Bridget: You did not tell us your name yet, ma'am.
Old Woman: Some call me the Poor Old Woman, and there are some that call me Cathleen, the daughter of Houlihan.
line from Cathleen ni Houlihan, script by William Butler Yeats (1902)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Related quotes
Red Hanrahan's Song About Ireland
THE old brown thorn-trees break in two high over Cummen Strand,
Under a bitter black wind that blows from the left hand;
Our courage breaks like an old tree in a black wind and dies,
But we have hidden in our hearts the flame out of the eyes
Of Cathleen, the daughter of Houlihan.
The wind has bundled up the clouds high over Knock- narea,
And thrown the thunder on the stones for all that Maeve can say.
Angers that are like noisy clouds have set our hearts abeat;
But we have all bent low and low and kissed the quiet feet
Of Cathleen, the daughter of Houlihan.
The yellow pool has overflowed high up on Clooth-na-Bare,
For the wet winds are blowing out of the clinging air;
Like heavy flooded waters our bodies and our blood;
But purer than a tall candle before the Holy Rood
Is Cathleen, the daughter of Houlihan.
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Woman I Call Sister
The woman I call sister
Is someone who is there
The woman I call sister
Is someone who always cares.
The woman I call sister
Can make me smile when times are blue
The woman I call sister
Is someone very true.
The woman I call sister
By choice, is my best of friend
The woman I call sister
Will be there till the end
The woman I call sister
Is the blessing from God above
The woman I call sister
Is the sister that I'll always love.
poem by Marissa Gertmenian
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Woman I call Sister (Martha)
The woman I call sister
will always be there
The woman I call sister
is a person that will always care
The woman I call sister
is a person I will always love
The woman I call sister
is a blessing from God above
The woman I call sister
will stay true till the end
The woman I call sister
will be my best friend
So the woman I call sister
will be the blood related one
And the woman I call sister
will be the ONLY one :)
poem by Isabel Robles
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Old Woman: If anyone would give me help he must give me himself, he must give me all.
line from Cathleen ni Houlihan, script by William Butler Yeats (1902)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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The real woman
Look for that real woman,
so beautiful as was made,
so shiny just like the stars of the night,
so original not like the picture woman.
I call them real for they;
know's their worth,
i call them real 'cos they respect,
even the last breath of their nostri.
I do call them real 'cos they are always proud of being a woman even in the den of men.
Not just a make-up-mask wearing woman,
but a woman of virtuous and dignity,
so strong and brilliant,
not even shieveried by the voice of the day nor the terror in the night.
Call them the real woman,
and they will keep being for real.
poem by Ogbonna Chinemerem
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I Am Not A Woman...
I am not a woman that loves with a heart
I am not a woman that's silly and smart
I am not a woman with open wounds
I am not a woman that's more attuned
I am not a woman that you hold dear
I am not a woman that has no fear
I am not a woman that's loved or lost
I am not a woman that doesn't know the cost
I am not a woman that's hurting inside
I am not a woman that has no foolish pride
I am not a woman that can't look you in the eye
I am not a woman alone that cries
I am not a woman that's imprisoned with chains
I am not a woman that holds her will in vain
I am not a woman, or mother, or friend
or wife, or daughter, or one to depend
I am not a woman of all and more
Because I gave it away to the one I adore
what's left is all you see
Just a woman that truly believes
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
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Women
This world is, because of the woman
this universe is, because of the woman
nothing exists without the woman
our existence is, because of the woman.
Why being a woman then
should be humiliation?
Why a woman then
should face indignation?
always the woman becomes the prey...?
always the woman has no say.....?
The woman is a mother, also a mother–in-law
the woman is a sister, also a sister-in-law
the woman has many roles to play
a daughter-in-law perfects that night & day.
Why then a woman does
torture another woman?
Why does a ma-in-law
torches a daughter in-law?
Why does a woman destroy another’s world?
Why does jealousy overcomes a sister-in-law?
In the woman, power is manifest,
yet she is unaware and that is a jest.
she becomes Durga when in rage
telling everyone, she is no sage
the woman is where, awakening is there
her absence creates crematoriums everywhere.
Why do then a woman abhor the birth of a female?
Wants a child, whose gender is male?
the male is indebted to her for the courage and life
yet no rewards for the woman, her entire life.
