The Blue Scarf
Pale, with the blue of high zeniths, shimmered over with silver, brocaded
In smooth, running patterns, a soft stuff, with dark knotted fringes,
it lies there,
Warm from a woman's soft shoulders, and my fingers close on it, caressing.
Where is she, the woman who wore it? The scent of her lingers and drugs me!
A languor, fire-shotted, runs through me, and I crush the scarf down
on my face,
And gulp in the warmth and the blueness, and my eyes swim
in cool-tinted heavens.
Around me are columns of marble, and a diapered, sun-flickered pavement.
Rose-leaves blow and patter against it. Below the stone steps a lute tinkles.
A jar of green jade throws its shadow half over the floor. A big-bellied
Frog hops through the sunlight and plops in the gold-bubbled water of a basin,
Sunk in the black and white marble. The west wind has lifted a scarf
On the seat close beside me, the blue of it is a violent outrage of colour.
She draws it more closely about her, and it ripples beneath
her slight stirring.
Her kisses are sharp buds of fire; and I burn back against her, a jewel
Hard and white; a stalked, flaming flower; till I break to
a handful of cinders,
And open my eyes to the scarf, shining blue in the afternoon sunshine.
How loud clocks can tick when a room is empty, and one is alone!
poem by Amy Lowell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Stormy Blue Sea
I cannot abide brown when
blue can be had, the irritation
of seeing the brown scarf with
glitter representing sea spray
draped over my coat rack is
immense when my blue scarf
is around my neck
Immediately the brown scarf is
replaced, now my office beach
scene consists of a stormy blue
sea with green patches of sea-
weed, the intense colour taking
the feeling of brown-induced
malaise away
poem by Margaret Alice Second
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Black And Blue
You never call me, babe,
Until your man is gone,
I know it's you
When I pick up the
telephone.
You ask me how I am
And if I'm doing well,
When all you want from
me
Is just to ring your bell.
Take your time, we can
do some lines,
'Cos it's alright.
We can feel fine drinking
midnight wine,
'Cos it's alright.
Black and blue, black
and blue,
I said come over here,
baby,
And love me till I'm
black and blue.
You got the key to love
Dressed in your innocent
smile,
You know you touched
me baby,
So won't you stay for a
while.
And take your time, we
can do some lines,
'Cos it's alright.
We can feel fine drinking
midnight wine,
'Cos it's alright.
Black and blue, black
and blue,
I said come over here,
baby,
And love me till I'm
black and blue.
Black and blue, black
and blue,
I said come over here,
baby,
And love me till I'm
black and blue.
(Solo)
Take your time, we can
do some lines,
'Cos it's alright.
We can feel fine drinking
midnight wine,
'Cos it's alright.
Black and blue, black
and blue,
I said come over here,
baby,
And love me till I'm
black and blue.
Black and blue, black
and blue,
I said come over here,
baby,
And love me till I'm
black and blue.
I said come over here,
baby,
And love me till I'm
black and blue.
Black and blue...
TOP
She's A Woman
She got everything I
need,
She makes me smile, she
makes me bleed.
'Cos she's a woman.
She got the end, she got
the means,
She's in my heart and in
my dreams
An' it makes me cry. I
wanna make her mine.
She ain't black, but, she
got soul,
She ain't young, she ain't
old,
She shine like silver, burn
like gold.
'Cos she's a woman,
she's a woman.
She got everything I
need,
She got comfort, she got
speed.
She's a woman, she's a
woman.
She do me bad, she do
me good,
She got the Gypsy in her
blood.
Cos' she's a woman,
she's a woman.
She ain't black, but, she
got soul,
She ain't young, she ain't
old,
Shine like silver, burn
like gold.
She's a woman, she's a
woman.
She got a fire in her eyes,
I know she sees through
all my lies,
'Cos she's a woman,
she's a woman.
I know I'm the danger
zone
If I leave her all alone.
