A Rondeau
To iron a shirt, first lightly spray,
then left and right hand interplay;
with one to press and one to lead,
the path's prepared, the creases freed
and gathered wrinkles fade away.
The woman's old, in slow decay,
she's taken care of every day,
yet restless hands still feel the need
to iron a shirt.
Her mind now tends to disarray,
yet sometimes skills, long practiced, stay
and though she lacks her former speed,
her family and friends concede,
she's always known the proper way
to iron a shirt.
poem by Diane Hine
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rags & Old Iron
Norman curtis, oscar brown jr
Rags old iron rags old iron
All he was buying was just rags and old iron
I heard that old rag man now making his rounds
He came right to my alley lord with sorrowful sounds
Crying rags old iron and pulling his cart
Ask him how much hed give me for my broken heart
Rags old iron rags old iron
All he was buying was just rags and old iron
So I asked that old rag man how much he would pay
For a heart that was broken baby when you went away
For a burnt out old love light that no longer beams
And a couple of slightly used second hand dreams
Rags old iron rags old iron
All he was buying was just rags and old iron
For those big empty promises you used to make
For those memories of you that are no longer sweet
I wish he could haul them off down the street
Rags old iron rags old iron
All he was buying was just rags and old iron
When love doesnt last tell me what is it worth
It was once mamas most precious possession on earth
When I asked that old rag man if hed like to buy
He just shook his head and continued to cry
Rags old iron rags old iron
All he was buying was just rags and old iron
Rags old iron rags old iron
Rags old iron rags old iron rags old iron
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Look Good In My Shirt
When you walked up behind me and covered my eyes
And whispered in my ear, guess who
I rattled off names like I really didnt know
But all along I knew it was you
And, the longer we talked, the more we laughed
And wondered why we didnt last
It had been a long time, but later last night
Baby, we caught up real fast
And maybe its a little too early
To know if this is gonna work
All I know is youre sure looking
Good in my shirt
Thats right
You look good in my shirt
Well now Im not saying that we solved overnight
Every way that we went wrong
Oh, but what Im seeing Id sure love seeing
Every morning from now on
And maybe its a little too early
To know if this is gonna work
All I know is youre sure looking
Good in my shirt
Cmon now
Aww thats right
Oh you look so fine
And maybe its a little too early
To know if this is gonna work
All I know is youre sure looking
Good in my shirt
And maybe its a little too early
To know if this is gonna work
All I know is youre sure looking
Good in my shirt
You look good in my shirt
You look good in my shirt
song performed by by Keith Urban
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Shirt
The buttonholes were empty.
The buttons had all let go.
The shirt was now a remnant,
one he did outgrow.
The sleeves were short so he rolled them.
The plaid material was faded.
Now it was getting much too tight
as he saw his name brocaded.
The name was what she called him,
'Sonny, sonny boy.'
Her voice came back when he wore it.
It was a sound of joy.
He would have to give up wearing it
and pray that she would know
that no other shirt he'd ever wear
were what her hands did sew.
Mom. dear mom you come alive
everytime I see that shirt.
It helps me when I'm missing you.
It takes away the hurt.
Every other shirt that I have worn
could never quite replace
the feeling I get when I see it
for I see your loving face.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No Shoes, No Shirt, No Problems
Ive been up to my neck workin 6 days a week
Wearin holes into the shoes on my feet
Been dreamin of gettin away since I dont know
Aint no better time than now..for mexico
No shoes, no shirt, no problems
Blues what blues..hey I forgot them
The sun and the sand and a drink in my hand with no bottom
And no shirt, no shirt, and no problems!
No problems
Want a towel on a chair in the sand by the sea
Want to look thru my shades and see you there with me
Want to soak up life for a while
In laid back mode
No boss, no polite, no stress, no dress code
No shoes, no shirt, no problems
Blues what blues hey I forgot them
The sun and the sand and a drink in my hand with no bottom
And no shoes, no shirt, and no problems
Babe lets get packed..tank tops and flip flops if u got them
No shoes, no shirt, no problems
No problems.
song performed by by Kenny Chesney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No Shoes, No Shirt, No Problem
I've been up to my neck workin 6 days a week
wearin holes into the shoes on my feet
been dreamin of gettin away since i dont know
Aint no better time than now..for mexico
No shoes, No shirt, No problems
Blues what blues..hey i forgot them
The sun and the sand and a drink in my hand with no bottom
and no shirt, no shirt, and no problems!
