Related quotes: Jess and Jill are pretty...

A Ring Posy

Jess and Jill are pretty girls,
Plump and well to do,
In a cloud of windy curls:
Yet I know who
Loves me more than curls or pearls.

I'm not pretty, not a bit—
Thin and sallow-pale;
When I trudge along the street
I don't need a veil:
Yet I have one fancy hit.

Jess and Jill can trill and sing
With a flute-like voice,
Dance as light as bird on wing,
Laugh for careless joys:
Yet it's I who wear the ring.

Jess and Jill will mate some day,
Surely, surely:
Ripen on to June through May,
While the sun shines make their hay,
Slacken steps demurely:
Yet even there I lead the way.

poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes

Jack And Jill

this is not the usual story of Jack and Jill,
this is reality
welcome. Jack married Jill
in 1985
the first year was bliss
until the second year
when Jack
was so pressured
in his work
and Jill who was left at
home
got so bored with nothing
to do
except to listen
to Jack's shifting
towards the corners
of insanity
and then one day
Jill cooked Chinese noddles
for their wedding anniversary
which of course
she did not recall
but Jack still had it vivid
in his mind
the expensive wedding gown
the diamond ring
and flashy car
and the well attended
grand reception

Jack went wild
and throw the hot noddles
in Jill's face

Jill went to the U.S.
married a white man
Jack finally landed
in a mental asylum

The house where they once
lived
got burned

nothing remained
except the vacant lot
foreclosed by
the bank

sad
Jack and Jill
did not live happily everafter

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song To Be Sung by the Father of Infant Female Children

My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky;
Contrariwise, my blood runs cold
When little boys go by.
For little boys as little boys,
No special hate I carry,
But now and then they grow to men,
And when they do, they marry.
No matter how they tarry,
Eventually they marry.
And, swine among the pearls,
They marry little girls.

Oh, somewhere, somewhere, an infant plays,
With parents who feed and clothe him.
Their lips are sticky with pride and praise,
But I have begun to loathe him.
Yes, I loathe with loathing shameless
This child who to me is nameless.
This bachelor child in his carriage
Gives never a thought to marriage,
But a person can hardly say knife
Before he will hunt him a wife.

I never see an infant (male),
A-sleeping in the sun,
Without I turn a trifle pale
And think is he the one?
Oh, first he'll want to crop his curls,
And then he'll want a pony,
And then he'll think of pretty girls,
And holy matrimony.
A cat without a mouse
Is he without a spouse.

Oh, somewhere he bubbles bubbles of milk,
And quietly sucks his thumbs.
His cheeks are roses painted on silk,
And his teeth are tucked in his gums.
But alas the teeth will begin to grow,
And the bubbles will cease to bubble;
Given a score of years or so,
The roses will turn to stubble.
He'll sell a bond, or he'll write a book,
And his eyes will get that acquisitive look,
And raging and ravenous for the kill,
He'll boldly ask for the hand of Jill.
This infant whose middle
Is diapered still
Will want to marry My daughter Jill.

Oh sweet be his slumber and moist his middle!
My dreams, I fear, are infanticiddle.
A fig for embryo Lohengrins!
I'll open all his safety pins,
I'll pepper his powder, and salt his bottle,
And give him readings from Aristotle.
Sand for his spinach I'll gladly bring,
And Tabasco sauce for his teething ring.
Then perhaps he'll struggle though fire and water
To marry somebody else's daughter.

poem by Ogden Nash
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Village Virtue

Jenny was my first sweetheart;
Poor lass! she was none too smart.
Though I swore she'd never rue it,
She would never let me do it.
When I tried she mad a fuss,
So damn pure and virtuous.
Girls should cozen all they can,
Use their wiles to get their man.

June, my second, was no prude;
Too good-looking to be good;
Wanton and a giddy-gadder,
Never knew who might have had her;
Kept me mad and jumping jealous,
Tempting all the other fellows
Like a wayside flower to pluck her:
So at last I had to chuck her.

Now I'm settled down with Jill,
And we're safely married still.
She began to wail and worry,
So we wedded in a hurry.
Well, it's quite all right that way -
We're all made of common clay,
And the grey-haired folk that bore us
Just as wanton were before us.

