To Dieters
Spread before me is a copious treat,
All begging me to try it,
But I know that if I do,
I will be forgetting my diet.
I desire to enjoy the dance
With the lovely maidens of old,
And delight the valley of vision
With the removal of all burdens to behold.
Like a bear surveying a campsite,
In her piggish penchant for sweets.
I fell for the earnest felicity
In the maidens whirling to the melodious beats.
And each irresistible and delicious aroma,
Meandering from the cottage eaves,
Could make a rhyme take wing
And flutter in the evening breeze.
poem by Albert Price
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Related quotes
Ode to Weight-watchers
We are weight-watchers
And we are the tasters of dreams,
Escaping irresistible sweets
With mere disdain, it seems,
Contemplating mounds of vanilla,
On which caramel sauces tease.
Any two of us can fancy a tasty thriller,
If the other tacitly agrees.
What wonderful triple cracklin’ goodness
Comprise the greatness of our appetites.
What a fabulous story of quaintness,
Fashioned by our culinary delights.
For each aroma drifting from the cottage eaves,
A rhyme could flutter in the evening breeze.
On a day when the air is cold and dense,
When the streets are snowed upon,
Would anyone see the macaroon stuck in the fence
Through which my calorie-hungry structure may run.
No matter what manner of delicacy
Or however many of them I see,
The double vanilla wafers, like wheels,
Allow me to get away free.
poem by Albert Price
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Dance, Dance, Dance
After six hours of school Ive had enough for the day
I hit the radio dial and turn it up all the way
I gotta dance (dance dance dance now the beats really hot) right on the spot
(dance dance dance right there on the spot)
The beats really hot
(dance dance dance now the beats really hot)
Dance (dance) dance (dance) dance (dance) yeah!
When I feel put down I try to shake it off quick
With my chick by my side the radio does the trick
I gotta dance (dance dance dance now the beats really hot) right on the spot
(dance dance dance right there on the spot)
The beats really hot
(dance dance dance now the beats really hot)
Dance (dance) dance (dance) dance (dance) yeah!
Ohby!
At a weekend dance we like to show up late
I play it cool when its slow and jump it when its fast
I gotta dance (dance dance dance now the beats really hot) right on the spot
(dance dance dance right there on the spot)
The beats really hot
(dance dance dance now the beats really hot)
Dance (dance) dance (dance) dance (dance) yeah!
(dance dance dance now the beats really hot)
(dance dance dance right there on the spot)
(dance dance dance now the beats really hot)
Dance (dance) dance (dance) dance (dance) yeah!
(dance dance dance now the beats really hot)
(dance dance dance right there on the spot)
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Count Of Griers
FROM THE GERMAN OF UHLAND.
At morn the Count of Greiers before his castle stands;
He sees afar the glory that lights the mountain lands;
The horned crags are shining, and in the shade between
A pleasant Alpine valley lies beautifully green.
'Oh, greenest of the valleys, how shall I come to thee!
Thy herdsmen and thy maidens, how happy must they be!
I have gazed upon thee coldly, all lovely as thou art,
But the wish to walk thy pastures now stirs my inmost heart.'
He hears a sound of timbrels, and suddenly appear
A troop of ruddy damsels and herdsmen drawing near;
They reach the castle greensward, and gayly dance across;
The white sleeves flit and glimmer, the wreaths and ribands toss.
The youngest of the maidens, slim as a spray of spring,
She takes the young count's fingers, and draws him to the ring,
They fling upon his forehead a crown of mountain flowers,
'And ho, young Count of Greiers! this morning thou art ours!'
Then hand in hand departing, with dance and roundelay,
Through hamlet after hamlet, they lead the Count away.
They dance through wood and meadow, they dance across the linn,
Till the mighty Alpine summits have shut the music in.
The second morn is risen, and now the third is come;
Where stays the Count of Greiers? has he forgot his home?
Again the evening closes, in thick and sultry air;
There's thunder on the mountains, the storm is gathering there.