No problems
Want a towel on a chair in the sand by the sea
want to look thru my shades and see you there with me
Want to soak up life for a while
In laid back mode
No boss, no polite, no stress, no dress code
No shoes, no shirt, no problems
Blues what blues hey i forgot them
The sun and the sand and a drink in my hand with no bottom
and no shoes, no shirt, and no problems
Babe lets get packed..tank tops and flip flops if u got them
No shoes, no shirt, no problems
No problems
song performed by by Kenny Chesney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blotch
I compelled my hand-blotch to be a care
On this soul of mine. So far, my cares
Diminished, as bending was difficult for me
And old tables remained like my skin.
I wore a cardigan that day, and could it be
That my wearing of this item of clothing
Be strict and due to ancient nature,
Or the feature of an old saying
That forbade my age to enter history.
My hands tie meaning with my shirt
Or shall I say cardigan, just the sold one,
The one so forgiving of my age.
Age carries stiches,
I stretch my shirt, or cardigan,
And look at my hands.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Better Than The Knife
A woman can cut you up better than a butcher can skin and bone a turkey.
A woman can burn holes in you better than either one of us can iron a shirt.
A woman will first tell you everything, even though you weren't expecting
Then she'll expect all that back and more in return.
And if she doesn't get it
She'll put a knife through you.
Some use a sharpened, shining blade
Others barb their words with
Just the same.
A woman can melt through your heart like acid through wood and grass
A woman can rip the damn heart out through your ass
A woman is more insidious than you realise
A woman is a curse and a blessing twice disguised.
And if you don't expose the hidden truths of your soul
You'd better believe you'll suffer more letting them fly
Out in to the darkness, into the bartenders ear
Wherever they land.
poem by Gary Diamond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tuck Your Shirt In
My name is Holly
And I like
I'm so glad that you asked me out tonight
Our conversation over dinner was really nice
But don't forget you still owe me dessert
It's 12 we missed the late show
So let's head over to this joint that I know
Everytime I take someone it's always such a ride
But there's a dress code
You've got to follow
There's no exceptions
And once you're in
If you want TMA
You better need to be
Oh baby
But before you enter
Tuck your shirt in
No way you'll get rid of
Other clothes
If you don't follow this
One moment
Tuck your shirt in
La la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la
We're probably gonna need to call a cab
Ten minute walk over there and back
But I think it's best we
Save our energy
Tonight I'm really on the grind
Otherwise I'd normally wait a while
Before I'd ask
Somebody to my party
But there's a dress code
You've got to follow
There's no exceptions
And once you're in
If you want TMA
You better need to be
Oh baby
But before you enter
Tuck your shirt in
No way you'll get rid of
Other clothes
If you don't follow this
One moment
Tuck your shirt in
La la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la
But there's a dress code
You've got to follow
There's no exceptions
And once you're in
If you want TMA
You better need to be
Oh baby
But before you enter
Tuck your shirt in
No way you'll get rid of
Other clothes
If you don't follow this
One moment
Tuck your shirt in
TMA
You better need to be
Oh baby
But before you enter
Tuck your shirt in
No way you'll get rid of
Other clothes
If you don't follow this
One moment
Tuck your shirt in
La la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la
song performed by by Holly Valance from Footprints
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Election Day
(lebon, rhodes, taylor)
Wild kind of look to the day, opening eyes impale neon flickers
She moon, she turning away,
The citys her slave, hes cheating his mistress
Shes moody and grey, shes mean and shes restless
(so restless, so restless indeed)
All over you as they say,
Rumours or rivals yell at the strike force -
Hi guys, by the way, are you aware youre being illegal (ooh)
Its making your saviour behaviour look evil
scuse my timing but say,
How dyou fit in with this flim, flam and judy
Maximum big suprise your smile is something new
I pull my shirt off and pray,
Were sacred and bound to suffer the heatwave
Pull my shirt off and pray,
Were coming up on re-election day
Stretching my love down the way
To your invitation stretching my body
Use your intuitive play
Cause maybe we have more play time than money
Maximum big suprise she knows something new
I pull my shirt off and pray,
Im saving myself to suffer the heatwave
Pull my shirt off and pray,
Were coming up on re-election day
By roads and backways a lovers chance, down a wind
Curtain murmurs and sounds be calm hands on skin
Carry further.. entangled strands.. all sing!