'Cos she's a woman,
she's a woman.
She ain't black, but, she
got soul,
She ain't young, she ain't
old,
Shine like silver, burn
like gold.
She's a woman, woman,
She's a woman, she's a
woman.
(Solo)
She's a woman, woman,
She's a woman.
She got everything I
need,
She make me smile, she
make me bleed.
She's a woman, she's a
woman.
She got the end, she got
the means,
She, make me shiver in
my jeans.
'Cos she's a woman,
she's a woman.
She ain't black, but, she
got soul,
She ain't young, she ain't
old
She shine like silver, burn
like gold.
'Cos she's a woman,
she's a woman.
She's a woman...
pure text
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song performed by by Whitesnake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tuesday 22 May 2012
Since the blue scarf was left at work
I wore my pink scarf this morning, in
the office I draped it around the blue
one, suddenly my coat rack scene is
bathed in the setting sun's pink after-
glow - a sunset scene on the beach
emphasising the pink of my imitation
orchids and roses, the contents of my
cupboard is slowly transferred to the
office, tonight I shall take the scarves
home, create a new scene tomorrow,
at least the white scarf with glitter still
is around my neck below my black
sleeveless camp top for the great out-
doors which I dream about while sitting
here in the hushed quiet of the open-
plan office where official complaints
about substandard IT services offered
break the tedium of a sad lament on
my desk by someone classified as a
schizophrenic - without his consent!
he adds, aggrieved, demanding the
prosecution of this offending doctor
threatening to write to the Minister
of Safety and Security - Oh MY!
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Le Panneau
Under the rose-tree's dancing shade
There stands a little ivory girl,
Pulling the leaves of pink and pearl
With pale green nails of polished jade.
The red leaves fall upon the mould,
The white leaves flutter, one by one,
Down to a blue bowl where the sun,
Like a great dragon, writhes in gold.
The white leaves float upon the air,
The red leaves flutter idly down,
Some fall upon her yellow gown,
And some upon her raven hair.
She takes an amber lute and sings,
And as she sings a silver crane
Begins his scarlet neck to strain,
And flap his burnished metal wings.
She takes a lute of amber bright,
And from the thicket where he lies
Her lover, with his almond eyes,
Watches her movements in delight.
And now she gives a cry of fear,
And tiny tears begin to start:
A thorn has wounded with its dart
The pink-veined sea-shell of her ear.
And now she laughs a merry note:
There has fallen a petal of the rose
Just where the yellow satin shows
The blue-veined flower of her throat.
With pale green nails of polished jade,
Pulling the leaves of pink and pearl,
There stands a little ivory girl
Under the rose-tree's dancing shade.
poem by Oscar Wilde
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At Her Door
OPEN! Open! Open!
I am here at your door outside;
The sea's blue tide flows speedily,
And ebbs a thin red tide.'
The woman rose from her warm white bed,
Threw back her hair and smiled;
The ears of scorn heard the words of love,
And the wind and the words were wild.
'Wake! Awake! Awake!
And hearken the woe outside;
The moon is hid in cloudiness;
Calleth and calleth the tide.'
The woman stood in the silence still
As a thing men carve from stone.
Her eyes burned largely in the dark,
And the smile, like a stain, stayed on.
'Listen! Listen! Listen!
Hear you the rain to-night?
A warm dark rain is falling too,
And I grow ghostly-white.'
The woman took three steps and bowed;
The smile waned from her lip;
She heard the dripping of the rain
And a soft thick other drip.
'Open! Open! Open!
I die in the dark alone.
My voice goes up in weariness
Against your heart of stone.'
The moon to a cloud-cleft stealing
Gazed down on the yearning tide;
The woman opened the streaming door
And stood in the rain outside.
Silence! Stillness! She whispers,
'Ah, Love, that death should be!'
He sighed, 'Your lips are loveliness!'
And she sobbed, 'Woe is me!'
