Related quotes: Your feet are as slender...

To A Woman Of Malabar

Your feet are as slender as hands, your hips, to me,
wide enough for the sweetest white girl’s envy:
to the wise artist your body is sweet and dear,
and your great velvet eyes black without peer.
In the hot blue lands where God gave you your nature
your task is to light a pipe for your master,
to fill up the vessels with cool fragrance
and chase the mosquitoes away when they dance,
and when dawn sings in the plane-trees, afar,
fetch bananas and pineapples from the bazaar.
All day your bare feet go where they wish
as you hum old lost melodies under your breath,
and when evening’s red cloak descends overhead
you lie down sweetly on a straw bed,
where humming birds fill your floating dreams,
as graceful and flowery as you it seems.
Happy child, why do you long to see France
our suffering, and over-crowded land,
and trusting your life to the sailors, your friends,
say a fond goodbye to your dear tamarinds?
Scantily dressed, in muslins, frail,
shivering under the snow and hail,
how you’d pine for your leisure, sweet and free,
body pinned in a corset’s brutality,
if you’d to glean supper amongst our vile harms,
selling the scent of exotic charms,
sad pensive eyes searching our fog-bound sleaze,
for the lost ghosts of your coconut-trees!

poem by Charles Baudelaire
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Related quotes

Lovely One

Lovely one,
Just as on the cool stone
Of the spring, the water
Opens a wide flash of foam,
So is the smile of your face,
Lovely one.

Lovely one,
With delicate hands and slender feet
Like a silver pony,
Walking, flower of the world,
Thus I see you,
Lovely one.

Lovely one,
With a nest of copper entangled
On your head, a nest
The coloUr of dark honey
Where my heart burns and rests,
Lovely one.

Lovely one,
Your eyes are too big for your face,
Your eyes are too big for the earth.

There are countries, there are rivers,
In your eyes,
My country is your eyes,
I walk through them,
They light the world
Through which I walk,
Lovely one.

Lovely one,
Your breasts are like two loaves made
Of grainy earth and golden moon,
Lovely one.

Lovely one,
Your waist,
My arm shaped it like a river when
It flowed a thousand years through your sweet body,
Lovely one.

Lovely one,
There is nothing like your hips,
Perhaps earth has
In some hidden place
The curve and the fragrance of your body,
Perhaps in some place,
Lovely one.

Lovely one, my lovely one,
Your voice, your skin, your nails,
Lovely one, my lovely one,
Your being, your light, your shadow,
Lovely one,
All that is mine, lovely one,
All that is mine, my dear,
When you walk or rest,
When you sing or sleep,
When you suffer or dream,
Always,
When you are near or far,
Always,
You are mine, my lovely one,
Always.

poem by Pablo Neruda
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

One Reason

My heart yearns.
Your beauty burns
In velvet moonlight bliss.
My soul awakes
My body aches
To taste your forever kiss.
No starlight could replace
The sunshine of your face,
Like bathing our hopes
In blue lagoon.
Fantasies merge.
Tender hearts may swoon.
When joy of love
From twinkling eyes
Promises no more goodbyes.
As lightning strikes
We realise
One reason to live.
Watch blue plume rise.
When scented caress
Lends you to my arms.
And words only you possess
Exceed all wordly charms.
Your rhymes so sweet
Whispered from above,
Wind chimes repeat.
As flowers of love
Lay at your feet.
I held my black and white dreams
In a sieve
Until you painted them
Gave a reason to live.
Your kisses of red wine
Will soothe my soul.
And course though my veins
As storm clouds roll.
Yet, we dance on a jasmine breeze.
Take to the highest seas.
On an ocarina wind.
In eternity we are pinned
In crescendo of embrace.
One reason
We must chase
Our rainbow at sunrise.
Beyond sunset's humming skies.
Because love never walks
It flies.
And never talks
But just sighs.

poem by Kevin East
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Something About The Girl Called Spring (Sonnet Corona)

Just after winter you are back enchanting
with unfolding blossoms on hot sunny days
playing your roles in all your beautiful ways
as if every day is a grand setting

with colours and smells alluring, inviting
man, animals and insects to stray
in orchards, gardens and in the veldt to play
wherever you may be wandering

while insects and birds sing sweet melodies,
even the breeze is charming
in the season that you bequeath
that becomes a time of sweet memories
while everywhere life is swarming;
flowers are as fragrant as your breath.

