Blondes make the best victims. They're like virgin snow that shows up the bloody footprints.
quote by Alfred Hitchcock
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Related quotes
Crucifix
we, who walk with shoulders bent,
leaving bloody footprints in the snow.
our very lives a crucifix, by design,
our hunger unabated by the stars...
pray with calloused hands grimy
with the work of the heart.
whispered deaths lost to the wind,
nothing held back, or denied...
we, who walk with shoulders bent,
leaving bloody footprints in the snow...
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blondes have more fun?
Blondes have more fun!
So the saying goes,
Where that saying comes from
Nobody really knows.
I’d like to know how they worked that out
As I don’t see how it’s true,
Brunettes are just as happy
Gingers and black haired people too.
All people can have lots of fun
You don’t have to be blonde to have a laugh
I’m not blonde and I have good times
And can also do my math.
So all the non-blondes out there
I want to hear your cry,
Your cry of joy to tell the world
How that saying is wrong and why.
All the blondes can stay together
They can have fun where they want and when,
But we’ll stand firm us non-blondes
And have twice as much fun as them!
poem by Elora Cooper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Melt Down
In a way, even by still-life, sunlit
day. Visionary problematic Picasso, poet,
walks in serene snow covered night.
Leaving footprints in virgin untrod snow
silent select seekers may later follow.
Ever after several have melted in shadow.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In The Footprints of My Mother
In the footprints of my mother,
I shall step to you.
In the footprints of my mother,
I shall stay innocent and true.
In the footprints of my mother,
I shall not give up hope.
In the footprints of my mother,
I shall give you my love note.
In the footprints of my mother,
Lead me to a better path.
In the footprints of my mother,
I shall releive in her wrath.
In the footprints of my mother,
I shall cure all of your pains.
In the footprints of my mother,
I shall bring you great reigns.
In the footprints of my mother,
I shall unleash the angels of truth.
In the footprints of my mother,
I shall defeat the evils booth.
The footprints of my mother,
led me straight to you.
The footprints of my mother,
Shown me I have nothing left to loose.
The footprints of my mother,
Guieded me towards the compelling lights.
The footprints of my mother,
Guided me towards the love of my life.
poem by Erin Grantham
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bloody Angel
the bloody angel
finds no comfort on this earth
she looks down at her hideous body
too confirm she has no worth
the bloody angel
lies face down in the snow
shivering uncontrollably
she's found herself alone
the bloody angel
looks up to the sky
she screams aloud asking
why god won't let her die
the bloody angel
slowly crawls across the ground
her broken wings are aching
her mumbling the only sound
the bloody angel
lifts her head to see your face
why is it that you laugh at her
and turn to walk the other way
the bloody angel
hoarsely calls out your name
she used to be your only love
but now you're not the same
the bloody angel
lays down her fragile head
the snow turns no warmer
as it becomes her death bed
poem by Black Rose
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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They Might Be Giants
Hang on
Hang on tight
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants
They might be rain
They might be heat
They might be frying up a stalk of wheat
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants
They might be brain
They might be washed
They might be dr. spocks back-up band
To make the merry-go-round go faster
So that everyone needs to hang on tighter
Just to keep from being thrown to the wolves
Tabloid footprints in your hair
Tabloid footprints everywhere
We cant be silent
cause they might be giants
And what are we going to do unless they are
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants
They might be bald
They might be snow
They might be something else in the snow
Hang on tight
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants
They might be fake
They might be lies
They might be big, big, fake, fake lies
Tabloid footprints in your hair
Tabloid footprints everywhere
We cant be silent
cause they might be giants
And what are we going to do unless they are
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants (boy)
They might be giants (boy)
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Red Carnation As A Symbol
many want to stand for it
love, yes could be,
fire, fire on a green stalk
from whom? from love
yes, yes it could be
bloody, this red carnation
is bloody
but love, love, yes it could be
love, from the pocket
of your black suited heart
oh, yes, bloody, so bloody,
this red carnation, could still be
love, love, yes it could be
how much harm more can
it do
wrecking havoc on innocent
hearts, these bloody, bloody
victims
of love, love, yes, the red
carnation could still be
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bloody Luxury
(coverdale)
Now when I first met you
I was rolling along,
Just a bar room crooner
Singing heartbreak songs,
An I supposed I could never get next to you
But, you seemed quite happy with my company
You kept my body heat steady at 103,
With your mouth full of gimme
An your body full of much obliged
Its bloody luxury
What you mean to me,
Bloody luxury
What you do to me
Its bloody luxury
What you mean to me,
cos no matter what you do to me
Its bloody luxury
Bloody luxury...