The woman pressed his dead white face
With her face as deadly white:
The moon drew in behind a cloud,
And the tide moaned through the night.
poem by Roderic Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Folk Tune
It's not that the Muse feels like clamming up,
it's more like high time for the lad's last nap.
And the scarf-waving lass who wished him the best
drives a steamroller across his chest.
And the words won't rise either like that rod
or like logs to rejoin their old grove's sweet rot,
and, like eggs in the frying pan, the face
spills its eyes all over the pillowcase.
Are you warm tonight under those six veils
in that basin of yours whose strung bottom wails;
where like fish that gasp at the foreign blue
my raw lip was catching what then was you?
I would have hare's ears sewn to my bald head,
in thick woods for your sake I'd gulp drops of lead,
and from black gnarled snags in the oil-smooth pond
I'd bob up to your face as some Tirpitz won't.
But it's not on the cards or the waiter's tray,
and it pains to say where one's hair turns gray.
There are more blue veins than the blood to swell
their dried web, let alone some remote brain cell.
We are parting for good, my friend, that's that.
Draw an empty circle on your yellow pad.
This will be me: no insides in thrall.
Stare at it a while, then erase the scrawl.
poem by Joseph Brodsky
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Upon A Harsh Environment
how can words be as soft
as flour
to make a dough
of bread that is hard
enough
to break your teeth?
for how long shall the sifting
be done
on such a very fine mess
soft rain on the rocks
silk scarf on the white slender neck
of a woman
waiting for her man to pick her up
along a dark alley
towards the city of
hope and dreams
i remember i once wrote
about a red rose
growing upon a crack on the wall
on such a rugged environment
and yet
this summer
blooms
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sestina
I have come, alas, to the great circle of shadow,
to the short day and to the whitening hills,
when the colour is all lost from the grass,
though my desire will not lose its green,
so rooted is it in this hardest stone,
that speaks and feels as though it were a woman.
And likewise this heaven-born woman
stays frozen, like the snow in shadow,
and is unmoved, or moved like a stone,
by the sweet season that warms all the hills,
and makes them alter from pure white to green,
so as to clothe them with the flowers and grass.
When her head wears a crown of grass
she draws the mind from any other woman,
because she blends her gold hair with the green
so well that Amor lingers in their shadow,
he who fastens me in these low hills,
more certainly than lime fastens stone.
Her beauty has more virtue than rare stone.
The wound she gives cannot be healed with grass,
since I have travelled, through the plains and hills,
to find my release from such a woman,
yet from her light had never a shadow
thrown on me, by hill, wall, or leaves’ green.
I have seen her walk all dressed in green,
so formed she would have sparked love in a stone,
that love I bear for her very shadow,
so that I wished her, in those fields of grass,
as much in love as ever yet was woman,
closed around by all the highest hills.
The rivers will flow upwards to the hills
before this wood, that is so soft and green,
takes fire, as might ever lovely woman,
for me, who would choose to sleep on stone,
all my life, and go eating grass,
only to gaze at where her clothes cast shadow.
Whenever the hills cast blackest shadow,
with her sweet green, the lovely woman
hides it, as a man hides stone in grass.
poem by Dante Alighieri
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The Burnt Child
Matches among other things that were not allowed
never would be
lying high in a cool blue box
that opened in other hands and there they all were
bodies clean and smooth blue heads white crowns
white sandpaper on the sides of the box scoring
fire after fire gone before
I could hear the scratch and flare
when they were over
and catch the smell of the striking
I knew what the match would feel like
lighting
when I was very young
a fire engine came and parked
in the shadow of the big poplar tree
of Fourth Street one night
keeping its engine running
pumping oxygen to the old woman
in the basement
when she died the red lights went on burning
poem by William Stanley Merwin
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Pearls Girl
Rioja. rioja. reverend al green.
Deep blue morocco. the water on stone.
The water on concrete. the water on sand.
