The Deodand
What are these women up to? They’ve gone and strung
Drapes over the windows, cutting out light
And the slightest hope of a breeze here in mid-August.
Can this be simply to avoid being seen
By some prying femme-de-chambre across the boulevard
Who has stepped out on a balcony to disburse
Her dustmop gleanings on the summer air?
And what of these rugs and pillows, all haphazard,
Here in what might be someone’s living room
In the swank, high-toned sixteenth arrondissement?
What would their fathers, husbands, fiancés,
Those pillars of the old haute-bourgeoisie,
Think of the strange charade now in the making?
Swathed in exotic finery, in loose silks,
Gauzy organzas with metallic threads,
Intricate Arab vests, brass ornaments
At wrist and ankle, those small sexual fetters,
Tight little silver chains, and bangled gold
Suspended like a coarse barbarian treasure
From soft earlobes pierced through symbolically,
They are preparing some tableau vivant.
One girl, consulting the authority
Of a painting, perhaps by Ingres or Delacroix,
Is reporting over her shoulder on the use
Of kohl to lend its dark, savage allurements.
Another, playing the slave-artisan’s role,
Almost completely naked, brush in hand,
Attends to these instructions as she prepares
To complete the seductive shadowing of the eyes
Of the blonde girl who appears the harem favorite,
And who is now admiring these effects
In a mirror held by a fourth, a well-clad servant.
The scene simmers with Paris and women in heat,
Darkened and airless, perhaps with a faint hum
Of trapped flies, and a strong odor of musk.
For whom do they play at this hot indolence
And languorous vassalage? They are alone
With fantasies of jasmine and brass lamps,
Melons and dates and bowls of rose-water,
A courtyard fountain’s firework blaze of prisms,
Its basin sown with stars and poissons d’or,
And a rude stable smell of animal strength,
Of leather thongs, hinting of violations,
Swooning lubricities and lassitudes.
What is all this but crude imperial pride,
Feminized, scented and attenuated,
The exploitation of the primitive,
Homages of romantic self-deception,
Mimes of submission glamorized as lust?
Have they no intimation, no recall
Of the once queen who liked to play at milkmaid,
And the fierce butcher-reckoning that followed
Her innocent, unthinking masquerade?
Those who will not be taught by history
Have as their curse the office to repeat it,
And for this little spiritual debauch
(Reported here with warm, exacting care
By Pierre Renoir in 1872—
Apparently unnoticed by the girls,
An invisible voyeur, like you and me)
Exactions shall be made, an expiation,
A forfeiture. Though it take ninety years,
All the retributive iron of Racine
Shall answer from the raging heat of the desert.
In the final months of the Algerian war
They captured a very young French Legionnaire.
They shaved his head, decked him in a blonde wig,
Carmined his lips grotesquely, fitted him out
With long, theatrical false eyelashes
And a bright, loose-fitting skirt of calico,
And cut off all the fingers of both hands.
He had to eat from a fork held by his captors.
Thus costumed, he was taken from town to town,
Encampment to encampment, on a leash,
And forced to beg for his food with a special verse
Sung to a popular show tune of those days:
“Donnez moi à manger de vos mains
Car c’est pour vous que je fais ma petite danse;
Car je suis Madeleine, la putain,
Et je m’en vais le lendemain matin,
Car je suis La Belle France.”
