Her Hair
O fleece, that down the neck waves to the nape!
O curls! O perfume nonchalant and rare!
O ecstasy! To fill this alcove shape
With memories that in these tresses sleep,
I would shake them like penions in the air!
Languorous Asia, burning Africa,
And a far world, defunct almost, absent,
Within your aromatic forest stay!
As other souls on music drift away,
Mine, O my love! still floats upon your scent.
I shall go there where, full of sap, both tree
And man swoon in the heat of the southern climates;
Strong tresses be the swell that carries me!
I dream upon your sea of amber
Of dazzling sails, of oarsmen, masts, and flames:
A sun-drenched and reverberating port,
Where I imbibe colour and sound and scent;
Where vessels, gliding through the gold and moiré,
Open their vast arms as they leave the shore
To clasp the pure and shimmering firmament.
I'll plunge my head, enamored of its pleasure,
In this black ocean where the other hides;
My subtle spirit then will know a measure
Of fertile idleness and fragrant leisure,
Lulled by the infinite rhythm of its tides!
Pavilion, of autumn-shadowed tresses spun,
You give me back the azure from afar;
And where the twisted locks are fringed with down
Lurk mingled odors I grow drunk upon
Of oil of coconut, of musk, and tar.
A long time! always! my hand in your hair
Will sow the stars of sapphire, pearl, ruby,
That you be never deaf to my desire,
My oasis and my gourd whence I aspire
To drink deep of the wine of memory.
poem by Charles Baudelaire
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
La Chevelure (Her Hair)
Ô toison, moutonnant jusque sur l'encolure!
Ô boucles! Ô parfum chargé de nonchaloir!
Extase! Pour peupler ce soir l'alcôve obscure
Des souvenirs dormant dans cette chevelure,
Je la veux agiter dans l'air comme un mouchoir!
La langoureuse Asie et la brûlante Afrique,
Tout un monde lointain, absent, presque défunt,
Vit dans tes profondeurs, forêt aromatique!
Comme d'autres esprits voguent sur la musique,
Le mien, ô mon amour! nage sur ton parfum.
J'irai là-bas où l'arbre et l'homme, pleins de sève,
Se pâment longuement sous l'ardeur des climats;
Fortes tresses, soyez la houle qui m'enlève!
Tu contiens, mer d'ébène, un éblouissant rêve
De voiles, de rameurs, de flammes et de mâts:
Un port retentissant où mon âme peut boire
À grands flots le parfum, le son et la couleur
Où les vaisseaux, glissant dans l'or et dans la moire
Ouvrent leurs vastes bras pour embrasser la gloire
D'un ciel pur où frémit l'éternelle chaleur.
Je plongerai ma tête amoureuse d'ivresse
Dans ce noir océan où l'autre est enfermé;
Et mon esprit subtil que le roulis caresse
Saura vous retrouver, ô féconde paresse,
Infinis bercements du loisir embaumé!
Cheveux bleus, pavillon de ténèbres tendues
Vous me rendez l'azur du ciel immense et rond;
Sur les bords duvetés de vos mèches tordues
Je m'enivre ardemment des senteurs confondues
De l'huile de coco, du musc et du goudron.
Longtemps! toujours! ma main dans ta crinière lourde
Sèmera le rubis, la perle et le saphir,
Afin qu'à mon désir tu ne sois jamais sourde!
N'es-tu pas l'oasis où je rêve, et la gourde
Où je hume à longs traits le vin du souvenir?
Head of Hair
O fleecy hair, falling in curls to the shoulders!
O black locks! O perfume laden with nonchalance!
Ecstasy! To people the dark alcove tonight
With memories sleeping in that thick head of hair.
I would like to shake it in the air like a scarf!
Sweltering Africa and languorous Asia,
A whole far-away world, absent, almost defunct,
Dwells in your depths, aromatic forest!
While other spirits glide on the wings of music,
Mine, O my love! floats upon your perfume.
I shall go there, where trees and men, full of vigor,
Are plunged in a deep swoon by the heat of the land;
Heady tresses be the billows that carry me away!