June, I hear, now lives in London
Where, I fear, she's sadly undone.
Jenny, still as virtuous
Missed the matrimonial bus,
Where our "first" set gossips buzzin'
Jill and I now have a dozen,
Ready in their turn to prove
There's no chastity in love.

June, so fickle and so fair,
Common was as barber's chair;
Jill provides me with good grub,
Lets me go nights to the pub.
Though her silver hairs are many,
One eve I might call on Jenny . . .
She may not need too much urging:
Must be hell to die a virgin.

poem by Robert William Service
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The Bliss Of Ignorance

When Jack took Nell into his arms
He knew he acted ill,
And thought as he enjoyed her charms
Of his fiancée Jill.
"Poor dear," he sighed, "she dreams of me,
I shouldn't act like this;
But after all, she cannot see,
And ignorance is bliss."

Yet Jill at that same moment was
In Fred's embrace close caught,
And just a little sad because
Of sweetheart Jack she thought.
"Poor dear," she sighed, "he loves me so,
And what's a little kiss?
Or two or three - he'll never know,
And ignorance is bliss."

Now in fond wedlock all is well,
Though in their nuptial bed,
Jack's thought will sometimes stray to Nell,
And Jill's to handsome Fred.
Yet though in fancy they may flirt,
There's nothing much amiss:
What they don't know will never hurt -
Aye, Ignorance Is Bliss.

poem by Robert William Service
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How Do You Talk To Girls

Well Im sick of hanging out on the street
Every saturday night with the boys
Listening to the radios big beat
We crank it just to hear the noise
Yeah we talk about the girls, girls, girls
And we talk, talk, talk all night
Sure were all romeos and casanovas
But we cant seem to get it right
Seems Im making it harder and harder
While everybody else is doing well
I get confused by their bodies
I get tangled in their curls
How do you talk to girls
How do you talk to girls
Whats a poor boy to do
Tell me how do you talk to girls?
How do you talk to girls?
I see this girl over there right away
Im trying to think of something to say
Well I think Ill have one more drink
Ill be ready to make my play
But this guy moves in and he talks to her
And she nods her head
Well Im used to missing out on the girl
But I want to know what he said
Seems Im making it harder and harder
While everybody else is doing well
I get confused by their bodies
I get tangled in their curls
How do you talk to girls?
How do you talk to girls?
Whats a poor boy to do
Im tangled up in their curls
How do you talk to girls?
How do you talk to girls?
Out of wisdom and out of pearls
Tell me how do you talk to girls
Am I stupid or misunderstood
Id say something clever if I only could
Were only ten feet apart
But it feels like the world
How do you talk to girls?
How do you talk to girls?
Out of wisdom and out of pearls
Tell me how do you talk to girls

song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tough Cat Sam

My neighbour had a mad cat
by the name of ginger Sam
he would never eat fish
instead he lived on Spam.
He had a bad reputation
he had spent time in a feline jail
his body was covered in scars
and a dog bit off half of his tail.
Sam was scared of nobody
and he loved to have a fight
he'd take on Pitbulls in the day
and Badgers and Foxes at night.
But one day someone caught his eye
a beautiful Siamese named Jess
and after a few months of dating
Sam proposed and Jess said yes.
Now they live happily together
and Sam is old and very fat
he's no longer that tough young moggy
but just a grey haired soft pussycat!

poem by Kevin Halls
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Pretty Girls

Here she comes just a-walk just just a-walkin down the street
Singin down do be do do wop a do do wop
Singin down do be do do wop a do do wop
See the pretty pretty pretty girls in the street
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
See them walkin with their pretty shoes on their feet
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
I took a walk round the market down town
Taking it easy just to see what I could find
I found the girls there, long legs and blond hair
All getting set to make a mess out of my mind
Hey! eyes left!
See the pretty pretty pretty girls in the street
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
See them walkin with their pretty shoes on their feet
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
I got my heart burnt, you know where I hurt
They say the miniskirt is coming back in style
I say its not fair but what do they care
When youve got power then you use it for a while
Hey! eyes right!
See the pretty pretty pretty girls in the street
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
See them walkin with their pretty shoes on their feet
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
God, if youre up there, listen to my prayer
In future man should have a different design
Give him a switch so he can turn off his libido now
Give him a tranquilizer built into his mind
Hey! eyes right!
See the pretty pretty pretty girls in the street
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
See them walkin with their pretty shoes on their feet
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
Dont talk to me about womens liberation
They already got their right just where it hurts
Now here she comes just a-walk just a-walkin down the street
Singin down do be do do wop a do do wop
Singin down do be do do wop a do do wop
See the pretty pretty pretty girls in the street
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
See them walkin with their pretty shoes on their feet
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop

