A Forty-Year-Old Virgin
She stood well out from the crowd
a brown paper bag over her head
with four holes cut out
for her eyes, nose and mouth.
She proclaimed she was a virgin
and you could very well see why.
Imagine going out with someone
who resembled the man in the iron mask.
Her clothes were old fashion,
hand-me-downs from her great grandmother.
Other women got into trouble
but it will never happen to me,
everyone agreed it would never happen to her.
She said she was waiting for Mr Right to come along.
From the state of her, it would be a long time coming to,
so everyone remarked and thought.
Then the impossible happened,
she met a man with a paper bag on his head.
It was love at first sight.
Right away, she knew this was the man for her.
They married on the thirteenth,
as neither was superstitious.
The photographer at the wedding asked them to take off their bags. Slowly they removed them and everyone gasped,
no one could believe their eyes.
They looked like two butterflies
emerging from their cocoons.
Both were what you pictured
the perfect couple should be.
He was ruggedly handsome
and she could have outshone any beauty queen.
As for the paper bags
they lived happily ever after as well.
13 September 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Brown Paper Bag
Brown paper bag
Squalid incomplete
slumped to the side of the street
Like unwanted sacks of garbage
She left her track her smell
And like the brown paper bag
She had travelled well
She had a whole world in her head
Her first love
The man she wed
And the drink and the smoke
And the four o clock bloke
That returned with a bottle in a brown paper bag
And better days before
When she had carried her first round fruit
When the brown paper bag was waxed new
And he carried his bride to the door
Then the four o clock bloke
Full of stale wine and stale smoke
With a bottle in a brown paper bag
How he called her a hag
And that first punch to the floor
And the brown paper bags fell by her side
Crumpled and stained
And the liquor cans and the four o clock man
Who never spoke
Left her broke
Bones shattered in pieces
Flesh bare to the wind
Body out on the street
Skin tanned dirt brown
Hair matted locks
And two brown paper bags tied with string to her feet
yvette m smith 11.2.09
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Eyes Of A Woman
Have you ever looked into the eyes of a woman
You can tell a lot about a woman, just from her eyes
No eyes could ever subdue the artistry of a woman's
As they say, the beauty of a woman lies in her eyes
And indeed they do, just look at those gorgeous eyes
Look at those olive green eyes, full of ecstasy and desire
I've never seen such angelic eyes in my life
Which is what led me to this paper and pen
As from the first time my eyes met them
I could not simply get them out of my head
I could not help but notice Oh, those dazzling green eyes
I am left speechless, as I remember that sight of grace
You indeed can tell a lot about a woman just from her eyes
Green is the colour of nature, and all the beauty it withholds
Symbolizing growth, harmony, freshness and fertility
Green has strong emotional correspondence with safety
It withholds great healing power, looking at them, I noticed
Being the most restful colour for the human eye, I realised
Green suggests Stability and endurance, indicates growth and hope
Olive green is the traditional colour of peace
Just from looking at your enticing green eyes, I noticed
The kind of woman that you are, how special you indeed are
My sweet love I do bid you, never have my eyes ever seen
Such magnificence, such divine delicacy in the eyes of a woman
And I do bid you, never have my eyes ever met yours like that
Never have my eyes ever fallen in love with the eyes of a woman
Never have my eyes smiled at the sight of the eyes of a woman
Never has my heart skipped a beat at such a sight
And I can only write on a paper, what magnificence I have witnessed
But I do bid you, that words alone may not bear what I have experienced
poem by Gabriel Gauci Maistre
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Helen and You and The ABC Cinema
In the evening after tea
of bread and jam
and a glass of milk
you went out
and met Helen
under the railway bridge
in Rockingham Street
next to the Duke
of Wellington pub
and she was waiting
there looking up
and down the street
and when she saw you
she waved and walked
towards you
where's your doll
Battered Betty?
you asked
mum's washing her clothes
and I didn't want
to bring her out
with nothing on
she said
no that wouldn't be decent
you said
where are we going?
she asked
I want to show you
the passages behind
the ABC cinema
you said
it's like a cavern
of dark passages
and once I saw a rat
running along by a wall
oh god
she said
putting a hand
to her mouth
not a rat
yes it run along
one of the walls
not sure
I want to go there
she said softly
one little rat
isn't going to hurt you
you said
besides I'll chase it away
if it comes
will you?
she said
yes of course I will
nothing is going to harm you
while I am here
you said
you showed her
the toy gun
tucked in
the inside pocket
of your jacket
she nodded
and she took
your hand
and you walked her
along and up behind
the Trocodero cinema
and onto
the New Kent Road
and you crossed quickly
before the traffic lights changed
and once you got
to the other side
you took her
to the ABC cinema
and went down beside
the cinema walls
along the dark passages
that went on beside
and behind the cinema
all the time
she gripped your hand
and now and then
her grip tightened
when she thought
she saw something
out of the corner
of her eye
what was that?
