Sleeping Beauty
Tangled locks of auburn hair
Tresses strewn o’er satin pillow
Silken sheets cool to the skin
Under limbs… lithe as the willow
Languid eyes neath limpid lashes
Tightly closed in dreamy slumber
Lips as soft as feathery ashes
Eyes as brown as earthen umber
Yet as I watch her… the truth is revealing
This woman beside me…this woman I keep
She’s ever so much… more appealing
When she’s ever so much more… deeply asleep
poem by David Whalen
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Her Hidden Treasure
Her flame was only for the women –
Not for us unlucky men;
A weakness lay for feminine way:
To feel an even fairer skin
In silky slide.
Her lips were for the satin love that
Only flows from rising breast;
The creamy tan was not for man
To pull towards a chiselled chest
In weathered hide.
Her hidden treasure down below
Would shy away from macho length
And only rouse upon the blouse
Undone by other sapphic strength –
In time, inside!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Corydon
A PASTORAL
SCENE: A roadside in Arcady
SHEPHERD.
Good sir, have you seen pass this way
A mischief straight from market-day?
You'd know her at a glance, I think;
Her eyes are blue, her lips are pink;
She has a way of looking back
Over her shoulder, and, alack!
Who gets that look one time, good sir,
Has naught to do but follow her.
PILGRIM.
I have not seen this maid, methinks,
Though she that passed had lips like pinks.
SHEPHERD.
Or like two strawberries made one
By some sly trick of dew and sun.
PILGRIM.
A poet!
SHEPHERD.
Nay, a simple swain
That tends his flock on yonder plain,
Naught else, I swear by book and bell.
But she that passed, you marked her well.
Was she not smooth as any be
That dwell herein in Arcady?
PILGRIM.
Her skin was as the satin bark
Of birches
SHEPHERD.
Light or dark?
PILGRIM.
Quite dark.
SHEPHERD.
Then 'twas not she.
PILGRIM.
The peach's side
That's next the sun is not so dyed
As was her cheek. Her hair hung down
Like summer twilight falling brown;
And when the breeze swept by, I wist
Her face was in a sombre mist.
SHEPHERD.
No, that is not the maid I seek.
Her hair lies gold against the cheek;
Her yellow tresses take the morn
Like silken tassles of the corn.
And yet--brown locks are far from bad.
PILGRIM.
Now I bethinks me, this one had
A figure like the willow-tree
Which, slight and supple, wondrously
Inclines to droop with pensive grace,
And still retains its proper place;
A foot so arched and very small
The marvel was she walked at all;
Her hand--in sooth I lack for words--
her hand, five slender snow-white birds.
Her voice--though she but said "God-speed"--
Was melody blown through a reed;
The girl Pan changed into a pipe
Had not a note so full and ripe.
And then her eye--my lad her eye!
Discreet, inviting, candid, shy,
An outward ice, an inward fire,
And lashes to the heart's desire--
Soft fringes blacker than the sloe.
SHEPHERD.
Good sir, which way did this one go?
PILGRIM, solus.
So, he is off! The silly youth
Knoweth not love in sober sooth.
He loves, thus lads at first are blind--
No woman, only Womankind.
I needs must laugh, for, by the Mass,
No maid at all did this way pass!
poem by Thomas Bailey Aldrich
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For you woman I shall not die
For you woman I shall not die
You woman of notorious name and high fame
Only foolish men with piercing eyes you may slay
But I and they are not the same
Why should I expire
for your eyes' fire
Ha slender waist? So what?
And for your swanlike limbs? I say tat
But I run from your round breast
the fresh skin, the crimson checks
hair like a waterfall, long and rich
Indeed, Indeed I shall hold
through sturdy high walls and wide moat
Please God! Not me for any such
yet the golden hair my eyes enthralled
the forehead thin, the gracious ears
the rounded heel, the languid tone
Oh fools! For fools alone find death from these
Mercy, your sharp wit, your perfect palm
The chaste mien, the white neck,
the brown eyes, your beautiful soul
has my heart as its goal
You graceful woman as a swan
wise man, while still wise, run
Or else plea to guardian God:
Save me or stab me before I succumb
Little palm? A White neck? or a bright eyes?
