La Derniere Robe De Soi
OH, silken gown, all pink and pretty,
Bought, quite a bargain, in the City,
Your ill-trained soul full false has played me--
No Paris gown would have betrayed me.
You knew, my pretty silken treasure,
I must not wed for love or pleasure,
But for a settlement and title;
Yet you encouraged his recital!
He said--oh, faithless gown, you listened
While on your sheen two tear drops glistened--
He said . . . let love to music set it,
I'll never speak it--nor forget it!
'No, no!' I cried, I tried to save you--
False gown, you showed the tears I gave you!
You looked discreet when first I found you.
How could you let his arm go round you?
You darling dress--I'll smooth your creases,
I'll wear you till you drop to pieces;
But poor men's wives wear cotton only--
Dear gown--I hope you won't feel lonely!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Invocation II
COME to-night in a dream to-night,
Come as you used to do,
Come in the gown, in the gown of white,
Come in the ribbon of blue;
Come in the virgin's colours you wear,
Come through the dark and the dew,
Come with the scent of the night in your hair,
Come as you used to do.
Blue and white of your eyes and your face,
White of your gown and blue,
Will you not come from the happy place,
Come as you used to do?
Tears so many, so many tears
Where there were once so few--
Can they not wash the gray of the years
From the white of your gown and blue?
poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Shroud
Death, I say, my heart is bowed
Unto thine,—O mother!
This red gown will make a shroud
Good as any other!
(I, that would not wait to wear
My own bridal things,
In a dress dark as my hair
Made my answerings.
I, to-night, that till he came
Could not, could not wait,
In a gown as bright as flame
Held for them the gate. )
Death, I say, my heart is bowed
Unto thine,—O mother!
This red gown will make a shroud
Good as any other!
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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The Crow Sat On The Willow
The crow sat on the willow tree
A-lifting up his wings,
And glossy was his coat to see,
And loud the ploughman sings,
'I love my love because I know
The milkmaid she loves me';
And hoarsely croaked the glossy crow
Upon the willow tree.
'I love my love' the ploughman sung,
And all the fields with music rung.
'I love my love, a bonny lass,
She keeps her pails so bright,
And blythe she trips the dewy grass
At morning and at night.
A cotton dress her morning gown,
Her face was rosy health:
She traced the pastures up and down
And nature was her wealth.'
He sung, and turned each furrow down,
His sweetheart's love in cotton gown.
'My love is young and handsome
As any in the town,
She's worth a ploughman's ransom
In the drab cotton gown.'
He sang and turned his furrow oer
And urged his team along,
While on the willow as before
The old crow croaked his song:
The ploughman sung his rustic lay
And sung of Phoebe all the day.
The crow he was in love no doubt
And [so were] many things:
The ploughman finished many a bout,
And lustily he sings,
'My love she is a milking maid
With red rosy cheek;
Of cotton drab her gown was made,
I loved her many a week.'
His milking maid the ploughman sung
Till all the fields around him rung.
poem by John Clare
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This may be a dream, but I'll say it anyway: I was supposed to be married last year, and I bought a gown. When I meet Nelson Mandela, I shall put on this gown and have the train of it removed and put aside, and kiss the ground that he walks on and then kiss his feet.
quote by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Silver Moon
The silver moon is up, the sterling silver down,
Lucinda comes down to sup, in elegant evening gown.
Without, in starlit darkness, dreaming is the town,
within, the beams of happiness are streaming from her crown.
Golden chestnut tresses, soft eyes of honey brown,
my prayer's that ne'er her features fair should frame care, wear, wear frown.
Should sorrows wear or grieve her, then groundless life would sound.
Lucinda is dressing for dinner in gossamer evening gown.
(23 March 1975)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Wedding Gown
She put her wedding-gown away
As tenderly as one might close,
With kissing lips and finger-tips,
The petals of a rose
Still held for the Belovèd's sake—
The loveliest that blows.
She put her wedding-gown away
The quiet place was all astir
With vague perfume that filled the room,
Cedar and lavender,
Yet sweeter still about it clung
The fragrant thoughts of her.
She put her wedding-gown away
Yet lingered where its whiteness gleamed
As one above a sleeping Love,
Oh, thus it was she seemed,
Reluctant still to turn and go
And leave him as he dreamed.
poem by Theodosia Garrison
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The Red Dress
I always saw, I always said
If I were grown and free,
I'd have a gown of reddest red
As fine as you could see,
To wear out walking, sleek and slow,
Upon a Summer day,
And there'd be one to see me so
And flip the world away.
And he would be a gallant one,
With stars behind his eyes,
And hair like metal in the sun,
And lips too warm for lies.
I always saw us, gay and good,
High honored in the town.
Now I am grown to womanhood....
I have the silly gown.
poem by Dorothy Parker
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The designer of my Emmy gown is donating my gown to the charity for an auction.
quote by Maria Menounos
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Did I Really See That?
A woman on our bed wearing my gown with ma woman
Sleeping on my side of the bed?
Am I replaced?
So quick?
