The Bath-Tub
As a bathtub lined with white porcelain,
When the hot water gives out or goes tepid,
So is the slow cooling of our chivalrous passion,
O my much praised but-not-altogether-satisfactory lady.
poem by Ezra Pound
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Bathtub Gin
Brett is in the bathtub
Making soup for the ambassadors
And I am in the hallway
Singing to the troubadours
The kings are all lined up
Outside the gate
And the autumn bells are ringing
But theyll just have to wait
Where is the joker?
Have you seen him around
With his three coned cap
That he wears like a clown?
Have you seen his stripped stockings
And heard his sad tale
About the kids under the carpet
And the purple humpbacked whales
Here come the ambassadors
They show up one by one
Brett is tasting all the soup
To see if it is done
Wendys on the windowsill
Waiting to be let in
And were all in the bathtub now
Making bathtub gin
The kings storm the hallway
Theyve climbed up through the gate
They didnt mean to be impolite
But they just couldnt wait
Here comes the joker
With his silly grin
He carries a martini
Made of bathtub gin
Here comes the joker
We all must laugh
Cause were all in this together
And we love to take a bath.
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Liverpool Days
Wavertree road used to have a café there called
“Tasty Toaster, ” business was good till the formidable
M.T. came to power and low paid worker, my main
costumers, got the sack, and told to go on bikes they
couldn’t afford to buy in the first place.
Above the shop lived a lady teacher, she drank, at ten
in the evening, as I closed and cleaned up, I could hear
her sing, when filling her bathtub with water.
One night, it was raining; she must have had a stroke
or something, the water kept running, rotten floor she
and the bathtub ended up in my café.
Under the door the water ran and down the street, since
it was raining few has noticed. Called the police when
I got there, the landlord came, insisted that I had to pay.
I threaten to sue him; he called me a Polish shit and
blamed me for the holocaust I called him a Jewish shit
and blamed him for Palestine. I finally collected my
insurance money and retired from the catering business
poem by Jan Oskar Hansen
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To the truly benevolent mind, indeed, nothing is more satisfactory than to hear of a miser denying himself the necessaries of life a little too far and ridding us of his presence altogether.
quote by James Payn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Forty Dollar Bathtub
a forty dollar galvanized bathtub!
carrying buckets of water up the hill
to heat on the old cook stove...
i watched you bathing in the kitchen,
in the old house down on Henry River.
fried Spam and pork 'n beans,
moonlit trips to the outhouse....
stray dogs on the porch.
endless truckloads of wood scraps;
we made love through winter nights,
so cold in the room you could see your breath!
you licked the frost from my moustache,
and the world went on without us....
a forty dollar bathtub, buckets of water,
nothing needed, nothing more!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Open water!
Open water, open water!
All the weary winter's yearning
Bursts in restless passion burning.
Scarce is seen the blue of ocean,
And the hours seem months in motion.
Open water, open water!
Smiles the sun on ice defiant,
Eats it like a shameless giant:
Soon as mouth of sun forsakes it,
Swift the freezing night remakes it.
Open water, open water!
Storm shall be the overcomer
Sweeping on from others' summer
Billows free all foes to swallow,-
Crash and fall and sinking follow.
Open water, open water!
Mirrored mountains are appearing,
Boats with steam and sail are nearing,
Inward come the wide world's surges,
Outward joy of combat urges.
Open water, open water!
Fiery sun and cooling shower
Quicken earth to speak with power.
Soul responds, the wonder viewing:
Strength is here for life's renewing.