The water on fire. smoke.
The wind. the salt. the bride boat coming.
Dave in the water. old man.
Einstein on top of his house. white deep blue
Andalusia red yellow red yellow black car.
Red light. far. black place. walls. blue chair.
Morocco. hamburg. paris.
The pieces of the puzzle are waiting.
The water of the dark boats gliding.
The bride boats gone out to sea and
Dave is floating. dave is floating.
And old man einstein crazy in his attic.
Crazy.
White room. sun room. shadow room.
Night transmitting cars across the room.
These things sent to dance across the room.
Eye watching from your bed. returning to you.
song performed by by Underworld
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lie-a-bed
My darling lies down in her soft white bed,
And she laughs at me.
Her laughter has flushed her pale cheeks with red.
Her eyes dance with glee.
My darling lies close in her warm white bed,
And she will not rise.
I will shower kisses down on her sleepyhead
Till she close her eyes.
Gioja's no happier fresh from the South.
But my kisses free
Will straiten the curves of this teasing mouth,
If it laughs at me.
poem by Lesbia Harford
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Leather and Silk
It was a dance
at least I think it was
the silk scarf
drawn across her face
til only her eyes were revealed
having in them that playful gleam
only love play brings.
She took the scarf
allowing it to play
across her hips
which moved unseen behind the silk
making the scarf move
buffed by unseen promises..
It slithered up between her breasts
languishing upon her shoulders bare
then suddenly twirling
about her head
her laughing
a crystal laugh
spinning
round
wrapping her self in the silken wave
a twirling dervish
of light and perfume.
I rise
my back straight
fixing her gaze
advancing
hypnotized by her eyes
fixing me
capturing me
inside her now close breath
exhaling;
scarf thin is the space
between
and we both breathe shared air
inhale and exhaled waves
mutually taken in;
we both now light of head
with heat
and intoxicating oxygens
diving deep with
lung cavities
where they dance and swirl
exhale
and set themselves to receive
new incoming
exhilarations.
The eyes now closed
the scarf comes up again
circling my neck;
she taking both ends
drawing me close
eyes never leaving mine
frozen time
her body
was now my body
and I hers.
We two
now at short scarf length
twirl
my belt
now in play
encircling her neck;
my leather;
her silk;
joined
as our hearts play.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pale Blue Eyes
Sometimes I feel so happy
Sometimes I feel so sad
Sometimes I feel so happy
But mostly you just make me mad
Baby, you just make me mad
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Thought of you as my mountain top
Thought of you as my peak
A thought of you as everything
Ive had, but couldnt keep
Ive had, but couldnt keep
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Skip a life completely
Stuff it in a cup
They said, money is like us in time
It lies, but cant stand up
Down for you is up
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
It was good what we did yesterday
And Id do it once again
The fact that you are married
Only proves youre my best friend
But its truly, truly a sin
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
If I could make the world as pure
And strange as what I see
Id put you in a mirror
Id put in front of me
Id put in front of me
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beach
if they dont know and they dont know theyre gonna find out soon enough.
im so hot. as
if that hurt. did you wash it. fester it around some. you dont even have to
mind your own stuff. bring in the marines. ive
heard so many other things and it was all brown. with the suction ones.
the ones that suck it up. and i dont ever do the eye till i did that
thing. i bet you like a blue boost. try a noose. loosen the strap where
the two metal ends. rest your head against the steel. blow in to the tube.
show me your legs. help me. show
me a pink smile. walking up the aisle. show me the things underneath
your seat. show me your tiny plastic soft drink. a song like a
squealing pig. like a train with wheels. in the dark with the lights
off. concealed. im thinking of you still. :: white room. little legend.
fishman. nike man.
red stripe. blue mercedes. big dog. salty man. full moon rising. old
boy. salty girl. bunny girl. happy shopper. bouncing
ball. city sun. think i found the real stuff. i think i found the real
stuff. white crumbs across your bed. gray clouds cover bethnal green.
