I don't approve of sunbathing, and it's bad for you.
quote by David Attenborough
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I have never wished to cater to the crowd; for what I know they do not approve, and what they approve I do not know.
Woman’s Act Is In Men’s Nod
Girls rush to be models and actress,
A profession not held in esteem,
As men grow broad to approve of their deeds.
If men approve, they’ll go to any extent.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Yellow Daisy's and
White, laughing and chatting too and
Fro, sunbathing bright
haiku by Ken e Hall
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Song
FOR her gait, if she be walking;
Be she sitting, I desire her
For her state's sake; and admire her
For her wit if she be talking;
Gait and state and wit approve her;
For which all and each I love her.
Be she sullen, I commend her
For a modest. Be she merry,
For a kind one her prefer I.
Briefly, everything doth lend her
So much grace, and so approve her,
That for everything I love her.
poem by William Browne
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When The Sun Rises Today From The East
what i will do
which i badly need to do
is to go naked
on the rooftop of my house
for my
much missed
sunbathing
oh i like to watch the clouds
watching me
i always have that feeling
of lustful mutuality.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I may be known as the girl who was sunbathing topless with a Prince but Jordan is known as that thick girl who always falls out of clubs drunk. I know which one I prefer.
quote by Jenny Frost
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Look Hath She
What look hath she,
What majestie,
That must so high approve her?
What graces move
That I so love,
That I so greatly love her?
No majestie
But Truth hath She;
Thoughts sweet and gracious move her;
That straight approve
My heart to love,
And all my life to love her!
poem by Mary Colborne-Veel
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American Wriggle
Rand Paul opens
a new can of worms.
The worms wriggle
around in the can,
unaware they’re about
to become fish-bait.
“That’s it! ” he tells them,
“I approve of wriggle!
Fish approve of wriggle.
Everybody approves wriggle.
It’s The American Way! ”
Tea Partiers cheer, wriggling
like blind American worms.
(24 MAY 10, Santa Clara CA)
poem by Bill Costley
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Trust. Not.
Trust.
Not.
Anything somebody says,
To plant and keep inside your head.
Trust.
Not.
Anyone who comes to you,
With news they think you will approve.
Don't ride a lie,
Others drive.
To use you as their alibi,
To bring you down demoralized.
Don't scandalize,
Or compromise.
Or hide your eyes to try to hide,
From those who patronize their lives...
In lies.
To deny,
What they do.
Since it's you...
Who'll be used,
And screwed.
Trust.
Not.
Anything somebody says,
To plant and keep inside your head.
Trust.
Not.
Anyone who comes to you,
With news they think you will approve.
Just to see what you will do.
Like other folks they've trick and fooled,
Too.
And now it's you,
They wanna do.
Don't ride a lie,
Others drive.
To use you as their alibi,
To bring you down demoralized.
Refuse to be a fool,
And from them leave.
Ignore their pleas.
From them leave!
Leave them desperate.
And on their knees.
Trust.
Not.
Anything somebody says,
To plant and keep inside your head.
Trust.
Not.
Anyone who comes to you,
With news they think you will approve.
Like fools will do.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In Contemplation
Sunbathing
Because my hands are cold
I move towards the place of the bold
It is this pastime of old
Moving to a mold
I take off my clothes, go crass
And lay myself on the grass
There is so much light
I begin to take my flight
Swimming under the sun
Having so much fun
Me and my silent shadow
Contemplating deep to the marrow
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Twixt And Between Ideals
Twixt and between ideals.
With a wish to select those most appealing.
And give a toss to the ones...
Many will not welcome to approve them done.
Some ideals are too complex.
Especially those that connect,
To self reflection and accountability.
They are the ones the most distasteful..
The ones more acceptable,
Are those with counterfeited empathy.
You know...that kind no one commits to,
But forges upon others to believe.
Twixt and between ideals.
With a wish to select those most appealing.
And give a toss to the ones...
Many will not welcome to approve them done.
At least not the ones,
Remotely associated with reality.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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To Silence A Loquacious Woman
he is right
give her a book
so she may read
and be silent
for a while.
the problem is
she asks for another
book again
and to irritate you
using her wisdom
for revenge
she leaves the kitchen
and the marital bedroom
and read the book
somewhere in
a beach resort
sunbathing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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You ask Me
You ask me:
Why am I not writing?
I say: it’s winter.
I’m hibernating!
You ask me:
Why am I not writing?
I say: it’s summer.
I’m sunbathing!