Ebony sea, you hold a dazzling dream
Of rigging, of rowers, of pennons and of masts:
A clamorous harbor where my spirit can drink
In great draughts the perfume, the sound and the color;
Where the vessels gliding through the gold and the moire
Open wide their vast arms to embrace the glory
Of a clear sky shimmering with everlasting heat.
I shall bury my head enamored with rapture
In this black sea where the other is imprisoned;
And my subtle spirit caressed by the rolling
Will find you once again, O fruitful indolence,
Endless lulling of sweet-scented leisure!
Blue-black hair, pavilion hung with shadows,
You give back to me the blue of the vast round sky;
In the downy edges of your curling tresses
I ardently get drunk with the mingled odors
Of oil of coconut, of musk and tar.
A long time! Forever! my hand in your thick mane
Will scatter sapphires, rubies and pearls,
So that you will never be deaf to my desire!
Aren't you the oasis of which I dream, the gourd
From which I drink deeply, the wine of memory?
— Translated by William Aggeler
Her Hair
O fleece that down her nape rolls, plume on plume!
O curls! O scent of nonchalance and ease!
What ecstasy! To populate this room
With memories it harbours in its gloom,
I'd shake it like a banner on the breeze.
Hot Africa and languid Asia play
(An absent world, defunct, and far away)
Within that scented forest, dark and dim.
As other souls on waves of music swim,
Mine on its perfume sails, as on the spray.
I'll journey there, where man and sap-filled tree
Swoon in hot light for hours. Be you my sea,
Strong tresses! Be the breakers and gales
That waft me. Your black river holds, for me,
A dream of masts and rowers, flames and sails.
A port, resounding there, my soul delivers
With long deep draughts of perfumes, scent, and clamour,
Where ships, that glide through gold and purple rivers,
Fling wide their vast arms to embrace the glamour
Of skies wherein the heat forever quivers.
I'll plunge my head in it, half drunk with pleasure —
In this black ocean that engulfs her form.
My soul, caressed with wavelets there may measure
Infinite rocking& in embalmed leisure,
Creative idleness that fears no storm!
Blue tresses, like a shadow-stretching tent,
You shed the blue of heavens round and far.
Along its downy fringes as I went
I reeled half-drunken to confuse the scent
Of oil of coconuts, with musk and tar.
My hand forever in your mane so dense,
Rubies and pearls and sapphires there will sow,
That you to my desire be never slow —
Oasis of my dreams, and gourd from whence
Deep-draughted wines of memory will flow.
— Translated by Roy Campbell
The Fleece
O shadowy fleece that falls and curls upon those bare
Lithe shoulders! O rich perfume of forgetfulness!
O ecstasy! To loose upon the midnight air
The memories asleep in this tumultuous hair,
I long to rake it in my fingers, tress by tress!
Asia the languorous, the burning solitude
Of Africa — a whole world, distant, all but dead —
Survives in thy profundities, O odorous wood!
My soul, as other souls put forth on the deep flood
Of music, sails away upon thy scent instead.
There where the sap of life mounts hot in man and tree,
And lush desire untamed swoons in the torrid zone,
Undulant tresses, wild strong waves, oh, carry me!
Dream, like a dazzling sun, from out this ebony sea
Rises; and sails and banks of rowers propel me on.
All the confusion, all the mingled colors, cries,
Smells of a busy port, upon my senses beat;
Where smoothly on the golden streakèd ripples flies
The barque, its arms outspread to gather in the skies,
Against whose glory trembles the unabating heat.
In this black ocean where the primal ocean roars,
Drunken, in love with drunkenness, I plunge and drown;
Over my dubious spirit the rolling tide outpours
Its peace — oh, fruitful indolence, upon thy shores,
Cradled in languor, let me drift and lay me down!
Blue hair, darkness made palpable, like the big tent
Of desert sky all glittering with many a star
Thou coverest me — oh, I am drugged as with the blent
Effluvia of a sleeping caravan, the scent
Of coco oil impregnated with musk and tar.
Fear not! Upon this savage mane for ever thy lord
Will sow pearls, sapphires, rubies, every stone that gleams,
To keep thee faithful! Art not thou the sycamored
Oasis whither my thoughts journey, and the dark gourd
Whereof I drink in long slow draughts the wine of dreams?