she said
stopping still
clutching your hand tight
just a piece of paper
blown by the wind
are you sure?
yes just paper
she untightened
her grip
and you both
walked on
with the sound
of traffic and voices
in the distance
and at the back
of the cinema
you came to an entrance
where two doors where
and you said
sometimes the doors are open
and you can sneak in free
she looked at you
her eyes behind
her thick lens glasses
large and innocent
is that allowed?
she asked
no
you replied
if they catch you
you get into trouble
but if you're lucky
you can get in
no trouble
you said
oh
she said
my mum wouldn't like it
if I got into trouble
we won't get in tonight
anyway
you said
the doors are locked
another time maybe
and she gripped
your hand
and her face looked shocked.
poem by Terry Collett
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Paper
Paper promises, Dunstead said,
paper cups, wallpaper being stuck
up on the wall for the next to last
time, paper tigers, paper to wipe
the ass and best of all paper to
create art, to have it from the heart,
to see it out there, being gazed at,
studied by some bearded guy with
glasses and paper money to buy
the next paper to create and then
if I’m lucky the muse turning up on
time and giving me the big nudge
in the right direction or some paper
picture of some nude dame giving
the long time wished for erection.
poem by Terry Collett
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Paper Boy
Roy orbison
I walk down to the blue side of town
Where there's no happiness, no joy
Down at the end of a long dark street
I saw a little paper boy
Paper boy paper boy
I've got bad news for you
Paper boy paper boy
Me and my baby are through
She was my love my one and only
I feel so bad i'm oh so lonely
I'm looking for my love
I've got my own headlines for today
They've been the same since she went away
"one dark haired angel disappears
She's been missing for a million years"
Paper boy paper boy
So long goodbye
Paper boy paper boy
Thanks for listening while i cry
I feel a little better now that someone knows
But i will go on looking forever, i suppose
I'm looking for my love
Extra extra read all about it
My baby's gone and i wanna shout it
I'm looking for my love
I'm looking for my love
I'm looking for my love....
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Daughter Of Drac (Fun Poem 103)
It was a night like any other
as we strolled under the full moon.
The trouble began when she went to give me a kiss,
her fangs protruded and she went for my neck.
I knew then I had more than I had bargained for.
I was dating the wrong girl;
I was dating the daughter of Drac.
I said lets just walk a bit further
we are nearly at my home.
We can kiss there all you want,
but no guarantees we will be alone
as my parents might be in.
She agreed reluctantly as she probably thought
she would get in an extra feed.
We walked slowly along under the full moon light.
I felt my hairs begin to itch
as they began to grow.
We reach my home and we went in.
Matilda had such a shock;
dad could not wait that night
and transformed himself early again.
He stood there all hairy
from his head to his toes.
I asked her to marry me in the doorway
covered with wolf bane.
The daughter of Drac looked at me,
as I was all hairy too
and agreed to marry me on the spot,
but she had to let daddy know.
We were married within the week and what a bash we had.
The wedding took place in her dad’s castle
over looking a sleeping village.
Whenever the drink ran low and we needed a top up
we all went down to the village for a drink or two.
As dawn broke back to our beds, we went.
We would continue the second part of the party
when the full moon again woke.
My bride and I lived happily ever after
with our family.
As they are all little monsters
just like my wife and me.
24 May 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mr Paddy's Capers.
Just when she thought
She'd found a place alone
To read her book, Mr Paddy
poked his nose between
Her and the open book, so
That pages are blanked out
By his huge head. Mr Paddy
Go off and annoy another,
She said, but he stood there
Determined to be where he
Was, between her and the
Brown covered book, held
Out in her small hands. Oh
Mr Paddy I cannot see the
Pages. Please go off and run
In the garden or in the kitchen
And steal a bone, she said. But
He wouldn't leave her alone,
He pushed his head against her
Young girl body, his damp nose
Dampening her wrist and her
White dress with blue sash, and
Dribble from his lips was wetting
The pages. Mr Paddy please let
Me be, I'm trying to read can't
You see? Mr Paddy's brown eyes
Scanned the pages, nothing there
But scribbled lines upon white paper,
And still he stood wet mouthed with
Big brown eyes and his silly old caper.
poem by Terry Collett
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Paper, Pen and Ink
With paper, pen and ink I began to think
of a story that I could write.
Or maybe a verse or two about something new,
something original, fresh and bright.