Time, saving some time to slip away we could dance ..
Oh! shouldnt be asking..
Wild and scheming
Could be my election day
Maximum big suprise you know something new
I pull my shirt off and pray,
Were sacred and bound to suffer this heatwave
Pull my shirt off and pray
Were coming up on re-election day
Oww
Re-election day
Owwoooaa
song performed by by Duran Duran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cabin on Loon Lake
INTERIOR kitchen of rustic cabin
in remote region of northern Michigan
wind howling snow swirling visible
through small window at left
Disheveled man sits at makeshift desk
sorting through stacks of paper
Angular woman leans against iron sink
smoking cigarette after cigarette
MAN> You use the checkbook?
Woman looks around room, smiling.
She gestures toward a cabinet against the wall.
WOMAN> There's some Wheaties in the cupboard.
Man looks startled as he rises to his feet
MAN> You know what I'm saying?
Woman stubs out cigarette in a chipped coffee cup.
She fishes out another from the pack in her shirt pocket.
Man comes around desk and hands her a folded sheet.
Woman unfolds paper and studies it.
WOMAN> This is just plain crazy.
Man turns to desk and unrolls a length of blueprint.
He smooths it and points at the center of the sheet.
WOMAN> I like it.
CURTAIN
poem by Michael Pruchnicki
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Vest
Why do you wear a vest?
Do you really need to wear it?
When you come to me…
Don’t you think it prevents me
From accessing you directly?
Come to me only with your
Buttoned up tucked in shirt,
Leave the rest to me…
What to do, how to do,
How long and how well to do.
The whys, hows and wherefores
Of doing things to you…
And when I do those things to you,
You’ll come back to me again
And again and again, and those
Endless times and again…
With that vestless shirt of yours
So that I could do those things
To you, unbuttoning so many ways
Of seeking the pleasures in you.
Don’t tell me where to begin.
I know the beginnings and the endings
The tops, the bottoms and the tips
The line breaks and the paragraphs
The commas, semi colons and full stops
All that punctuates to the last dot.
Not to forget your quest of queries
And my answers of exclamations!
I can do it in pairs or in singles
I know all the mixes and the mingles
I know what jerks and jingles!
I just know what you want
I can see it in your eyes…
I can feel it in your quivering voice
I can hear it in your ecstatic cries.
Let me practise before the final play
Let me trace you in your clothes -
And see what your shirt and trousers
Say! Hmmm…Feels Nice.
Doesn’t it? What? You loved it!
Wao! When? Oh, Yes!
I know that feels Nice.
When I touch you on those
Tips of yours, in the collars
And the pockets, on the left,
The right, the sides and the folds
Of that vestless shirt of yours -
And the pivots of your trousers.
Let’s get this over now.
Lots of practice had its way
Let’s now begin the final play
I know and I can feel that Bulge.
The Zip is panting to give you way
But it has to wait, you see…
For the buttons need to be undone
One by one, don’t make haste
Relax…slow down, breathe in,
Breathe out, savour every moment
Of your vestless shirt’s seduction
As the Fun has only just begun!
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poem About The Rotten Self
it is
a law that every
human being
accepts
as is: it is always the soft side that is hidden
sort of
Achilles's heel since we do not want to be
destroyed in an instant
it is the hard side that is always shown
a carapace
an armor of the body
a steel polo shirt
a pair of pants made of platinum
a bronze heart
a brain full of lead
tin hands
iron feet
the soft side is left like a fruit that you have forgotten
inside the
cabinet because of your selfishness
that inability to accept that all things are meant to be given
away
one day
you will find all the pulp consumed by the ants
have hope get the remaining seed with dried fiber like hair
on all over its body
take it and sow it
today.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Cabinessence
Light the lamp and fire mellow,
Cabin essence timely hello,
Welcomes the time for a change.