— Translated by George Dillon
Of Her Hair
O fleece, billowing on her neck! O ecstasy!
O curls, O perfume rich with nonchalance, O rare!.
Tonight to fill the alcove's warm obscurity,
To make that hair evoke each dormant memory,
I long to wave it like a kerchief in the air.
Africa smoldering and Asia languorous,
A whole far distant world, absent and almost spent,
Dwells in your forest depths, mystic and odorous!
As others lose themselves in the harmonious,
So, love, my heart floats lost upon your haunting scent.
I shall go where both man and tree, albeit strong,
Swoon deep beneath the rays of sunlight's blazing fires.
Thick tresses, be the waves to bear my dreams along!
Ebony sea, your dazzling dream contains a throng
Of sails, of wafts, of oarsmen, and of masts like spires.
A noisy harbor where my thirsty soul may drain
Hues, sounds and fragrances, in draughts heavy and sweet,
Where vessels gliding down a moiré-and-gold sea lane
Open their vast arms wide to clutch at the domain
Of a pure sky ashimmer with eternal beat.
Deep shall I plunge my head, avid of drunkenness,
In this black sea wherein the other sea lies captured,
And my soul buoyant at its undulant caress
Shall find you once again, O fruitful idleness,
O long lullings of ease, soft, honeyed and enraptured.
O blue-black hair, pennon with sheen and shadow fraught,
You give me back the vast blue skies of dawn and dusk,
As on the downy edges of your tresses, caught
In your soft curls, I grow drunken and hot, distraught
By mingled scents of cocoanut and tar and musk.
Sapphires, rubies, pearls — my hand shall never tire
Of strewing these through your thick mane — how lavishly! —
Lest Life should ever turn you deaf to my desire!
You are the last oasis where I dream, afire,
The gourd whence deep I quaff the wine of memory.
— Translated by Jacques LeClercq
The Head of Hair
O Fleece, foaming to the neck!
O curls! O scent of laziness!
Ecstasy! This evening, to people the dark comers
Of memories that are sleeping in these locks,
I would wave them in the air like a handkerchief!
Languorous Asia and burning Africa,
A whole world, distant, absent, almost extinct,
Lives in the depths of your perfumed jungle;
As other souls sail along on music,
So mine, O my love, swims on your scent.
I shall go over there where trees and men, full of sap,
Faint away slowly in the passionate climate;
O strong locks, be the sea-swell that transports me!
You keep, O sea of ebony, a dazzling dream
Of sails and sailormen, flames and masts:
A resounding haven where in great waves
My soul can drink the scent, the sound and color;
Where ships, sliding in gold and watered silk,
Part their vast arms to embrace the glory
Of the pure sky shuddering with eternal heat
I shall plunge my head, adoring drunkenness,
Into this black ocean where the other is imprisoned;
And my subtle spirit caressed by the sway
Will know how to find you, O pregnant idleness!
In an infinite cradle of scented leisure!
Blue hair, house of taut darkness,
You make the blue of the sky seem huge and round for me;
On the downy edges of your twisted locks
I hungrily get drunk on the muddled fragrances
Of coconut oil, of musk and tar
For a long time! For ever! Amongst your heavy mane
My hand will strew the ruby, pearl and sapphire
To make you never deaf to my desire!
For are you not the oasis where I dream, the gourd
Where in great draughts I gulp the wine of memory?
— Translated by Geoffrey Wagner
O fleece, that down the neck waves to the nape!
O curls! O perfume nonchalant and rare!
O ecstasy! To fill this alcove shape
With memories that in these tresses sleep,
I would shake them like penions in the air!
Languorous Asia, burning Africa,
And a far world, defunct almost, absent,
Within your aromatic forest stay!
As other souls on music drift away,
Mine, O my love! still floats upon your scent.
I shall go there where, full of sap, both tree
And man swoon in the heat of the southern climates;
Strong tresses be the swell that carries me!
I dream upon your sea of amber
Of dazzling sails, of oarsmen, masts, and flames:
A sun-drenched and reverberating port,
Where I imbibe colour and sound and scent;
Where vessels, gliding through the gold and moiré,
Open their vast arms as they leave the shore
To clasp the pure and shimmering firmament.