white jeans. black top. nice shape. cracks a blue bitch till the son come
sliding. naked beneath the knee. reflect black eyes. your knee talking. i
think i found the real stuff. i think i found the real stuff.
song performed by by Underworld
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love In The Sunlight
we lie on the grass
in the late afternoon sunlight
the breeze rustles the leaves
of a scorched palm tree
hair sprawl on the grass
brown eyes look into blue eyes
blue eyes look into brown eyes
her fingers run though my hair
I close my eyes
I feel the warmth of the sun
I feel the sweetness of her fingers
running through my hair
it feels good
it feels right
our loves meet
poem by Georgios Andritsos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The House Of Dust: Part 02: 07: Two Lovers: Overtones
Two lovers, here at the corner, by the steeple,
Two lovers blow together like music blowing:
And the crowd dissolves about them like a sea.
Recurring waves of sound break vaguely about them,
They drift from wall to wall, from tree to tree.
'Well, am I late?' Upward they look and laugh,
They look at the great clock's golden hands,
They laugh and talk, not knowing what they say:
Only, their words like music seem to play;
And seeming to walk, they tread strange sarabands.
'I brought you this . . . ' the soft words float like stars
Down the smooth heaven of her memory.
She stands again by a garden wall,
The peach tree is in bloom, pink blossoms fall,
Water sings from an opened tap, the bees
Glisten and murmur among the trees.
Someone calls from the house. She does not answer.
Backward she leans her head,
And dreamily smiles at the peach-tree leaves, wherethrough
She sees an infinite May sky spread
A vault profoundly blue.
The voice from the house fades far away,
The glistening leaves more vaguely ripple and sway . .
The tap is closed, the water ceases to hiss . . .
Silence . . . blue sky . . . and then, 'I brought you this . . . '
She turns again, and smiles . . . He does not know
She smiles from long ago . . .
She turns to him and smiles . . . Sunlight above him
Roars like a vast invisible sea,
Gold is beaten before him, shrill bells of silver;
He is released of weight, his body is free,
He lifts his arms to swim,
Dark years like sinister tides coil under him . . .
The lazy sea-waves crumble along the beach
With a whirring sound like wind in bells,
He lies outstretched on the yellow wind-worn sands
Reaching his lazy hands
Among the golden grains and sea-white shells . . .
'One white rose . . . or is it pink, to-day?'
They pause and smile, not caring what they say,
If only they may talk.
The crowd flows past them like dividing waters.
Dreaming they stand, dreaming they walk.
'Pink,—to-day!'—Face turns to dream-bright face,
Green leaves rise round them, sunshine settles upon them,
Water, in drops of silver, falls from the rose.
She smiles at a face that smiles through leaves from the mirror.
She breathes the fragrance; her dark eyes close . . .
Time is dissolved, it blows like a little dust:
Time, like a flurry of rain,
Patters and passes, starring the window-pane.
Once, long ago, one night,
She saw the lightning, with long blue quiver of light,
Ripping the darkness . . . and as she turned in terror
A soft face leaned above her, leaned softly down,
Softly around her a breath of roses was blown,
She sank in waves of quiet, she seemed to float
In a sea of silence . . . and soft steps grew remote . .
'Well, let us walk in the park . . . The sun is warm,
We'll sit on a bench and talk . . .' They turn and glide,
The crowd of faces wavers and breaks and flows.
'Look how the oak-tops turn to gold in the sunlight!
Look how the tower is changed and glows!'
Two lovers move in the crowd like a link of music,
We press upon them, we hold them, and let them pass;
A chord of music strikes us and straight we tremble;
We tremble like wind-blown grass.
What was this dream we had, a dream of music,
Music that rose from the opening earth like magic
And shook its beauty upon us and died away?
The long cold streets extend once more before us.