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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Little Lady Love
Oh yeah x 5
Chorus
Im little lady love
Ive been touched from above
And you just cant get enough
Of little lady love
Chorus
Im little lady love
Ive been touched from above
And you just cant get enough
Of little lady love
We maybe young
But only for a while
I may look brave
But boy thats just my style
Taken from my teens
But feeding from the tears
Falling with the love
Ive holding back the years
Chorus
Im little lady love
Ive been touched from above
And you just cant get enough
Of little lady love
The miracle of love
Is something Ive observed
And speaking for myself
Is something Ill preserve
Until I feel my way
Along the sticky road
Ill save the miracle
Im gonna take it slow
Chorus
Im little lady love
Ive been touched from above
And you just cant get enough
Of little lady love
Lady love, lady love
Lady love, lady love
Lady love, lady love
Lady love, lady love, love
I think Ive been seperate
Makes it so desperate
I think Ill moderate
Better to wait, its favourite
Chorus
Im little lady love
Ive been touched from above
And you just cant get enough
Of little lady love
Im little lady love
Ive been touched from above
And you just cant get enough
Of little lady love
Lady love, lady love
Ive been touched from above
And you just cant get enough
Of little lady love
Chorus
Im little lady love
Ive been touched from above
And you just cant get enough
Of little lady love
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah x2
song performed by by Sugababes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet IX: Passion And Worship
One flame-winged brought a white-winged harp-player
Even where my lady and I lay all alone;
Saying: “Behold, this minstrel is unknown;
Bid him depart, for I am minstrel here:
Only my strains are to Love's dear ones dear.”
Then said I: “Through thine hautboy's rapturous tone
Unto my lady still this harp makes moan,
And still she deems the cadence deep and clear.”
Then said my lady: “Thou art Passion of Love,
And this Love's Worship: both he plights to me.
Thy mastering music walks the sunlit sea:
But where wan water trembles in the grove
And the wan moon is all the light thereof,
This harp still makes my name its voluntary.”
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Lady in White
Lady in White
By: Adam M. Snow
She stares at me benevolently with her baby blue eyes.
How beautiful she looks, that lady in white.
I try to go on my way, but I hear her gentle cries.
I reached out to help her, but she simply vanished in the night.
Who is this that they call 'Ghost? ' my lovely Lady in White;
and do you know? Could you tell me why does my Lady cry?
Where upon nightfall approaches;
returned to the splintered bridge, where portraits my Lady in White;
only to find her crying, waiting for her lost love.
Truly this is an undesirable sight;
tears fall as she gaze essentially at stars above.
I only wish I could help her, my lovely Lady in White;
to lead her home into the light;
truly it can only be by her might.
I must go on my way and leave my Lady behind.
She's there to stay crying; waiting for her love to return.
Though my heart, I feel her tears fall upon.
From my Lady, there's so much that I learn;
that love never dies, it just lives on.
poem by Adam M. Snow
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White Water
The white tiger went on his way
To where he had to go,
He'd suffered the heat of the day,
Now sought where waters flow...
And oh what joy as he walked in,
What wholesome sweet relief,
As cooling water soothed his skin...
Pure joy beyond belief...
With gentle grace he swam a while
And ripping waters trailed
As if with magic to beguile...
Each time, it never failed...
There was a certain mystery,
A miracle at least,
A wistful end to misery
That soothed this savage beast...
And when his blood was cool once more,
It now was time to leave...
And so he swam to walk ashore,
The heat no more to grieve...
White water comes from waterfalls
Then flows into a stream...
And to this day, he still recalls
God's gift as though a dream...
(July 2011/The poem is based on the
magnificent painting by Stephen Gayford
called 'White Water'.)
poem by Denis Martindale
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You Found My Way
you cook so well
and i am so
anticipating about
the new menu
on the white
porcelain plate
beside the
silver spoon
and fork
and the corrugated
knife fit for
the medium rare
steak
more rice please
more lemonades
and lots of
lettuce for the
salad
a ripe mango
and alligator
pear
on a platter
lady, you found your
way into
my belly.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Leaves In The Wind
the upside of my underside
molly-coddling your neck
through a bleakly lined morning
sky stirs my now tepid faith
always in the shadows
concealing furtive glances,
tensed shoulder blades
that find feet shuffling
against iron curtains that
block the rays of the sun
poem by Frederick Kesner
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Be Love A Fluid
Love must be waves of sea
That hit the shores of souls,
The melting ice that wets the hearts,
The tepid water that sooths the nerves
And the clean water that washes dirt
But never to be rigid like solid.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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From The Bathtub To The Ocean
start with the bathtub, scrub yourself
with soap and some perfume
smooth white skin and flawless body
cleaned with soft water
safe on the privacy of your
comfort room
there is no challenge there
there is just this stagnancy
that kills
and numbs the mind
life is more than that
life always
wants an exploration
of the unknown
and so you begin to think of the shore
of the sea
and its waves and its rolling nature
its challenge for you
to swim or take the sail
towards the ocean
beyond the comforts of your domestic mind
you look forward to the vast expanse
of the Atlantic or the Pacific
you anticipate the storms
the cyclones
of your life
the way other people's ships sink
how other people drown
and how they tell you
they survive
and then they start telling you the real meaning of life
you must go
and find the meaning of your life yourself
definitely not in that silly bathtub
it is always in that ocean
the cyclones
the storms after
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The White Lady Loves You More
Keep your things in a place meant to hide
But I know theyre there somewhere
And I know thats where youll go tonight
Ill be thrown over just like before
The white lady loves you more
Need a metal man just to pick up your feet
Its a long time since you cared enough for me to even be discrete
I know what this metal is for
The white lady loves you more
Im looking at a hand full of broken plans
And Im tired of playing it down
You just want her to do anything for you
There aint nothing that you wont allow
You wake up in the middle of the night
From a dream you wont remember flashing on like a cops light
You say shes waiting and I know what for
The white lady loves you more
The white lady
song performed by by Elliott Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The White Saucer
if i only see
a white saucer
on the table
it always spells
to me
the word
incomplete
without the
white
porcelain cup.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Capture
Duck come switchin' 'cross de lot
Hi, oh, Miss Lady!
