Harpy!
Harpy!
With a woman's head and body but,
With a bird's wings and feet;
Garish,
Garret! !
And like the muse of the religions and,
The muse of the individuals;
But clashing always with each other.
Board, broad;
Attached! !
To know you personally,
And like a powerful speech.
These things,
These religions,
But, they are just like words in this life;
However, Harpy is with a woman's head and body!
But, with a bird's wings and feet.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Bird-Magic
Where no birds breathe, bird-magic breathes
Bird-beauty, bird-spirit, bird-splendour,
And brings where no bird wings,
Wing-beats that woo me to wonder.
What do I want when a woman can warm
Bird-magic from her bosom, her womanly arms?
Her lips that are petals, her thighs that are trees,
Boughful with blossoms of softness and ease?
What is the liquid that lingers with love
In her voice? Is the music that hangs in her eyes?
The dewdrop.that dangles from finger-tip touch?
The mellifluous magic that moves me so much?
This is no bird-magic:
This is woman, who with a sweep of her hair
Sends birds bursting to wings in the air.
This is woman, whose frown
Droops dark feathers down.
This is woman; her smile, her kiss, her holding in arms,
Hold more bliss for me than bird-charms.
poem by Tan Pratonix
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hypnagogic
a woman dreams that she turns
into an orange bird
and on the other hand the orange
bird seeing her so beautiful and complete
less the orange wings and feathers
dreams of having woman-hands
soft and a flowing body like a slender
river curving through along
the side of a big mountain where
the orange bird perches on a branch
of an olive tree beside it
convoluted, the thoughts unwind
themselves in sleep wanting rest
from all these warping of time
and seasons and images and swapping
between reality and dream
surreal and mundane
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Body Of Struggle
we earn the body of struggle.
time beaten well worn pages
of a book no one cares to read...
anymore.
having learned to trust what we feel,
what we know that no one can take,
and to question everything else!
what we've lost merely feeds the fire,
what we've given at all costs remains.
and the truth we know is the pathway
of the heart... our feet bruised
by stones and hard travel... keep walking.
this body of struggle laid down... and the box
opens, letting the bird fly free.
we are the bird, the wings, and the
spirit... we leave the body for our
children!
from a song i wrote 43 years ago:
'travellin' on,
aint nobody gonna miss me when i'm gone.
my body is weary, but my will is strong...
reckon i'll be, travellin' on.'
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and is tune is heard
on the distant hillfor the caged bird
sings of freedom
The free bird thinks of another breeze
an the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
poem by Maya Angelou
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Caged Bird
The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom
The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
poem by Maya Angelou (1994)
Submitted by Dan CostinaÅŸ
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The maker is not to blame.
Men had been rational
Till they’ve made religions,
Since when the religions
Have made them mere sheep.
Men had been awaken
Till they’ve made religions,
Since when the religions
Have made them quite drowsy.
Men had been brotherly
Till they’ve made religions,
Since when the religions
Have bred the rivalries.
Men had been good in mind
Till they’ve made religions,
Since when with all the walls,
They have become perverts.
If what was intended
From what was made
Has not been the outcome,
The maker is not to blame.
17.03.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If You Know
If you know what life is worth of,
You will look beyond yourself;
If you know what this poem is about then,
You will read it over and over again;
For it will take your colleagues by a surprise.
You are being kissed and suddenly,
The doors will be opened for you to enter;
But, everything has its own time and meaning,
For the end of things is about to fall unto man.
Not everyone thinks of it from the wet side,
And not all the leaders out there can press a dot on the computer;
Because, i can see your nakedness through a bird's eye view.
Once a woman twice a child,
And once a man twice a child!
Of the red wine for the man and the white wine for the woman,
But, there is beauty in everything if only if we look deeper.
Look beyond yourself if you know what life is worth of,
Look also around you to learn from the muse;
Because, i can see your nakedness through a bird's eye view.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flightless Bird
My world is caged in,
I can not fly away,
I can not soar in the clouds,
With the wind and the angels.