The cloud has shed its waters, the brook comes swollen down;
You see it by the lightning--a river wide and brown.
Around a struggling swimmer the eddies dash and roar,
Till, seizing on a willow, he leaps upon the shore.
'Here am I cast by tempests far from your mountain dell.
Amid our evening dances the bursting deluge fell.
Ye all, in cots and caverns, have 'scaped the water-spout,
While me alone the tempest o'erwhelmed and hurried out.
'Farewell, with thy glad dwellers, green vale among the rocks!
Farewell the swift sweet moments, in which I watched thy flocks!
Why rocked they not my cradle in that delicious spot,
That garden of the happy, where Heaven endures me not?
'Rose of the Alpine valley! I feel, in every vein,
Thy soft touch on my fingers; oh, press them not again!
Bewitch me not, ye garlands, to tread that upward track,
And thou, my cheerless mansion, receive thy master back.'
poem by William Cullen Bryant
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Never Too Old, For Romance !
Please , give me another dance !
Take my hand , give me some sense !
Make me feel , the music , the rhyme !
Let's enjoy , let's spend , nicely our time !
I see it in your eyes, ' The Romance ',
Of your desire to dance !
You are so romantic , so sweet !
You better know , how much we fit !
You were so nice , with so much delight ,
When I gave , my first 'light '!
Now , after so many files ,
I even remember our smiles !
It is never , too old for A ROMANCE,
FOR A KISS OR A DANCE !
We can feel the same today ,
No matter WHAT PEOPLE SAY !
poem by Yoseph Lupu
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A Magical Day
I am truly enchanted with this day
there are messages of love
from poets and poetesses far away
then there is the sun- my love
In this big baby blue sky
bringing me so much happiness
I smile and I sigh
what else can I say or do
today is most fabulous, yes it's true
the weather is clear and bright
laying low on the horizon
are streaks of clouds, frothy white
mother nature planned a special show
the moon is here, bathing in the sunlight,
beholding the beauty of nature
for he cannot see it in the night
the tree maidens wear pretty gowns
In colours of orange, red, gold and green
dance and swirl with the morning breeze
this is a most enchanting, delightful scene
oh my close your eyes, what a sight!
some tree maidens are undressing
for the sun and moon's delight
the moon kisses me goodbye
after this spectacular show
then I am left to bathe
in the sun's loving glow
poem by Rachel Nichols
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The Butterfly (The Mirror Sestet Poetry)
Delight adorns butterfly’s fluttering wings in flight,
Flight is his beauty for anemones to delight.
Wing flitters freely and his fragile moods can swing,
Swing dances he teaches the white flowers with his wing.
Breeze finds him out among the blooming buckeye red trees,
Trees push his innocent virgin spirit in the breeze.
Dance nurtures the flower to put her into deep trance,
Trance is his way to gather pollen for her life dance.
Dreams fiery rise in crimson, when the flower gleams,
Gleams of dawn in the east are his love powerful dreams.
Charms are her powers to spread fragrances in his arms
Arms are his wings when he flies to search for other charms.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Stray Pleasures
BY their floating mill,
That lies dead and still,
Behold yon Prisoners three,
The Miller with two Dames, on the breast of the Thames!
The platform is small, but gives room for them all;
And they're dancing merrily.
From the shore come the notes
To their mill where it floats,
To their house and their mill tethered fast:
To the small wooden isle where, their work to beguile,
They from morning to even take whatever is given;--
And many a blithe day they have past.
In sight of the spires,
All alive with the fires
Of the sun going down to his rest,
In the broad open eye of the solitary sky,
They dance,--there are three, as jocund as free,
While they dance on the calm river's breast.
Man and Maidens wheel,
They themselves make the reel,
And their music's a prey which they seize;
It plays not for them,--what matter? 'tis theirs;
And if they had care, it has scattered their cares,
While they dance, crying, 'Long as ye please!'
They dance not for me,
Yet mine is their glee!
