Homage To Sextus Propertius - VIII
Jove, be merciful to that unfortunate woman
Or an ornamental death will be held to your debit,
The time is come, the air heaves in torridity,
The dry earth pants against the canicular heat,
But this heat is not the root of the matter:
She did not respect all the gods;
Such derelictions have destroyed other young ladies aforetime,
And what they swore in the cupboard
wind and wave scattered away.
Was Venus exacerbated by the existence of a comparable equal?
Is the ornamental goddess full of envy?
Have you contempted Juno's Pelasgian temples,
Have you denied Pallas good eyes ?
Or is it my tongue that wrongs you
with perpetual ascription of graces?
There comes, it seems, and at any rate
through perils, (so many) and of a vexed life,
The gentler hour of an ultimate day.
Io mooed the first years with averted head,
And now drinks Nile water like a god,
Ino in her young days fled pellmell out of Thebes,
Andromeda was offered to a sea-serpent
and respectably married to Perseus,
Callisto, disguised as a bear,
wandered through the Arcadian prairies
While a black veil was over her stars,
What if your fates are accelerated,
your quiet hour put forward,
You may find interment pleasing,
You will say that you succumbed to a danger identical,
charmingly identical, with Semele's,
And believe it, and she also will believe it,
being expert from experience,
And amid all the gloried and storied beauties of Maeonia
There shall be none in a better seat, not
one denying your prestige,
Now you may bear fate's stroke unperturbed,
Or Jove, harsh as he is, may turn aside your ultimate day.
Old lecher, let not Juno get wind of the matter,
Or perhaps Juno herself will go under,
If the young lady is taken?
There will be, in any case, a stir on Olympus.
poem by Ezra Pound
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Related quotes
Licia Sonnets 13
Enamored Jove commanding did entreat
Cupid to wound my love, which he denied,
And swore he could not for she wanted heat
And would not love, as he full oft had tried.
Jove in a rage, impatient this to hear,
Replied with threats; "I'll make you to obey!"
Whereat the boy did fly away for fear
To Licia's eyes, where safe intrenched he lay.
Then Jove he scorned, and dared him to his face,
For now more safe than in the heavens he dwelled,
Nor could Jove's wrath do wrong to such a place
Where grace and honour have their kingdom held.
Thus in the pride and beauty of her eyes
The seely boy the greatest god defies.
poem by Giles Fletcher The Elder
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Death Reveals A Woman
In the face without masks
Death is a woman
In the moment you know yourself
Death is a woman
At the end of all questions
Death is a woman
As the well of all answers
Death is a woman
At the end of all regrets
Death is a woman
In the liberation through tears
Death is a woman
As the relief from battle
Death is a woman
In the loving embrace
Death is a woman
In the dreamless sleep
And in the endless peace
Death is a woman.
10-12-2007
poem by Sr. ANTONIO MCKINNEY
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Ad Lesbiam
Equal to Jove that youth must be-
Greater than Jove he seems to me-
Who, free from Jealousy's alarms,
Securely views thy matchless charms;
That cheek, which ever dimpling glows,
That mouth, from whence such music flows,
To him, alike, are always known,
Reserved for him, and him alone.
Ah! Lesbia! though 'tis death to me,
I cannot choose but look on thee;
But, at the sight, my senses fly,
I needs must gaze, but, gazing, die;
Whilst trembling with a thousand fears,
Parch'd to the throat my tongue adheres,
My pulse beats quick, my breath heaves short,
My limbs deny their slight support,
Cold dews my pallid face o'erspread,
With deadly languor droops my head,
My ears with tingling echoes ring,
And life itself is on the wing;
My eyes refuse the cheering light,
Their orbs are veil'd in starless night:
Such pangs my nature sinks beneath,
And feels a temporary death.
poem by Catullus, translated by Byron
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Debit The Window Side
In an office Government,
There was an Accountant,
On the day of his retirement,
Took part in an entertainment,
For his long spotless service,
Three decades in the same office.
High of him spoke everyone,
Praised him with no exception,
That he promptly closed his books,
This kept him high in their looks,
There being no single occasion,
To show his delayed action.