Flowers are as fragrant as your breath
and outside the sun does shine
where flowers and insects ephemeral awaits death
living just as small specs of the will divine.

There are tales about flowers and butterflies that you tell,
about all the minute things, before the first shadows fall
but you have to mention the Creator as well
who fathered everything, created all.

His gardens fill the earth in sheer exuberance
while in summer and spring, in daylight hours
bees, butterflies and birds dance
around the fragrant flowers

in their winged flight,
from early twilight.

III

From early twilight
you are everywhere sent
until the dark night
for the whole world’s enjoyment

and flowering fair
you dance along
without a moment to spare
singing a cheerful song

as a seasonal creature being sweet,
dressed very serene
dancing with fairly like feet
as the essence of the productive machine

and nature everywhere tells,
spring is awaking in smells.

Spring is awaking in smells
with birds singing
rising from the valleys and dells,
sounding in joy about the beauty she is bringing

even every bird, deer and bee,
as the blessings have come
as a time of tranquillity to some
until all of nature is happy and free

when love is finally finding its home
and spring is especially dear to me,
in the air above there’s a vibrant hue
as if it’s a living kind of blue

specked with flocks of birds in their flight;
spring is dressed in white.

Spring is dressed in white,
dressed for her wedding day,
when she blesses wherever her flowers stray
in celebration in every day and night

while she dances from early morning light
inviting all her guests, the birds and bees to play,
while she lingers everything is gay
in colours jubilant and bright

with butterflies filling the air,
humming yellow and black bees,
even joined by flying birds that in joy sing
roaming among the almond, peach and pear,
flying to and fro from the blue gum trees
in the unfolding of spring.

In the unfolding of spring
it came to my mind
the words, the deeds and every thing,
of the troublesome kind

that man does to his fellow human beings
as if he is inclined
to act only to his own interest without any feelings,
as if so designed

but around me the new awakenings
are totally unrestrained
in days and evenings
with beauty that is gained

while everywhere flowers are rising,
I long for an eternal spring’s blessing.

VII

I long for an eternal spring’s blessing
as if the Godly plan
in a place where everything is living,
is still in effect for man,

where the songs of birds through the hubbub ring
as if the singing birds are right here
bringing pleasure to everything
making existing so sweet and sincere,

as if from the very beginning
the Lord God was near,
even before human beings were sinning
when these joyous songs fall on the ear:
.
with all of the love that God is granting,
just after winter you are back enchanting.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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!

Love's Lost Letter

As a traversed the earth, looking for gold
I realized my journey was tedious as time is old
Until I found something worth more than treasure
A beautiful soul lost in an enchanting letter.
Like a fool that I am I picked it up,
but to my better, to my pleasure I found something more valuable than ancient old treasure.

The Letter

Lost in heaven, I feel no love, without my dear- there is no bliss for me here. I see languid angels lament with love; the sweetest symphony of fingers playing on strings, strings of their lovers souls. But where art thou? My dear, without thou here, there is no love for me. Upon luxurious clouds, I see serene feet dance on loves free air, and scarlet red roses strewn in their lover's hair, and naked souls who with tender flesh kiss their lover's heart bare! But where art thou… if not here than nowhere! I see Mycenaean hyacinth flowers embroidered on jade green leaves crowned upon the brows of lover's hearts; laurels of love, a sight still not as beautiful as thee. Thee—Where art thou? I see children laughing on Persian green hills and infants sleeping on the delicate petals of giant yellow daffodils. I see pink hues flourish in the azure pastures of heaven, I see vivid dreams of those whom died, I have seen nothing without your grace, I am nothing here without you. This is not heaven, for thou art heaven to me! I see snowflakes toss to and fro in the whistling winds of musical beauty; snowflakes that resemble the eyes of Siberian Huskies—strange light blue snow with dark pupils, like marbles, put much more delicate. I see the maids of heaven with honey dipped blonde hair, drink the snow and twirl in fiery light. I see lovers hidden in a veiled mist indulge in love, where love does truly exist, but not I? I do not exist without you my dear. There is no love in the land of love for me here. Though I cannot weep, for this place is too beautiful for tears to seep. Still I wander in the land of love looking for you my dear. Tired, I close my eyes and see you there, with my soul on thy body and with my love thou wear the paradise of heaven, the land of love, the dreams of that I saw I swear.