Thus pleasure is spread through the earth
In stray gifts to be claimed by whoever shall find;
Thus a rich loving-kindness, redundantly kind,
Moves all nature to gladness and mirth.
The showers of the spring
Rouse the birds, and they sing;
If the wind do but stir for his proper delight,
Each leaf, that and this, his neighbour will kiss;
Each wave, one and t' other, speeds after his brother:
They are happy, for that is their right!
poem by William Wordsworth
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My Lovely Flower
I thank God for my lovely flower
For there are millions who are ignorant of her existance,
The enchanting aroma that is with her,
Or her charm that makes me to always keep thinking,
I am fascinated that she was wonderfully made,
Then just kept for me to find one day.
Seeing her is like waking up at dawn to bath in the Sun's rays
She has harmless attraction like a colorful butterfly,
Or a bright flower always sort by the bees for it's beauty,
Not forgetting it's sweet nectar also!
That is my sweet Sweetie.
The flower is far from me and I cannot smell the aroma now,
Last night I went to dreamland where I hoped to find my flower Then I woke up this morning to melodious sounds,
Sounds of chirping birds in the nearby tree as if to praise her,
Thinking about my flower.
I want to tend and care for this flower,
So that she may produce more flowers like herself,
O flower! Remain that lovely forever.
poem by Nyota Yasulwe
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The Devil's Sweets
The Devil’s sweets
This afternoon
I waited too soon
and let you in a secret
I hope you can keep it
I saw you sucking on the devil’s sweets
like a chocolate treat
if Dracula were around
it would make a sound
that would make the transformation complete
Don’t go
Don’t ignite the flame
Don’t spread the blame
Don’t wait
Why don’t you hesitate..
Anymore?
Like a vampire you sucked it in like a drug
don’t even come to give me a hug
because you’ve already left for the devil’s sweets
instead of me, you go to those chocolate treats
You are the spawn of Satan
Hell is your only safe haven
because you’ve tasted the devil’s sweets
your transformation is complete.
poem by Soldier's Wife
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The Marigolds
The Spring is in her prime now and the lovely marigold
Are blooming in the blackwood shade so lovely to behold
On a warm day in October close to thirty degrees
With the sun glowing in the blue sky and warmth in the breeze
In the breeze the marigold are nodding in their beautiful golden flowers
They came to bloom in the early Spring in the cool September showers
A gift from Mother Nature for to look at and enjoy
I have loved Nature's beauty ever since i was a boy
Such marvellous things of beauty that Nature does create
Though most of Nature's wonders have their own use by date
A sunny day in October warm for the time of year
And the songbirds in the parkland sound melodious and clear
And partly lit by the sunshine in the shade of the blackwood trees
The beautiful golden marigold are nodding in the breeze.
poem by Francis Duggan
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LUST...by talile ali
WET MY LIPS
COMB MY HAIR
STEP OUT OF THE SHOWER
AND INTO HER LAIR
LIGHTS ARE OFF
THE BEDS A MESS
YOU LYING THERE
TOTALLY UNDRESSED
IT'S TIME TO DANCE
IT'S ON THE FLOOR
RUMPLED AND WRINKLED
AND READY FOR MORE
SPEED SUPPLANTS
THE DESIRE SOMEHOW
SOME ARE TO QUICK
AND THAT'S A FOUL
BUT WITH SOME PLAY
THE GAMES A FOOT
AND BABE IS ON
AND I AM COOKED
TOTALLY BASTED
REAMED TO THE FLOOR
BEGGING FOR MERCY
BEGGING FOR MORE
TIME IS ALL OVER
SO IS THE AIR
SWEAT IS ALL DRIPPING
DOWN THE FRONT STAIRS
IT DOESN'T MATTER
HANDS ON THE RAIL
DOING EACH OTHER
TILL WE ARE BOTH INHALED
CONSUMED AND INFUSED
OUR HANDS AND OUR SOUL
WANTING TO DO IT
TIL WE EXCEED OUR GOALS
EYES POPPING FRENZIED
PLEADING FOR JUST
ONE MORE EXCURSION
INTO THOSE BUST
MASSAGING AND PUMPING
THRUSTING AND DRENCHED
LUST IS FOR THOSE
WHO ENJOY BEING BENCHED
LUST IS FOR THOSE
WHO ENJOY GETTING WRENCHED
