It's weel that oor fauts is no written in oor face.
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All Over Your Face
When I see you, you smile as if everything is alright,
but I know your smile is just a mask for your hurt and sadness,
for the truth is written all over your face.
Behind your dark brown gleaming eyes I can see the tears you have cried.
It’s written all over your face.
I can even see behind your blush the anger wrinkles in your cheeks from you clinching your teeth. It’s written all over your face.
I can even see the hurt and disappointment you now carry in your soul.
It’s written all over your face.
I just want you to know my friend I’m there for you whenever you need a shoulder to cry on, an ear to vent in, and of course arms to hug you. I love and care for you and hope you can see that because it’s written all over my face.
Some hae a hantle o' fauts ye'er a ne'er-do-well.
A fool is happier thinking weel o' himself than a wise man is of others thinking weel o' him.
There's Nae Luck about the House
And are ye sure the news is true?
And are ye sure he's weel?
Is this a time to think o' wark?
Mak haste, lay by your wheel;
Is this the time to spin a thread
When Colin's at the door?
Reach me my cloak, I'll to the quay
And see him come ashore.
For there's nae luck about the house,
There's nae luck at a',
There's little pleasure in the house
When our gudeman's awa.
And gie to me my bigonet,
My bishop's satin gown;
For I maun tell the bailie's wife
That Colin's come to town.
My Turkey slippers maun gae on,
My stockings pearly blue;
It's a' to pleasure my gudeman,
For he's baith leel and true.
For there's nae luck about the house,
There's nae luck at a',
There's little pleasure in the house
When our gudeman's awa.
Rise, lass, and mak a clean fire side,
Put on the muckle pot,
Gie little Kate her button gown,
And Jock his Sunday coat;
And mak their shoon as black as slaes,
Their hose as white as snaw,
It's a' to please my ain gudeman,
For he's been lang awa.
For there's nae luck about the house,
There's nae luck at a',
There's little pleasure in the house
When our gudeman's awa.
There's twa fat hens upo' the bauk,
Been fed this month and mair,
Mak haste and thraw their necks about,
That Colin weel may fare;
And mak the table neat and clean,
Gar ilka thing look braw,
For wha can tell how Colin fared
When he was far awa?
Ah, there's nae luck about the house,
There's nae luck at a',
There's little pleasure in the house
When our gudeman's awa.
Sae true his heart, sae smooth his speech,
His breath like cauler air,
His very foot has music in't
As he comes up the stair!
And will I see his face again,
And will I hear him speak?
I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought,
In troth I'm like to greet.
For there's nae luck about the house,
There's nae luck at a',
There's little pleasure in the house
When our gudeman's awa.
If Colin's weel, and weel content,
I hae nae mair to crave--
And gin I live to keep him sae,
I'm blest aboon the lave.
And will I see his face again,
And will I hear him speak?
I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought,
In troth I'm like to greet.
For there's nae luck about the house,
There's nae luck at a',
There's little pleasure in the house
When our gudeman's awa.
poem by William Mickle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Written In The Stars
All around everybody shouts
Their insides out, hear the laughing crowd
The wind blows cold, summers gone by
Wander on the boulevards
Up and down
Its written in the stars
Its written on the walls
You will defy my heart
Take my soul
This frame of my mind brings me here
Goes up in flames and fades away
Like the mirror sucked my face
From all its grace
Lost my faith, lost my sight
Eyes like ice
Ow!
Shes deeper than the sky
Shes made of gold
Shes like the rising sun
Its written in the stars
Its written on the walls
You will defy my heart
Take my soul
Faith, written in the stars
Faith, written on the stars
Face the change of life
Face the chains of love
song performed by by Xymox
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Written In The Stars
All around everybody shouts
Their insides out, hear the laughing crowd
The wind blows cold, summers gone by
Wander on the boulevards
Up and down
Its written in the stars
Its written on the walls
You will defy my heart
Take my soul
This frame of my mind brings me here
Goes up in flames and fades away
Like the mirror sucked my face
From all its grace
Lost my faith, lost my sight
Eyes like ice
Ow!
Shes deeper than the sky
Shes made of gold
Shes like the rising sun
Its written in the stars
Its written on the walls
You will defy my heart
Take my soul
Faith, written in the stars
Faith, written on the stars
Face the change of life
Face the chains of love
song performed by by Xymox
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Johnie Faa
The gypsies came to our good lord's gate
And wow but they sang sweetly!
They sang sae sweet and sae very complete
That down came the fair lady.
And she came tripping doun the stair,
And a' her maids before her;
As soon as they saw her weel-far'd face,
They coost the glamer o'er her.
'O come with me,' says Johnie Faw,
'O come with me, my dearie;
For I vow and I swear by the hilt of my sword,
That your lord shall nae mair come near ye.'
Then she gied them the beer and the wine,
And they gied her the ginger;
But she gied them a far better thing,
The goud ring aff her finger.
'Gae take frae me this yay mantle,
And bring to me a plaidie;
For if kith and kin, and a' had sworn,
I'll follow the gypsy laddie.
'Yestreen I lay in a weel-made bed,
Wi' my good lord beside me;
But this night I'll lye in a tenant's barn,
Whatever shall betide me!'
'Come to your bed,' says Johnie Faw,
'Oh, come to your bed, my dearie:
For I vow and swear by the hilt of my sword,
Your lord shall nae mair come near ye.'
'I'll go to bed to my Johnie Faw,
I'll go to bed to my dearie;
For I vow and I swear by the fan in my hand,
My lord shall nae mair come near me.
