One hair of a woman can draw more than a hundred pair of oxen.
quote by James Howell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rope hair woman
Rope hair woman
Where you’re off to tonight
Rope hair woman
You’re lookin’ out of sight
O rope hair woman
I love with all my might
Rope hair woman if you could if you can
Let me be your dread lock man.
Dread lock man
Can you understand
That a rope hair woman
Does all that she can
To move you to that sexual point
Better then your hand
O rope hair woman
Here is my plain
Rope hair woman I will give
Up my womanly man
O rope hair woman
The world can understand
That you want a dread lock man.
poem by David E. Patton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Women for the Men
To clasp a silken-textured breast
Is nothing but a daily quest
Of preternatural drive.
We wonder of the fulsome fare
Her bra undone might bring to bear -
Disclosing all so we may stare
For hours on end upon the pair of
Why-do-woman's-curves-ensnare-
the-brains- of-men? -
A bleak affair,
And why we still survive!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Be Sexy Effortlessly
Being sexy is not revealing parts.
Being sexy is highlighting features.
Highlight hair, ears, neck, upper back,
Arms or legs but one or two at a time.
There's a fine line between being sexy
And being cheap, which a woman must note.
For a toned body, no need of windows.
For defying hair, no need of hair-do.
For evenness of the skin, no cosmetics;
For hygiene body, no need of perfume.
On a pair of high heels one is sexy
With breasts forward and buttocks upward.
To look sexy, woman must feel sexy.
In feeling sexy, she gains confidence
About her sexual prowess and command.
Be sexy effortlessly and feed man's eyes.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In the ward
In the ward she was made to draw
A woman,
She complied
Started to draw a face
The eyes and ears
But without a mouth
Two legs
Without the hands,
The shrink says,
Was this woman
In your house
Not allowed to speak
Was she not allowed
To do?
Her mother
Wants to understand
The husband was
Not there.
In the house
She cannot speak
She did not do
Anything about it
Until she became so
Incomplete
And she did not
Know until she
Was made to draw
The woman’s
True face.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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On modern woman
Smile, take a pretty picture,
Be the best woman you can be.
Paint your nails a scarlet red,
Stain your hair a pale blonde,
Be the best woman you can be.
Perk up those breasts,
Put razor to flesh,
Then Scrape off those old skin cells
Breed, woman, breed!
But don't you get stretch marks.
Be the best woman you can be.
Tear the hair from your vulva,
Be the first to church,
When in doubt, smile.
Steam your hair and bleach your teeth,
Don't neglect your husbands needs,
Be the best woman you can be.
Woman, did you read it in a magazine?
You're a void I can not fill.
Don't ever wrinkle.
You don't have to like it, it's gucci.
Snort this line, eat my words.
Don't neglect your petty needs.
Be the best woman that you can be.
poem by H.J. Shreeve
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A Pair Of Eyes
A pair of eyes constitutes the mass of art,
A pair of eyes, tells the throb of heart.
A pair of eyes, is a cool forest pond.
A pair of eyes, is sorcerer's wand.
A pair of eyes, mirrors the soul and mind.
A pair of eyes, thru which man we find.
A pair of eyes, sees all our deeds,
God's eyes are those, one's conscience needs.
poem by Nilakshi Das
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Draw Me A Map Of This World
lady draw me a map of
this world
and tell me where the
mountains and
rivers are
draw me an island
of soft grass
where a man and
woman can rest
and make love
draw me a pond
a larger one where
the orange goldfish
are fat where the
swans can swim
draw me some
clouds where the
birds can fly
make them real
please
i need all of them
for me
to be real today.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The biological design
In a long run,
A pair of men or of women
Cannot be amicable,
And a pair of man and woman
Cannot be inimical.
It is the biological design.