This is the story of the woman, full of anguish
Plight of a woman is because of another’s wish
Exploitation of the woman could not have taken place
Had a woman given the other a little more space.
poem by Tribhawan Kaul
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sweet Country Woman
Monday mornin' I'm feeling down
'Cause she's in the country
Tuesday mornin' feels about the same
Wednesday don't seem so bad
Thursday's getting closer
Friday I'll be back out there again
I call her sweet country woman
She's the one that keeps me goin'
When the times get bad
I call her sweet country woman
'Cause she gives the sweetest lovin'
I've ever had
Sunlight filters through the trees
She'll lay beside me
When I leave that city far behind
Walkin' in the misty morn'
Watch a new day being born
And feelin' her body close to mine
I call her sweet country woman
She's the one that keeps me goin'
When the times get bad
I call her sweet country woman
'Cause she gives the sweetest lovin'
I've ever had
I call her sweet country woman
song performed by by Johnny Duncan, lyrics by Sandy St. John & Charles Tharp from Sweet Country Woman (1973)
Submitted by Varmint Tracks
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I Call You Friend
I call You kindness
I call You gentleness
I call You Truth.
I call You beauty
I call You wisdom
I call You Beloved.
I call You light
I call You trust
I call You father, mother,
daughter, son
I love You because I must
I call You Friend.
poem by Gillian Commerford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Her Desire for 40G
Now back when I was 28,
I met and loved a 38 –
DD!
Hmm…I never really saw her eyes…
Perhaps I never needed to –
‘Twas all about her size.
Come on, be honest,
You really show surprise?
Oh yes, the storyline:
One sunny day she said to me,
‘I need to make you happy, see,
By undergoing surgery
So you can have my guarantee
That when you see my 40G,
You’ll hit new heights of ecstasy! ’
‘Phew! ’ I drew a breath.
‘Well thank you dear, you’re very kind,
But won’t you risk me going blind?
If one of those should catch my eye,
I’m sure to wave them both goodbye;
And after all, you’re rather tall –
With extra weight you’ll likely fall;
Forwards, I should clarify.
Hmm…we’re back again to my poor eye.’
‘It’s all about your precious sight! ’
She screamed at me with all her might,
‘I only want to make you proud
And me to stand out in the crowd.’
‘You do already stand right out!
Any more, then there’s no doubt
You might as well just poke me blind,
So in the streets I’ll tag behind,
Unaware of all the fuss,
Especially when on the bus –
Assuming you could squeeze on board…
Hmm…at least I know I’ll be ignored…
Okay – go get them done.’
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If I Was Your Woman
If I were your woman and u were my man
U'd have no other woman
U'd be weak as lamb.
If u had the strength to walk out my door
My love would overrule my sense,
and I'd call u back for more.
If I was your woman,
If I was your woman,
and u were my man.
yeah
She tears u down darling
says you're nothing at all,
but I'll pick u up darling when she lets you fall(cuz)
your like diamond, but she treats u like glass,
yet u beg her to love you.
From me u won't ask.
If I were your woman,
If I were your woman,
If I was your woman,
Here's what I'd do....
I'd never, never, no, no stop loving you
Yeah (yeah)
Um oooh
Life is so crazy
And love is unkind
Because she was first, darling
will she hang on your mind
You're a part of me but you don't even know it
I'm what you need but I'm too afriad to show it.
If I were your woman
If I were your woman
If I were your woman
Here's what I'd do.....
I'd never, never, no, no stop loving you.
If I were your woman
Here's what I'd do....
I'd never, never, never stop loving you
If i were your woman,
if i were your woman,
if i were your woman,
if i were your woman,
if i were your woman.
song performed by by Alicia Keys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Her Hidden Treasure
Her flame was only for the women –
Not for us unlucky men;
A weakness lay for feminine way:
To feel an even fairer skin
In silky slide.
Her lips were for the satin love that
Only flows from rising breast;
The creamy tan was not for man
To pull towards a chiselled chest
In weathered hide.
Her hidden treasure down below
Would shy away from macho length
And only rouse upon the blouse
Undone by other sapphic strength –
In time, inside!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You ARE A Woman :)
You are a woman,
A strong woman,
A grown woman,
One who WON'T give me what I want just cause I want it woman.