'I'll mak a hap to my Johnie Faw,
I'll mak a hap to my dearie;
And he's get a' the coat gaes round,
And my lord shall nae mair come near me.'
And when our lord came hame at e'en,
And spier'd for his fair lady,
The tane she cry'd, and the other reply'd,
'She's awa' wi' the gypsy laddie!'
'Gae saddle to me the black black steed,
Gae saddle and make him ready;
Before that I either eat or sleep,
I'll gae seek my fair lady.'
And we were fifteen weel-made men,
Altho' we were na bonny;
And we were a' put down but ane,
For a fair young wanton lady.
poem by Andrew Lang
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mirror Of Humanity
there is a line
in Jesus's face,
just below His eyes...
and on that line
are written the names
of all the children
in the world
dying of starvation...
there is a line
in Buddha's face,
just below his eyes....
and on that line
are written the names
of all the children
in the world
whose familes have
been killed by the
bombs and bullets.
there is a line
in my own face,
just below my eyes...
and on that line
are written the names
of all the children
in the world
i let down when
i dont do my best,
to stand up strong
for equality and peace.
have you looked in a
mirror lately?
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Epigram Addressed to an Artist
Dear _____, I'll gie ye some advice,
You'll tak it no uncivil:
You shouldna paint at angels mair,
But try and paint the devil.
To paint an Angel's kittle wark,
Wi' Nick, there's little danger:
You'll easy draw a lang-kent face,
But no sae weel a stranger.
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Laird Of Waristoun
Down by yon garden green,
Sae merrily as she gaes;
She has twa weel-made feet,
And she trips upon her taes.
She has twa weel-made feet;
Far better is her hand;
She's as jimp in the middle
As ony willow wand.
'Gif ye will do my bidding,
At my bidding for to be,
It's I will make you lady
Of a' the lands you see.'
* * * * *
He spak a word in jest;
Her answer was na good;
He threw a plate at her face,
Made it a' gush out o' blood.
She wasna frae her chamber
A step but barely three,
When up and at her richt hand
There stood Man's Enemy.
'Gif ye will do my bidding,
At my bidding for to be,
I'll learn you a wile,
Avenged for to be.'
The foul thief knotted the tether;
She lifted his head on hie;
The nourice drew the knot
That gar'd lord Waristoun die.
Then word is gane to Leith,
Also to Edinburgh town
That the lady had kill'd the laird,
The laird o' Waristoun.
* * * * *
Tak aff, tak aff my hood
But lat my petticoat be;
Pat my mantle o'er my head;
For the fire I downa see.
Now, a' ye gentle maids,
Tak warning now by me,
And never marry ane
But wha pleases your e'e.
'For he married me for love,
But I married him for fee;
And sae brak out the feud
That gar'd my dearie die.'
poem by Andrew Lang
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oh, My Love is Like a Red, Red Rose
O my luve is like a red, red rose
That's newly sprung in June;
My love is like the melodie
That's sweetly played in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonny lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.
Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun;
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only love!
And fare thee weel, awhile!
And I will come again, my love
Though it were ten thousand mile.
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Poem That Is About To Be Written
THE POEM THAT IS ABOUT TO BE WRITTEN
The poem that is about to be written
Will form itself slowly,
Line by line,
Will make of itself a meaning
It does not know.
Will be beyond
All that it could have thought to be – beforehand.
The poem that is being written
Has no name,
No face,
No beauty,
No light,
It is just the poem that is coming to be in the silence,
Where I am alone with my own Seeming.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Want The One I Cant Have
On the day that your mentality
Decides to try to catch up with your biology
Come round ...
cause I want the one I cant have
And its driving me mad
Its all over, all over, all over my face
On the day that your mentality
Catches up with your biology
I want the one I cant have
And its driving me mad
Its all over, all over, all over my face
A double bed
And a stalwart lover for sure
These are the riches of the poor
A double bed
And a stalwart lover for sure
These are the riches of the poor
And I want the one I cant have
And its driving me mad
Its all over, all over my face
A tough kid who sometimes swallows nails
Raised on prisoners aid
He killed a policeman when he was
Thirteen
And somehow that really impressed
Me
And its written all over my face
Oh, these are the riches of the poor
These are the riches of the poor
I want the one I cant have
And its driving me mad
Its written all over my face
On the day that your mentality
Catches up with your biology
And if you ever need self-validation
Just meet me in the alley by the
Railway station
Its all over my face
Oh ...
song performed by by Smiths
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Aspiration
Aspiration.
Aah divvent like the winter neets
because wor netty’s doon the yard
It’s caad and damp and has ne leets
and varry often frozen hard.
Aah’d rather use the chamber pot
that hides beneath the double bed.
Aah sometimes wish that aah had got
a warm dry inside loo instead.
Me sister hes a bungalow
that has a bathroom and a loo.
Noo she is rather posh you know
and looks doon on the likes of me.
She married weel, hor man was rich
an left hor weel provided for
Hor life hes gone without a hitch
She had ne bairns but I hed four.
But varry soon aah’ll qualify
and get an aad folks bungalow.
A modern hoose that’s warm and dry
The aah’ll be good as her you know.
The airs and graces she displays
impress hor neighbours but not me.
Cos aah recall wor childhood days
which she forgets conveniently.
Me sister is a proper snob
but she’s the only one aah’ve got.
Aah only wish she haad her gob
not taak a lot o tommy rot..
24-Dec-07
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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