Sunjuice
What happens when the juice of the sun
drenches you
with its lemony tang, its tart sweetness
& your whole body stings with singing
so that your toes sing to your mouth
& your navel whistles to your breasts
& your breasts wave to everyone
as you walk down the summer street?
What will you do
when nothing will do
but to throw your arms around trees
& men
& greet every woman as sister
& to run naked in the spray of the fire hydrants
with children of assorted colors?
Will you cover your drenched skin
with woolen clothes?
Will you wear a diaper of herringbone tweed?
Will you piece together a shroud of figleaves
& lecture at the University
on the Lives of the Major Poets,
the History of Despair in Art?
poem by Erica Jong
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
The hidden breasts
A woman hides her breasts with clothes;
She hides them from being seen
To betray their presence by shape
More pronounced than the naked.
Anything that is hidden means
It’s location isn’t traceable.
Breasts aren’t hidden with clothes;
Breasts are decked out with clothes.
24.12.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
But They Can Never Be Mine
the face
the breasts and nipples
the abdomen
the smoothness of the skin
down to the last details
of the body
the middle and the bottom
the legs
and veins and toes and nails
all these dance before me
to my pleasure
i shut my mouth
i hold my hands and tell myself
oh how beautiful! (but)
they are not mine.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Conceal to reveal
Breasts bare, breasts with bra,
Breasts revealing the cleavage,
Breasts under blouse with bare belly
And breasts with contour visible
Have their appeal up in that order.
The more one is left for imagination
The more the beauty will reveal.
06.12.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Fury Of Abandonment
Someone lives in a cave
eating his toes,
I know that much.
Someone little lives under a bush
pressing an empty Coca-Cola can against
his starving bloated stomac,
I know that much.
A monkey had his hands cut off
for a medical experiment
and his claws wept.
I know tht much.
I know that it is all
a matter of hands.
Out of the mournful sweetness of touching
comes love
like breakfast.
Out of the many houses come the hands
before the abandonment of the city,
out of hte bars and shops,
a thin file of ants.
I've been abandoned out here
under the dry stars
with no shoes, no belt
and I've called Rescue Inc. -
that old-fashioned hot line -
no voice.
Left to my own lips, touch them,
my own nostrils, shoulders, breasts,
navel, stomach, mound,kneebone, ankle,
touch them.
It makes me laugh
to see a woman in this condition.
It makes me laugh for America and New York city
when your hands are cut off
and no one answers the phone.
Anonymous submission.
poem by Anne Sexton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Vote For The Earth!
i vote for the earth....
her mountains tall and strong,
standing from time to time.
her trees the fathers of wisdom,
the image of change and the cycle...
her oceans dark and mysterious,
holding life from beginning to beginning!
her fields of grasses long and weeping
for the fallen and forgotten....
her breasts giving blood,
her arms wrapping around,
all that lives and dies and lives....
i vote for the earth,
and walk naked through her gardens!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sculptor
he first sculpted a very shapely body of a woman
thin arms, slender body, soft fingers,
porcelain smooth skin
supple breasts
complete with a face
and other
body parts to the last detail
possible
then he sculpted the man
the usual man with strong arms
gentle eyes and well chiseled
thighs
complete with a face
and other body parts to the last detail
possible
he is so kind enough
to leave the two
in the privacy
of their new found existence
that his chisels
and hammers gave them
despite the fact
that he is gay
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Laying Bare And Lovely Still On A State Of Bliss
amidst the softness of the big
sofa
you lay your naked body
your breasts stare at the ceiling
your hair freely falling
on the arm
of that big sofa
you close your eyes on this
baring
you point your toe
to the carpeted floor
your arms are light
as your hands rest
on the furry cover
the silence is sweet and this
time the world is calm
no word creeps on your lips
come to think of it
what is the description
of this bliss?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Arbor
He seems to he a god, that man
Facing you, who leans to be close,
Smiles, and, alert and glad, listens
To your mellow voice
And quickens in love at your laughter
That stings my breasts, jolts my heart
If I dare the shock of a glance.
I cannot speak,
My tongue sticks to my dry mouth,
Thin fire spreads beneath my skin,
My eyes cannot see and my aching ears
Roar in their labyrinths.
Chill sweat glides down my back,
I shake, I turn greener than grass.
I am neither living nor dead and cry
From the narrow between.
