' like you're dressed to kill
Tattoo stuck on you, branded by a chosen few
What short memory, now it's time to pay your dues
Don't you hear a word I say? Just turn your head and look this way
And read my lips, read my lips, listen to me, I'm talkin' to you
Read my lips, read my lips, I'm tellin' you, I'm through with you
I know where you go when you need to get some
Bad little actress on a mattress, it's seduction, anything for you
You don't you hear a word I say, so turn your head and look this way
And read my lips, read my lips, listen to me, I'm talkin' to you
Read my lips, read my lips, listen to me, you're history
I've been watching what you do, and it doesn't take a fool
To see what we've been through, oh, gonna turn the page on you
(Solo)
You don't you hear a word I say, so turn your head and look this way
And read my lips, read my lips, listen to me, I'm talkin' to you
Read my lips, read my lips, oh, I'm through with you
Read my lips, oh, read my lips, listen to me, I'm talkin' to you
Read my lips, read my lips, listen to me, you're history
Oh yeah, read my lips, I said, read my lips, read my lips
Just read my lips
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
song performed by by Loverboy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dead Leaves
When these dead leaves were green, love,
November's skies were blue,
And summer came with lips aflame,
The gentle spring to woo;
And to us, wandering hand in hand,
Life was a fairy scene,
That golden morning in the woods
When these dead leaves were green!
How dream-like now that dewy morn,
Sweet with the wattle's flowers,
When love, love, love was all our theme,
And youth and hope were ours!
Two happier hearts in all the land
There were not then, I ween,
Than those young lovers' -- yours and mine --
When these dead leaves were green.
How gaily did you pluck these leaves
From the acacia's bough,
To mark the lyric we had read --
I can repeat it now!
While came the words, like music sweet,
Your smiling lips between --
"So fold my love within your heart,"
When these dead leaves were green!
How many springs have passed since then?
Ah, wherefore should we count,
The years that sped, like waters fled
From Time's unstaying fount?
We've had our share of happiness,
Our share of care have seen;
But love alone has never flown
Since these dead leaves were green.
Your heart is kind and loving still,
Your face to me as fair,
As when, that morn, the sunshine played
Amid your golden hair.
So, dearest, sweethearts still we'll be,
As we have ever been,
And keep our love as fresh and true
As when these leaves were green.
poem by Edward Booth Loughran
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My voice, I have to say, is kind of miraculous because I was born with a cleft palate.
quote by Gale Gordon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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