You ask me:
How about
Spring and autumn?
I say:
In spring, I’m contemplating.
In autumn, I’m introspecting.
The fact is, my dear
I’ve written to you so much
That I don’t want to write
Any more…
This is the phase of life,
Where I enjoy thinking…
More than communicating.
Please let me take a break.
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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`What Look hath She?
What look hath she,
What majestie,
That must so high approve her?
What graces move
That I so love,
That I so greatly love her?
No majestie
But Truth hath She;
Thoughts sweet and gracious move her;
That straight approve
My heart to love,
And all my life to love her!
poem by Mary Colborne-Veel
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cruising The Pacific Seas....
cruising, i like the way
how life must be spent like simply cruising
in the pacific
seas,
away from everyone
in the middle of all strangers
looking for solitude
listening to the
the waves and breeze of foreign
lands
new to my self
rejuvenated
sunbathing at the deck
watching
other bodies showing
their
physical wares
my hat covering my eyes
watching without
being watched
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Man Under The Sunshine At 9 O'clock In The Morning
one day
he takes his walk
in the
Oval
it is a
sunny day
he is half
naked
he is taking hours
sun bathing
people are
curious and
looking
it is 9 o'clock in
the morning
is it not easy
to imagine
how sunshine
can also be
water?
he thinks
there is something
wrong with
the people
here
they simply
lack
imagination
they think
that sunbathing
is obscene
9 o'clock
should have been
used
for plowing
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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T'was the Night Prior to the Real Nightmare
Failed concepts...
Are diminishing by the minute.
And those who are in it,
Have to sit and finish them off!
T'was the night prior to the real nightmare.
People were sunbathing without a thought or care!
Mockings of inner city people were good and well done!
And out of the blue,
Bird doo hit the head of someone,
And he became startled, baffled and stunned!
Was that the bird of truth?
His nervousness begun!
People stopped listening to him like they should.
He sent in fresh missionaries to keep the 'hood' good!
He took away the alcohol from his kids...
Took away their weapons,
Although they had some hid from him they did!
He spoke to his pastor...
Who was also his lawyer,
Banker and baker of his bread!
He didn't know what to say,
About his dread.
And it was dreadful!
He tried his best,
To provide for everyone.
By selling the land,
Running it!
And racking up bills as he ran,
As far as he could from reality!
And now he wants to be perceived,
As the one most willing...
To piece together a portrait of universal love!
And this...
Will be yet another,
Failed concept!
Laid out on the table....
From a chair he sits that is much too big!
Failed concepts...
Are diminishing by the minute.
And those who are in it,
Have to sit and finish them off!
Failed concepts...
Are diminishing by the minute.
And those who are in it...
Are no closer to an exit,
Than the first exit plan they claim...
Would win the game!
Failed concepts...
Are diminishing by the minute.
And those who are in it
Must do something quick,
Or sit and be finished off!
T'was the night prior to the real nightmare...
People were sunbathing without a thought,
And none dared to care.
Until out of no where...
Strange Beings appeared.
With pierced skin and tattoos from toe to ear.
They were quite drugged,
And their focus wasn't clear.
But they began to stalk...
In growing numbers.
Surrounding those...
In numbing fear!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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It Is Finished
the stalking is finally over
the poems still keep popping
and flowers blooming
(oh the cliche of birds singing
and cicadas chirping)
the bamboo leaves bring
the hush in the making
the sea is crystal clear
i swim there
and this i must wait
when i rise up from the
waters
when my hair is wet
and my body still dangling
with glistening sea foams and drops
i now find this joy
of lying upon the big stone
by the shore
sunbathing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Mind That Is Inside Your Skull
it is small
your stomach i am sure
is bigger
unlike your feet
it does not travel
unlike your eyes
it does not close
it is there
even in your dreams
your imagination
travels like the wind
to lands unknown
when you are hurt
the mind finds shelter in reason
unlike the heart
that weeps until all the tears
run dry
the mind is here but its essence
is out there groping in the dark
dancing with the winds
of change
sunbathing like you
wanting also
a little
tan.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Uneven Path
It was a summer night.
A windswept moonbeam
plummeted. Sexualizing
an indigo flesh. A butcher
was seducing
a spider, in company of
a holy book. Sunbathing in
mass grave of skulls. The eyes
peeking out of the caps.
You want to pluck the blue
berries from
volcano mounts. The key player
will burn your script. Body
of milk died on snow. The
moth was coming out of cocoon.
poem by Satish Verma
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