Shut-Up And Smile
It's not the end of the world
In fact its not even the end of the summer
But thank God the TV is on
Cause theres no way we could know
Anything thats going down
Or How we're supposed to be feeling about it
I can't tell you how much I wish we could Shut up and Smile
Yeah
Sail around the world and tell them all to keep singing it
La-la-la-la-la
All we need's a hamony and we'll convince the world to sing
La-la-la-la-la
Throw your arms around someone (Throw your arms around someone)
Maybe spread a little love
I know it sounds a little dumb (Maybe I'm a little drunk)
But all we need is some ice-cream and a hug
Take a good look around
Does life really suck? Are we just complaining?
I hope that this mic is on (testing 1,2)
Cause I'm on a role here
I hope this is making some sense
I hope that you'll throw up your hands and sing it
And tell all the haters that they should just shut up and smile
Yeah
Sail around the world and tell them all to keep singing it
La-la-la-la-la
All we need's a hamony and we'll convince the world to sing
La-la-la-la-la
Throw your arms around someone (Throw your arms around someone)
Maybe spread a little love
I know it sounds a little dumb (Maybe I'm a little drunk)
But all we need is some ice-cream
All we need is love and beer and old school medal and holiday cheer to be happy
All you need is someone near (like ben & jerrys)
To hold you close and pretend that they care
Cant we all just get along now?
We found something that we've all got in common now
We can hold hands
Do kegs dance
Water ski it sounds great to me now
Sail around the world and tell them all to keep singing it
La-la-la-la-la
All we need's a hamony and we'll convince the world to sing
La-la-la-la-la
Throw your arms around someone (Throw your arms around someone)
Maybe spread a little love
I know it sounds a little dumb (Maybe I'm a little drunk)
But all we need is some ice-cream and a hug (X4)
All we need is love and beer (X4)
song performed by by Bowling For Soup
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The face is value giver.
To know which breasts are lovely
From the two pairs looking alike,
I must know whose breasts they are.
The breasts owe their value to their face.
31.01.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
for Juvy...
Juvy is a thirsty woman
she is thirty, a widow for three years now
her husband died on a car accident
leaving her with
a daughter
tonight she cannot sleep
her breasts are making fire
she goes out of the house
and finds the brook nearby outside the fence
of her house
when she gets there
it is cold and dark but her breasts are glowing like cinders
she undresses herself
and goes into the water
her breasts are playful on the ripples of the water
she goes deeper
and dives
opens her eyes looking for happiness
she opens her mouth
drinks the fresh water of the brook
she is thirsty and wants to drink
everything
satisfied for now
she goes out of the water
dresses herself again
under the moon
she goes home
opens the door of her room
and with her hair still wait
she lays in bed and begins to sleep
the picture of her husband
is no longer
on top of the table
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Love Out In The Street
(carly simon)
Ive seen the sidewalks
And Ive been aware
Of the lamps and tables and the paperback books
That you throw out there
All your artifacts
In disrepair
Make up a pile so high
Could tie up the traffic in the thoroughfare
Put your love out on the street
Put your love out on the street
Put your love out on the street
Put your love out on the street tonight
I dont mind your sinning
Im no saint myself
And if the neighbours call you a hellcat
Then let them call me a jezebel
Cause Ive come to know you
Ive come to know you so well
>from spying on you from my bathroom window
In this cheap hotel
So let flow the hydrants
And well dance in the spray
And well wash out our dirty laundry
In the alleyway
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
for Juvy...(a little correction)
Juvy is a thirsty woman
she is thirty, a widow for three years now
her husband died on a car accident
leaving her with
a daughter
tonight she cannot sleep
her breasts are making fire
she goes out of the house
and finds the brook nearby outside the fence
when she gets there
it is cold and dark but her breasts are glowing like cinders
she undresses herself
and goes into the water
her breasts are playful on the ripples of the water
she goes deeper
and dives
opens her eyes looking for happiness
she opens her mouth
drinks the fresh water of the brook
she is thirsty and wants to drink
everything
satisfied for now
she goes out of the water
dresses herself again
under the moon
she goes home
opens the door of her room
and with her hair still wet
she lays in bed and begins to sleep
the picture of her husband
is no longer
on top of the table
her decision is to empty
her past and free it from dusts.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Tryin To Throw Your Arms Around The World
6.00 in the morning
Youre the last to hear the warning
Youve been trying to throw your arms around the world
Youve been falling off the sidewalk
Your lips move but you cant talk
Tryin to throw your arms around the world
Im gonna run to you...run to you...be still
Im gonna run to you...run to you...woman I will
Sunrise like a nosebleed
Your head hurts and you cant breathe
You been tryin to throw you arms around the world
How far you gonna go
Before you lose your way back home?