I sat and thought but thought of nought
a stretched circle full of nothing.
A mist came down and I could hear a sound
that sounded like water lapping.
It was a castle's moat and a waiting boat,
and a figure with a hooded habit.
He took no breath and looked like death
this man so old and decrepit.
A woman in white stepped into sight
carrying her head under her arm.
On the boat she sat beside a brown rat
which disturbed the water's calm.
The boat drifted from sight into the night
like a thought from a weary mind.
The thinning grey mist was instantly mist,
leaving my paper, pen, and ink behind.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Paper And Iron
Paper, iron, won't buy eden
Working for paper and for iron
Work for the right to keep my tie on
Working for paper and for iron
Work for the unicorn and lion
I pray the kids aren't starving
No chicken for the sunday carving
I'll stay for one more farthing
I take home my notes and coins every week
I'm told i'm worth much more
But the church says turn the other cheek
The other cheek
Paper, iron, won't buy eden.
I know the family needs me
Can't moan, the factory feeds me
Won't bite the hand that bleeds me
I take home my notes and coins every week
I'll inherit the earth i'm told
But the church says to remain this meek
Remain this meek
I'm still a proud man.
Won't show anybody else my wage
A blend in the crowd man
Is this anybody's golden age
Is this anybody's golden age
Is this anybody's golden age
Or am i dreaming of a golden cage
La la lo it's paper
La la lo it's iron
La la lo just paper
La la lo just iron
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Paper Boat On A Murky River
on your hand is a paper boat
you made last night
on a rainy day like this
you put on a gray rain coat
the river rises
perfect for your scheme
you put the boat gently
on the brown water
white paper boat
carried by this murkiness
your hands push
the paper boat leaves
tonight you sleep on
the wooden floor
it is mahogany brown and you
become the paper boat
sailing inside your dream
the floor becomes the big river
your thoughts become the wind
your eyes become two moons
the room is as dark as the night
the dream is so alive like a mother's song.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Paper
Hold the paper up to the light
(some rays pass right through)
Expose yourself out there for a minute
(some rays pass right through)
Take a little rest when the rays pass through
Take a little time off when the rays pass through
Go ahead and mis it up...go ahead and tie it up
In a long distance telephone call
Hold on to that paper
Hold on to that paper
Hold on becuase its been taken care of
Hold on to that paper
See if you can fit it on the paper
See if you can get it on the paper
See if you can fit it on the paper
See if you can get it on the paper
Had a love affair but it was only paper
(some rays they pass right through)
Had a lot of fun, could have been a lot better
(some rays they pass right through)
Take a little consideration, take every combination
Take a few weeks off, make it tighter, tighter
But it was never, it was never written down
Still might be a chance that it might work out (if you)
Hold on to that paper
Hold on to that paper
Hold on because itll be taken care of
Hold on to that paper
Dont think I can fit it on the paper
Dont think I can get it on the paper
Go ahead and rip up, rip up the paper
Go ahead and tear up, tear up the paper
song performed by by Talking Heads
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hand Over Fist
Words by neil peart, music by geddy lee and alex lifeson
Hand over fist
Paper around the stone
Scissors cut the paper
Cut the paper to the bone
Hand over fist
Paper around the stone
Scissors cut the paper
And the rock must stand alone
I could disappear into the crowd
But not if I keep my head in the clouds
I could walk away so proud
Its easy enough if you dont laugh too loud
I thought I was okay alone
Wait for the postman and the telephone
Lost in a world of my own
I thought I could run alone
Thought I could run through the night alone
Hand over hand
Doesnt seem so much
Hand over hand
Is the strength of the common touch
You talk as we walk along
You never imagined I could be so wrong
Humming your favorite song
You know Ive hated that song for so long
How can we ever agree?
Like the rest of the world
We grow farther apart
I swear you dont listen to me
Holding my hand to my heart
Holding my fist to my racing heart
Take a walk outside myself
In some exotic land
Greet a passing stranger
Feel the strength in his hand
Feel the world expand
I feel my spirit resist
But I open up my fist
Lay hand over hand over
Hand over fist
song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paper And Pen
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Can’t think of anything to say today
Can’t think of anything to do
Can’t think of anything to play today
Minds gone blank
Leaving me here, just sitting here
Listening to my hair grow
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
And I look towards you
For an inspiration or a word or two
I try but I find
Every road only leads me back to these lines
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Piano, guitar
I try but don't get very far
Paper and pen
Piano, guitar
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Copyright Colin Coplin 1985 / 2010
poem by Colin Coplin
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Love In The Air
Love in the Breeze.
At the nearly empty parking lot, near the supermarket,
two plastic bags danced in the spring breeze.