I am a flightless bird with clipped wings.
I sit here day in and day out,
I watch so many people coming in and going out,
They stay here so happy so proud,
And they leave again without any care in the world.
I am a flightless bird with clipped wings.
I remember each face,
I remember them all saying hi waiting for a reply of hello,
They don’t understand how it feels,
They don’t understand what it’s like.
To be a flightless bird with clipped wings.
Wings tucked and head held high I sit here,
I wear a smile on my face and I keep myself beautiful and happy,
But inside all I can see are the bars that surround me,
I can’t get past them I can only sit.
I am a flightless bird with clipped wings.
My world is a room full of people myself the center of attention,
Although I should not complain for this is my life,
And I make them smile I make the children laugh and look in my eyes,
And sometimes they look into my eyes and see my world through my eyes.
They know I am a flightless bird with clipped wings.
They’ll stand and watch me as I walk around in my cage,
They’ll be there with me and try to understand.
Then they’ll have to leave and they’ll look over their shoulders.,
And they look into my eyes one last time,
Before they fly away into the world to bring back stories for the flightless bird with clipped wings,
They are my connection to the world,
They show me what they see through their eyes,
They show me wonders and beauties of a world I’ve never seen,
They are my window to the outside,
In their mind I can be a flightless bird in a world of wonder and of flight.
I am only a small bird in a cage that sits in a hotel,
Sits and watches as the world around me fly’s by,
I wait for the occasional stranger who looks into my eyes with knowing,
Maybe a person who is like me like a flightless bird in a cage,
They are my wings, the wings of a flightless bird who’s wings are clipped.
I sit in my own world and watch as it all moves by,
Day after day I watch and I say what is expected of me,
I sit in my world and I go on my own steady journey,
A journey in which I am a silent observer,
A flightless bird with clipped wings in a world of ever changing skies.
By: Bethany Maxwell
poem by Bethany Maxwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Our Bird In Your Cage
we have this bird
we both own it and love it and care for it
our bird
and you have this cage
that you only own
golden, new and strong and as you say it
so reliable
that when our bird is in that cage
it will be safe
and cannot escape
we feed this bird together
and give it water and birdseeds
and a place of twigs and swing
where the bird can play
and perch upon
like it is on a tree
days and years
we keep this bird in your cage
and we see it is dying
and wanting to be free
yet you say, this sickness is just temporary
time heals what has wounded it
and shall forget the power of its wings
days and more years
we keep this bird in your cage
and i have not listened at all
to the sad song of that bird
her waning chirps
her weakened wings
her way of losing hold to the dreams of its wings
today we see this bird is dead
but you have no sadness at all
you say, you will buy another bird
again to be kept in your cage
i could have told you
i am the bird in your cage and i too have forgotten the power of
my wings
i could have told you, i have long died
and have forgotten what freedom is, what love is, what i am
in the first place. How can i ever tell you?
you are my cage.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jol
To your ears,
To hear my words,
As far as to the land of your muse!
For, a ritheous woman is what you need beside you.
I am Jol and,
A righteous man is what you need beside you oh woman!
And like your sweet love added to his muse;
But, righteousness is the main key about life;
And like the joy that it brings to all who have it.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flying Away?
i like to see the image of a lone bird flying away from me
two steady wings carrying a very light body of blue feathers
a kingfisher flying away against the morning sun
moving nowhere getting farther until it becomes a blue dot
dissolving in the distance that your eyes can no longer see
i sometimes like to think i am that bird flying away
from where i am
because this place is sad and cruel
i like to fly away
to leave everything behind me and then simply forget
and make new beginnings
as easy as that
sometimes however i ask myself:
where shall i go?
nowhere?
just nowhere?
where is nowhere?
just fly away and go
and leave and
then what?
i ask myself these real questions
calling for rational answers
begging
that i be reasonable enough with my life
and the life of others
who also depend
on me
it is not an easy stuff,
just flying away to nowhere and destruct
everything i build here:
a nest, an odor of familiarity,
a sense of home
(though sad and cruel)
a name for myself
a reputation
a family history
an ancestral domain
shall i go then and be foolish?
i am not a bird, i am a man
that is a very serious existence apart from those feathery wishes and dreams
with responsibilities, i have no wings just arms, i have no feathers
but this body
i am not just a bird, i have a soul
and so i decided to stay
with you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Frailty Of All Creatures
When I was a young driver,
Fresh behind the wheel,
I saw a bird fly beneath a driver’s car
Ahead of me.
