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My individual handsome God
I like to smile as you
But it's a cry
And I try to cry like you
Oh! It's a smile
And your curly gray beard
I love to grow on my pointed chin
But not that particular color.
At last I realized
You are a God!
And I am a Man.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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An Improver
Maisie's been holding down her head all day,
Her little red head. And her pointed chin
Rests on her neck that slips so softly in
The square-cut low-necked darling dress she made
In such a way, since it's high-waisted too,
It lets you guess how fair young breasts begin
Under the gentle pleasant folds of blue.
But on the roof at lunchtime when the sun
Shone warmly and the wind was blowing free
She lifted up her head to let me see
A little rosy mark beneath the chin—
The mark of kisses. If her mother knew
She'd be ashamed, but a girl-friend like me
Made her feel proud to show her kisses to.
poem by Lesbia Harford
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Cunning Man
A cunning manner has been absorbed
By the builders of logic, the philosophers;
Subduing thoughts travelling into ideas,
Jostling with common people and their minds.
Minds are too much, minds excel according
To the brains of a rich heaven, the richer time.
A cunning leader may swerve in judgement
To give a solution, but when do we please
The tailors of windows and chairs? then
They are themselves, and are given fairness.
A cunning man is not a woman of craft
But a cunning man swerves in judgement.
poem by Naveed Akram
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She Pointed At Me
When the world became harsh on her,
When they tried to manipulate her choice,
When they said they know better,
Among the great was i novice,
She pointed at me
While they searched for better,
Resting on the bed was I,
They claimed to be great and mighty,
Among all the noble man she made a choice,
She pointed at me
Shivering was i in fear,
Among champions, was an amatuer,
Among the rich i was poor,
Yet she made a choice,
She pointed at me
Can i be the one?
Myself i asked with anxiety,
Looking into my eyes she smiled,
Regardless of that and regarding this,
She pointed at me
poem by Gaylord Munemo
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Be There
Be there by the bridge,
Sorbus said,
I'll be wearing a flower
in my buttonhole.
But she never showed,
least not
that he knew,
she saw him through
the falling snow:
bespectacled,
black bearded,
with pointed chin
and hooked nose.
She wanted more
than that
to please
and feed
her hidden rose.
poem by Terry Collett
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Solitary Beauty
Well balanced features, slightly pointed chin
Alluring heavy eyelids, that make you gaze right in
Fine black veil and simplistic in dress
Her true identity is anybodys guess
The meaning of her enigmatic smile continues
to be debated
How so, is anyone related
poem by John Leroy Maxwell
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April Fool
Georgie sat upon 3-leg stool
Pointed hat on pointed head
Often was the butt of ridicule
Cursed was he to be ill-bred
poem by Ray Lucero
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The Searched Soul
When I consider, pro and con,
What things my love is built upon --
A curly mouth; a sinewed wrist;
A questioning brow; a pretty twist
Of words as old and tried as sin;
A pointed ear; a cloven chin;
Long, tapered limbs; and slanted eyes
Not cold nor kind nor darkly wise --
When so I ponder, here apart,
What shallow boons suffice my heart,
What dust-bound trivia capture me,
I marvel at my normalcy.
poem by Dorothy Parker
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There was a Young Lady whose chin
Resembled the point of a pin;
So she had it made sharp,
And purchased a harp,
And played several tunes with her chin.
by Edward Lear from A Book of Nonsense (1846)
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Cunning leads to knavery. It is but a step from one to the other, and that very slippery. Only lying makes the difference; add that to cunning, and it is knavery.
Romancing The Beard
What women are attracted to
Though to some it may seem weird
Is a man who has a curl-i-que
That we’ve come to call a beard
They seem to love what’s hair-ly
On the chin and down below
That hair they find so rarely
Is that hair that they can’t grow
They love that tickly feeling
When caressing bearded men
Those beards just send them reeling
For those men they have a yen
These ladies have this craving
For men with chin filled bristles
These men who do no shaving
Who have these chin filled frizzles
A beard can really dazzle
When covering a jawline
With it’s sexy kind of frazzle
It can dazzle any fraulein
poem by Stanley Cooper
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Pleasant to admire
My dear Honey!
Upon you, your radiant eyes,
Sharp nose, pouty lips,
Pointed chin and raised cheeks,
I focused my look.
You were illuminated,
But I was shaded,
‘Cause beams of light
Never illuminates the part
They arise from.
My dear Honey!