I'll plunge my head, enamored of its pleasure,
In this black ocean where the other hides;
My subtle spirit then will know a measure
Of fertile idleness and fragrant leisure,
Lulled by the infinite rhythm of its tides!
Pavilion, of autumn-shadowed tresses spun,
You give me back the azure from afar;
And where the twisted locks are fringed with down
Lurk mingled odors I grow drunk upon
Of oil of coconut, of musk, and tar.
A long time! always! my hand in your hair
Will sow the stars of sapphire, pearl, ruby,
That you be never deaf to my desire,
My oasis and my gourd whence I aspire
To drink deep of the wine of memory.
Translated by Anonymous
poem by Charles Baudelaire
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lost Scent
Tonight my bound hair
Has fallen astray in this prison
The scent of chenghi in my tresses
Has vanished among the stink of the wolves
The lost scent of my tresses
Torments me
The indelible marks of paws
On my bosom haunt me
In my dream-like-life
Oh my tresses, my comrades
For many a seasons
Somebody cut it this day
It is beyond my endurance
The remnants of stench
In my tresses; in my body
Ema, please cut my hair!
Ema, please peel my skin!
poem by Shreema Ningombam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Tz'u No. 7
To the tune of "Rinsing Silk Stream"
Let not the deep cup be filled
with rich, amber-colored wine;
My mind was eased of sorrow
even before I was drunk.
Distant bells have already echoed
in the evening breeze.
My dream is broken
as the scent of incense vanishes.
Too small, the hairpin of the gold
of warding-off-cold
loosens its hold of my tresses.
I awake to find myself blankly facing
the red flickering glow
of the candle.
poem by Li Ching Chao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Autumn Longing
Let me die away with autumn
Let me be like fire
Ever ignite
Let me fall
I don't want the winter
To come after me
Let the autumn arms
Bright and gold
Let it come for me
In a dream
Like a swallow
Descending for Africa
I want to come with autumn
Let me come away with thee
I want to be wine red
I want tobe amber gold
I want to sleep
With the leaves
I want to burst with juices
Like the berries
I need to sleep
I need to burn
Like the sunset
I need the rest
Like the creatures
Who hibernate
To escape harsh winter
I want tobe with you
Autumn
Let me be asleep with thee
I want to hear you secrets
That hides forever deep
Oh autumn
Let one be in love with me
As I ‘am in love with you
Oh autumn
Let one die away with thee
poem by Guinevere Eveleigh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sudden Light
I have been here before,
But when or how I cannot tell:
I know the grass beyond the door,
The sweet, keen smell,
The sighing sound, the lights around the shore.
You have been mine before,--
How long ago I may not know:
But just when at the swallow's soar
Your neck turned so,
Some veil did fall--I knew it all of yore.
Then, now,--perchance again!...
O round mine eyes your tresses shake!
Shall we not lie as we have lain
Thus for Love's sake,
And sleep, and wake, yet never break the chain?
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti from Poems: An Offering to Lancashire (1854)
Submitted by anonym
Vote! | Copy!
Parfum Exotique (Exotic Perfume)
Quand, les deux yeux fermés, en un soir chaud d'automne,
Je respire l'odeur de ton sein chaleureux,
Je vois se dérouler des rivages heureux
Qu'éblouissent les feux d'un soleil monotone;
Une île paresseuse où la nature donne
Des arbres singuliers et des fruits savoureux;
Des hommes dont le corps est mince et vigoureux,
Et des femmes dont l'oeil par sa franchise étonne.
Guidé par ton odeur vers de charmants climats,
Je vois un port rempli de voiles et de mâts
Encor tout fatigués par la vague marine,
Pendant que le parfum des verts tamariniers,
Qui circule dans l'air et m'enfle la narine,
Se mêle dans mon âme au chant des mariniers.
Exotic Perfume
When, with both my eyes closed, on a hot autumn night,
I inhale the fragrance of your warm breast
I see happy shores spread out before me,
On which shines a dazzling and monotonous sun;
A lazy isle to which nature has given
Singular trees, savory fruits,
Men with bodies vigorous and slender,
And women in whose eyes shines a startling candor.