Her wings were broken
And her body badly damaged.
She flapped without hope
On the hot July street.
When I approached her,
I ran her over;
I cannot be sure
Accidentally or purposely.
I began to cry
And pray to St. Francis,
Poor little bird!
But I thought,
Does God see
The lonely pain of a bird
And the frailty of all creatures?
At that moment,
I became resolved
Every poem I wrote
Would be a prayer
For compassion.
So now, even if I write
About a gorgeous sunset
Or the enchantment of a woman’s eyes,
It really is a prayer for love and mercy
poem by Uriah Hamilton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Tame Bird Was In A Cage
THE tame bird was in a cage, the free bird was in the forest.
They met when the time came, it was a decree of fate.
The free bird cries, 'O my love, let us fly to the wood.'
The cage bird whispers, 'Come hither, let us both live in the cage.'
Says the free bird, 'Among bars, where is there room to spread one's wings?'
'Alas,' cries the caged bird, 'I should not know where to sit perched in the sky.'
The free bird cries, 'My darling, sing the songs of the woodlands.'
The cage bird sings, 'Sit by my side, I'll teach you the speech of the learned.'
The forest bird cries, 'No, ah no! songs can never be taught.'
The cage bird says, 'Alas for me, I know not the songs of the woodlands.'
There love is intense with longing, but they never can fly wing to wing.
Through the bars of the cage they look, and vain is their wish to know each other.
They flutter their wings in yearning, and sing, 'Come closer, my love!'
The free bird cries, 'It cannot be, I fear the closed doors of the cage.'
The cage bird whispers, 'Alas, my wings are powerless and dead.'
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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VI
The tame bird was in a cage, the free bird was in the forest.
They met when the time came, it was a decree of fate.
The free bird cries, "O my love, let us fly to wood."
The cage bird whispers, "Come hither, let us both live in the
cage."
Says the free bird, "Among bars, where is there room to spread
one's wings?"
"Alas," cries the cage bird, "I should not know where to sit
perched in the sky."
The free bird cries, "My darling, sing the songs of the
woodlands."
The cage bird says, "Sit by my side, I'll teach you the speech of
the learned."
The forest bird cries, "No, ah no! songs can never be taught."
The cage bird says, "Alas for me, I know not the songs of the
woodlands."
Their love is intense with longing, but they never can fly wing
to wing.
Through the bars of the cage they look, and vain is their wish to
know each other.
They flutter their wings in yearning, and sing, "Come closer, my
love!"
The free bird cries, "It cannot be, I fear the closed doors of
the cage."
The cage bird whispers, "Alas, my wings are powerless and dead."
poem by Rabindranath Tagore from The Gardener (1913)
Submitted by Silvia Velea
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Catherine
on top of me is a woman's body
after
a moan is another woman's body
a door opens
for a woman's dressed body
a window closes
for a woman's naked body
Catherine
wolverine in a woman's body
pure cotton
dangling softness in a man's naked mind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What if a hummingbird could emerge from a cocoon?
What if a hummingbird could emerge from a cocoon
fully formed
and clingling
to a vanilla plant
its wet body slowly opening
in the heat of the flower garden?
And has anyone noticed
that birds as they depart
their flapping sounds
almost like a paper bag being opened?