poem by Anthony Evan Hecht
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Pom-pom Play Girl
Rah rah pom pom play girl
Pom pom play girl
(oooooo)
You see her in a short skirt down on the grass
Shes wonderin if the teams gonna run kick or pass
(chi chi bah oooooo)
Since she doesnt really know why shes wavin her hands
Shes a-thinking bout the boy sittin up in the stands
Rah rah pom pom play girl
Pom pom play girl
(chi chi bah)
Just a little social clique with the other song queens
With a freshman or a sophomore she wouldnt be seen
(chi chi bah oooooo)
Shes a doll and she knows it and she thinks that her face
Will get her any body any thing and any place
Rah rah pom pom play girl
Pom pom play girl
Oooooo
Chi chi bah
(oooooo)
Since shes the head cheerleader she dates the quarterback
And her best friends going out with the full back
(chi chi bah oooooo)
She might even run for an office this spring
And that ought to really make her telephone ring
Rah rah pom pom play girl
Pom pom play girl
(chi chi bah pom pom play girl)
Wooooo
(chi chi bah pom pom play girl)
Wooo
(chi chi bah pom pom play girl)
Shake it
(chi chi bah pom pom play girl)
Wave those pom poms all around
(chi chi bah pom pom play girl)
(chi chi bah pom pom play girl)
(chi chi bah pom pom play girl)
Wow
(chi chi bah pom pom play girl)
Wow
(chi chi bah pom pom play girl)
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chestnut Street
Written by John Mellencamp
Well I've lived and breathed and been disbelieved
in these small town streets too long
I've been up with the winners and down with the sinners
And hung on this corner 'til dawn
And my hands they have been tied
To a life I've been denied
I'm just a small town boy bein' used like a toy
And workin' from nine to five
By the end of the day, all the kids would go play
And I'd come staggering home
With a dream in my hand and a master plan
That wouln't leave my mind alone
I compromised all my schemes
And flucturated all my dreams
I'm just a small town boy bein' used like a toy
And nothing is like it really seems
(bridge)
But you must believe that when I walk down the tracks
The young girls fall back and say
There goes that sleek young silhouette
He don't drive no Corvette
But he stings just like a Sting Ray
And that's my only redemption in this house of detention
That keeps me from simply blowin' it all away
'Cause when I walk down the street in the hot summer heat
I say, God don't take this away
I keep hopin' and wishin' that these romantic positions
Gonna help me hide my pain
And all the hurt that I've felt underneath my leather studded belt
Of not finding fortune and fame
But some day I'll blow 'em away with the things that I may sing and
might say
I'm just a small town boy bein' used like a toy
And waitin' for my pay dirt day
I'm just a small town boy bein' used like a toy
And waitin' for my pay day
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I thought I saw an angel......
Her hair was long, it blew in the breeze.
a warm summer sun sat in the trees.
while birds high above sang as sweet as could be
for the girl with long blonde hair was free.
She sauntered through the glades,
she lingered by the water's edge.
and fed the swans some crumbs and then
continued along her way.
Her slender legs were tanned and toned,
she seemed so peaceful all alone,
as a wisp of her hair blew by her eyes
as it glistened like gold beneath the skies.
Many a young man glanced her way
hoping for a smile, but the girl
never stopped to return their gaze,
she just gently walked on by.
And as morning drifted into noon
and the heat of the sun made a haze,
I thought I saw an angel there
as she ambled along that day.
In her heart was a gift from the heavens
letting her spirit fly free
and the charm that she wore about her,
kept her safely from you and from me.
Then as she passed the strangers there
in that magical haunting way
there was a misty shadow cast
and the girl just drifted away.
Nobody knew where she came from,
and nobody knew where she went,
but the trees seem to whisper a melody
and the weeping willow wept.
poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Croissant Bleu
Quand j'ai vu vos yeux pour la premiere fois,
J'etais perdu
Je suis venu a la Closerie Des Lilas tres souvent
On attend pour ces moments divins pour toute la vie
Mon coeur a ete prit par joie et mal
Quand je suis avec vous, je suis perdu
Just a few
Quand je suis amoureux, c'est la peur
Juste un peu
C'etait en octobre, il y a deux ans et c'etait la troisieme fois que je vous ai vu
J'ai pas eu le courage pour ces premiers mots impossibles
Et meme reflechir a ce probleme pour commencer une conversation etait un cliche
Quand je suis avec vous, je suis perdu
Just a few
Quand je suis amoureux, c'est la peur
Juste un peu
J'etais bien place au bar et camoufle derriere un livre tres important
Avec un sourire dans vos yeux vous m'avez demande : < Quel est le titre de
votre livre ? >
Et j'ai repondu apres une pause assez artificielle : < Je ne sais pas ! >
Quand je suis avec vous, je suis perdu
Just a few
Quand je suis amoureux, c'est la peur
Juste un peu
song performed by by Yello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Croissant Bleu
Quand j'ai vu vos yeux pour la premiere fois,
J'etais perdu
Je suis venu a la Closerie Des Lilas tres souvent
On attend pour ces moments divins pour toute la vie
Mon coeur a ete prit par joie et mal
Quand je suis avec vous, je suis perdu
Just a few
Quand je suis amoureux, c'est la peur
Juste un peu
C'etait en octobre, il y a deux ans et c'etait la troisieme fois que je vous ai vu
J'ai pas eu le courage pour ces premiers mots impossibles
Et meme reflechir a ce probleme pour commencer une conversation etait un cliche
Quand je suis avec vous, je suis perdu
Just a few
Quand je suis amoureux, c'est la peur
Juste un peu
J'etais bien place au bar et camoufle derriere un livre tres important
Avec un sourire dans vos yeux vous m'avez demande : < Quel est le titre de
votre livre ? >
Et j'ai repondu apres une pause assez artificielle : < Je ne sais pas ! >
Quand je suis avec vous, je suis perdu
Just a few
Quand je suis amoureux, c'est la peur
Juste un peu
song performed by by Yello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A l'enfant malade pendant le siège
Si vous continuez d'être ainsi toute pâle
Dans notre air étouffant,
Si je vous vois entrer dans mon ombre fatale,
Moi vieillard, vous enfant ;
Si je vois de nos jours se confondre la chaîne,
Moi qui sur mes genoux
Vous contemple, et qui veux la mort pour moi prochaine,
Et lointaine pour vous ;
Si vos mains sont toujours diaphanes et frêles,
Si, dans vôtre berceau,
Tremblante, vous avez l'air d'attendre des ailes
Comme un petit oiseau ;
Si vous ne semblez pas prendre sur notre terre
Racine pour longtemps,
Si vous laissez errer, Jeanne, en notre mystère
Vos doux yeux mécontents ;
Si je ne vous vois pas gaie et rose et très forte,
Si, triste, vous rêvez,
Si vous ne fermez pas derrière vous la porte
Par où vous arrivez ;
Si je ne vous vois pas comme une belle femme
Marcher, vous bien porter,
Rire, et si vous semblez être une petite âme
Qui ne veut pas rester,
Je croirai qu'en ce monde où le suaire au lange
Parfois peut confiner,
Vous venez pour partir, et que vous êtes l'ange
Chargé de m'emmener.
poem by Victor Hugo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A l'enfant malade pendant le siège
Si vous continuez d'être ainsi toute pâle
Dans notre air étouffant,
Si je vous vois entrer dans mon ombre fatale,
Moi vieillard, vous enfant ;
Si je vois de nos jours se confondre la chaîne,
Moi qui sur mes genoux
Vous contemple, et qui veux la mort pour moi prochaine,
Et lointaine pour vous ;
Si vos mains sont toujours diaphanes et frêles,
Si, dans vôtre berceau,
Tremblante, vous avez l'air d'attendre des ailes
Comme un petit oiseau ;
Si vous ne semblez pas prendre sur notre terre
Racine pour longtemps,
Si vous laissez errer, Jeanne, en notre mystère
Vos doux yeux mécontents ;
Si je ne vous vois pas gaie et rose et très forte,
Si, triste, vous rêvez,
Si vous ne fermez pas derrière vous la porte
Par où vous arrivez ;
Si je ne vous vois pas comme une belle femme
Marcher, vous bien porter,
Rire, et si vous semblez être une petite âme
Qui ne veut pas rester,
Je croirai qu'en ce monde où le suaire au lange
Parfois peut confiner,
Vous venez pour partir, et que vous êtes l'ange
Chargé de m'emmener.
