Female Facial Facade
One need not know her life story
to actually know this woman.
Her character is quite clearly
Sculptured into her youthful hewn
Face: her flawless forehead and arched brows
bridge atop two mirrored blue pools:
Eyes that conceal lies that somehow
besmirch her most precious jewels.
Her celestial nose turned upward
suggesting a pretentious snob;
And her mouth: two full, pinkish-red,
fleshy folds with a subtle sneer
imperceptibly perceived
concealing her feigned innocence.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Related quotes
Be Glad Your Nose is on Your Face
Be glad your nose is on your face,
not pasted on some other place,
for if it were where it is not,
you might dislike your nose a lot.
Imagine if your precious nose
were sandwiched in between your toes,
that clearly would not be a treat,
for you'd be forced to smell your feet.
Your nose would be a source of dread
were it attached atop your head,
it soon would drive you to despair,
forever tickled by your hair.
Within your ear, your nose would be
an absolute catastrophe,
for when you were obliged to sneeze,
your brain would rattle from the breeze.
Your nose, instead, through thick and thin,
remains between your eyes and chin,
not pasted on some other place--
be glad your nose is on your face!
poem by Jack Prelutsky
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From The Biography Of An Unknown Woman: Xiv
she's rich
in every sense of the word
this unknown woman with
several folds on her forehead
concealing myriad experiences
augmenting her wealth on earth
and the dark circles around her eyes
narrating rich stories of life
she's simple and plain
yet she's fascinating
06may2010
12.48hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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The Made to Order Smile
When a woman looks up at you with a twist about her eyes,
And her brows are half uplifted in a nicely feigned surprise
As you breathe some pretty sentence, though she hates you all the while,
She is very apt to stun you with a made to order smile.
It's a sublte combination of a sneer and a caress,
With a dash of warmth thrown in to relieve its iciness,
And she greets you when she meets you with that look as if a file
Had been used to fix and fashion out the made to order smile.
I confess that I'm eccentric and am not a woman's man,
For they seem to be constructed on the bunko fakir plan,
And it somehow sets me thinking that her heart is full of guile
When a woman looks up at me with a made to order smile.
Now, all maidens, young and aged, hear the lesson I would teach:
Ye who meet us in the ballroom, ye who meet us at the beach,
Pray consent to try and charm us by some other sort of wile
And relieve us from the burden of that made to order smile.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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On the First Night
On the first night
of the full moon,
the primeval sack of ocean
broke,
& I gave birth to you
little woman,
little carrot top,
little turned-up nose,
pushing you out of myself
as my mother
pushed
me out of herself,
as her mother did,
& her mother's mother before her,
all of us born
of woman.
I am the second daughter
of a second daughter
of a second daughter,
but you shall be the first.
You shall see the phrase
'second sex'
only in puzzlement,
wondering how anyone,
except a madman,
could call you 'second'
when you are so splendidly
first,
conferring even on your mother
firstness, vastness, fullness
as the moon at its fullest
lights up the sky.
Now the moon is full again
& you are four weeks old.
Little lion, lioness,
yowling for my breasts,
growling at the moon,
how I love your lustiness,
your red face demanding,
your hungry mouth howling,
your screams, your cries
which all spell life
in large letters
the color of blood.
You are born a woman
for the sheer glory of it,
little redhead, beautiful screamer.
You are no second sex,
but the first of the first;
& when the moon's phases
fill out the cycle
of your life,
you will crow
for the joy
of being a woman,
telling the pallid moon
to go drown herself
in the blue ocean,
& glorying, glorying, glorying
in the rosy wonder
of your sunshining wondrous
self.
poem by Erica Jong
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Nursing You
On the first night
of the full moon,
the primeval sack of ocean
broke,
& I gave birth to you
little woman,
little carrot top,
little turned-up nose,
pushing you out of myself
as my mother
pushed
me out of herself,
as her mother did,
& her mother's mother before her,
all of us born
of woman.