The hummingbird clearly, though,
sounds like a hum
whose tiny wings
pressed together at 25 beats per second
is blessed by being the only bird to be able to fly backwards
and one that could be
the smallest fan in the world
The humidity of the weather
evaporates the head notes of her perfume
leaving the heart note to open next
she considers all this
including the world's smallest fan
and believes that if it hovered around her neckline
close to her
the strange bird would have wings
cooling to her
and misty to the bird
as it paddled the air
and was covered so slightly
in the scent of Japanese Eau de Parfum
not to mention
vanilla
poem by Eli Spivakovsky
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Nancy Boy
Alcoholic kind of mood
Lose my clothes, lose my lube
Cruising for a piece of fun
Looking out for number one
Different partner every night
So narcotic outta sight
What a gas, what a beautiful ass.
And it all breaks down at the role reversal,
Got the muse in my head shes universal,
Spinnin me round shes coming over me.
And it all breaks down at the first rehearsal,
Got the muse in my head shes universal,
Spinnin me round shes coming over me.
Kind of buzz that lasts for days
Had some help from insect ways
Comes across all shy and coy
Just another nancy boy.
Woman man or modern monkey
Just another happy junkie
Fifty pounds, press my button
Going down.
And it all breaks down at the role reversal
Got the muse in my head shes universal,
Spinnin me round shes coming over me.
And it all breaks down at the first rehearsal,
Got the muse in my head shes universal,
Spinnin me round shes coming over me.
Does his makeup in his room
Douse himself with cheap perfume
Eyeholes in a paper bag
Greatest lay I ever had
Kind of guy who mates for life
Gotta help him find a wife
Were a couple, when our bodies double.
And it all breaks down at the role reversal
Got the muse in my head shes universal,
Spinnin me round shes coming over me.
And it all breaks down at the first rehearsal,
Got the muse in my head shes universal,
Spinnin me round shes coming over me.
And it all breaks down at the role reversal,
Got the muse in my head shes universal,
Spinnin me round shes coming over me.
And it all breaks down at the first rehearsal,
Got the muse in my head shes universal,
Spinnin me round shes coming over me.
song performed by by Placebo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ignored. (a Seagull Story)
Ignored. (A seagull story)
At the seaside restaurant it was busy everyone was eating lobsters,
I tried to catch the waiters’ eye. I was ignored and got the feeling
that I was Invisible, or that I was so small that my head didn’t reached
over the table. A seagull landed on my table a beautiful bird,
yellow beak and feet, plumage snowy white its wings light grey/blue
and its eyes were green; it also had the aroma of the Atlantic Ocean.
Waiter came, looked at the bird asked what it wanted, lobster, I said
when the dish came I gave it to the bird. Got up, left and no one tried
to stop me.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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He's a Woman - She's a Man
I saw it walkin' lonely down the street
Cool like a cat, like crazy clean
I looked twice again, I can't believe
Oh no no no
It turned around right then
And looked at me
I said oh no, it really couldn't be
It was a man, it was a woman, too
He's a woman, she's a man
He's a woman, she's a (woman)
I think it really came from far away
I'm feeling head uptight so I have to stay
It takes my hand and says come on, let's go
Let's go, let's go, let's go
We're goin' home, it's nice and warm to say
He starts to move, she starts to play
I need a body, why not you
He's a woman, she's a man
He's a woman, she's a (woman)
He's a woman, she's a man
He's a woman, she's a (woman)
song performed by by Scorpions, music by Rudolf Schenker, lyrics by Klaus Meine, Herman Rarebell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chauvinist
I’d never really comprehended such a mighty range of
Shapes and sizes down behind, it’s really rather strange:
The buttock muscle in a woman, overlaid with fat
Is actually such a focal point for men to want to pat
Or squeeze, and then to tease her if it’s eminently stout,
Or even risk a stay in clink to sting it with a clout!
After all, we men are tuned to be that way inclined –
And tho’ our needs are varied, girls, they’re all perverse of mind!
Best of all, our sacred dream: to see her shed her gown
When gliding to the shower for the ritual sponging down.
But then alas! With body lathered, oops! she drops the soap;
‘Please! ’ we beg her, ‘bend and bare! ’ But we can only hope!
I’m sure by now you get the picture – like a rule of thumb –
That men like me obsess all day about the fairer bum.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
My dreams are of a
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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