IN THE SWEAT AND THE AROMA
A LUST- MAKING STENCH
poem by Talile Ali
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The Confessor
I have heard the fame of her beauty
And I, of notes taken of her many virtues
Which has plaqued the walls of my heart
Whereon I became subject to her fair countenance
And at the wand of her beauty my obedience I tender
Alas, I am the confessed and the confessor of her beauty
She is the beat and men in dance revolves round about her
Like the stars revolves round about the moon light
Some said, she came from the province of the goddesses
Perchance a god in disguise mated her mother thus formed she
With an irresistible beauty to plaque the hearts of men with desire
Truly, she is a secret and lovely thing to look upon
And having the likeness of a goddess even the gods gave her gifts
Oh, she is a wonder to behold; a bright garland of blooming flowers
And a crown of gold upon the head of him whom she chose for a husband
Alas, I am the confessed and the confessor of her beauty
Her beauty radiates with disease, pestilence and sin
Fixing your eyes of desire on her irresistible beauty
Unleashes the contents of the Pandora box of her beauty and you're plaqued
She is truly a blessing and a curse of wakefulness to anyone at night
She plaques the hearts of men with an unending desire of her beauty
Just like Helen of Sparta plaqued the shores of Troy with thousands of war ships
Alas, I am the confessed and the confessor of her beauty
O' goddess Pandora from the province of the goddesses—first beauty of the universe
I am the seeker, the confessed and the confessor of your beauty
Thus upon me the plaques of your irresistible beauty hath descended
And in me you have blown the coal of desire of your beauty
Which only your consent to my desire can quench this coal.
poem by Lightcheerful Briggs
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Just As Delicious Tomorrow
This is going to be just as delicious tomorrow,
As it is right now,
Today.
Taste buds remain favored to basic flavors.
Like a kiss from a good kisser is always missed.
It can be substituted in a solution that delutes.
But the real thing is reminisced.
This is going to be just as delicious tomorrow,
As it is right now,
Today.
When I whip up something to treat,
Your satisfaction I wish to guarantee.
And if it does not deliver what I expect you should accept...
I am the one who weeps the tears.
That's how much I want you,
To enjoy what I do!
This is going to be just as delicious tomorrow,
As it is right now,
Today.
That's how much I want you,
To enjoy what I do!
Now.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Abandoned
SHE sat by the wayside and wept, where roses, red roses and white,
Lay wasted and withered and sere, like her life and its ruined delight;
Like chaff blown about in the wind whirled roses, white roses and red,
And pale, on night's threshold, the moon bent over the day that was dead.
She sat by the wayside and wept; far over the desolate plain
A noise as of one that is weeping re-echoed in wind and in rain,
And the long dim line of the spectral poplars with dolorous wail
Nodded their bald-headed tops as they chattered with cold in the gale.
She sat by the wayside and wept in a passion of vain desire,
And her weak heart fluttered and failed like the flame of a faltering fire,
Fluttered and failed in her breast like the broken wing of a bird
When its feathers are dabbled with gore, and the low last gurgle is heard.
And behold, like balm on her soul, while she sat by the wayside and wept,
There came a forgetting of sorrow, a lulling of grief, and she slept;
Yea, like the wings of a dove when cooing it broods on the nest,
So the wings of slumber about her assuaged and filled her with rest.
And a light that was not the sun's nor the moon's light illumined her brain;
From afar in the country of dreams three maidens stole over the plain,
Three loveliest maidens they were, like roses, red roses and white;
And behold the earth and the heavens were glorified in their light.