They elegantly circled each other, came near, almost
touched, but danced away from one another only to
meet again in a close circle; know they shyly touched.
A paper napkin with smeared lipstick on wanted to
join in, but the two plastic bags had only eyes for each
other. Deeply humiliated the napkin took refuge under
a car, but the car drove off and it had nowhere to hide.
So it began dancing alone, in slow motion, with eyes
closed as it was dreaming and the lipstick smiled.
A gust of wind came blew the napkin high into the sky
and away from the parking lot to a secret place of peace
only exploited paper napkins know of.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Ode to Being Five (Children)
I made a paper Valentine
all red and edged with lace.
And on my paper Valentine,
I drew a pretty face.
I painted on two big blue eyes
and then a great big grin
and knew it wouldn't be complete
without a dimpled chin.
I love you, paper valentine,
and just between us two,
I hope someday when I grow up
I'll look as sweet as you.
Upon this paper my life is written
Upon this paper my life is written,
a tree doubled over in pain.
The red ink flows over the skin,
full stops and commas are hair and stars:
eyes of sea left on ships,
destroyed houses, rusting girders.
This paper is as black as the storm,
destroyed villages where there is no fiesta.
This paper burns as reason does,
lightning in the sky flashes in its millions.
This paper is a sky where there is no God,
this paper is alone…
this paper does not fly…
this paper… it is I.
poem by Menotti Lerro from The Poetry of Menotti Lerro (2011), translated by Andrew Mangham, Maria Rosaria La Marca
Submitted by anonym
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Paper & Iron
Paper, iron, wont buy eden
Working for paper and for iron
Work for the right to keep my tie on
Working for paper and for iron
Work for the unicorn and lion
I pray the kids arent starving
No chicken for the sunday carving
Ill stay for one more farthing
I take home my notes and coins every week
Im told Im worth much more
But the church says turn the other cheek
The other cheek
Paper, iron, wont buy eden.
I know the family needs me
Cant moan, the factory feeds me
Wont bite the hand that bleeds me
I take home my notes and coins every week
Ill inherit the earth Im told
But the church says to remain this meek
Remain this meek
Im still a proud man.
Wont show anybody else my wage
A blend in the crowd man
Is this anybodys golden age
Is this anybodys golden age
Is this anybodys golden age
Or am I dreaming of a golden cage
La la lo its paper
La la lo its iron
La la lo just paper
La la lo just iron
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Muse
Sparks happen inside his head.
My hand leaves his heart and a jolt of inspiration vibrates through his body.
BAM!
BAM!
BAM!
Three shocks happen and he lights up his paper with words.
He writes his poetry and inspires many.
Little does anyone know that I am his muse lighting up his fire.
poem by Christina J. Williams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A wedding Invitation
Imagine if you woke up in the morning,
just from a dream about your wedding day,
and you found me,
like a gentleman kneeling on your front yard,
down on one knee,
With five carats of sapphire blue diamond ring,
To extend a cordial invitation to you,
asking you to be a part of my wedding....
Darling would you be the most important guest at my wedding...?
Imagine you with a TIARA on your head?
Imagine you in a cascade of white laces?
Imagine you in that perfect make-up?
Imagine you with the flowers in your hand?
Indeed being the queen you always have been,
So darling would you be the most important guest at my wedding....?
Ever thought of how that day would look like?
Daddy walking her little girl down the aisle,
and for one last time taking her home,
and handing her to the care of another man,
Tears on mummy's eyes having trouble letting go of her last baby,
You quitting the single ladies' club,
to become known as missus,
your friends dressed up in your favorite colors,
Dancing and giving you away to your best friend,
The guests sited in silent adoration of the moment,
some even with tears in their eyes,
as we exchange our vows,
promising to stay faithful to one another,
a lifetime of commitment to each other,
To have and to hold,
from this day forward,
Till death do us part,
So Darling would you be the most important guest at my WEDDING?
poem by Olunga Otieno
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Paper Rain
From miles above
poured the paper rain
Flooding the streets
whiteing out the clear September day
peoples thoughts floated from the hell fire
like paper rain
First like a mist
then like a monsoon
the paper rain spread across the city
engulfing the running masses below
in a hurricane of paper rain
When the storm stopped
and the clouds of fire ceased
millons of unread words litter the streets
like a sea
of paper rain
Swept into the gutters
went the thoughts of the dead
the paper rain gone
Until the next unpredicted storm arises
and the heavens pour down peoples sorrows
ON PAPER RAIN
GOD BLESS ALL THE VICTIMS AND THERE FAMILYS
OF THE SEPTEMBER 11 TRAGEDY
poem by Vincent Armone
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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