poem by Victor Hugo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Le Cowboy Du Quebec
J'ai dix piastres dans mes poches
Et mon char est plain d'gaz
Et tous va bien dans ma vie
Dans mon habit du dimanche
et la belle lune qui est blanche
Ce soir j'vais danser c'est samedi
Je suis le cowboy du Quebec
Je chants des chansons que j'ai faite
Avec une Ange pour ma blonde
Ma guitar et mon mondes
Je suis le cowboy du quebec
Mon vieux char usage
Et comme i'll brille mes souliers
Parraille comme une vieille peau d'chien
Avec une belle coupe de ch'veux
Et un bon razoir neuf
Ce soir j'vait d'i proposer
poem by Paul Henry Dallaire
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Heat Of Summer, Heated Love.
Summer's heat can swelter and melt...
As summer's heat may simmer as weld.
Some summer's heat can burn as long...
This summer's heat can impel a song.
Summer's heat can cook and bake...
Summer's heat of life can take.
Boil and broil a heart so hot...
A summer's heat can break that romanceful knot.
This heat of summer can smoulder and rot.
Anger's heat, heats up my libido's furnace...
This love of summer can invoke to heart, a loving furnish.
Love of summer brings to mind, a resurgance of love...
Summer's sun may bathe one and all with heat fro' above.
Summer's heat can bring to beaches and swimming pools...
Visions of women in bikinied thongs, these things my eyes do love.
poem by Michael Gale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Petite Moi
Je suis fatigue
Je suis petite
MOI
MOI
MOI
Je sais
Le Grande Illusion
Je suis fatigue
Petite moi
Petite moi
Petite moi
Moi?
Pity moi?
Pity me?
No man is an island
Je suis fatigue
Shopping aisles
Church aisles
Flat pack IKEA
Islands
And shopping malls full of lost souls
The dispossessed carriers of anonymous sperm
donors
Petite moi?
(le grande femme......I have struggled with Obesity for years...it clouds my thoughts.....I weep subcutaneous glycerol tears that's a 'figure' of speech in the photograph where we are a smiling absent family.
Pity moi?
Sod it my french is MAL
I'm done with Self PITY
In Santas Grotto the elf's motto was
Life's too short!
So i'll eat my pre packed greens
Erect my flat pack shelves
And carry a thousand digitalised friends
on my phone
No man is an Island but,
Sometimes he just vants ta be ALONE!
by mavis 'not so' lonely BINGLEY (of Wigan)
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Girls & Boys
Girls and boys!
He only knew her 4 a little while,
But he had grown accustomed 2 her style
She had the cutest ass hed ever seen
He did 2, they were meant 2 be
They loved 2 kiss on the steps of versailles
It looked like rain, mama, birds do fly
I love u baby, I love u so much,
Maybe we can stay in touch
Meet me in another world, space and joy,
Vous etes tres belle, mama, girls and boys
He gave her all the love that anyone can,
But she was promised 2 another man
He tried so hard not 2 go insane
Birds do fly, looks like rain
I love u baby, I love u so much,
Maybe we can stay in touch
Meet me in another world, space and joy,
Vous etes tres belle, mama, girls and boys
Life is precious baby, love is so rare
I can take the breakup if u say that u care
He had 2 run away, his pride was 2 strong
It started raining, baby, the birds were gone
(I love u baby, I love u so much)
Maybe (maybe we can stay in touch)
Meet me in another world (meet me in another world, space and joy)
Vous etes tres belle (vous etes tres belle, mama)
Girls and boys (girls and boys)
(I love u baby, I love u so much)
I want u, babe (maybe we can stay in touch)
Maybe we can play today (meet me in another world, space and joy)
Vous etes tres belle (vous etes tres belle, mama)
Girls and boys (girls and boys)
{translation in brackets}
Vous etiez de lautre cote de la salle
{u were on the other end of the room/hall}
Vous dansiez si fort
{u were dancing so hard/strong}
Je sentais votre parfum
{i could smell your perfume}
Votre sourire me dit que nous devrions nous parler
{your smile told me we should talk}
Sexe et repos
{sex and rest}
Baby
Je sais que vous aimerez ca
{i know ull like that}
Vous ny resisterez pas
{u wont resist it/to it}
Baby
Je vous enlacerai avec mes jambes
{Ill wrap my legs around u}
Baby
Pendant des heures je vais vous etonner
{during hours Ill astound u (? )}
Baby
Faire lamour faire lamour
{make love make love}
Nous nous rencontrerons
{well meet}
I love u baby, I love u so much
Maybe we can stay in touch
Meet me in another world, space and joy,
Vous etes tres belle, mama, girls and boys
(I love u baby)
I want u baby (I love u so much)
I want u so much (maybe we can stay in touch)
Maybe, maybe we can stay in touch (meet me in another world, space and joy)
Another world, space (vous etes tres belle)
Lips... (mama, girls and boys)
Face...