The red sun drops, the walls grow grey.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Venus Man Trap
Waiting for opportunity to strike
I have been your biggest fan
What a tour
A little blow to cure your fright
Its what it takes to trap a man
Water me
I am not a desert plant
And there was life before you
When I close
Will I wear my blue eyes when I open this time?
When I close
Or should I wear my green eyes when I open that shine?
And shine in my room underneath the microscope
I remember how it felt
I thought you knew I was always full of hope
But you could only help yourself
When I close
Will I wear my blue eyes when I open this time?
When I close
Or should I wear my green eyes when I open that shine and shine
song performed by by Veruca Salt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jane and Bullfinch Eggs
Those are Bullfinch's eggs
Jane said
pointing at
the 5 eggs
in a nest
hidden in a hedge
and as she pointed
you imagined
that some god
modelled all female fingers
on that before you
how the nail was set
so perfectly
on the finger's tip
the colour pinkish white
the skin almost blending in
we mustn't disturb
she added
or the mother bird
will fly away
and not return
oh right
you said
gazing at the eggs
once her finger
had been removed
from the hedge
you studied
the pale blue eggs
speckled there
and sensed her presence
near your cheek
the lavender
that she wore
the way her hair dark
coming to her shoulders
was tied back
from her face
some collect them
Jane said
and pierce the top
and bottom
and blow through the contents
and have them on display
do they?
you said
seeing the sad expression
she wore
why is that?
you asked
she stood back
from the hedgerow
and looking at you
with her dark eyes
said
because they must have
they have to collect
what is there
for all to see
they must just have
for themselves alone
the May sun
was shining warm
and she took your hand
in hers and walked
you on along the lane
the small stream running
by the lane's edge
her grey skirt
and white blouse
and white socks
giving her a plain look
but her eyes lit up
and she smiled again
and you wanted
at that moment
as she held your hand
for that hour
to be there forever
not to be lost
thinking you knew then
the depth of love
and not its loss
of that
and feeling sense
and not the cost.
poem by Terry Collett
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Scarlet Flower
The East is Red at the Great Wall.
My heart and soul yearningly-long
For my Scarlet Flower all day long
My love is magenta blood
It burns with crimson flames.
Scarlet, my beautiful beloved
Your dark almond eyes
Glow in tender purity and passion
With balmy warmth and devotion.
And we walk around ancient Xi’an
Kuomintang General Chiang Kai-shek
Was captured here in nineteen thirty six
At the foot of the Hills of Lishan.
Now the camera has another film roll
And you pose for the picture where long ago
Tang Emperor Xuanzong’s concubine
Lady Yang Guifei used to stroll.
The red buttons on your black garment
Wink with joy in the park, enchanted
At the white marble-sculpture:
Backward leant
Lady Yang Guifei steps out naked
From the emerald pool
Of the Huaqing hot springs.
Scarlet, your ebony hair in chignon
Adorns your delicate ivory skin
Oh how graceful is your face, my love.
In the afternoon-light the blue scarf
Beneath your chin playfully converses
With purple magnolia and red roses
And golden chrysanthemums.
poem by Paul Hartal
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In A Garden
Gushing from the mouths of stone men
To spread at ease under the sky
In granite-lipped basins,
Where iris dabble their feet
And rustle to a passing wind,
The water fills the garden with its rushing,
In the midst of the quiet of close-clipped lawns.
Damp smell the ferns in tunnels of stone,
Where trickle and plash the fountains,
Marble fountains, yellowed with much water.
Splashing down moss-tarnished steps
It falls, the water;
And the air is throbbing with it.
With its gurgling and running.
With its leaping, and deep, cool murmur.
And I wished for night and you.
I wanted to see you in the swimming-pool,
White and shining in the silver-flecked water.
While the moon rode over the garden,
High in the arch of night,
And the scent of the lilacs was heavy with stillness.
Night, and the water, and you in your whiteness, bathing!
poem by Amy Lowell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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