I shall not die for thee
Oh God let it not be me
copy rights 2010
A Lovely Catch
A sea of sheets lay spread before me
As the night surrounds it
In that sea on this beautiful night
I shall find such a lovely catch
In that sea of silken bliss
There will be a catch worth all my love
With ocean blue eyes and golden locks
Candy pink lips and ivory skin
He is the fairest of all
Draped in midnight silk
His eyes beckoning to me from the silken sea
His embrace awaits me....beneath the sea
poem by Jade Hymora
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Battered Doll
A red dress for blood spilt,
Torn blouse for flesh rent;
Ladders in the stockings –
A rung for every callous blow landed.
Scuffed shoes winked about the kicks –
After all, bruise-gorged eyes can’t –
Just permanently closed.
Burning tears were scant warmth
Against a chill from ugly cries.
Lipstick smudges on the chin to
Nullify all vestiges of beauty –
Those that constituted rare patches
Of purest cream skin, from
Days of feminine joy, telling once
Upon a time there was an angel…
But now, a battered doll.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
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woman woman
Woman
No more...
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Thru My Eyes
Thru My Eyes I see a woman
A woman whom cannot see her own self
Images disguised by her childhood upbringing
And does not believe that she can find help
Thru My Eyes I see another woman
A woman whom I love and then have lost
Trying times of despair and resentment
Simple pleasures as holding her I miss the most
Thru My Eyes I see a woman
A woman with beautiful brown eyes
Though she continues to misunderstand me
Once again a deep breathe asking myself why
Thru My Eyes I see another woman
Who accepted me but I never gave in return
Tainting once viewed as our loving memories
Impulsive decisions forever wounding her
Thru My Eyes I see a beautiful woman
A woman with elegance that I cannot deny
Awaiting the day she discovers my love for her
A love that can only be seen Thru My Eyes
We fit into each other
We fit into each other
and it is pure passion,
perfect like light on glass
with bodies, hands
and feelings touching deeper.
There’s JC Le Roux champagne in a glass
and the red sparkles like fire
burning deep in your eyes
while you shake your head
spreading your hair over your shoulders.
Later you lipstick
is on the edge of a glass,
while I pour some more champagne for you
and the smoke of your cigarette
spirals up into the air
and I see your perfect body
before you draw me nearer to you
and I feel your soft skin
with nipples pointing into my chest
with your breath soft against my cheek.
In your sleep your turn against me,
lying with an arm stretched over my body
and it’s as if your lips are muttering words
while your face looks pure and chaste
like that of a small girl.
The next day I find
a brown hair-clip in my bed,
on the pillow there’s a mark of red lipstick
and my sheets smell of you.
poem by Gert Strydom
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My Blacck Woman
Her hair is like the softest silk,
Her eyes are of deep ebony brown,
Yet her smile melts my inner soul,
She is my Black Woman!
The thick lips she posses are so pleasing;
Her touch is that of a goddess,
Her beauty is beautiful as diamond,
My Black Woman, also My Queen.
Though no one is truly perfect,
But in my eyes she is so fine,
My Black Woman everlasting….
For me there can be only her,
To stand by my side threw thick and thin,
Comfort me when I fail
To help me get back on my feet,
To believe in me when others doubt me,
She’s merely being herself….
Also my Black Woman.
A strong Black Woman she is indeed,
Also passionate with understanding as well,
This woman would never leave my side,
My lady, my friend for all times…
My Black Woman.
©2010 Redscar McOdindo K’Oyuga
poem by Redscar McOdindo K'Oyuga
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Pibroch (Cap In Hand)
In the half-tone light of a young morning
she sighs and shifts on the pillow.
And across her face dancing, the first shadows fly
to kiss the Pussy Willow.
In her fairy-tale world she's a lost soul singing
in a sad voice nobody hears.
She waits in her castle of make-believe
for her white knight to appear.
Pusy Willow down fur-lined avenue
brushing the sleep from her young woman eyes.
Runs for the train, see: eight o'clock's coming
cutting dreams down to size again.
Pussy Willow down fur-lined avenue,
brushing the sleep from her young woman eyes.
Runs from the train. Hear her typewriter humming,
cutting dreams down to size again.
She longs for the East and a pale dress flowing
an apartment in old Mayfair.
Or to fish the Spey, spinning the first run of Spring
or to die for a cause somewhere.
Pussy Willow down fur-lined avenue,
brushing the sleep from her young woman eyes.
Runs from the train. Hear her typewriter humming,
cutting dreams down to size again.