09.03.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Lonely Woman And The Sea
tonight the lonely woman sits beside the sea again
her feet are too small and her hands too gentle
she speaks about what is missing and she recalls what she cannot find
she likes the song of the empty shells
the hermit crabs are too clumsy for her
her hair falls on the rocks and she begins to shed some tears
the sea keeps on waving, signalling as though sending the message
' please don't i have so much salt inside my belly'
but the lonely woman keeps on crying and she cannot be stopped
the sea is mute and the lonely woman is deaf
the tree says they make a good pair and someone says further
they can, who knows, without a hitch, live happily ever after
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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If God Was A Woman
R.sambora
If God was a woman
If God was a woman
With long blond hair
Would you kneel at her altar
And offer her prayer
Could she be your addiction
Could she make you sin
If God was a woman
And you were her man
If God was a woman
Would you be impressed
If she showed up in high heels
And a pretty red dress
Would you make a donation
Or would you draw the line
Would you yield to temptation
Or savor her wine
If God was a woman
Shed come like an angel
Or a devil in disguise
When she left in the morning
Would you lose your religion
Or kiss your faith goodbye, goodbye
If God was a woman.
If God was a woman
Tell me who could we blame
Would she make jesus righteous
Or completely insane
If God was a woman
Would she kiss and tell
Would we wind up in heaven
Or would we all burn in hell.
If God was a woman
Shed come like an angel
Or a devil in disguise, oh yeah
And if she left in the morning
Would you lose your religion
Or kiss your faith goodbye, goodbye
If God was a woman
And you were her man, yeah
Solo
If God was a woman
Would she come like an angel
Or a devil in disguise, oh yeah
When she left in the morning
Would you lose your religion
Or kiss your faith goodbye, goodbye
If God was a woman
If God was a woman
If God was a woman
If God was a woman
Wes all burn in hell
If God was a
Woman, woman, woman, woman
If God was a woman
Tell me who would we blame
If God was a woman
If God was a woman
Shed drive us insane, yeah
song performed by by Bon Jovi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Hundred Thousand Marching
One hundred thousand marching
One hundred thousand men
One hundred thousand heading
To a place and a time when
One hundred thousand dying
One hundred thousand cold
One hundred thousand praying
Forever young and never old
One hundred thousand lives were lost
One hundred thousand felt the pain
One hundred thousand maimed and slaughtered
And yet those armies march again.
poem by David Keig
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Chauvinist
I’d never really comprehended such a mighty range of
Shapes and sizes down behind, it’s really rather strange:
The buttock muscle in a woman, overlaid with fat
Is actually such a focal point for men to want to pat
Or squeeze, and then to tease her if it’s eminently stout,
Or even risk a stay in clink to sting it with a clout!
After all, we men are tuned to be that way inclined –
And tho’ our needs are varied, girls, they’re all perverse of mind!
Best of all, our sacred dream: to see her shed her gown
When gliding to the shower for the ritual sponging down.
But then alas! With body lathered, oops! she drops the soap;
‘Please! ’ we beg her, ‘bend and bare! ’ But we can only hope!
I’m sure by now you get the picture – like a rule of thumb –
That men like me obsess all day about the fairer bum.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
My dreams are of a
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woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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One hair of a maiden's head pulls harder than ten yoke of oxen.
The Ox tamer
IN a faraway northern county, in the placid, pastoral region,
Lives my farmer friend, the theme of my recitative, a famous Tamer of
Oxen:
There they bring him the three-year-olds and the four-year-olds, to
break them;
He will take the wildest steer in the world, and break him and tame
him;
He will go, fearless, without any whip, where the young bullock
chafes up and down the yard;
The bullock's head tosses restless high in the air, with raging eyes;
Yet, see you! how soon his rage subsides--how soon this Tamer tames
him:
See you! on the farms hereabout, a hundred oxen, young and old--and
he is the man who has tamed them;
They all know him--all are affectionate to him;
See you! some are such beautiful animals--so lofty looking! 10
Some are buff color'd--some mottled--one has a white line running
along his back--some are brindled,
Some have wide flaring horns (a good sign)--See you! the bright
hides;
See, the two with stars on their foreheads--See, the round bodies and
broad backs;
See, how straight and square they stand on their legs--See, what
fine, sagacious eyes;
See, how they watch their Tamer--they wish him near them--how they
turn to look after him!