Youre a five star woman,
An you know what to give
To fill a part time loser
Full of reasons to live,
But, theres no doubt about it
Im taking a chance on you
Becos you get my heart beating heavy,
Make my knees go weak
You get me so damn nervous
I can hardly speak,
But, nothings gonna stop me
Hanging on my good luck charm
Its bloody luxury
What you mean to me,
Bloody luxury
What you do to me
Its bloody luxury
What you mean to me,
cos no matter what you do to me
Its bloody luxury
Bloody luxury...
Its bloody luxury
What you mean to me,
Bloody luxury
Honey what you do to me
Its bloody luxury
What you mean to me,
cos no matter what you do to me
Its bloody luxury
Bloody luxury
What you mean to me,
Bloody luxury
Honey what you do to me
Its bloody luxury
What you mean to me,
cos no matter what you do to me,
No matter what you do to me,
No matter what you do to me,
Its bloody luxury
Bloody luxury
Bloody luxury...
song performed by by Whitesnake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Footprints
Its beautiful outside, an old hand gathers wood,
Can he see me sitting here? his mind is somewhere else.
His friend have flown away, hes left out in the cold.
He wont sit by my fire, he says he likes it in the snow.
Where footprints never go, he likes it in the snow.
Its getting dark outside, the old hands going home,
Has he someone waiting there? or is he living on his own?
Where footprints never go, he likes it in the snow...
White blanket, hiding the traces of tears she didnt see,
Oh white blanket covers the memory
Of all that used to be. all that used to be.
But his heart keeps aching in the same old way,
He cant help feeling that she might come back someday.
Its beautiful outside, a magpie looks for food.
The old hand throws a crumb,
Do you think hes found a friend?
Where footprints never go, he likes it in the snow...
White blanket, hiding the traces of paths he didnt take
Oh white blanket covers the memory
Of moves he didnt make
Oh white blanket, hiding the traces of tears she didnt see
Snow white blanket simply covers the memory
Of all that used to be.
But his heart keeps aching in the same old way
He cant help feeling that she might come back someday.
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Footprints In The Snow
I love, I love, oh, I still love you
Cant wait to see the firelight in your eyes
Thats why I wait for your footsteps in the snow
I dream each night that I will wake to find you
Sleeping deep and still down by my side
Thats why I wait for your footprints in the snow
Time after time
Year after year
Forever
I will love you
In deepest winter, darkest hours youll find me
At midnight silence, tremble at the glow
Thats why I wait for your footprints in the snow
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lands
I’ve seen lands sunken by sun
In yellow and the pools of saltbush
Change to pavements swept in restless
And magic powders of snow
I’ve seen my body change with lands
From a free-swaying gazelle in the heat-wind
Into a suit of warmth, woven by my lover
And the drink in my hand from juice to coffee
And I’ve wondered how a tropic people
Would wake to receive a snow-covered land
Or a virgin morning’s people’s government
Unviolated by the footprints of power.
poem by Frank Bana
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tundra
Short arctic desert day ---
And someone left their snow-shoes in the tundra.
Look around every which way
But I cant see just where the footprints go.
Is it a casual disappearance? ---
Plucked from the middle atmosphere
Like straw wind-blown.
No speck on the horizon ---
No simple message scrawled
Upon the snow.
Unearthly visitation ---
Someone left their snow-shoes in the tundra.
Hungry buzzard flier
Circling round and round
Rattling deaths tambourine.
Have to run it down the cold wire ---
Late insertion in tomorrows lost and found.
Should I spread out searching?
But Im a little thin upon the ground.
So I raise my lips to coax
The last drop of brandy from the bottle.
Rest my feet and contemplate
The mystery thats haunting
This siberian space.
Show-shoes they bind me down ---
Im just one more parasite of the surface layer.
I begin to get the feeling
Ive been on this stage before
And Im the only player.
One more arctic desert day ---
Another set of shoes out in the tundra snow.
I make my fade to white-out
And you cant see me where my footprints go.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silent Snow
A single pane of glass divides
Myself from falling snow outside.
The first of many falling snows
That these white winter skies will know.
And taking then my quiet leave
The snow alights on cap and sleeve,
While walking slowly up the hill
I realize then the world is still
All still except for falling flakes
Filling fast the tracks I make.
All still except for swelling smiles
Growing with the snow in piles.
All still within a quiet mind
All still as footprints left behind.
poem by William Mcgehee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Irritating Sky
The sky is always changing –
Can't it settle down?
Shades of blue, then reddy hue,
Puffs of grey and white;
And then it's bloody night!