He needs you woman,
A loving woman,
Non-trusting woman,
One who knows the difference between right and wrong woman.
I found a woman,
You're one of em,
So many love em,
You just need to see the places you can be woman.
Hear me woman,
Don't fear me woman,
You're near me woman,
We all face strife, gotta change yo life woman.
See me woman,
No fake or frontin,
Can't be me woman,
For I am a man and you need to be a WOMAN!
['Enpowering women since the age of -9 months :) ']
poem by Tamell Bailey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Old Woman And Her Loyal Maid
the old woman is very rich
she has two children, a lovely daughter and a very naughty son
the lovely daughter dislikes her
and the naughty son wants to kill her
she slaps her often and the more the daughter wants to go away from her
the son is disturbed and furious because he did not know his father enough
the daughter married a gentle man
and the son went away with no know address no known destination
he never came back
while she lives her own life away from the rich woman
the old woman has a loyal maid
who has no memory of humiliating words that the old woman more often
inflicts in her person
the old woman is dying
but the son and daughter have no respect anymore for such word
as mother.
meanwhile the loyal maid keeps swallowing the pesters of the old woman
expecting a part of the wealth
as her pay and legacy
well, this story cannot have an ending yet
the old woman is still alive and the son and daughter are still making up
their minds
what to do next.
Life is a comma. The ending always waits
for something that will be a happy one.
But who knows, except this one, something tragic may happen
at the end. Who knows?
I will for sure.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Now that august is gone
Now that august is gone
And we all know that all augusts come and go
Is this woman? a woman of vertue,
Is this woman? a super woman
Is this woman? a woman of mission and vision
Is this woman? classy and stylish
Is this woman? preffesional or house wife
And the woman of action and motion
A woman of courage and resilence
A woman of liberation and liberty
A woman of passion and compassion
A woman of thoughts and opinions
A woman of empathy and sympathy
A woman of concerns and kindness
.
A woman of confrontation or insecurity
A woman of altracation or tranquility
A woman of ambition or armunition
A woman of redeemtion or detention
A woman of power or affection
Is this woman a woman
I am not questining you, woman!
I was questioning this woman
poem by Jacques Sprenkie Mateya
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Other Woman
Jesse Mae Robinson
The other woman finds time to manicure her nails
The other woman is perfect where her rival fails
And she's never seen with pin curls in her hair
The other woman enchantes her clothes with French perfume
The other woman keeps fresh cut flowers in each room
There are never toys that's scattered everywhere
And when her baby comes to call
He'll find her waiting like a lonesome queen
Cos when she's by his side
It's such a change from old routine
But the other woman will always cry herself to sleep
The other woman will never have his love to keep
And as the years go by the other woman
Will spend her life alone
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Troubles of Matthew Mahoney
In a little town in Devonshire, in the mellow September moonlight,
A gentleman passing along a street saw a pitiful sight,
A man bending over the form of a woman on the pavement.
He was uttering plaintive words and seemingly discontent.
"What's the matter with the woman?" asked the gentleman,
As the poor, fallen woman he did narrowly scan.
"There's something the matter, as yer honour can see,
But it's not right to prate about my wife, blame me."
"Is that really your wife?" said the gentleman.
"Yes, sor, but she looks very pale and wan."
"But surely she is much younger than you?"
"Only fourteen years, sor, that is thrue."
"It's myself that looks a deal oulder nor I really am,
Throuble have whitened my heir, my good gintleman,
Which was once as black as the wings of a crow,
And it's throuble as is dyed it as white as the snow.
Come, my dear sowl, Bridget, it's past nine o'clock,
And to see yez lying there it gives my heart a shock."
And he smoothed away the raven hair from her forehead,
And her hands hung heavily as if she had been dead.
The gentleman saw what was the matter and he sighed again,
And he said, "It's a great trial and must give you pain,
But I see you are willing to help her all you can."
But the encouraging words was not lost upon the Irishman.
"Thrial!" he echoed, "Don't mintion it, yer honour,
But the blessing of God rest upon her.
Poor crathur, she's good barrin' this one fault,
And by any one I don't like to hear her miscault."
"What was the reason of her taking to drink?"
"Bless yer honour, that's jest what I oftentimes think,
Some things is done without any rason at all,
And, sure, this one to me is a great downfall.