song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sibling Children at Play

Two sibling children are at play;
The ‘horse’ is elder sister, Jill,
Whose younger brother ‘driver’ Bill
Sits on an ‘Umbrella-cart’, gay!

‘Giddap! ’ ‘Giddap! ’ shouts Bill to her;
‘Pull me, pull me, pull me faster! ’
The fuming, panting tired Jill,
Finds it hard pulling Bill ‘uphill’?

The ‘Umbrella-cart’ moves with speed;
Poor Jill is pulling fast indeed;
Her brother giggles, laughs aloud;
The cart-drive makes him truly proud!

But, Jill is only five-years’ old;
Her baby brother is quite bold;
She does not have the strength to pull;
But give a joy-ride for Bill, she’ll!

The wheels of th’ cart wobble along;
Bill insists her to sing a song;
‘Neigh like a horse! ’ he commands her;
If she does not, Bill will holler.

Her little brother loves the ride;
The cart stops often by road-side;
The ‘driver’ shouts, ‘Pull on farther! ’
Or I will cry and call mother.

Poor Jill cannot pull on and on;
But she must do: she is first-born;
Jill loves her little brother, Bill;
Do anything for him, she will.

Yes, children love to play all day;
They do not know dangers en way;
They copy elders, come what may;
They never like the word called ‘nay’.

But children love a simple ride;
They do it on their own with pride;
They love to learn and enjoy too;
You never know what they can do.

To children, work is also play;
They love to learn in playful way;
At times, they fight as though by right;
They sleep like angels small, at night!

Their innocence is worth watching;
Their childish ways befit smiling;
Their scuffles are worth too, prying;
But sad ’tis to see them sobbing.

And adults dream of childhood years-
The loveliest in life with dears!
That was the time they knew not fears,
While parents never allowed tears.

poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Man Who Would Woo a Fair Maid

A man who would woo a fair maid,
Should 'prentice himself to the trade;
And study all day,
In methodical way,
How to flatter, cajole, and persuade.
He should 'prentice himself at fourteen
And practise from morning to e'en;
And when he's of age,
If he will, I'll engage,
He may capture the heart of a queen!
It is purely a matter of skill,
Which all may attain if they will:
But every Jack
He must study the knack
If he wants to make sure of his Jill!

If he's made the best use of his time,
His twig he'll so carefully lime
That every bird
Will come down at his word.
Whatever its plumage and clime.
He must learn that the thrill of a touch
May mean little, or nothing, or much;
It's an instrument rare,
To be handled with care,
And ought to be treated as such.
It is purely a matter of skill,
Which all may attain if they will:
But every Jack,
He must study the knack
If he wants to make sure of his Jill!

Then a glance may be timid or free;
It will vary in mighty degree,
From an impudent stare
To a look of despair
That no maid without pity can see.
And a glance of despair is no guide -
It may have its ridiculous side;
It may draw you a tear
Or a box on the ear;
You can never be sure till you've tried.
It is purely a matter of skill,
Which all may attain if they will:
But every Jack
He must study the knack
If he wants to make sure of his Jill!

poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Pelican Chorus

King and Queen of the Pelicans we;
No other Birds so grand we see!
None but we have feet like fins!
With lovely leathery throats and chins!
Ploffskin, Pluffskin, Pelican jee!
We think no birds so happy as we!
Plumpskin, Ploshkin, Pelican jill!
We think so then, and we thought so still!