I thought we were going to talk
About it
Try to work it out
I cancelled all my plans
In a manner to surprise you
I didn't like the way things went
The other day
And now I get home
To find this?
A woman on our bed
Wearing my gown with ma woman on ma side of da bed
Am I replaced?
Just like that?
I thought what we had meant
Something to you
I thought we had a connection
I thought fate had brought us
Together
I thought our future
Was written somewhere
In heaven
Most of all I thought the feeling
Was mutual
For 5years I was relaxed
Thinking I'm in the right place
Where my soul belongs
Wasn't looking
Wasn't searching
Was content
And now I find
A woman on our bed wearing my gown with ma woman
On my side of the bed
Am I replaced?
Already!
I had always been loyal
You cheated more than I could remember
And I kept forgiving n forgetting
I kept loving you like you
Never wronged me
I Kept on trusting you
but to you all that was just a blur
I bet you thought I was fool
I bet you thought I'd never leave you
I bet you thought you were ma life
That's why you cheated
That's why you lied
That's why now I find
A woman on our bed wearing my gown with ma woman
On my side of the bed
Am I replaced?
I know you are
I have ran out of tears
I cried for so long*difedile*
I have ran out of Forgiveness
I forgiven you more than the
Bibble Says I should
I have ran out of space for you
The place I used to keep you is shuttered
And I have ran out of love for you
What I thought was mine
Is now ours
What I thought I owned
It turned out
We own
What I thought was true to me
It was all a lie
A woman on our bed
Wearing my gown
With my woman
On my side of the bed
She can stay
I'll leave..
poem by Diopelo King
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Child's Song in Spring
The Silver Birch is a dainty lady,
She wears a satin gown;
The elm tree makes the old churchyard shady,
She will not live in town.
The English oak is a sturdy fellow,
He gets his green coat late;
The willow is smart in a suit of yellow
While brown the beech trees wait.
Such a gay green gown God gives the larches-
As green as he is good!
The hazels hold up their arms for arches,
When spring rides through the wood.
The chestnut’s proud, and the lilac’s pretty,
The poplar’s gentle and tall,
But the plane tree’s kind to the poor dull city-
I love him best of all!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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They Were In Love
There was a girl
and a boy
they were so cuie
and in love
they spent there days
and there nights
always in each others sight
they were in love
it came one day
they wanted to wed
there parents said
to go ahead
they had the wedding
and it was grand
they had a nice band
o how did they love
the king saw the girl
and wanted her as wife
with all his life
she was a beauty
he sent for her husband
he was needed for war
he said no more
I shall go
not much later
the king sent a letter
i know this is no better
your husband is dead
she was heart broken
she wept
why couldn’t she kept
her dear husband
all she owed
was taken away
she could not pay
what could she do
the king comforted her
he would make her queen
she was ever lean
she was a beauty
with the baby
on the way
what could she say
but yah
her baby boy was born
not soon after
all there was laughter
but she was sad
her husband returned
she cried with joy
and showed there baby boy
they were in love
but alas he found
she had wed another
and it was his brother
how angry he was
he went to the king
and draw his sword
ooo dear lord
he lost
he was be headed
going agents the king
no one did sing
he’s dead
knowing she betrayed
her dear love
she let go of her dove
she was in love
she took her knife
from under her gown
with no frown
drove it though her heart
the next day
she was found
blood all over her gown
she’s dead
the chamber maids
carried her out
with a shout
she’s dead
in her belly
was a baby
just maybe
it could o lived
in her death
she found him
every thing was mend
they were in love
so they set off
to kill there son
it quite a run
and the king
(its a baled)
poem by Lexxiey Scott
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Just Enough Ashland City
Well I don't know how I found her
Love works in mysterious ways
Well I could hardly afford a cup of coffee back then
Weren't exactly my salad days
She knew I was just pretending
To be some kind of big shot
It took her two hours to tell a little something about herself
And that's when my heart stopped
She was just enough Ashland City
To wanna watch the sun go down
She was just enough small town girl
To cook my supper in an evening gown
But Lord didn't she look pretty
Doin' that shake and bake
She was just enough Ashland City
And buddy that's about all it takes
A week later we got married
Yeah, I was gonna show her the world
'Cause I was Mr. Sophisticated and she was just a country girl
She wound up showing me everything
I'd ever been dreaming of
Well, I might've known the way to San Jose
But I didn't know a thing about love
She was just enough Ashland City
To wanna put the t-top down
Take a skinny dip in that old gravel pit
About twenty miles out of town
But Lord didn't she look pretty
Swimming out of those bell bottom jeans
She was just enough Ashland City
And that's more than I'd ever seen
That was fifteen years ago
Nothing much has changed
Well I still try to play the big shot yeah and she's still dressing strange
She still has a hard time
Telling you about herself
So let me tell you a little about the woman I love
'Cause buddy she's something else
She's just enough Ashland City
To wanna watch the sun go down
Just enough small town shy
To keep this ol' boy hanging around
Lord don't she look pretty
In an evening gown or jeans
She's just e
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Glorious Gown of Glimmering Gold
A glorious gown of glimmering gold
Encompasses one luminary globe
Against the sky of this still grove
The crickets moan in baritone
Their cellos serenade my soul
In a glorious gown of glimmering gold
Against the sky of this still grove
The light of fireflies erodes
One’s seemingly inert ego
Yet silhouettes still seem to show
The night is more than what’s foretold-
Against the sky of this still grove.