And the first of the maidens was fair, as fair as the blue-kirtled Spring,
When she comes with a snowfall of blossoms and a rustling of birds on the wing,
When a glimmer of green like a tide rolls over the woodland and vales,
And odours are blown on the winds with the song of the nightingales.
The second was loftier of stature, a huntress of grief;
The wilderness glowed as she passed and broke into blossom and leaf;
Yea, it seemed that her upturned eyes, with their fathomless gaze,
Could pierce to the shining stars through the veil of the noonday blaze.
But the third was a splendour incarnate, a luminous form,
Thrilling with raptures that keep the heart of the cold earth warm,
Who hidden far in the mystical glory of quivering rays
Sets the whole world on fire for an absolute sight of her face.
But darkling ever they see her, and ever as through a veil,
For if naked she lightens upon them, their lives must shrivel and fail,
Must fail and shrivel consumed by that burst of insufferable light,
As a tree set on fire by lightning which burns to the ground in a night.
The first one kissed her cheek, her cheek grew pallid and wan:
'Goodbye,' she cried, 'we must part; I am Youth, and I follow the sun;
I am Youth, and I love to build in the heart that is buoyant and gay;
Goodbye, we shall meet not again,' she cried, as she fluttered away.
The second she kissed her eyes, then the glamour went out of their gaze,
Through the magical show she beheld life staring her straight in the face;
With a terrible Gorgon stare that turned her heart into stone--
'Adieu,' she sighed, 'I am Hope, all is over between us and done.'
The third one she kissed her lips, and the kiss was a quenchless fire,
It burned up her life like a victim's in the flames of a funeral pyre--
'Farewell,' she wailed, 'I am Love,' and her wings were spread as for flight--
It seemed like the wail of the wind as they left her alone with the night.
poem by Mathilde Blind
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(Sufiyana) I Dance, I Dance
Whirling images flashing past
Your white robe
Your face
Ahhh....that face
The moon paled in comparison
Divine in its purity
Smile that said You were free
Free from all desires and longings
Eyes without any layers
With a direct door to Your inner spirit
Your movements with the grace of the stars in the nightsky
The mist in my vision cleared looking at You
And
I dance
I dance, I dance, I dance, I dance
Like Your whirling images
Keeping pace with them
Never to let them run away
poem by Renu Rakheja
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The Elected Knight. From The Danish.
Sir Oluf he rideth over the plain,
Full seven miles broad and seven miles wide,
But never, ah never, can meet with the man,
A tilt with him dare ride.
He saw under the hill-side
A Knight full well equipped;
His steed was black, his helm was barred;
He was riding at full speed.
He wore upon his spurs
Twelve little golden birds;
Anon he spurred his steed with a clang,
And there sat all the birds and sang.
He wore upon his mail
Twelve little golden wheels;
Anon in eddies the wild wind blew,
And round and round the wheels they flew.
He wore before his breast
A lance that was poised in rest;
And it was sharper than diamond-stone.
It made Sir Oluf's heart to groan.
He wore upon his helm
A wreath of ruddy gold;
And that gave him the Maidens Three,
The youngest was fair to behold.
Sir Oluf questioned the Knight eftsoon
If he were come from heaven down;
'Art thou Christ of Heaven,' quoth he,
'So will I yield me unto thee.'
'I am not Christ the Great,
Thou shalt not yield thee yet;
I am an Unknown Knight,
Three modest maidens have me bedight.'
'Art thou a Knight elected,
And have three Maidens thee bedight;
So shalt thou ride a tilt this day,
For all the Maidens' honour!'
The first tilt they together rode
They put their steeds to the test;
The second tilt they together rode,
They proved their manhood best;
The third tilt they together rode,
Neither of them would yield;
The fourth tilt they together rode,
They both fell on the field.