“I know less of bookkeeping,
Not as easy as housekeeping.
Perhaps that which’s not a debit,
Is what they say is a credit.
And quite likely, it’s a debit,
That which’s not a credit.”
“This much sure I knew,
From the staff there a few,
The man next to my seat,
Gave me a hint, a voucher to post,
That window side was the debit,
While its opposite was the credit”
“I never moved from the seat,
As the purpose it would defeat,
The window side, I looked,
A debit voucher, when I booked.
This way, my accounts tallied,
I was happy, not much worried, ”
His reply shocked every one,
Assembled there in the function,
As under a misapprehension,
They gave undue appreciation,
To a man free from botheration,
Till the day of his superannuation.
poem by Rajaram Ramachandran
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It was darn nigh impossible for women in rock in the '70s. There wasn't a mold if you were a woman and you were in the entertainment in the '70s. You were probably a disco diva or a folk singer, or simply ornamental. Radio would play only one woman per hour.
quote by Ann Wilson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mama Ubu: Poor unfortunate, when I’m in the soup who’ll patch the seat of your pants?
line from Ubu the King, Act I, Scene 1, script by Alfred Jarry (1896), translated by Patrick Whittaker
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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They Held Me Down
It was Sat night at the slammer the gavel was falling like a hammer
As they dragged in every freak from off the road
One by one they entered the cell and the stories that they had to tell
Were all different but all seemed to end on the very same note
They held me down and put it on my nose they even sprinkled a little bit on my clothes
Yeah I know what you're thinkin' but I ain't one of those
No they held me down and put it in my nose
This wino in the corner got up and shook himself out
He said wWell they held me down and poured it down my throat
That's what they did
They even planted the bottle in my coat anybody want some
Yeah… the reason why my pants so wet yes they pushed me off the boat
After they held me down and poured it down my throat
And this chick in the next cell she said I heard you guys talking
And let me tell you something he held me down and he put it you know where
Ohhhh… I told him I was a virgin but he didn't care noooo the pig
Ahhhh you see his wallet's in my purse what's it doing there
He held me down and put it you know where
And then this cat got up well he half got up
He lifted his head and ae said hey man hey held me down and they put it in my vein
They even held a pistol to my brain or I wouldn'ta done it
Ohhh.. these scars on my arms are where I crashed through the window pane
Tryin' to get awaaaaaaaaay when they held me down and put it in my vein
And then this cat.. a rollie-eyed cat in a raincoat and shoes
And the bottom of his pants were cut off at the knees he said
She held me down and put it in my face
Oh the disgrace
And that's the fact on which I'm gonna base my case
She was overweight and underage and we was at my place
But she held me down and put it in my face
They held me down and made me write this song
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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It's Death Again
It's Death again - He's always there -
Watching, waiting - e'er the stare!
Every time I look behind
Or reach to pull the window blind,
I catch a glimpse of grubby hood -
A little clue to where he stood;
The glint of light that caught the scythe.
Perhaps if I could pay a tithe…
But O! no use, he'll never go.
The adamant phantom; don't you know
He will but wait until it's time
For me to hear His fateful chime? -
The toll that claims my destiny,
To Hail: 'You're next, it has to be…'
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
The Reign of Death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Rose
In my hand I held the rose
As I would a woman dear,
Within my fingers I held it tight
As I wished it would not disappear.
From the touch, sight and beauty that I knew,
When the kiss of beauty, once had blew.
I held the rose as I would a love
As I had held in memory and thought,
And then the rose I could not let go
For the same as a lover, she became my soul.
The stem became the body and the petals became the skin,
Then I held her lightly, within the wind.
The rose held me, as I had held her
The two of us had become one
Then the act of God had prevailed that day
For he commanded the wind to take the rose away.
And towards the heavens She had flew,
As though to join the love that I once had knew.
In my hand there laid a thorn
Though to remind me of the sting of death,
So upon the Earth, I then laid the thorn
So love of life could again be reborn.