Guided by your fragrance to these charming countries,
I see a port filled with sails and rigging
Still utterly wearied by the waves of the sea,
While the perfume of the green tamarinds,
That permeates the air, and elates my nostrils,
Is mingled in my soul with the sailors' chanteys.
— Translated by William Aggeler
Exotic Perfume
When I, with eyes shut, on warm autumn eves,
The fragrance of your warmer breast respire,
I see a country bathed in solar fire
Whose happy shores its lustre never leaves;
An isle of indolence, where nature raises
Singular trees and fruits both sweet and tender,
Where men have bodies vigorous and slender
And women's eyes a candour that amazes.
Led by your scent to fairer climes at last,
I see a port of sails, where every mast
Seems weary of the labours of its cruise;
While scents of tamarind, blown here and there,
Swelling my nostrils as they rinse the air,
Are mingled with the chanties of the crews.
— Translated by Roy Campbell
Exotic Perfume
On autumn nights, eyes closed, when, sensuous,
I breathe the scent of your warm breasts, my sight
Is peopled by far shores, happy and bright,
Under a sun, warm and monotonous.
A lazy isle which nature, generous,
Stocks with weird trees and fruits of strange delight,
Men with lithe bodies, powerful but slight,
Women whose candid eyes flash luminous.
Urged by your scent to such charmed lands at last,
I see a port with many a sail and mast
Still weary from the ocean's frenzied roll,
While the green tamarinds exhale their savor
To please my nostrils with a dulcet flavor,
Mingled with sailor chanteys in my soul.
— Translation by Jacques LeClercq
Parfum exotique
when with closed eyes I drink the halcyon
warm autumn evening, on thy burning breast,
I see unfurl the atolls of the blest,
blazing in flame from an unchanging sun;
an isle of rest, where Nature's benison
breeds trees unique and fruits of savoury zest;
tall men who stride in vigour manifest;
women whose eyes of candour startle one.
I drift, thy fragrance bearing me afar,
into a port where every sail and spar
sway, wearied by the sea's beleaguering,
— where tamarinds bloom and draughts of perfume winging
through widening nostrils, blend in me to bring
the wind-blown chanteys mariners are singing.
— TRanslated by Lewis Piaget Shanks
The Exotic Perfume
When, with both eyes shut, on a close autumn evening,
I breathe the perfume of your heated breast,
I see happy shores unfold themselves
Dazzling in the flames of a monotonous sun;
A lay island where Nature bestows
Peculiar trees and savory fruit;
Men with bodies slim and virile,
Women with eyes of astonishing candor.
Led by your odor to climates of charm,
I see a harbor full of sails and masts
Still tired by the waves of the sea,
Whilst the perfume of green tamarind-trees
Circles the air and fills my nostrils,
Meets in my soul with the song of the seamen.
— Translated by Geoffrey Wagner
poem by Charles Baudelaire
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Feminine Beauty
By the magical eyes of my beautiful doll
By her graceful figure, so slim, so tall
By the fountain of life that is in her lips
By her narrow waist and her swinging hips
By her lovely face that looks like a rose
By her glowing cheeks and her precious nose
By her silken tresses and her golden curls
By her voluptuous mouth which is full of pearls
By her playful eyes and the ways she winks
By the wine red and the way she drinks
By the musk and incense for her curly hair
By the scent that surrounds her everywhere
By the fragrant dust that blows in her street
By the sacred dirt that covers her feet
By her charming manners, her elegance, and grace
By her stately carriage, her poise, and her pace
For her pity and kindness does Hafiz crave
He remains her humble and a lowly slave.
poem by Lawrence Hiung
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
For a Good Cause and Care
Tides are high
Tides are deep
With a sigh
I cannot sleep,
Thinking of my long hair
I wish I could keep.
To cut it I would not dare
For I know it is a part of me.
However I know that hair
Grows back within each week
And I know I have the heart to share.
Even though for a moment I will weep,
It is for a good cause and care,
For my hair will grow back everytime I sleep
Just as much as tides are high
Tides are deep
Even if they go away in a chime,
They come back and up the beach they creep
Every day and for all of time.