Youve been trying to throw your arms around the world
Im gonna run to you...run to you...woman be still
Im gonna run to you...run to you...woman I will
I dreamed that I saw dali
With a supermarket trolley
He was trying to throw his arms around a girl
He took an open top beetle
Through the eye of a needle
He was tryin to throw his arms around the world
Im gonna run to you...run to you...woman be still
Im gonna run to you...run to you...woman I will
Nothin much to say I guess
Just the same as all the rest
Been trying to throw your arms around the world
A woman needs a man
Like a fish needs a bicycle
When youre tryin to throw your arms around the world
Im gonna run to you...run to you
Im gonna run to you...run to you
Im gonna run to you...run to you
Woman be still...woman be still
Be still...woman be still
Woman I will
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Away Above A Harborful
Away above a harborful
of caulkless houses
among the charley noble chimneypots
of a rooftop rigged with clotheslines
a woman pastes up sails
upon the wind
hanging out her morning sheets
with wooden pins
O lovely mammal
her nearly naked breasts
throw taut shadows
when she stretches up
to hang at last the last of her
so white washed sins
but it is wetly amorous
and winds itself about her
clinging to her skin
So caught with arms
upraised
she tosses back her head
in voiceless laughter
and in choiceless gesture then
shakes out gold hair
while in the reachless seascape spaces
between the blown white shrouds
stand out the bright steamers
to kingdom come
poem by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Namaste
Back and forth
back and forth
culture whores
were removing the skin tags
from armpits.
The private plateaus spurting
lemon grass juice.
Between kind questions
and cruel answers
I watch the heat rlsing.
Scanning the leukemic beach
the sex drenched hour
squirms with pubic pain.
Two round hills -
firm breasts tucked under white clouds
were weary of lip slaves.
Namaste sunset
I was waiting for you.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
We Who Would Liberate!
we who would liberate,
must first feel the
hungry cry of freedom.
must feel the homeless
edge of despair,
must taste the colors
of skin touching skin.
must bear the blow of injustice,
wear the chains of the enslaved.
must walk inside the sorrow
that has no name or face.
must see what lies beneath prayer,
must wear the shoes of the oppressed.
must stand alone in the darkest night,
and set our selves aflame,
to be a beacon, to light the way!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Mother's Body
1.
The dark socket of the year
the pit, the cave where the sun lies down
and threatens never to rise,
when despair descends softly as the snow
covering all paths and choking roads:
then hawkfaced pain seized you
threw you so you fell with a sharp
cry, a knife tearing a bolt of silk.
My father heard the crash but paid
no mind, napping after lunch
yet fifteen hundred miles north
I heard and dropped a dish.
Your pain sunk talons in my skull
and crouched there cawing, heavy
as a great vessel filled with water,
oil or blood, till suddenly next day
the weight lifted and I knew your mind
had guttered out like the Chanukah
candles that burn so fast, weeping
veils of wax down the chanukiya.
Those candles were laid out,
friends invited, ingredients bought
for latkes and apple pancakes,
that holiday for liberation
and the winter solstice
when tops turn like little planets.
Shall you have all or nothing
take half or pass by untouched?
Nothing you got, Nun said the dreydl
as the room stopped spinning.
The angel folded you up like laundry
your body thin as an empty dress.
Your clothes were curtains
hanging on the window of what had
been your flesh and now was glass.
Outside in Florida shopping plazas
loudspeakers blared Christmas carols
and palm trees were decked with blinking
lights. Except by the tourist
hotels, the beaches were empty.
Pelicans with pregnant pouches
flapped overhead like pterodactyls.
In my mind I felt you die.
First the pain lifted and then
you flickered and went out.
2.
I walk through the rooms of memory.
Sometimes everything is shrouded in dropcloths,
every chair ghostly and muted.
Other times memory lights up from within
bustling scenes acted just the other side
of a scrim through which surely I could reach
my fingers tearing at the flimsy curtain
of time which is and isn't and will be
the stuff of which we're made and unmade.
In sleep the other night I met you, seventeen
your first nasty marriage just annulled,
thin from your abortion, clutching a book
against your cheek and trying to look
older, trying to took middle class,
trying for a job at Wanamaker's,
dressing for parties in cast off
stage costumes of your sisters. Your eyes
were hazy with dreams. You did not
notice me waving as you wandered
past and I saw your slip was showing.