'Ah, Bridget, my darlin', I never dreamt ye'd come to this,"
And stooping down, her cheek he did kiss.
While a glittering tear flashed in the moonlight to the ground,
For the poor husband's grief was really profound.
"Have you any children?" asked the gentleman.
"No, yer honour, bless the Lord, contented I am,
I wouldn't have the lambs know any harm o' their mother,
Besides, sor, to me they would be a great bother."
"What is your trade, my good man?"
"Gardening, sor, and mighty fond of it I am.
Kind sor, I am out of a job and I am dying with sorrow."
"Well, you can call at my house by ten o'clock to-morrow.
"And I'll see what I can do for you.
Now, hasten home with your wife, and I bid you adieu.
But stay, my good man, I did not ask your name."
"My name is Matthew Mahoney, after Father Matthew of great fame,"
Then Mahoney stooped and lifted Bridget tenderly,
And carried her home in his arms cheerfully,
And put her to bed while he felt quite content,
Still hoping Bridget would see the folly of drinking and repent.
And at ten o'clock next morning Matthew was at Blandford Hall,
And politely for Mr Gillespie he did call,
But he was told Mrs Gillespie he would see,
And was invited into the parlour cheerfully.
And when Mrs Gillespie entered the room
She said, "Matthew Mahoney, I suppose you want to know your doom.
Well, Matthew, tell your wife to call here to-morrow."
"I'll ax her, my lady, for my heart's full of sorrow."
So Matthew got his wife to make her appearance at Blandford Hall,
And, trembling, upon Mrs Gillespie poor Bridget did call,
And had a pleasant interview with Mrs Gillespie,
And was told she was wanted for a new lodge-keeper immediately.
"But, Bridget, my dear woman, you mustn't drink any more,
For you have got a good husband you ought to adore,
And Mr Gillespie will help you, I'm sure,
Because he is very kind to deserving poor."
And Bridget's repentance was hearty and sincere,
And by the grace of God she never drank whisky, rum, or beer,
And good thoughts come into her mind of Heaven above,
And Matthew Mahoney dearly does her love.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If I Was Your Woman / Walk On By
(Talking) Hey Yo, Mo B, Drop it on me.
Yeah, yeah let's do it like this
If I was your woman
And you were my man
You'd have no other woman
You'd be weak as a lamb.
If you had the strength.
To walk out my door.
My love would overrule my sins.
And I'd call you back for more.
If I was your woman
If I was your woman
And you were my man, yeahhh
She tears you down darling
Says you're nothing at all
But I'll pick you up darling
When she lets you fall
Cause, You're like a diamond
But she treats you like glass
Yet you begged her to love you
For me you won't ask
If I was your woman
If I was your woman
If I was your woman
Here's what I'd do
I'd never, never, no, no, stop lovin you.
Yeahhhhhhh, Yeah, mmm hmm
Life is so crazy
And love is unkind
Because she was first darling
Will she hang on your mind?
You're part of me
But you don't even know it
I'm what you need
But I'm too afraid to show it
If I was your woman
If I was your woman
If I was your woman
Here's what I'd do
I'd never, never, no, no, stop lovin you
If I was your woman
Here's what I'd do
I'd never, never, never stop lovin you.
Uh,yeah, yeah,yea,yea,yea,yeah
(background)
If I was your woman (echo)
If I was your woman (echo)
If I was your woman (echo)
If I was your woman (echo)
If I was your woman (echo fades)
song performed by by Alicia Keys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Grenadain Woman
Yes me woman, from my womb life was borne
Yes me woman, the young ones prune by my hands
Yes me woman, with the coves that sways with the redeem of the heart beat, tup-tup, tup-tup, tup-tup, tup-tup
Yes me woman, with beauty unimaginable, soft to the touch
yes me woman, with the voice of a heavenly being, soft, gentle, comforting, encouraging
Yes me woman, determine to succeed with the strength from above
Yes me woman, the days have gone, long gone for her to depend on the strength of another man
Yes me woman, her time has come for the world to see her for who she really is
Yes me woman, creative, innovative, confident, intelligent, loving, kindhearted
Yes me woman, mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend, lover
Yes me woman, The Grenadian woman.
poem by Curliann Mark
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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