So I know I can always keep
My hair for it will grow as tides do each time
As the seas swells and heaves as it sleeps.
poem by Music Galore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Jessie
When I remark her golden hair
Swoon on her glorious shoulders,
I marvel not that sight so rare
Doth ravish all beholders;
For summon hence all pretty girls
Renowned for beauteous tresses,
And you shall find among their curls
There's none so fair as Jessie's.
And Jessie's eyes are, oh, so blue
And full of sweet revealings--
They seem to look you through and through
And read your inmost feelings;
Nor black emits such ardent fires,
Nor brown such truth expresses--
Admit it, all ye gallant squires--
There are no eyes like Jessie's.
Her voice (like liquid beams that roll
From moonland to the river)
Steals subtly to the raptured soul,
Therein to lie and quiver;
Or falls upon the grateful ear
With chaste and warm caresses--
Ah, all concede the truth (who hear):
There's no such voice as Jessie's.
Of other charms she hath such store
All rivalry excelling,
Though I used adjectives galore,
They'd fail me in the telling;
But now discretion stays my hand--
Adieu, eyes, voice, and tresses.
Of all the husbands in the land
There's none so fierce as Jessie's.
poem by Eugene Field
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Angelic Princess out to Sea
an angelic princess
with long flowing
graceful tresses
paddles out to sea
in a moonlit night
the sea is calm
so that you can hear
each gentle splash
the paddle etches onto the ear
as her boat divides the sea
to go to where she wishes to be
her heart is as divided
between heaven and hell
her tresses like the waves
gently flick to the wind
and tame an emotion
that would soon swell
like a tempest
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hair-Soft and Gorgeous
The soft, shiny, honey-blonde coloured
mass of loveliness cascades
and tumbles down your graceful neck
and curvy shoulders
and flies beautifully in the
late autumn wind.
Each glorious silky curl and wave
enveloping your cheeks and eyelashes,
the memory of you brushing it- gently
touching easing the tresses down, down
your back is pleasing to you.
Three years from now, a transformation-
a perfume of lavendar and roses
caresses your longer waist length locks:
I wish I had a part in this aroma-by dipping her hair in oils,
by putting a garland of meadow flowers upon your crowning glory.
I wrote this poem for a woman I met in a shop in Macclesfield, England, (where I live,) in the autumn of 2009.She had lovely below shoulder length brown hair with large curls.If there are any women out there who would like me to write a poem about their hair and have it washed and brushed for free please provide a detailed description of your hair to me at [email protected]
(Macclesfield November 2nd 2009)
poem by Richard Muirhead
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Garden Wall
Can you meet me in the evening
behind the garden wall
where the roses grow with scent so sweet
and the misty air does fall?
I will meet you there with open arms
and there we'll hear the song
that plays for lovers everywhere
with the musk of the rose so strong.
I shall wait quite still for your approach
and let my heart be stirred.
I'll anticipate your arrival
as the night creatures all are heard.
As the frogs do croak and the owl does hoot
they do not understand
how I long to see you once again
and take you by the hand.
Ah! to be in love is ecstasy
and to be without is pain.
So meet me behind the garden wall
and allow me to remain
alert for the sound of your footsteps
so softly in the grass.
One small hour is all I ask of thee,
so quickly shall it pass.
But that one small hour will content me
for I'll know that you still care.
And when that hour has passed on by
with the scent of the roses still there
I shall pick one for you, ripe from the vine
and place it in your hair.
And I'll remember how you looked at me
and the hour we did share.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In The Shallows
AMONG the shallows where the sand
Is golden and the waves are small,
I love to lie, and to my hand
How many little treasures fall!
What shells and seaweed grace the shore,
What happy birds on happy wings,
And for companions, what a store
Of humble, happy, living things!
Yet the sea's depths are also mine,
And in the old days I used to dive
Into the caves, where corals shine
And where the shimmering mer-folk live.
I am the master of the sea
In deeps where fairy flowers uncurl;
That treasure-house belongs to me,
Those amber halls, those stairs of pearl.
But now thereto I go no more,
Because of all the argosies,
Deep sunk upon the ocean floor,
Where all the world's lost treasure lies.