We live on the Nile. The Nile we love.
By night we sleep on the cliffs above.
By day we fish, and at eve we stand
On long bare islands of yellow sand.
And when the sun sinks slowly down
And the great rock walls grow dark and brown,
Where the purple river rolls fast and dim
And the ivory Ibis starlike skim,
Wing to wing we dance around, -
Stamping our feet with a flumpy sound, -
Opening our mouths as Pelicans ought,
And this is the song we nightly snort:
Ploffskin, Pluffskin, Pelican jee!
We think no Birds so happy as we!
Plumpskin, Ploshkin, Pelican jill!
We think so then, and we thought so still.

Last year came out our Daughter, Dell;
And all the Birds received her well.
To do her honour, a feast we made
For every bird that can swim or wade.
Herons and Gulls, and Cormorants black,
Cranes, and Flamingoes with scarlet back,
Plovers and Storks, and Geese in clouds,
Swans and Dilberry Ducks in crowds.
Thousands of Birds in wondrous flight!
They ate and drank and danced all night,
And echoing back from the rocks you heard
Multitude-echoes from Bird and Bird, -
Ploffskin, Pluffskin, Pelican jee!
We think no Birds so happy as we!
Plumpskin, Ploshkin, Pelican jill!
We think so then, and we thought so still!
Yes, they came; and among the rest,
The king of the Cranes all grandly dressed.
Such a lovely tail! Its feathers float
Between the ends of his blue dress-coat;
With pea-green trowsers all so neat,
And a delicate frill to hide his feet, -
(For though no one speaks of it, everyone knows,
He has got no webs between his toes!)
As soon as he saw our Daughter Dell,
In violent love that Crane King fell, -
On seeing her waddling form so fair,
With a wreath of shrimps in her short white hair,
And before the end of the next long day,
Our Dell had given her heart away;
For the King of the Cranes had won that heart,
With a Crocodile's egg and a large fish-tart.
She vowed to marry the King of the Cranes,
Leaving the Nile for stranger plains;
And away they flew in a gathering crowd
Of endless birds in a lengthening cloud.
Ploffskin, Pluffskin, Pelican jee!
We think no Birds so happy as we!
Plumpskin, Ploshkin, Pelican jill!
We think so then, and we thought so still!

And far away in the twilight sky,
We heard them singing in a lessening cry, -
Farther and farther till out of sight,
And we stood alone in the silent night!
Often since, in the nights of June,
We sit on the sand and watch the moon; -
- She dwells by the streams of the Chankly Bore,
And we probably never shall see her more.
Ploffskin, Pluffskin, Pelican jee!
We think no Birds so happy as we!
Plumpskin, Ploshkin, Pelican jill!
We think so then, and we thought so still!

poem by Edward Lear
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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School theme 15. Sir, you’ve shaken off a bad habit.

- Sir! Can’t you see me shake?
__________________________- And what?
- You haven’t given the homework.
- I remember, but you began
To shake like an aspen leaf when
I gave you this test.
__________________- It’s done.
- Really?
________- And no one
Helped me.
___________- That sounds great!
I think it’s my gala day!
Tell me why you were nervous, Jess.
- The test shook me up.
___________________- It was less
Difficult than the last one.
_______________________- I saw,
Yes, and couldn’t believe my eyes, Sir!
- You want to ask me something.
___________________________- Sir,
Will you, please, hurry up?
_______________________- What for?
- The break will begin soon.
________________________- Yes,
It‘s not begun.
______________- The homework…
______________________________- Jess,
You had a test, I shan’t give you
Any tasks.
___________- Sir, in my view
You’ve shaken off it! Not too bad!
Yes! ! ! Gala day, Sir! Is that flat?

poem by Konstantin Ananin
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There's a high school in Camden, New Jersey, I call the Jill Scott School. It's the Camden Creative Arts High School. Those teachers and kids are so passionate about what they do, and 98 percent of the senior class went on to college.

quote by Jill Scott
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Not Your Type

IM SORRY IM NOT
cute, smart, pretty, sexy
beautiful, dependent, slutty
dramatic, attractive, dumb
popular, skinny, rich
YOUR TYPE

please dont pretent you care
then crush my heart into tiny bite sized pieces
with a side order of my dignity
covered with self-respect sauce

poem by Jess Bards
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To Big Jess Big Newfoundland Next Door

You look beautiful at least I think so
With soft black hair black as a crow
And loving eyes horse chestnut brown
You are the finest dog your side of town.