I am the second daughter
of a second daughter
of a second daughter,
but you shall be the first.
You shall see the phrase
'second sex'
only in puzzlement,
wondering how anyone,
except a madman,
could call you 'second'
when you are so splendidly
first,
conferring even on your mother
firstness, vastness, fullness
as the moon at its fullest
lights up the sky.
Now the moon is full again
& you are four weeks old.
Little lion, lioness,
yowling for my breasts,
rowling at the moon,
how I love your lustiness,
your red face demanding,
your hungry mouth howling,
your screams, your cries
which all spell life
in large letters
the color of blood.
You are born a woman
for the sheer glory of it,
little redhead, beautiful screamer.
You are no second sex,
but the first of the first;
& when the moon's phases
fill out the cycle
of your life,
you will crow
for the joy
of being a woman,
telling the pallid moon
to go drown herself
in the blue ocean,
& glorying, glorying, glorying
in the rosy wonder
of your sunshining wondrous
self.
poem by Erica Jong
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Today I'll Look for Beauty
This Sunday morning
from my usual booth at McD's
I thought to look for something new
For which my eyes to please
I decided this day to look for beauty
In actions, form and graces
And as I gazed, I was amazed
At what I perceived in those faces
The little dark eyed Mexican girls
Of an age no more than three
With umber eyes and ebony curls
Stared wide-eyed back at me
I smiled at such a charming sight
They smiled right back at me
Their mother turned, in a bit of a fright
To see what their children could see
Then her quizzical look lost it's tension
At seeing naught but an old smiling man
The little girls, sharing nothing of mom's apprehension
Happily wiggled hello with all the fingers on both hands
In sharp contrast, at a small table, all alone
Sat a thin regal old lady (probably my age, truth be known)
She possessed that quality of being hewn from stone
That hieroglyphic quality of ancient queens on their throne
A thin nose, somewhat hooked with age
Flinty eyes, of a much faded blue
A woman who could have commanded a stage
T'was it not for a family and too much to do
But even given, the wrinkles and lines
That starburst out from her mouth and her eyes
Methinks they speak of beauty (tho crinkly in kind)
And make her e'en more pretty (at least to ol' guys)
What a contrast in beauty, before me today
The loveliness of the aged, so obvious to see
And the beauty of the children that will graciously change
Into the beauty of women of a certain age
My butt's getting tired, coffee's all drunk
Enough with my thinking, I must be up and without
Perhaps by this noon I'll be drunk as a skunk
And then I'll have something else to go on about
poem by David Whalen
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Nursing You
On the first night
of the full moon,
the primeval sack of ocean
broke,
& I gave birth to you
little woman,
little carrot top,
little turned-up nose,
pushing you out of myself
as my mother
pushed
me out of herself,
as her mother did,
& her mother's mother before her,
all of us born
of woman.
I am the second daughter
of a second daughter
of a second daughter,
but you shall be the first.
You shall see the phrase
"second sex"
only in puzzlement,
wondering how anyone,
except a madman,
could call you "second"
when you are so splendidly
first,
conferring even on your mother
firstness, vastness, fullness
as the moon at its fullest
lights up the sky.
Now the moon is full again
& you are four weeks old.
Little lion, lioness,
yowling for my breasts,
rowling at the moon,
how I love your lustiness,
your red face demanding,
your hungry mouth howling,
your screams, your cries
which all spell life
in large letters
the color of blood.
You are born a woman
for the sheer glory of it,
little redhead, beautiful screamer.