I buried the thorn as you would a dream,
Knowing never again, will it be seen.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Woman Dear
In my hand I held the rose
As I would a Woman dear,
Within my fingers I held it tight
As I wished it would not disappear.
From the beauty that I had knew
When the kiss of beauty, once did flew.
I held the rose as I would a love
As I had held in memory and thought,
Then the rose I could not let go
For the same as a lover, she became my soul.
The stem became a body and the petals became her skin.
Then I held her softly, within the wind.
The rose held me as I held her
The two of us had became one,
Then the act of GOD prevailed that day,
For he commanded the wind to take her away.
Then towards the heavens I saw her flew.
As though to join the love that I once had knew.
In my hand there laid a thorn,
Though to remind me of the sting of death,
So upon the Earth I then laid the thorn
So the love of life could again be reborn.
I buried the thorn as you would a dream.
Knowing never again, will it be seen.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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TRibute to a long dead poet for My friend Ben
One more unfortunate
weary of breath.
Rashly importunate
gone to her death.
Thomas Hood 1799-1845
Glosa
One more unfortunate
tired of strife.
Sad and disconsolate
flees now from life.
Weary of breath
She can no longer cope.
so chooses death.
Nothing for which to hope.
Rashly importunate
Impulsively
rushes to meet her fate
impatiently.
Gone to her death
in the waters below
she slips beneath
Why? We shall never know.
12-Feb-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Adolescent hormones…
I have a devil in my pants
With a three pronged lance
Look here? Look there?
Look everywhere?
The whores of Babylon
And the wenches of France
Are serving up a dance
In my pants, in my pants
In my pants,
Yet; my heart wants romance.
poem by Mark Heathcote
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Held Up With Just A Stick
Held up with just a stick.
Held up with just a stick.
Held up with just a stick.
Held up with just a stick.
Held up with just a stick,
It seems...
Held up with just a stick,
One's head...
Held up with just a stick,
Their arms and their legs...
Needing to be fed.
And...
Held up with just a stick,
One's pride...
Held up with just a stick,
Two eyes and two ears...
Living poverty so near,
To...
Famish it is clear.
And...
Held up with just a stick,
Hunger.
Held up with just a stick,
Life!
Held up with just a stick,
Blight!
And those who fight death in their sight.
Held up with just a stick,
Life!
Held up with just a stick,
Pride!
Held up with just a stick,
Blight!
And those who fight death in their sight.
Held up with just a stick,
And...
There's no benefit to it.
Held up with just a stick,
Life!
Held up with just a stick,
Pride!
Held up with just a stick,
Blight!
And living this is NOT a gift.
Held up with just a stick,
And...
There's no benefit to it.
Held up with just a stick.
Held up with just a stick.
Held up with just a stick.
Held up with just a stick.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Smell Of A Woman
The smell of a woman,
When I am down there.
There's nothing on earth,
That quite can compare.
Earthy, moist, steamy, and rare,
Like tropical flowers perfuming the air.
The smell you find, at a womans core,
will make you want her, more, and more.
I can smell a woman across the street,
Way before our eyes will meet.
That delicate scent carried on the breeze,
Coming from a woman, seeking release.
The scent of a woman, when she is in heat,
You'll find yourself commonly looking for it.
And when I find it, it's a matter of time,
Till close up I smell that scent so sublime.
The smell of a woman all over my face,
The sweet scent of a woman, will have me crazed.
Don Juan Tenorio
poem by Don Juan Tenorio
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Uninvited
Like anyone would be
I am flattered by your fascination with me
Like any hot blooded woman
I have simply wanted an object to crave
But you're not allowed
You're uninvited
An unfortunate slight
Must be strangely exciting
To watch the stoic squirm
Must be somewhat heartening
To watch shepard meet shepard
But you're not allowed
You're uninvited
An unfortunate slight
Like any uncharted territory
I must seem greatly intriguing
You speak of my love like
You have experienced like mine before
But this is not allowed
You're uninvited
An unfortunate slight
I don't think you unworthy
I need a moment to deliberate
song performed by by Alanis Morissette from City Of Angels soundtrack
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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From Death
The great heat of a man in the holes where they perish
Is the world for him, when hot dealings from death.