Pussy Willow, Pussy Willow, Pussy Willow, Pussy Willow.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Crispy Sheets
I always like to meet
Under fresh crispy sheets
To feel its coolness against my skin
I get so excited I don't know where to begin
Maybe start by putting my arms around a pillow
Then stretch out and switch on the radio
Roll over and look out of the window
Watch a cloud cross the sun and cast a shadow
Get up, make coffee and go back to bed
Pick up a book that I've just read
Turn a page and then close my eyes
And fall asleep, there's a surprise
Let the quietness drift away my dream
Lying covered in linen sheets of light cream
Only to be woken up by a cat purring in my ear
There's no place I'd rather be than here
Oh wonderful Crispy Sheets
poem by JeanJacques Evendon
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Dreamy Eyes
Im reaching out to touch you
In the middle of the night.
And I dont know if Ive been sleeping
But I hold my pillow tight.
Are you real or are you
My imagination playing games?
I cant set you free
Youll always be my eternal flame.
Your dreamy eyes...
They just wont say goodbye.
Well, it must be my fate
cause I just cant escape.
And the passion never dies
Oh, dreamy eyes
No matter how I cry
I just cant reach you, dreamy eyes.
Your dreamy eyes...
They just wont say goodbye.
Well, it must be my fate
cause I just cant escape.
And the passion never dies
Oh, dreamy eyes
No matter how I try
I just cant reach you, dreamy eyes.
Youre a vision of tomorrow
And a ghost from yesterday
And Ill be trying not to let you
Take my breath away
Youre a summer breeze that comes and goes
But somehow lingers on
Tell me how can I forget you
If youre never really gone
What do I have to do
To get that close to you
And your- your dreamy eyes
Oh, I try so hard to release you
I just keep seeing your dreamy eyes.
Your dreamy eyes...
They just wont say goodbye.
Well, it must be my fate
cause I just cant escape.
And the passion never dies
Oh, dreamy eyes
No matter how I try
I just cant reach you, dreamy eyes.
song performed by by Christina Aguilera
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Black Woman
black woman
woman black
sing to me
sing to me
like Roberta Flack
tell me your longing
say you'll be there
tell it like honey
your cool moist breath
black woman
black as the cat
who strives in the night
sleek as the bird
daring in flight
black as the land
in which you were born
and bleak the day
from that earth
you were torn
black angel
black eyes aware
ebony skin
natural hair
black woman
woman black
love me forever
love me now
don't hold back
poem by Martin A. Ramos
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For A While
i stop for a while on this morning walk
to see the ripening rice plants on the field
golden indeed like the blonde hairs
of the american woman
under the gentleness of the sun that has
newly arrived from the split sides of the
nearby mountain
my eyes were caught however
on this maiden with a brown skin
long black hair with an earthen jar
on her left shoulder held by her
small hands
she is just passing by to fetch
some water in the old stone-walled well
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Eyes Of A Woman
In the eyes of a woman, in a world of desire,
From the moment she looked my way. I was so hypnotized
Should I show how I feel, shes the magnet, Im steel
The eyes of a woman, theres nowhere to run
The eyes of a woman
In the arms of an angel, in a dangerous disguise
Loves a blue fascination
Its a mystery that burns, takes a lifetime to learn
The eyes of a woman, theres nowhere to run
The eyes of a woman, my fears come undone
In the eyes of a woman, theres nowhere to run
The eyes of a woman, my fears come undone
Nowhere to run
Nowhere to run
Nowhere to run
song performed by by Journey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beautiful Woman!
Beautiful like fresh flower,
Beautiful with rainbows in eyes,
Beautiful with shyness and smile,
beautiful woman!
Beautiful are the star like eyes
Deeper than deepest ocean,
Ocean of feelings and love,
Beautiful is that motherly heart!
Beautiful woman thy beauty is thy compassion,
Thy beauty is in patience and knowledge,
Thy beauty lies in flowerless lips with precious smile,
Beautiful woman, most abstract beauty,
Not that beauty felt by eyes
Nor that skin or hair,
Not that grace or style, beautiful woman,
you are the beauty!
Beautiful woman!
thy beauty shines
Moon in star studded sky,
Thy beauty flashes with every turn of your neck to the call of child,
like plant swing with
perfumed flower in the garden
When that beauty of heart beautifully expressed!
Where her beauty lies,
Is it in her body or mind,
Or is it in her heart soft and kind?
Who wants to get stick or bind,
That's why women race fast leaving wondering men behind!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Beautiful Bashful Eyes
Big beautiful bashful eyes
with lashes oh so long
I love your beautiful bashful eyes.