You stood still while I fixed your clothes,
as if I were your mother. Remember me
combing your springy black hair, ringlets
that seemed metallic, glittering;
remember me dressing you, my seventy year
old mother who was my last dollbaby,
giving you too late what your youth had wanted.
3.
What is this mask of skin we wear,
what is this dress of flesh,
this coat of few colors and little hair?
This voluptuous seething heap of desires
and fears, squeaking mice turned up
in a steaming haystack with their babies?
This coat has been handed down, an heirloom
this coat of black hair and ample flesh,
this coat of pale slightly ruddy skin.
This set of hips and thighs, these buttocks
they provided cushioning for my grandmother
Hannah, for my mother Bert and for me
and we all sat on them in turn, those major
muscles on which we walk and walk and walk
over the earth in search of peace and plenty.
My mother is my mirror and I am hers.
What do we see? Our face grown young again,
our breasts grown firm, legs lean and elegant.
Our arms quivering with fat, eyes
set in the bark of wrinkles, hands puffy,
our belly seamed with childbearing,
Give me your dress that I might try it on.
Oh it will not fit you mother, you are too fat.
I will not fit you mother.
I will not be the bride you can dress,
the obedient dutiful daughter you would chew,
a dog's leather bone to sharpen your teeth.
You strike me sometimes just to hear the sound.
Loneliness turns your fingers into hooks
barbed and drawing blood with their caress.
My twin, my sister, my lost love,
I carry you in me like an embryo
as once you carried me.
4.
What is it we turn from, what is it we fear?
Did I truly think you could put me back inside?
Did I think I would fall into you as into a molten
furnace and be recast, that I would become you?
What did you fear in me, the child who wore
your hair, the woman who let that black hair
grow long as a banner of darkness, when you
a proper flapper wore yours cropped?
You pushed and you pulled on my rubbery
flesh, you kneaded me like a ball of dough.
Rise, rise, and then you pounded me flat.
Secretly the bones formed in the bread.
I became willful, private as a cat.
You never knew what alleys I had wandered.
You called me bad and I posed like a gutter
queen in a dress sewn of knives.
All I feared was being stuck in a box
with a lid. A good woman appeared to me
indistinguishable from a dead one
except that she worked all the time.
Your payday never came. Your dreams ran
with bright colors like Mexican cottons
that bled onto the drab sheets of the day
and would not bleach with scrubbing.
My dear, what you said was one thing
but what you sang was another, sweetly
subversive and dark as blackberries
and I became the daughter of your dream.
This body is your body, ashes now
and roses, but alive in my eyes, my breasts,
my throat, my thighs. You run in me
a tang of salt in the creek waters of my blood,
you sing in my mind like wine. What you
did not dare in your life you dare in mine.
poem by Marge Piercy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dreaming The Breasts
Mother,
strange goddess face
above my milk home,
that delicate asylum,
I ate you up.
All my need took
you down like a meal.
What you gave
I remember in a dream:
the freckled arms binding me,
the laugh somewhere over my woolly hat,
the blood fingers tying my shoe,
the breasts hanging like two bats
and then darting at me,
bending me down.
The breasts I knew at midnight
beat like the sea in me now.
Mother, I put bees in my mouth
to keep from eating
yet it did no good.
In the end they cut off your breasts
and milk poured from them
into the surgeon's hand
and he embraced them.
I took them from him
and planted them.
I have put a padlock
on you, Mother, dear dead human,
so that your great bells,
those dear white ponies,
can go galloping, galloping,
wherever you are.
poem by Anne Sexton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
For Heaven's Sake, Listen, Listen, O My Darling
For heaven's sake, listen, listen, O my darling:
Do not dart your cruel, angry glances at me,
For I swear by the lovely pitchers of your breasts,
And by your golden, glittering, snake-like necklace:
If ever on earth I dare touch anyone except you,
Let your necklace turn into a real snake, and bite me;
And if ever my promise and words prove false,
Chastise me, O darling, in the way you want to.
But, now, don't hesitate to take me in your arms,
Bind, bind my thirsty body with yours; bruise me
With your thighs, and bite, bite me with your teeth.
Let your fingernails dig deep, deep into my skin!
Strangle me, for heaven's sake, with your breasts,
And lock me in the prison of your body forever!
poem by Vidyapati Thakur
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!