Now lie the Lords upon the plain,
And their blood runs unto death:
Now sit the Maidens in the high tower,
The youngest sorrows till death.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Suppose
Suppose ... and suppose that a wild little Horse of Magic
Came cantering out of the sky,
With bridle of silver, and into the saddle I mounted,
To fly — and to fly;
And we stretched up into the air, fleeting on in the sunshine,
A speck in the gleam,
On galloping hoofs, his mane in the wind out-flowing,
In a shadowy stream;
And oh, when, all lone, the gentle star of evening
Came crinkling into the blue,
A magical castle we saw in the air, like a cloud of moonlight,
As onward we flew;
And across the green moat on the drawbridge we foamed and we snorted,
And there was a beautiful Queen
Who smiled at me strangely; and spoke to my wild little Horse, too —
A lovely and beautiful Queen;
And she cried with delight — and delight — to her delicate maidens,
'Behold my daughter — my dear!'
And they crowned me with flowers, and then to their harps sate playing,
Solemn and clear;
And magical cakes and goblets were spread on the table;
And at window the birds came in;
Hopping along with bright eyes, pecking crumbs from the platters,
And sipped of the wine;
And splashing up — up to the roof tossed fountains of crystal;
And Princes in scarlet and green
Shot with their bows and arrows, and kneeled with their dishes
Of fruits for the Queen;
And we walked in a magical garden with rivers and bowers,
And my bed was of ivory and gold;
And the Queen breathed soft in my ear a song of enchantment —
And I never grew old....
And I never, never came back to the earth, oh, never and never;
How mother would cry and cry!
There'd be snow on the fields then, and all these sweet flowers in the winter
Would wither, and die....
Suppose ... and suppose .
poem by Walter de la Mare
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A Beautiful Chime!
A beautiful bond is like a melodious tune
A lovely relationship is so much for each other
Just as the breeze leaves marks on the rune
Not possible to have one without one another
Every Chime needs a breeze to make it sound
To tinkle with the gentleness of the breeze
Sometimes be noisy and loud with wind 's pound
Clink with the rush of the gushing wild breeze
A loving heart has a lot of feelings and passion
For the One whom it knows, cares and loves forever
Feelings reach the lovely heart with love and passion
Response showers much more fondness, love forever
The way things blend togehter
Not possible without each other.
-Sonnet-
poem by Manjeshwari P MYSORE
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The Evening Breeze
Often, I lie solus,
On white sand-banks
Of the large pond
In my ancestral land,
When the evening breeze
Gently touches the divinity,
Hidden somewhere in mortal body:
I feel I cannot normally feel.
Oh! I wish the evening breeze,
Too heavenly and wondrous,
Brought out my grandmother
Sleeping just under,
With whom I used to enjoy the breeze,
On these sands white,
In green days, later became defoliate!
Indeed, it can if it willed.
The evening breeze brings
Smell of soap suds,
Which forms on mind-board
The damsel in the nude;
Soon, the breeze brings
Holiest odour
Of frankincense and incense smoulder:
So in the breeze I sin and purge.
Often, I lay tired on sands;
All sweat drops dried in the evening breeze;
All my spirit revived;
And fresh morrow waited.
Evening chants of diverse creeds:
All in breeze united.
Seraphic breeze pats on every head,
Still nobody sees it.
poem by Fabiyas M V
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Forever Paradise
Resting on a beautiful day under a sky blazed with gold,
I realized a vision so lovely to behold.
A lush garden watered by gently running streams,
On one side blueberry hills and the other the rainbow of dreams.
Here there is food to satisfy and thrills for the eye,
Enough for all God’s creatures of land, water, and sky.
The garden nymph, residing in the mansion of my mind,
Supplies my super-conscience with sweet devotions divine.
Here our hearts are light as the leaf on an apple tree,
‘Cause every wish and desire is crowned with victory.
Larks and bluebirds visit daily to serenade us from on high
And leave us sweet memories when they launch into the sky.
The reverend here is a woman who outmatches the moon,
She likes dancing through the garden with dessert and spoon.
The preacher is one sensational human and has a vision true.
She sees the Word transcribed in the air and inherent in the dew.
The birds of paradise now in place, wearing feathered robes aglow,
Harmonize with a melodious breeze that began a billion years ago.
poem by Albert Price
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