Lost and found, you still remain there.
Youll find a meadow filled with grain there.
Ill give you a home on the range.
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
I want to watch you windblown facing
Waves of wheat for your embracing.
Folks sing a song of the grange.
Nestle in a kiss below there.
The constellations ebb and flow there.
And witness our home on the range.
Who ran the iron horse?
(truck driving man do what you can)
Who ran the iron horse?
(high-tail your load off the road)
Who ran the iron horse?
(out of night-life-its a gas man)
Who ran the iron horse?
(I dont believe I gotta grieve)
Who ran the iron horse?
(in and out of luck)
Who ran the iron horse?
(with a buck and a booth)
Who ran the iron horse?
(catchin on to the truth)
Who ran the iron horse?
(in the vast past, the last gasp)
Who ran the iron horse?
(in the land, in the dust, trust that you must)
Who ran the iron horse?
(catch as catch can)
Have you seen the grand coolie workin on the railroad?
Have you seen the grand coolie workin on the railroad?
Have you seen the grand coolie workin on the railroad?
Over and over,
The crow cries uncover the cornfield.
Over and over,
The thresher and hover the wheat field.
Over and over,
The crow cries uncover the cornfield.
Over and over,
The thresher and hover the wheat field.
Over and over,
The crow cries uncover the cornfield.
Over and over,
The thresher and hover the wheat field.
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cold Iron
Gold is for the mistress -- silver for the maid --
Copper for the craftsman cunning at his trade.
"Good!" said the Baron, sitting in his hall,
"But Iron -- Cold Iron -- is master of them all."
So he made rebellion 'gainst the King his liege,
Camped before his citadel and summoned it to siege.
"Nay!" said the cannoneer on the castle wall,
"But Iron -- Cold Iron -- shall be master of you all!"
Woe for the Baron and his knights so strong,
When the cruel cannon-balls laid 'em all along;
He was taken prisoner, he was cast in thrall,
And Iron -- Cold Iron -- was master of it all!
Yet his King spake kindly (ah, how kind a Lord!)
"What if I release thee now and give thee back thy sword?"
"Nay!" said the Baron, "mock not at my fall,
For Iron -- Cold Iron -- is master of men all."
Tears are for the craven, prayers are for the clown --
Halters for the silly neck that cannot keep a crown.
"As my loss is grievous, so my hope is small,
For Iron -- Cold Iron -- must be master of men all!"
Yet his King made answer (few such Kings there be!)
"Here is Bread and here is Wine -- sit and sup with me.
Eat and drink in Mary's Name, the whiles I do recall
How Iron -- Cold Iron -- can be master of men all!"
He took the Wine and blessed it. He blessed and brake the Bread,
With His own Hands He served Them, and presently He said:
"See! These Hands they pierced with nails, outside My city wall,
Show Iron -- Cold Iron -- to be master of men all."
"Wounds are for the desperate, blows are for the strong.
Balm and oil for weary hearts all cut and bruised with wrong.
I forgive thy treason -- I redeem thy fall --
For Iron -- Cold Iron -- must be master of men all!"
Crowns are for the valiant -- sceptres for the bold!
Thrones and powers for mighty men who dare to take and hold.
"Nay!" said the Baron, kneeling in his hall,
"But Iron -- Cold Iron -- is master of men all!
Iron out of Calvary is master of men all!"
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If I lived back in the Wild West days, instead of carrying a six-gun in my holster, I'd carry a soldering iron. That way, if some smart-aleck cowboy said something like, 'Hey look. He's carrying a soldering iron' and started laughing, and everybody else started laughing, I could just say, 'That's right, it's a soldering iron. The soldering iron of justice.' Then everybody would get real quiet and ashamed, because they made fun of the soldering iron of justice, and I could probably hit them up for a free drink.
Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There was an old man who felt pert
When he wore a pale rose-coloured shirt.
When they said 'Is it pleasant?'
He cried 'Not at present--
It's a little to short -- is my shirt!'
quote by by Edward Lear
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And I was victim to that very early in my career, where I would go into auditions, and I'd be wearing a big T shirt, a big baggy T shirt and loose jeans. You know, to try and show people that there was more to me than just that.
quote by Charlize Theron
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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