Happiness in its uncut form
Is the feeling that I get, youre warm, warm
Happys what I get when we do what we do
Happiness, mama, is being with u
Good lord
Meet me somewhere after dawn
Lord (I love u baby)
(I love u so much)
(maybe we can stay in touch)
(I love u baby)
(I love u so much)
Vous etes belle
So like I saw u from across the room, and (maybe we can stay in touch)
Honey, u danced so hard I smelled your perfume, (maybe we can stay in touch)
And the look on your lips said that a,
We could talk some more, (maybe we can stay in touch)
Some more on the dance floor baby (I love u baby)
Hear the words Im saying, (I love u so much)
Feel the sex Im laying (maybe we can stay in touch)
Naughtys what I wanna be with u tonight
Tonight
(meet me in another world, space and joy)
Vous etes tres belle, mama, girls and boys
Vous etes tres belle, mama, girls and boys
Vous etes tres belle, mama, girls and boys
Vous etes tres belle, mama, girls and boys
Girls and boys
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Like Sexy Girl
Understand
Girl I'm a different brand
I'm not the average man
I can show you things you've never seen
I'm making plans to fly to the South France
I got ticket in my hand
So baby let's just up and leave
I'm that romantic type
Who likes do thing right
Make love by candle-light
'Cause I'm that kind of guy
I like sexy girls
From east to west-coast
She could be ghetto or be a supermodel
I like sexy girls
All kind of women
I got so many
And that's just how I'm living
I like the way she move her hips
Run her tongue across her lips
Sippin' wine instead of cries so
song performed by by Joe from Better Days
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How It was
That is how it was that is how
The painting got painted with
You in it and the artist telling
You how to sit and where and
How to have the hat positioned
On your head and at what angle
And don’t smile too much girl he
Said or look too dour and so you
Sat there in that antique chair with
Your hands held together on your
Knees and your legs crossed ladylike
And your feet on a small stool with
The shawl wrapped about you to
Keep out the cold you felt that day
You posed and looking back years later
You think what a hat to wear and what
A bored expression to have upon your
Face and you note he painted that small
Glass vase of flowers and that round
Mirror on the wall to capture the others
Who stood across the room posing in their
Childhood play only now you recall that
It all was fiction on the artist’s part there
Were no others there across the room
To play their games that cold spring day.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tired Of Being Blonde
(l. raspberry)
She left the credit cards under her goodbye note
all of these are yours, goodbye? and that was all she wrote
Keys to the porsche she dropped on the floor in the den
Left in the ? 0 dodge that he drove her in
She wasnt angry, she wasnt sad
She was just leaving a life that a lot of women wish they had
Tired of being blonde
Tired of running around with the usual guys and gals
Tired of being blonde
Tired of living up to all he expected
Tired of being blonde
Tired of living a life that had only been planned by one
Tired of being blonde
Tired of letting her dreams go neglected
She used to love to know she rounded out his world
She used to love to be all he ever loved in a girl
He liked to buy her clothes that made her sexy and cute
Guess she decided shed been too long away from her roots
She wasnt crazy, she wasnt mad
She just knew in her heart they had drained her of all that she had
Tired of being blonde
Tired of all the platinum frustration
Tired of being blonde
Tired of looking like a cutie on the cover of a magazine
Tired of being blonde
Tired of chasing all the latest sensations
She wasnt angry, no, no, she wasnt sad
She was just leaving a life that a lot of women wish they had
She was tired of being blonde
Tired of living a life that had only been planned by one