Who needs gold?
When love is fortold.
Now I know what love is...
I close my eyes
Perch my lips
And my sweet love gives me a kiss…..

'Never leave me for a minute again! ' said his sweet love.

poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

At The Seaside, A Solitude

the seaside is peaceful
the sky is blue with white cumulus clouds hanging there
slowly they move and change shapes
like the air is painting and mixing the colors in space
gentle hues graceful strokes
the white sands extend to some miles
the coconut trees are like handshakes
their shadows restive and steady
i lay my body weary of the years
i look at all these lines and circles and spheres
i like to give up thinking and just be a spectator
i let them talk and i merely listen
the seaside, the seagull, the clouds, the coconut trees, the white sands,
the circles and spheres and lines extending
to nowhere.

i cover my eyes with a straw hat. I cease.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Among the Trees

I wonder lost among the trees
Looking for the one my heart calls for

I wonder lost among the trees
I see your light amongst the dark

I wonder lost among the trees
Your light is brighter then the rest

I wonder lost among the trees
Your light is out of my reach

I wonder lost among the trees
Your light comes closer

I wonder lost among the trees
Your light is bright like an angel from the sky

I wonder lost among the trees
Your light fades away and leaves me alone

I wonder lost among the trees
Without a hand to guide the way

I wonder lost among the trees
Looking for my guiding light

I wonder lost among the trees
I wonder lost, alone

I wonder afraid of the world
Around me I look for the one

I wonder lost among the trees
I wonder lost and alone forever...................................

poem by kelly Martini
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The First Bluebirds

THE poor earth was so winter-marred,
Harried by storm so long,
It seemed no spring could mend her,
No tardy sunshine render
Atonement for such wrong.
Snow after snow, and gale and hail,
Gaunt trees encased in icy mail,
The glittering drifts so hard
They took no trace
Of scared, wild feet,
No print of fox and hare
Driven by dearth
To forage for their meat
Even in dooryard bare
And frosty lawn
Under the peril of the human race;
And then one primrose dawn,
Sweet, sweet, O sweet,
And tender, tender,
The bluebirds woke the happy earth
With song.

poem by Katharine Lee Bates
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Since Thou Hast Given Me This Good Hope, O God

SINCE thou hast given me this good hope, O God,
That while my footsteps tread the flowery sod
And the great woods embower me, and white dawn
And purple even sweetly lead me on
From day to day, and night to night, O God,
My life shall no wise miss the light of love;
But ever climbing, climb above
Man's one poor star, man's supine lands,
Into the azure steadfastness of death,
My life shall no wise lack the light of love,
My hands not lack the loving touch of hands;
But day by day, while yet I draw my breath,
And day by day, unto my last of years,
I shall be one that has a perfect friend.
Her heart shall taste my laughter and my tears,
And her kind eyes shall lead me to the end.

poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A Maori Girl's Song

"Alas, and well-a-day! they are talking of me still:
By the tingling of my nostril, I fear they are talking ill;
Poor hapless I -- poor little I -- so many mouths to fill --
And all for this strange feeling -- O, this sad, sweet pain!

"O! senseless heart -- O simple! to yearn so, and to pine
For one so far above me, confest o'er all to shine,
For one a hundred dote upon, who never can be mine!
O, 'tis a foolish feeling -- all this fond, sweet pain!

"When I was quite a child -- not so many moons ago --
A happy little maiden -- O, then it was not so;
Like a sunny-dancing wavelet then I sparkled to and fro;
And I never had this feeling -- O, this sad, sweet pain!