Though man is made in manifold-
He is among the truly whole-
A glorious gown of glimmering gold
Against the sky of this still grove.
poem by Lazarus Knix
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The Wedding Gown Of The Spring Is More Fair (Rondel Prime)
The wedding gown of the spring is more fair
than the stark nakedness that winter does bring,
when many trees do their bright garments wear
and day and night birds do rejoicing sing,
while insects buzz and flutter in the air
and happiness is in everything living.
The wedding gown of the spring is more fair
than the stark nakedness that winter does bring,
than the silence that is cold and bare,
when some birds do frolic, to and thro wing
their way and gladness is in their flying
until the sun's late afternoon red glare.
The wedding gown of the spring is more fair
than the stark nakedness that winter does bring.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Nature Has Donned Her Dressing Gown
Snow is falling all around
like the shaking from a heavenly sieve while
Nature has donned her dressing gown.
Silently, it cascades down
for one and all to see, and smile
Snow is falling all around.
The beauty has arrived in our little town,
And all around the countryside for miles
Nature has donned her dressing gown.
Miss Kitty peers from the snowy mound
leaping and prancing like a ballet dancer, while
Snow is falling all around.
The pond is shimmering on level ground
the reflection of her majesty, she styles
Nature has donned her dressing gown.
There is not even heard a faint sound
As she hurries down the miles
Snow is falling all around
Nature has donned her dressing gown.
(12/17/08)
(Style - Villanelle)
poem by Doris McGohon
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Shaking Through
Could it be that one small voice doesnt count in the world?
Yellow like a geisha gown, denial all the way
Could this by three be turned? honor marches on.
Yellow like a geisha gown, denial all the way
Shaking through, opportune. shaking through, opportune.
Are we grown way too far?
Taking after rain
Yellow like a geisha gown, denial all the way
Shaking through, opportune. shaking through, opportune.
In my life.
Is that a steal?
Children of today on parade,
Yellow like a geisha gown, denial all the way
Shaking through, opportune. shaking through, opportune.
Shaking through, opportune. shaking through, opportune.
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Little Ghost
I knew her for a little ghost
That in my garden walked;
The wall is high—higher than most—
And the green gate was locked.
And yet I did not think of that
Till after she was gone—
I knew her by the broad white hat,
All ruffled, she had on.
By the dear ruffles round her feet,
By her small hands that hung
In their lace mitts, austere and sweet,
Her gown's white folds among.
I watched to see if she would stay,
What she would do—and oh!
She looked as if she liked the way
I let my garden grow!
She bent above my favourite mint
With conscious garden grace,
She smiled and smiled—there was no hint
Of sadness in her face.
She held her gown on either side
To let her slippers show,
And up the walk she went with pride,
The way great ladies go.
And where the wall is built in new
And is of ivy bare
She paused—then opened and passed through
A gate that once was there.
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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Music Maestro! ...
what is regret?
in this party, i never invite it,
comes hope in full gown
well scented and full of
fresh flowers on her hair,
come fidelity as formal as
ever with diamond necklace
and golden brooch,
comes truth in candid poses
skimpy and cleavage exposed
wow legs, skinny backless
bare and daring cheekbones,
comes trust
regal gown and sprayed firm
dovetailed hair,
where is regret? that sad woman
wanting to be in,
i call the guards not to let her in
for she is a contagion
and does not deserve to be
here in this dancing hall of
my life
turn on the music
and let the dance in circles begin.
maestro!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Ghost
NOW that the curtains are drawn close
Now that the fire burns low,
And on her narrow bed the rose
Is stark laid out in snow;
Now that the wind of winter blows
Bid my heart say if still it knows
The step it used to know.
I hear the silken gown you wear
Sweep on the gallery floor,
Your step comes up the wide, dark stair
And pauses at my door.
My heart with the old hope flowers fair--
That shrivels to the old despair,
For you come in no more!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Golden Rose
A POOR lost princess, weary and worn,
Came over the down by the wind-washed moor,
And the king looked out on her grace forlorn,
And he took her in at his palace door.
He made her queen, he gave her a crown,
Bidding her rest and be glad and gay
In his golden town, with a golden gown,
And a new gold lily every day.
But the crown is heavy, the gold gown gray,
And the queen's pale breast is like autumn snows;
For he brings a gold lily every day,
But no king gathers the golden rose.
One came at last to the palace keep
By worlds of water and leagues of land,
Gray were his garments, his eyes were deep,
And he held the golden rose in his hand.
She left gold gown, gold town, gold crown,
And followed him straight to a world apart,
And he left her asleep on the wind-washed down,
With the golden rose on her quiet heart.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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