Against canines I don't discriminate
Though some give me reason to hate
they growl at me snarl and bark
And show off their teeth like a shark.

But Jess you act different that's true
And that's one reason I like you,
You wag your tail and lick my hand
And your type of dog I understand.

With Kerry your friend gone away
You've got no one with whom you can play
Save sit on your haunches and sigh
And gaze at Mt Evelyn sky.

You are timid for a dog of your size
So beautiful gentle and wise
You want to make friends and not war
And you'll never see battle scar.

And though you must weigh fifty kilos or more
Big Jess big Newfoundland next door
You do not seek battle or strife
All you need is the peaceful life.

And though you may say that I've got the brains of a hog
For penning doggerel to a dog
But I'll tell you were I a true poet
For Jessie a poem I'd have wrote

poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Class Reunion (That Used To Be Us)

(Richie McDonald/Frank Myers/Don Pfrimmer)
Well, I roll into town
With the ragtop down
I was looking for the homecoming queen
That three-by-nine lit hotel sign read
Welcome back Class of '83
There were football guys twice their size
Cheerleaders hiding the grey in their hair
The names were the same but the faces had changed
I didn't recognize anyone there.
That used to be us, we used to be cool
With the music cranked up, hanging out after school
That used to be Jill, that used to be Joe
Tell me where in the world did we all go?
That used to be us.
Oh, that used to be us.
I had a drink with some buds
Played a lot of catch up
Danced with my date from the prom
But as hard as I tried until I closed my eyes
Everybody I knew was gone
There was Mr. Finch, he taught English and French
He was dancing with a couple of canes
And that homecoming queen, Yeah the girl of my dreams
She didn't even remember my name.
That used to be us, we used to be cool
With the music cranked up, hanging out after school
That used to be Jill, that used to be Joe
Tell me where in the world did we all go?
That used to be us.
As I stand here and look around
I can't help but wonder
Who will we be ten years from now?
That used to be us, we used to be cool
With the music cranked up, hanging out after school
That used to be Jill, that used to be Joe
Tell me where in the world did we all go?
That used to be us.
Oh, that used to be us.
That used to be us.
That used to be us...

song performed by by Lonestar
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Lonley Tear

if a teardropp is
a sign of strength
why is it so hurtful
to cry?

poem by Jess Bards
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jack & Jill

Mi Mi Mi girl close your eyes
Mi Mi Mi got a surprise
Mi Mi Mi don't run and hide let me take you on ride

First
We'll go to Cleveland
we'll kissin and huggin is what we'll do

Next
We'll go to Miami
and make it hot and steamy please believe me

Next
We'll go to NY
and with your thighs I'll treat you like the queen

Next
We'll go to Chicago
we'll bumpin and grindin its no joke

[Chorus]
Baby I'm jack you can be jill
I wanna carry up my hill
we dont have to run and to make love
but we can go to every city that you think of
[repeat 1x]

Next
We'll go to HEL in room 112
I'll make your body melt

Next
We'll go to DC
I'll do it deeply but take it easy

Next
We'll go to Houston
There's no illusion what we'll be doing

Next
We'll go to Philly
while I'm feelin you I know you feelin me

Baby I'm jack you can be jill
I wanna carry up my hill
we dont have to run and to make love
but we can go to every city that you think of

[Hook]
Oh girl you and me

song performed by by Avant from Ecstasy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Contemporary Poetry

contemporary poetry
is nice to read since they are
not cliches, very much unlike
shakespeare or
mary oliver

i 've seen one and read it
over and over again
it feels like
trickling rain from
my forehead to my
spine

like this:

rain
rain
go
away
come
back
an

other
d
a
y....

i am amazed

i think i will write about jack and jill went up the hill to get a pail of water.
jack forgot and
what is that? jill come rolling after?
the pail.

i am bitter.
sour i mean.
i don't belong
i am one kind of a frustrated contemp...

orary wri
ter.

well, i will try next time
i have to reread
bukowski's advice
i will wait
till the next tick.