"I think it must be owing to the idle life I lead
In the dreamy house for ever that this new bosom-weed
Has sprouted up and spread its shoots till it troubles me indeed
With a restless, weary feeling -- such a sad, sweet pain!

"So in this pleasant islet, O, no longer will I stay --
And the shadowy summer dwelling I will leave this very day;
On Arapa I'll launch my skiff, and soon be borne away
From all that feeds this feeling -- O, this fond, sweet pain!

"I'll go and see dear Rima -- she'll welcome me, I know,
And a flaxen cloak -- her gayest -- o'er my weary shoulders throw,
With purfle red and points so free -- O, quite a lovely show --
To charm away this feeling -- O, this sad, sweet pain!

"Two feathers I will borrow, and so gracefully I'll wear
Two feathers soft and snowy, for my long, black, lustrous hair.
Of the albatross's down they'll be -- O, how charming they'll look there --
All to chase away this feeling -- O, this fond, sweet pain!

"Then the lads will flock around me with flattering talk all day --
And, with anxious little pinches, sly hints of love convey;
And I shall blush with happy pride to hear them, I daresay,
And quite forget this feeling -- O, this sad, sweet pain!"

poem by Alfred Domett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Slowly Move Her Feet

Fearfully pale
Like the milk-white moon,
His body trembles
Like a chandelier
In an earthquake
At meeting the lady
Of his irrepressible dreams
On an ordinary street
Near the Monday morning bakery.

I’ve been that man,
Lost where I stand
Contemplating blue eyes at dawn
Or a yellow skirt in the afternoon.

Sweet intoxication of desire,
Lovely feminine defeat,
Every man is deliriously happy
To see a woman smile
Or slowly move her feet.

poem by Uriah Hamilton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Mother India

O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You are the paradise on earth
Where things are not in any dearth.

O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.

In Your Lap live men and women
Of every caste and religion.
You rain your love and affection
On them all without distinction.

O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.

You have got a peculiar trait
Due to which you are very great.
You adopt the foreigners too,
Who like to live and die for you.

O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.

You are beautiful, all perfect;
You are rich in every aspect.
In the ancient times, we have heard,
Aliens called you ‘a golden bird’

O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.

The mountains guard your honour here;
The ocean washes your feet there.
The rivers contain sweet water
Which for us is just like nectar.

O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.

Our culture is ancient and high,
We are respected that is why.
Culture has bound us by and by,
With a chain of pure love and tie.

O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.

We are sorry here live some men
Who are not loyal, but still then,
Pose as lovers of this nation,
Whom we do not like to mention.

O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.

We are sorry here live some men;
Fire of hatred they ever fan.
Freedom, we fear, may not be lost,
Which we have got at a great cost.

O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.

Let us be wise not to be tool
Of selfish powers which befool
Those who do not well understand
Their aim which is behind their stand.

O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.

We will be lucky, if we die
For you, O Gracious Country High!
We’ll give them a fitting reply,
Who see you with a slanting eye.

O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.

poem by Aziz Ahmad
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Hillman’s Lass

OVER the field where the grass is cool,
(Follow the road who must !)
With a song for the beech and the brown pool,
And the noiseless tread in the dust,
With a laugh for the lazy hours that go,
And the folk who pass us by.
(The trees they grow so broad, so low,
They shut me from the sky.)

Here be strawberries wild and sweet,
(Follow the road who may !)
And here's a rest for a bairn's feet
And a kiss at the close o' day.
And here's a cloud from the shining sea
Like a white moth in the night.
(On the edge o' the barley field, may be
The stars would show more bright.)

Cut me a flute where the reeds are brown.
(Follow the road who will !)
O, I'll dress you fair in a green gown
And a cloak that is finer still.
Your sleeves shall be o' the fairies' lawn,
Your shoon as red as the rose.
(Do you think that the wind which wakes at dawn
Will bring us a breath o' the snows ?)

O, the world's wide, and the world is long.
(Follow the road who may !)
And here's a lilt of the wild song
The Romany pipers play.
And 'Mine,' it sings, 'is the moon's shield,
And the cloak o' the cloud is mine.'
(Do you think that the lowland clover field
Is sweet as the upland pine ?)

poem by Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!