Hurry up an' hide de pot
Hi, oh, Miss Lady!
Duck's a mighty 'spicious fowl,
Slick as snake an' wise as owl;
Hol' dat dog, don't let him yowl!
Hi, oh, Miss Lady!
Th'ow dat co'n out kind o' slow
Hi, oh, Miss Lady!
Keep yo'se'f behin' de do'
Hi, oh, Miss Lady!
Lots o' food'll kill his feah,
Co'n is cheap but fowls is deah--
'Come, good ducky, come on heah.'
Hi, oh, Miss Lady!
Ain't he fat and ain't he fine,
Hi, oh, Miss Lady!
Des can't wait to make him mine.
Hi, oh, Miss Lady!
See him waddle when he walk,
'Sh! keep still and don't you talk!
Got you! Don't you daih to squawk!
Hi, oh, Miss Lady!
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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The Glove Of The Live Lady.
Her glove! It was rare Ben who sung it,
That best of gloves of the lady dead!
Another's here, as one had flung it
In anger at her lover's head.
Was it but this that it was made for,
One of a pair perhaps he'd paid for,
To have it favored in this fashion?
But gloves are gloves, and passion's passion!
And he, it may be, liked her better
For her rich anger as she threw it:
'Twas worth a glove to so upset her
And know he had the power to do it,
So he might kiss the white hands after
Her passion turned to tears and laughter!
poem by Robert Crawford
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First Praise
Lady of dusk-wood fastnesses,
Thou art my Lady.
I have known the crisp, splintering leaf-tread with thee on before,
White, slender through green saplings;
I have lain by thee on the brown forest floor
Beside thee, my Lady.
Lady of rivers strewn with stones,
Only thou art my Lady.
Where thousand the freshets are crowded like peasants to a fair;
Clear-skinned, wild from seclusion
They jostle white-armed down the tent-bordered thoroughfare
Praising my Lady.
poem by William Carlos Williams
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Lady Of The Dancing Water
Grass in your hair stretched like a lion in the sun
Restlessly turned moistened your mouth with your
Tongue.
Pouring my wine in your eyes caged mine glowing
Touching your face my fingers strayed knowing.
I called you lady of the dancing water.
Blown autumn leaves shed to the fire where you laid
Me
Burn slow to ash just as my days now seem to be.
I feel you still always your eyes glowing
Remembered hours salt, earth and flowers flowing
Farewell my lady of the dancing water.
song performed by by King Crimson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beautiful Passion
i watch beauty take a walk one morning
by the sea as she undresses herself and begins
to carry her body to the calm waters
where she plunges herself
and in a moment she rises combing
her wet hair with her soft fingers
as she closes her eyes and
raises her head to the glorious light of the sun
she gets out of the water her breasts
in slow motion protruding to the direction
of her firm nipples as drops of water drip
down her tall and white body of
this woman who says she loves me too.
i am awed and speechless and i thank God
for this beautiful passion
his greatest creation that now i can touch and feel
and live with for all the days of my life.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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