Where loveless laughter curls the lips
Of wild sea creatures at their sport
About the bones of noble ships,
My ships, that never came to port.
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
On The Plains
ALONE with the silence, the sun and sky,
Full length on the tussocky plain I lie:
An ocean of yellow from east to west
Still rolling and sweeping, far crest on crest;
And billow on billow the tussocks bend
Until in one shimmering haze they blend;
Where, under the distance, the heat and noon,
The plains in an ecstasy thrilling, swoon
And melt in the yellow-tinged, sombre air,
Like perfume from roses on evenings rare.
Where the sky and the misty horizon meet
The flax-bushes float, like a far-off fleet;
As slowly they swim, with no spray nor splash,
Their green sails swell, and their brown oars flash;
So, lost in two oceans—of plain and sky—
Full length on the tussocks alone I lie.
poem by Arthur Henry Adams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Babies, Moms, Memories and Aromas
Babies, Moms, memories and Aromas
Young baby, helpless and wee
Head reposes on mom’s shoulder
Nestled in soft arms comfortably
Smells the hair of the one who holds her
Mom’s fresh shampoo scent, becomes imprinted deep
A comforting, soothing essence… in
The child’s vast, and unfilled memory keep
Takes up permanent residence
Small, chubby fingers twirling ringlets of hair
While the singular scent of her mother…is
Being tucked away, with loving care
Memories and scents stacked atop one another
Sweet baby powder is the smell on the palm
Of the hand That gently pats the child’s back
The odor re-enforcing a reassuring calm… and
Promptly being added to the child’s memory sack
Mom’s own smell, sweat mixed with soap, sweet and pungent
By the child is inhaled and sequestered forever within
Memory’s medicine, to be used as an unguent
And in her memory, applied by her mother’s hands once again
Baby oil and baby powder, a heady mixture...
An olfactory delight to store in a child’s mind
Another memory to sequester and treasure
Mixed with mothers scent, unique and sublime
Many years in the future, this child now all grown
Will be reminded by scents of the present, and will measure
Her mom’s sweet scent, mixed with her own
And locked in her mind’s vault, to treasure….
Forever and ever
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Le Chat (The Cat)
Viens, mon beau chat, sur mon coeur amoureux;
Retiens les griffes de ta patte,
Et laisse-moi plonger dans tes beaux yeux,
Mêlés de métal et d'agate.
Lorsque mes doigts caressent à loisir
Ta tête et ton dos élastique,
Et que ma main s'enivre du plaisir
De palper ton corps électrique,
Je vois ma femme en esprit. Son regard,
Comme le tien, aimable bête
Profond et froid, coupe et fend comme un dard,
Et, des pieds jusques à la tête,
Un air subtil, un dangereux parfum
Nagent autour de son corps brun.
The Cat
Come, superb cat, to my amorous heart;
Hold back the talons of your paws,
Let me gaze into your beautiful eyes
Of metal and agate.
When my fingers leisurely caress you,
Your head and your elastic back,
And when my hand tingles with the pleasure
Of feeling your electric body,
In spirit I see my woman. Her gaze
Like your own, amiable beast,
Profound and cold, cuts and cleaves like a dart,
And, from her head down to her feet,
A subtle air, a dangerous perfume
Floats about her dusky body.
— Translated by William Aggeler
The Cat
Come, my fine cat, against my loving heart;
Sheathe your sharp claws, and settle.
And let my eyes into your pupils dart
Where agate sparks with metal.
Now while my fingertips caress at leisure
Your head and wiry curves,
And that my hand's elated with the pleasure
Of your electric nerves,
I think about my woman — how her glances
Like yours, dear beast, deep-down
And cold, can cut and wound one as with lances;
Then, too, she has that vagrant
And subtle air of danger that makes fragrant
Her body, lithe and brown.
— Translated by Roy Campbell
The Cat
My beautiful cat, come onto my heart full of love;
Hold back the claws of your paw,
And let me plunge into your adorable eyes
Mixed with metal and agate.