At least I see a smattering
Of twinkly little things,
A silver globe occasionally
Which admittedly it brings
A sort of pleasant feeling,
Warming to the soul,
But overall it's so annoying –
Irritatingly droll!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
Sky sky bloody sky, bloody sky sky
Sky sky bloody sky, sky bloody sky
Sky bloody sky bloody sky sky sky
Sky bloody sky bloody sky sky sky
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Footprints in the Snow
footprints in the snow.
tiny unnamed orphan lifetimes
that melt without a sound
and are lost forever.
candlewax melted to the formless,
mountains worn down over a millennia...
the faces of wrinkled old men
and newborn babies, one and the same.
the fleeting dance of a butterfly,
a river singing across centuries.
70 years,50 years,20 years, ...
or maybe just tonite!
coming back over and over again,
or dissolving like ash into the wind.
a dropp of rain, or the surge of an ocean,
stone stacked upon stone, or thistle?
footprints in the snow...
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song Of The Evergreens
Listen to the briskly whistling winter evergreen
Whispering through the frozen morning light
And tell me whats to come
Saying my time is near
Never fear
I close each year
Im winter
Reminding me to trade my t-shirts for my woven wools
Trade my sandals for my skis
Whispered warnings in the wind
Saying soon come the dancing snowflakes
Theyre kissing every tree
Theyre kissing you and me
Please hurry
Falling
Dazzling dancing diamonds from the sky
Prisms
Rainbow sparkled flurries in our eyes
Whipping across the frozen crystal meadow
Pond of ice
Race the snow
Well build a warming fire there
And cuddle close and wine and dine
The setting sun
The morning light will find us high
Shooting down the glistening mountain side
Screaming through the whispering pines
The freedom of each day
Will cleanse our minds
I can hardly wait for winter
I can hardly wait for the snow
I can hardly hardly wait for winter
I can hardly wait for the snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
Snow snow snow snow snow snow snow snow
song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Foot Prints In The Snow
Footprints in the snow
Little faces all aglow
Voices filled with song and laughter
Echoing toward the pale sky rafters
Snow people soon appear
So happy snow days are here!
12: 49 AM-12: 51
December 20,2009
Dorothy Alves Holmes
poem by Dorothy Holmes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sunday, Bloody Sunday
Well, it was sunday, bloody sunday when the shot the people there.
The cries of thirteen martyrs filled the free derry air.
Is there anyone amongst you dare to blame it on the kids?
Not a soldier boy was bleeding when they nailed the coffin lids!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Well, you claim to be majority, well, you know that its a lie.
Youre really a minority on this sweet emerald isle.
When stormont bans our marches, theyve got a lot to learn,
Internment is no answer, its those mothers turn to burn.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Hey! yeah!
Yeah!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
All you anglo pigs and scotties sent to colonise the north,
You wave your bloody union jacks and you know what its worth.
How dare you hold to ransom a people proud and free?
Keep ireland to the irish, put the english back to sea!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Hey, hey, hey!
Alright!
Ooh -
Yeah!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Well, its always bloody sunday in the concentration camps.
Keep falls road free forever from the bloody british hands.
Repatriate to britain all of you who call it home,
Leave ireland to the irish not for london or for rome.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunday, Bloody Sunday
Well, it was sunday, bloody sunday when the shot the people there.
The cries of thirteen martyrs filled the free derry air.
Is there anyone amongst you dare to blame it on the kids?
Not a soldier boy was bleeding when they nailed the coffin lids!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Well, you claim to be majority, well, you know that its a lie.
Youre really a minority on this sweet emerald isle.
When stormont bans our marches, theyve got a lot to learn,
Internment is no answer, its those mothers turn to burn.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Hey! yeah!
Yeah!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
All you anglo pigs and scotties sent to colonise the north,
You wave your bloody union jacks and you know what its worth.
How dare you hold to ransom a people proud and free?
Keep ireland to the irish, put the english back to sea!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Hey, hey, hey!
Alright!
Ooh -
Yeah!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Well, its always bloody sunday in the concentration camps.
Keep falls road free forever from the bloody british hands.
Repatriate to britain all of you who call it home,
Leave ireland to the irish not for london or for rome.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Your Footprints
You left your footprints across my life
I hate to see your photographs:
passing history impossibly frozen,
demanding out-of-date thoughts.
You left your footprints on my life
I hate it when people talk of you:
as if they were asking for my blood
to warm their own false memories.
You left your footprints through my life
I hate it when I find a letter from you:
I read a richness and a loss in them
and am torn apart by myself
You left your footprints in my life
Footprints claim nothing, offer nothing;
they do not ask to be preserved, or to be erased;
they are clean, yet they are there;
where they lead, I have yet to find
You left your footprints across my life
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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