You are no second sex,
but the first of the first;
& when the moon's phases
fill out the cycle
of your life,
you will crow
for the joy
of being a woman,
telling the pallid moon
to go drown herself
in the blue ocean,
& glorying, glorying, glorying
in the rosy wonder
of your sunshining wondrous
self.
poem by Erica Jong
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Pride of a Woman
The pride of a woman lies in the bare root of her soul,
The content of her character and the switch in her strole,
The greatest once wrote with not a single lie,
That she danced like she got diamond at the meetings of her thighs,
You can see in her face a phenomenal woman none the less,
With her pride brightly shining shaming all she don’t impress,
The pride of a woman lies in the steal barrier that guards her heart,
All other emotions showing but protects that special part,
The pride of a woman lies in the place that tells her what she’ll be,
Her character, her strole, her face, her soul, in you and all in me.
By: Breanna Givens
poem by Breanna Givens
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An aged Woman poses in front of a shattered mirror?
The rusty pincers she holds
With shivering fingers
And she plucks her grey hair
Here & there
She noticed in the eye brows too
few appears?
Dark rings below the eyes
And wrinkles on her forehead.
She smiles with the mirror
And mutters; 'No change at all the secret smile
But what happened to my youthful Elasticity? '
She realized for the first time in her life
That mirrors too speak sometimes?
'Madam! I am there with you
even in your fleeing beauty? '
*[God made woman from man's rib-not from his head to top him, nor from his feet to be walked upon, but from his side to be his partner in life, from under his arm to be protected by him, and near his heart to be loved by him.]
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Beautiful Blue Eyes
Blue eyes so full of life
A wonder all of their own
So beautiful and precious
Oh to see those eyes smile
Such a beautiful sight
How I love to look into those eyes
When I look into them
A kind of peace comes over me
Beautiful blue eyes
Always haunting me
...teasing me
Reminding me of what I want...can't have
Why do they haunt me so
When will I be free of them
Constantly held captive by those blue eyes
Beautiful blue eyes
Always there
A reminder of what I want...can't have
Such beautiful blue eyes
Beautiful blue eyes...
poem by Grace Hays
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My Innocence Killed Me
INNOCENCE, INNOCENCE OH WHY DO I CRY? INNOCENCE, INNOCENCE WHERE IS THE TRUTH OVER THE LIE? INNOCENCE, INNOCENCE CAN THE GROUND KEEP ME DOWN? INNOCENCE OH INNOCENCE, WHO KEEPS PULLING YOU DOWN?
FAIL TO THE SYSTEM MY INNOCENCE WAS TAKING AWAY
I WISH FOR IT BACK EACH AND EVERY DAY
AS I LIE SMOTHERED UNDERGROUND
I COULD HAVE SURVIVED IF INNOCENCE WOULD HAVE STAYED AROUND
MY SHELTER, MY GROUND, AND ALSO MY ROOF
WHICH WAS DESIGNED ONLY TO PROTECT MY PROOF
EVIDENCE IS SUBMITTED ONLY TO HELP
WHEN I TURNED TO LOOK INTO YOUR EYES YOU LEFT
SEEKING WEALTH
ONLY TO LEAVE ME INSIDE AN EMPTY CHAMBER
FILLED WITH SO MUCH MAINLY ANGER
MY DISAPPOINTMENT IS PERCEIVED AS RAGE
IT'S JUST A CRAZE
TO BE TAKEN OUT OF MY MISERY RELEASED FROM THIS CAGE
INNOCENCE, INNOCENCE OH WHY I CRY? INNOCENCE, INNOCENCE WHERE IS THE TRUTH OVER THE LIE? INNOCENCE, INNOCENCE CAN THE GREED KEEP ME DOWN? INNOCENCE OH INNOCENCE, WHO KEEPS PULLING YOU DOWN?
NEGATIVE INTERIOR EMOTIONALLY INFERIOR
WHY DOES MY FREEDOM HAVE TO BE DESTROYED OVER MATERIAL?
LOOKING AT INNOCENCE AND IT SEEMS SO STRANGE.
LOOKING AT MY SITUATION AND REALIZING NOTHING WILL CHANGE.
PURE INJUSTICE TRAIL IS NOT THE SAME.
TAKING MENTAL PICTURES PLACING THEM INSIDE A FRAME.