A man shall cry from the heat when in the deepest ways,
The depths speak loudly of heat and arisings from death.
One murderer is not like a foolish man but the worst,
The heat of the sun can not master his bearings from death.
A grave has become attached to his soul, accepted by him,
And then fright shall be accepted from an angel of the buildings of death.
Then all of humanity congratulates the life of the good standard,
When the Lord spoke loudly of us who are doers of blessings from death.
The reality has been announced by the deepest parts of the Hereafter,
Life and annihilation are opposites, the real dead shall have briefings from death.
Open the gates of this Paradise, where honey has been sold
In rivers, milk has flowed out clearly with coatings from the Death.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Hot! Like a Heat Hot Drops
Hot!
Like a heat hot.
These past few days,
In the first week of July 2010...
With humidity high.
Sweltering the air and wetting the skin.
Not a part of the body remains dry outside.
And usually it is the month of August,
That simmers in New England...
With an egg on rocks to fry.
Hot!
Like a heat hot drops,
Moisture undenied.
Cooling to dry has to be done inside.
Unless one is among the unfortunate.
With a crying done that goes undetected.
Since tears from the eyes go unrecognized.
Hot!
Like a heat hot,
Drops.
As temperatures soar.
Dripping a salty sweat from every known pore.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Unfortunate Thing
Breaking out of school
Aint really fooling no one
I was sure Id get my reward in time
Backing uo the street
With the smell of sweet sensation
Didnt want to be another dime
Hidden in the pocket
Of some unfortunate nation
Didnt have no money, sure didnt have the time
Chorus:
Unfortunate thing, such an unfortunate thing
Unfortunate thing, such an unfortunate thing
But I fought with nothing
But I fought with nothing
Laughing at the rumor
That youve been screwing someone
Laugh better cry
It could be your turn next time
Brother what a lover beyond the fourth dimesion
Hes got an ego
Thats bigger than yours and mine
(chorus)
Dont call me bwana
Let it settle in your heart
We move from children
Into a business counterpart
Your head was shaking as I walked into the room
A spirit breaking
Thats why I feel this way
Breaking out of school
Aint really fooling no one
I was sure Id get my reward in time
Backing up a street
With a smell of sweet sensation
Didnt want to be another dime
(chorus)
song performed by by Culture Club
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There is no more unfortunate creature under the sun than a fetishist who yearns for a woman's shoe and has to settle for the whole woman.
quote by Karl Kraus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sestina/Creation
When all supply was in the hands of Cause,
Effect was molten primal chaos, held
Within a universal cauldren, rest
Was given to consider what the blend
Would yield. What distillation might there come
When left to steep upon the flame of time?
What essence to be poured or spooned, when time
Had separated dross from grime; When Cause
Congealed Effect as form? What shape would come?
Omniscience knew the liqued luster held
Within an orbed mold to cool, would blend
A tear so pure, that Genesis could rest.
An orb within the plumbless steep, no rest
Was had as crystal creep began. In time
A metamorphic stress; a grinding blend
Of blasting heaves had splayed the plates to cause
The core to spill its viscous blaze. Not held,
A spew and fall of flaming rock had come.
As fluid land had ceased to flow, then come
Awaking, as purpose changed the rest
Of earth's most fragil face. Creation held
Expressive mind as conscious force, with time,
Embraced the law of Cosmic Will to cause
The 'Seeds of Season' to sprout forth and blend.
Profound, prestine, profusion was its blend
Of manifest raw beauty. Light had come,
Divine desire had found demension. Cause
Became the tangible of thought. The rest
Of thought, the fractured Self of God, In time,
As Souls, would pierce the veil of flesh then held.
Within the folded fist of night dawn held
Ignited eastern skies, until the blend
Of feathered morning light with time.
Through Holy Emulation, life would come
As reasoning pushed out, first breath, then rest,
Effect emerged as man, awakened Cause.
Creative Reason held the souls to come.
His law combined with Will, would blend the rest
Of mortal clay, with time, to temple Cause.
poem by Lynn W. Petty
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