Into you, your hidden ear,
Slender neck, beating heart,
Throbbing lungs and tender ribs,
I shall sing a song.
It will resonate in you,
But won’t deafen me
‘Cause waves of sound
Would vibrate the parts
They arise from.
28.08.97
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Rhythm
When red is black and petals blue
And in my sleepless head our love's been dead a week or two
Sometimes good times are stuck inside of you
And then they're gone. But I don't know why
A lot of things have changed since you said goodbye
There are reasons for you to love me
But I gave you none
So I tap my glass and nod my chin
And wonder who you've been in rhythm with
Sometimes just time, cause can't escape
When clouds are playing close, not often too far away
Blue has no value, power over you
Open skies, relationless
Carelessness is what I miss
And that's how I think of you
Sometimes good times are all we have to do
So I tap my glass and nod my chin
And wonder who you've been in rhythm with
So I tap my glass and nod my chin
And wonder who you've been in rhythm with
[Beautiful]
song performed by by Wilco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm Different
I was made different! ! ! ! ! And Im not a shame to be. I don't fit in categories, or man made groups, just to please the empty you. I was made to take over even If you don't understand but in thee in YoU WILL see whats in me.
I refuse to be define by any woman, or man, who want to point the finger, but learn that three is pointed back at the person who pointed the one at me. I was made different! ! ! ! !
poem by Clarence Williams
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How Long Has This Been Going On
I could cry some chin-chin tears
Where have I been all these years
A little while come on tell me now
How long has this been going on
What a kick and how I buzz
My son you click like nobody does
Listen sweet I repeat
How long has this been going on
Chorus:
I feel like I could melt right into heaven
Ive heard
And now I know how columbus felt
Finding another world
Kiss me once and then again once more
God what a dunce I was before
What a break for heaven sake
How long has this been going on
Chorus
song performed by by Cher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To a Silent Girl
When the sklll'd fashioner of female faces
Designed your mask, he wrought with cunning fist,
And made a mouth expressly to be kiss'd -
Not for shrill utterance nor pert grimaces.
The curved, ripe lips-above the rounded chin -
He dyed the hue of summer's reddest rose,
Then placed a smile upon them to disclose
A glimpse of white and even pearls within.
Those lips are silent, sweetheart! - but your eyes
Are eloquent, and they love's lesson teach
Better than other woman's aptest speech -
In their soft light the tend'rest language lies.
In womankind - the world has long confess'd -
A silent mouth and speaking eyes are best.
poem by Harry 'Breaker' Harbord Morant
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The Mirror Never Lies
The mirror once told me that
My face was smooth and cute
My chin as bare as the Sahara
As the Sun counted our days
The moon counted our nights
And seasons exchanged fortunes
The mirror told me something new
All the smoothness is gone
As if it has been different ever since
My chin has turned into a bush
The mirror showed me a total stranger
This morning!
1999
poem by Yusuf Adamu
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Buttercup
Summer is brought
through this lemon zest
of colour-
reflected under the chin,
means, that you like
a flavour.
And in the meadows
of childhood,
and Laughter's happiness,
caught between
the embrace of trees,
at Glendalough,
we sit together.
Like buttercups
In the meadow of laughter,
A reflection upon my chin,
and smile and
laughter,
like a buttercup in
The summer meadow,
Your happiness,
reflects and refracts.
poem by Bernard Kennedy
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Submiit This
Where was I when life went left
Then took a right and flexed
take it on the chin
Not on your shin
Play awhile with life
Not forever but now
where was I when life was hexed
Taken by a sin
Not forever but right
But took a left on the chin
Not but for life left
But for sin and sex.
Recollection - First Poetic Impulse
my first poetic impulse
was in my pre school days
i must have been only four
years old lying sweet on the
kitchen floor one fine morning
sucking on my milk bottle
out on the tip of a pointed roof
a magpie had gathered itself
comfortably and started singing
its heart out to the sun just beginning
to warm up the new day
its song was edged like the roof
pointed here and there
in the rhythm and fractured tone
of a disconcerted soul
complaining all the world's
injustices to the heavens
like a chirpy woman crying mad about
poor treatments of her in laws
it sang for so long i was
provoked to ask the bird
what it was pining all about
about the black and white
of its days?
i asked and it sang
i asked and it sang
beak pointed to the sky
i asked and it sang
i asked and it sang
until it thought it was done
and flew away without a note
leaving a trail of silence and
melancholy on an empty
roof, the morning and -
an unrequited heart
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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