When my fingers lazily fondle
Your head and your elastic back,
And my hand gets drunk with the pleasure
Of feeling your electric body,
I see in spirit my personal lady. Her glance,
Like yours, dear creature,
Deep and cold, slits and splits like a dart,
And from her feet to her head,
A subtle atmosphere, a dangerous perfume,
Swim around her brown body.
— Translated by Geoffrey Wagner
poem by Charles Baudelaire
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Waves of Time
Arise again, beloved, out of the waves of time
With your long golden tresses and marble arms sublime;
Your face that now transparent and pale as wax is pale
Is shaded by the shadow of sorrow's clinging veil!
Your timid smile caressing does rest within my eyes,
O star amidst fair women, o queen of starry skies;
Your head upon your shoulder its wealth of beauty lays
And in your eyes of wonder I'm lost and weeping gaze.
Out of the void's dark vapours may you once more uprear,
That to my heart I clasp you, beloved angel dear,
That I in nameless weeping above your face may bend
And on your lips forever my burning kisses spend.
While your cold hand unheeding I clasp against my breast,
Closer, yet still closer, against my bosom pressed.
Alas, not thus the darkness gives back its own again;
Now through its icy vapours I see your shadow wane.
With hanging arms and helpless once more I am alone
Before a dream unending of hours that have gone;
In vain with arms outstretching my soul your shadow craves,
Dear one, I cannot reach you amidst time's rolling waves.
poem by Mihai Eminescu
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian
The Female God
We curl into your eyes-
They drink our files and have never drained :
In the fierce forest of your hair
Our desires beat blindly for their treasure.
In your eyes' subtle pit,
Far down, glimmer our souls ;
And your hair like massive forest trees
Shadows our pulses, overtired and dumb.
Like a candle lost in an electric glare
Our spirits tread your eyes' infinities :
In the wrecking waves of your tumultuous locks
Do you not hear the moaning of our pulses ?
Queen ! Goddess! Animal!
In sleep do your dreams battle with our souls ?
When your hair is spread like a lover on the pillow
Do not our jealous pulses wake between ?
You have dethroned the ancient God,
You have usurped his Sabbath, his common days;
Yea, every moment is delivered to you,
Our Temple, our Eternal, our one God !
Our souls have passed into your eyes,
Our days into your hair;
And you, our rose-deaf prison, are very pleased with the world,
Your world.
poem by Isaac Rosenberg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Year After Year: A Love Song.
YEAR after year the cowslips fill the meadow,
Year after year the skylarks thrill the air,
Year after year, in sunshine or in shadow,
Rolls the world round, love, and finds us as we were.
Year after year, as sure as birds' returning,
Or field-flowers' blossoming above the wintry mould,
Year after year, in work, or mirth, or mourning,
Love we with love's own youth, that never can grow old.
Sweetheart and ladye-love, queen of boyish passion,
Strong hope of manhood, content of age began;
Loved in a hundred ways, each in a different fashion,
Yet loved supremely, solely, as we never love but one.
Dearest and bonniest! though blanched those curling tresses,
Though loose clings the wedding-ring to that thin hand of thine,--
Brightest of all eyes the eye that love expresses!
Sweetest of all lips the lips long since kissed mine!
So let the world go round with all its sighs and sinning,
Its mad shout o'er fancied bliss, its howl o'er pleasures past:
That which it calls love's end to us was love's beginning:--
I clasp my arms about thy neck and love thee to the last.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Love You
I love your lips when they're wet with wine
And red with a wild desire;
I love your eyes when the lovelight lies
Lit with a passionate fire.
I love your arms when the warm white flesh
Touches mine in a fond embrace;
I love your hair when the strands enmesh
Your kisses against my face.
Not for me the cold calm kiss
Of a virgin's bloodless love;
Not for me the saint's white bliss,
Nor the heart of a spotless dove.
But give me the love that so freely gives
And laughs at the whole world's blame,
With your body so young and warm in my arms,
It sets my poor heart aflame.
So kiss me sweet with your warm wet mouth,
Still fragrant with ruby wine,
And say with a fervor born of the South
That your body and soul are mine.
Clasp me close in your warm young arms,
While the pale stars shine above,
And we'll live our whole young lives away
In the joys of a living love.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!