WHEN THEY ENTER HELL HOPELY THEY BURN IN FLAMES.
I WILL NEVER BE THE SAME.
TO DEATH WHAT IS GAIN?
TO BONDAGE WHAT IS A CHAIN?
INNOCENCE WAS SLAINED AS THEY SCREAMED OUT MY NAME I'M ASKING FOR CHANGE GOT DEATH IN EXCHANGE PARDON MY SCREAM AND KICKS FORGET ABOUT MY INNOCENCE FREEDOM INVOLVE TRICKS AND I CAN'T HELP BUT LAUGH MY INNOCENCE IS THE ONLY REASON I GOT STABBED ON THIS SLAB AS I'M SLICED IN HALF REACHING FOR THE INNOCENCE THAT I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO GRAB YELLING OUT SO UNJUST VOICE YELLS OUT HUSH AND RUSH INTO MY EMBRACE AS THEY REVIVE MY SPIRIT AND TOUCH MY FACE. IS IT GOD OR INNOCENCE THAT I CHASE?
INNOCENCE, INNOCENCE WHY DO I CRY? INNOCENCE, INNOCENCE WHERE IS THE TRUTH OVER THE LIE? INNOCENCE, INNOCENCE CAN GREED KEEP ME DOWN?
INNOCENCE OH INNOCENCE, WHO KEEPS PULLING YOU DOWN.
poem by Courtney Steele
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Time...
The silent invisible thief
Of life indiscriminately
Creeps along, irreversibly
Filching tiny bits of precious
Youth from us, always leaving clues
Behind yet unbeknown at first
Whereas youth is preoccupied
With its feigned immortality.
But comes a time when youth shuffles
Off this pretentious naïveté
When he first sights that single strand
Of silver hair at his temple
Or those unmistakable fine
Lines subtly etched around his eyes.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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You Are Deserving Of The Best
Turn around and look at me.
Nothing on my face expresses,
I've come to you with a concealing message.
I did not appear here expecting forgiveness.
I came to you wanting to,
Show my respect.
I take full responsibility,
For the neglect I had shown...
When then I left.
Please,
Turn around and look at me.
Nothing on my face expresses,
I've come to you with a concealing message.
I want to reveal to you,
My immaturity has gone.
I came back to town to let you know...
No matter what has happened,
Between us...
I want you to hear me say,
It was me...
Not you,
Who had been the one wrong!
I've been wanting to tell you that,
For so very long.
Turn around and look at me.
Please?
Nothing on my face expresses,
I've come to you with a concealing message.
If I have to deliver it on my knees,
I will.
Only happiness in your life,
I wish for you to seek and fulfill.
I've come to you to express my respect.
And to let you know,
You are deserving of the best...
Of what life has to offer.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Face of God
Someone asked; God what if we were to meet face to face?
What face would I see?
Would your eyes be slanted and blue?
Would you have a jewel in the middle of your forehead?
Would your noise be pointed or would it be flat?
Would your lips be thin or would they be full?
God what face would I see?
God answers with these words.
If we were to meet face to face here is what you would see.
Pick up a mirror and the face staring back at you is not only you it is also me.