Tired of being blonde
Tired of coping with the desperation
Tired of being blonde
Tired of fighting back the feeling inside that told her to run
Tired of being blonde
Tired of hiding her own inclinations
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ballad Of Conley And Billy (The Proof's In The Pickin')
Screamn' whitewall tires and a guitar by his side
Billy's got the fever as he rolls on thru the night
Some were born to listen, some were born to play
He was lightning on the highstrings and thunder on the bass
Chorus
He could play it high, he could play it low
He could make it cry, he could make it moan
He knows when push comes to shove
the proof's in the pickin'
In a smoky little tavern just off of Bourbon Street
Tobacco stained fingers waited on the down beat
Conley was the master, the undisputed king
He'd ruled the town for thirty years
with an army of six strings
Chorus
Sometimes after midnight Billy drives through New Orleans
Straight to the French Quarter there's a man he has to see
The music is a raging like a city that's on fire
Billy felt just like an altar boy at the feet of a higher power
Conley watched as Billy walked across the room
Opened his case and started a tune
The whole club was silent and the lights were turned down low
Billy stepped up on the stage and Conley whispered Go son, go
Chorus
Conley held his hand up, no one made a sound
And he handed Bill his old archtop and stepped into the crowd
Billy played it soft, Billy played it sad
Then he made it talk and in came the band
Soon the room was shaking before Billy's wall of sound
And just a block off Bourbon Street, a new king's been crowned.
Chorus
song performed by by Diamond Rio
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Land Of La La
You were brought up in a small town
Where everyone greeted with a morning smile
I mean the place was so free from crime
You could leave your front door open
And if your eyes were drawn from a lack of food
Or your pockets were short on cash
There was always someone close at hand
That you could always run to
You could have been a doctor
And you could have been a nurse
But these things werent good enough for you
So you decided to pack up all you own
And get a one-way ticket there
To a place where all the successful people went
In order for them to do
Im a big boy now, shes a strong girl
Remember only the strong can survive
Living in the land of la la
Im a big boy now, shes a strong girl
Remember only the strong can survive
Living in the land of la la
L.a., l.a., la la, la la, l.a., hey hey, land of la la
L.a., l.a., la la, la la, l.a., hey hey, the land of la la
You get off the bus, pick up a paper
And look through the classified
So that you might find a place
Suitable for you to move into
Then you turn around to pick up the duffle bag
That you brought along
But much to your surprise you find
Your bag has taken off walking
You dig in your wallet
To get your last dime
But then recall you just spent your last dime on the newspaper
Youre much too prideful
But pride has no defense
When all youve got in your possession
Is the wallet in your hands
Im a big boy now, shes a strong girl
Remember only the strong can survive
Living in the land of la la
Im a big boy now, shes a strong girl
Remember only the strong can survive
Living in the land of la la
(repeat)
L.a., l.a., la la, la la, l.a., hey hey, living in the land of la la
(repeat)
You might get everything you want
But not want everything you get
Being in la la land is like nowhere else
Living in the land, one hell of a land, a land full of lost angels
Movie stars and great big cars and perrier and fun all day
And thats enough to make anybody go wild
In the land of la la
Hes a big boy now, shes a strong girl
But only the strong can survive
Living in the land of la la
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Boulevard De La Madeleine
She said she'd come, she didn't.
I'm the one in love, she isn't.