They remind me of a song.,
a song to describe their color
and their lids that are half closed.
They never let me see behind them.
What they're feeling is never exposed.
Big beautiful bashful eyes
are lost in timid intent.
I wish for them to open wide
to see where they have spent
their shy-retiring gazes?
Were they ever looking my way?
Or were they lost in silent thought
afraid that they might stray
And find that all around you
eyes would be looking your way?
My eyes would be among them
and you would hear me say.
'Big beautiful bashful eyes
with lashes oh so long
you've captivated my attention
and are now the words to my song.
'Beautiful eyes, bashful and blue
my thoughts are lost in you.
Your lashes long, your lids dreamy-eyed,
no one can tell what secrets they hide.
I have secrets my eyes hide too.
They're all about my feelings for you.
Those bashful eyes have become for me
everything that I dreamed they would be.'
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Ashes of Stick
Down by my home lies an old street.
A young maid cries please buy it.
Lightful street, they head to see shows.
They smile, we play and passerby bows.
We run, we stumble and sometimes we click.
Come on, watch out, woman who's got ashes of stick.
She adverts, these woods smell better than fresh foods.
Come on, watch it, pay it, for what it suits.
With wallet of puppet, kid, it costs ten cents.
Woods were best, they could be good gifts.
Woman with boots, they've got adorable looks.
They greet hello boy, its awesome but no chance too hook.
Street guys and band, rock with their drumstick.
Don't ignore, come on, watch out women with ashes of stick.
They compliment, she is a nice fudge.
Cool, i would love to make a judge.
My puppy run, it thrashes and loves to lick.
Come on, watch out, woman with ashes of stick.
poem by Diplove gautam
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A Decent Man
a decent man comes out
from a room: black shiny coat
red tie, a diamond pin, a white polo shirt
a well cut hair a la james bond
eyes covered with a reading glass
you get the impression that he is well-read
and trained to the gentleness of a well-bred
progeny, he is cool and calm and
always gives you the sense of
a deep listener
his wisdom flows from his
attentive eyes
keen and ponderous
you think he has no capacity for
sin or mischief
you feel that he is elevated from
the rest of us
but that is not exactly true.
one night, a cold air blows from
the sea and feels his room with
quivers. He has entertained thoughts
about the woman in Bahamas.
Or the girl from Ipanema.
He rings the phone asking for
the name of a woman. Cathy.
He needs a night. He is hot
as a cinder, as an iron rod
red as flame.
and then the woman comes
barely dressed and well scented
luscious lips and abundant bosom.
soft hair and sleepy eyes.
he opens the door and she closes it.
he asks her to undress and dance
before him. and they made love
in front of the mirror by the wall.
the man has assumed the shadow
of a mad dog as he makes
the push and pull until he is
through. At that moment the decent
man has become a mad dog just like
any mad dog with saliva flowing
along the streets of the slums.
for in truth, a decent man is as decent
only as he is dressed under the sun.
As soon as he gets naked inside his room,
this decent man faces the truth of his being.
in the secret of a moonlit night,
the shadow of the decent man
is just this dog, and nothing more.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Call Of Love
I walked towards the ocean
As she began to roll and began to roar
Then she put in in a daze, I remembered today
As I thought of a woman, that I knew once before.
Her eyes where as deep as the ocean
Her soul as loving as the ocean is blue
Her skin as white, as the sand that night,
A statement, was never as true.
The breeze then went through my hair
As though as a woman was standing there,
She then touched my heart and kissed my lips,
At the ocean, I just stood and stared.
The ocean then took itself a form
Was a form to set myself and soul free
So then I closed my eyes and I fantasized
And then I accepted the ocean, inside of me.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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The Wet Blankets Of Childhood
he is tired
drowsy
in the middle
of this stage
he finds images of
melting
memories
same as the old metal
wall clock
dripping on the
wall
floors like
brown sugar mix
with the
carpet and the
shoes
you smell black
pepper
and steam rice
you see
scalding fish
skin
fins separating
like
locks of hair
the feeling is
liquid
flowing like
the usual
river
that you have
been picturing
since
childhood where
you can still
hear the
dissolving laughter
on that
early night earthen
bowl
when darkness is like
a cloak
finally covering
your eyes
neither hot
nor cold
until
you fall asleep
as pain
too
diffuses
like drops of
rain from
the ceiling
to your
bed
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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