A Woman & A Man
I took a walk today
To where the ocean meets the sky
I thought about the way
They always say love never dies
And as the sun went down
I saw a lovers silhouette
A woman and a man
In a dance I envied them
I thought of you
I loved you so
I dont know why
I let you go
A woman and a man
A love so close
Walk hand in hand
While Im alone
A woman and a man
A love embrace
He turned his head
I saw his face
Could it be you
Yes, it was you
A woman and a man
I had to turn away
I hoped you wouldnt see me there
I thought about the way
You used to say I didnt care
And as you walked on by
I pulled my scarf across my face
And I began to cry
For all the love Id thrown away
But there you were
Like in a dream
You were with her
And not with me
A woman and a man
A love so close
Walk hand in hand
While Im alone
A woman and a man
A love embrace
He turned his head
I saw his face
Could it be you
Yes, it was you
A woman and a man
A woman and a man
A woman and a man
A woman and a man
We were so close. baby
Guess you never know
Just how precious love is
til youve had it and held it
And let it go
A woman and a man
A love so close
Walk hand in hand
While Im alone
A woman and a man
A love embrace
He turned his head
I saw his face
Could it be you
Yes, it was you
A woman and a man
A woman and a man
A woman and a man
A woman and a man
song performed by by Belinda Carlisle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kiss Of Life
See me a big woman, big woman look how you dance
See me a big woman, big woman caught in a trance
Dancing on the tabletop, covered up with the easter feast
Youre dancing for the fishermen, from the very large right
To the least
Dancing for the slow release, first the boy and then the beast
Then the beast
Burning, buring with the kiss of life
Burning, buring with the kiss of life
See me, a big woman, big woman so full of life
See me, a big woman, big woman going to be my wife
Watching for the different eyes - they change your face -
They come inside
Watch the spirits laugh and cry, watch them find a place
To hide
Watch the spirits talk in tongues, watch them take you for
A ride
Down at the ocean lies a body in the sand
Big woman sits beside, head in hand
With heat from her skin, and fire from her breath
She blows hard, she slows deep in the mouth of death
Burning, burning with the kiss of life
Burning, burning with the kiss of life
Burning, burning with the kiss of life
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Perceived insults
In the list of human indulgences,
‘perceived insults’ rank high in personal irresponsibility:
it’s when you take offence on behalf of another
whom you hadn’t spoken to, anyway, to ask them..
as for instance, insulting a teacher’s intelligence
by suggesting that she has acted out of malice;
or insulting a small child by suggesting
that his name ‘Mohammed’
given him by his parents,
is itself an insult to the Prophet;
what a luxury for the holier-than-thou,
the whited sepulcres, and those who use
perceived victimisation by other faiths
as a tool of their aggression…
well, you get the drift…
poem by Michael Shepherd
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With Your Bright Presence
(for Annelize)
With your bright presence, the sunshine
irradiating from your green-brown eyes,
you can matchlessly define my happiness
and so terribly intimate
is the way that you look at me,
where you lead my thoughts astray
and our lives is a age old story
full of happiness and sadness
in which a man and woman finds each other,
from the time that Adam perceived Eve
and with every shadow falling, every perception
we are both enthralled like a child,
we find something precious, in each small gesture
that makes our hearts sing jolly and overwhelmed.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Intent(Hate)
Bland taste in mouth.
Nauseating feeling in gut.
Clenched fist which can't help but give the finger.
Forty-eight bones caught in involuntary activity.
Disdain in eyes.
Fumes in ears.
Released by O2-CO2 traffic.
Pinched lips.
Arched brows.
Batting lashes.
Dark heart.
Painful memories.
Got hurt.
Give hurt.
Smiles. Lies.
Hugs. Stab.
Thoughts. Poison.
Let go? . Can't
Time. Reveals.
Violet. Crushed.
Gained. Something.
Life. Goes on.
Time. Kills.
Let go? ...Done.
poem by Jenim Dibie
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I Hate You!
I hate those dimples in your cheek
Deep, hidden and dark
I hate your eyes that glaze frost blue
Ardent but rank atop of many lies
I hate your soft, subtle hands
Slipping away every moment
I hate your thoughts and notions
Crammed with terrible weird concepts
I hate the way you get mad
For every trivial, feeble reason
I hate you in everyway now…
The way you hate everyone…
Your smile, your depth, your eyes!
Not sure, but I am good at telling lies!
I hate you…I do…
‘Cause you hate me…
And you have hurt me...
(written for DJ....i hate you now as much as you hate me! ....you are at loss....coz you just lost someone who likes you....and all i lost is someone who hates me!)
poem by Sania Harris
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