There's no girl standing there
And there's no one to care
And the trees are so bare
On the Boulevard De La Madeleine.
It's a sad day in Paris
With no girl by my side.
Got to feeling so gladless
Like a part of me died.
Would have been so good to see her,
I never thought she wouldn't be there.
There's no girl standing there
And there's no one who'll care
And the trees are so bare
On the Boulevard De La Madeleine.
There's no girl standing there
And there's no one who'll care
And the trees are so bare
Oh I wish I knew her better,
It's not easy to forget her.
There's no girl standing there
And there's no one who cares
And the trees are so bare
On the Boulevard De La Madeleine
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ballad Of Conley & Billy The Proofs In The Picken
Screamn whitewall tires and a guitar by his side
Billys got the fever as he rolls on thru the night
Some were born to listen, some were born to play
He was lightning on the highstrings and thunder on the bass
Chorus
He could play it high, he could play it low
He could make it cry, he could make it moan
He knows when push comes to shove
The proofs in the pickin
In a smoky little tavern just off of bourbon street
Tobacco stained fingers waited on the down beat
Conley was the master, the undisputed king
Hed ruled the town for thirty years
With an army of six strings
Chorus
Sometimes after midnight billy drives through new orleans
Straight to the french quarter theres a man he has to see
The music is a raging like a city thats on fire
Billy felt just like an altar boy at the feet of a higher power
Conley watched as billy walked across the room
Opened his case and started a tune
The whole club was silent and the lights were turned down low
Billy stepped up on the stage and conley whispered go son, go
Chorus
Conley held his hand up, no one made a sound
And he handed bill his old archtop and stepped into the crowd
Billy played it soft, billy played it sad
Then he made it talk and in came the band
Soon the room was shaking before billys wall of sound
And just a block off bourbon street, a new kings been crowned.
Chorus
song performed by by Diamond Rio
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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After Death
THE FOUR boards of the coffin lid
Heard all the dead man did.
The first curse was in his mouth,
Made of grave’s mould and deadly drouth.
The next curse was in his head,
Made of God’s work discomfited.
The next curse was in his hands,
Made out of two grave-bands.
The next curse was in his feet,
Made out of a grave-sheet.
“I had fair coins red and white,
And my name was as great light;
I had fair clothes green and red,
And strong gold bound round my head.
But no meat comes in my mouth,
Now I fare as the worm doth;
And no gold binds in my hair,
Now I fare as the blind fare.
My live thews were of great strength,
Now am I waxen a span’s length;
My live sides were full of lust,
Now are they dried with dust.”
The first board spake and said:
“Is it best eating flesh or bread?”
The second answered it:
“Is wine or honey the more sweet?”
The third board spake and said:
“Is red gold worth a girl’s gold head?”
The fourth made answer thus:
“All these things are as one with us.”
The dead man asked of them:
“Is the green land stained brown with flame?
Have they hewn my son for beasts to eat,
And my wife’s body for beasts’ meat?
Have they boiled my maid in a brass pan,
And built a gallows to hang my man?”
The boards said to him:
“This is a lewd thing that ye deem.
Your wife has gotten a golden bed,
All the sheets are sewn with red.
Your son has gotten a coat of silk,
The sleeves are soft as curded milk.
Your maid has gotten a kirtle new,
All the skirt has braids of blue.
Your man has gotten both ring and glove,
Wrought well for eyes to love.”
The dead man answered thus:
“What good gift shall God give us?”
The boards answered him anon:
“Flesh to feed hell’s worm upon.”
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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That Girl....
I see her walk down the halls everyday
The girl with the dirty blonde hair with black streaks
Her blonde hair cascading down her back like a golden waterfall
The innocent sparkle of those gorgeous pale green eyes
Her strawberry lips make her lovely words drift in my head
But the only thing I know is she's that girl......
Even though I have no idea who she is she's still beautiful
Oh I know who she is now.....shes me from 4 years ago
But to me she'll forever be that girl.....
poem by Justina Nicole Haner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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