What yearning expression! how uneasy they are when he moves away from
them:
--Now I marvel what it can be he appears to them, (books, politics,
poems depart--all else departs;)
I confess I envy only his fascination--my silent, illiterate friend,
Whom a hundred oxen love, there in his life on farms,
In the northern county far, in the placid, pastoral region.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Tonight I Draw Your Hair
Tonight I draw your hair,
A hair of simplicity,
With a mysterious beauty,
That no one can ever resist,
A hair that blooms with the sun,
That always shines every sunrise,
And turns into deep black at sunset,
A hair of smooth silk,
That touches my face like a baby,
And comforts my soul into a sleeping baby,
Like the lullaby that can put me into sleep,
Your hair blooms unlike any other.
-GanNi
poem by Geovanni Leaño
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Old Man, Old Woman
Old man, old man
Cussing on the street
To an old woman
About the money for the meat
Old man, old man
Knocked the woman down
She hit him back so hard
That he start to spin around
Old man, old man
Just wont let it end
He hit the woman back
And she spent him aroung again
Old man, old man
Never gone to stop-
She pulled a knife
Sliced him once
There the old man droped
Old man, old man
Nothing do he say
Three-hundred fifty bucks
For the plot where he lay
Old woman, old woman
Sent off to jail
She was to slow inside
That she caught a lot of hell
Old woman, old woman
Finally made parole
She bought a spoon, rented a room
Just above the store
Old woman, old woman
Had a midnight fright
A youngest from the neighborhood
Broke her with his knife.
poem by David E. Patton
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Hair
Wide cheeks? Let the hair hide the ears.
Broad forehead? Let the hair spills in front.
Dwarf neck? Let the hair in knot be up.
Lanky figure? Let the hair falls on shoulders.
Hair being dense is an asset to woman
27.03.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Gypsy Woman
From nowhere through the caravan
Round the campfire light
Lovely woman in motion
With hair as dark as night
Her eyes were like that of a cat in the dark
That hypnotized me with love
She was a gypsy woman
She was a gypsy woman
She was a gypsy woman
She was a gypsy woman
She was a gypsy woman
She danced around and round
Guitars melody
From the fire her face was aglow
How she enchanted me
Id like to hold her near
And kiss her hair and whisper in her ear
I love you gypsy woman
I love you gypsy woman
I love you gypsy woman
I love you gypsy woman
All through the caravan
She was dancing with all the men
Waiting for the rising sun
Everyone was having fun
Hated to see her go
Knowing that shell never know
That I love her
That I love her
I love you gypsy woman
I love you gypsy woman
I love you gypsy woman
I love you gypsy woman
Whoever compared it to part monkey part man hit the nail on the head. it has that same kind of dark, mysterious sound. the vocals are soft and understated, somewhat reminiscent to those on if I should fall behind or pony boy. the song is sung with that nasally twang bruce has grown so fond of lately.
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Man and Woman
The Difference between a Man and a Woman;
When Man needs your silver hugs and caressing kisses,
Woman needs your mind as well.
When Man taunts your falls and misses
Woman shares a laughing spell.
When Man tells you all will be right
Woman tells you the mistake.
When Man starts leaving during fight
Woman sees through all that fake
Woman, with her knowing eyes and blowing hair
Man with muscles and puppy smile.
Woman with her bounty fair
Man's will last just for a while.
Which is better; man or woman?
woman or man?
Men are gifts we love to open, while women that we can save.
Ice Handler
I know an ice handler who wears a flannel shirt with pearl buttons the size of a dollar,
And he lugs a hundred-pound hunk into a saloon ice-box, helps himself to cold ham and rye bread,
Tells the bartender it’s hotter than yesterday and will be hotter yet to-morrow, by Jesus,
And is on his way with his head in the air and a hard pair of fists.
He spends a dollar or so every Saturday night on a two hundred pound woman who washes dishes in the Hotel Morrison.
He remembers when the union was organized he broke the noses of two scabs and loosened the nuts so the wheels came off six different wagons one morning, and he came around and watched the ice melt in the street.
All he was sorry for was one of the scabs bit him on the knuckles of the right hand so they bled when he came around to the saloon to tell the boys about it.
poem by Carl Sandburg
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