An image so sublime
A room of peculiar imagery,
Sexually flushed to central perfection
Strobe light at instant still,
When dancing eyes glimmer at cursory glance,
To all standing walls that glaze,
An image of all time,
I am no curator with minds ablaze,
An image so sublime,
Crowned in cloudless clime.
An image that sparkles by lifeless glee,
That the dusk room and my wandering eyes might see,
Her dangling breast in motionless inhuman form,
Supple finger on damp blank palette,
Weary, idle mind to throb over incessant sensual call.
What an image so ordinary,
Like roses of sharp spine,
Royal in smell and hue,
An image more bright,
Less false in rolling,
Gilding the object whereupon it gazet.
A maelstrom in perfection,
Her mouth so bear,
With fluidity sorting my thoughts,
A sour smell at grieve harbinger,
An imagery of pouring dainties smell
Yet most quaint.
A vermilion odor at her hair pour
Passaged through floating breeze.
What an image,
An image long over-due for admiration,
A century of adulation to her beauteous whole.
Her sultry eyes,
Her naked primrose lips,
Her elegant face,
Her cereal face of laughter,
Her lanky legs,
Her larger than life breasts,
Her curvaceous bosom,
Her petal royal smell of skin,
To the gallery stand,
All to ashes now embraced,
That all eyes might again lust.
poem by Folayemi Akande
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Related quotes
Your Image
In my madness
Transformed agonies
Existential leanings
Yourself because of me
I hold your image
In my eyes
Like after death
The snake is burnt
As he carries
The image of his slayer
In my own circles
Like a mirror in palm
While you do your eyes
A reflection always
As you shatter me
Into dust
But like the snake
Ye shall burn me
To escape thy image
And by then
Ye shall see thine image
In thy soul
27/2/2009
poem by Sadiqullah Khan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Image
Written by: richard marx & fee waybill
Hope you dont believe a word
Of all the things I know youve heard about me
Really just a pack of ies
You see the truth before your eyes around me
Hard to keep it straight
The real from the ruse
Probably way too late
What can I do, but its
Not what you think
Not what you hear
Not what you see
Its just the image
Its all on a string
All fantasy
Not really me
Its just the image
Would it be too much to ask
That you could just gvie me the chance to prove it
Or would it only be a waste of time
To try to make you change your mind and use it
What Ive been looking for
Isnt what I thought
Not behind the golden door
Youre all Ive got, and its
Not what you think
Not what you hear
Not what you see
Its just the image
Its all on a string
All fantasy
Not really me
Its just the image
What Ive been looking for
Isnt what I thought
Not behind the golden door
Youre all Ive got, and its
Not what you think
Not what you hear
Not what you see
Just the image
Its all on a string
All fantasy
Not really me
Its just the image
Not what you think
Not what you hear
Not what you see
Its just the image
Its all on a string
All fantasy
Not really me
Its just the image
song performed by by Richard Marx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Success And Image And The Face Of It
Those who say,
Looks aren't everything!
Aren't the ones who are judged,
Based solely upon them.
And besides...
This can be deducted,
From what many prize.
Thick lips, nappy hair and brown eyes...
Are not considered standards,
By those who analyze.
Not for a beauty,
Considered to be immortalized.
No matter who is competent...
In a package that is presented!
If it doesn't suit the taste,
For those who select an image to digest.
As an appearance,
That suggests success...
And not a waste to regret.
It will be the 'image' one picks,
Over a competence that 'may' exist.
'But hasn't it been image and not substance,
That has increased in an invited decadence? '
Well...
Yes.
'But who in reality today believes? '
Remember this...
Image speaks volumes.
And easier to hype.
On the other hand...
Reality is something placed,
On an equality wish list...
Not too soon to happen,
For the sake of changing...
Success and image and the face of it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I See The Image
I SEE THE IMAGE
I see the colors of your cheeks in red rose
I see reflection of your face in blades of grass
I see the brightness of your smile in neon moonlight
I see curls of your hair dancing in golden sunlight
I see the image of your artistic shadow every where
I see the image of you in elements of nature
I hear echoes of your sweet voice in the zephyr
I hear the tenor of your laughter in life’s grandeur
I hear the poetry of your love in blowing breeze
I see the ballad of your heart in nature’s frieze
poem by Mittur Ramprasad
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Politics will eventually be replaced by imagery. The politician will be only too happy to abdicate in favor of his image, because the image will be much more powerful than he could ever be.
quote by Herbert Marshall McLuhan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Your Eyes
Around every corner, I turn, you are there;
Fixing me with your steely, unseeing, stare.
Your eyes are static: they do not move,
But, your eternal presence seems to soothe.
The scenario, very slightly, freaks me out,
As, everywhere I go, I see your face about.
Whenever I see your watchful blue eyes,
I suddenly begin to feel just a little bit shy.
You seem to watch me, wherever I go.
But, no emotion does your face show.
What I know for sure, in my own mind,
Is that, in real life, you are caring and kind.
A poster image of you, is what I am seeing:
A momentary snapshot of your very being.
The image lacks colour, but for eyes of light blue;
This very distinguishing feature of yours, is so true.
It brings a strange sense of comfort to me,
Even if, me, you are unable to physically see.
In some strange way, I feel safe and sound,
Knowing that, wherever I go, you are around.
It’s almost as though you have been multiplied;
There is no place where, from you, I can hide.
But when I head home, away from that place,
I no longer see you, or any image of your face.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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A Desolaltion
Now mind is clear
as a cloudless sky.
Time then to make a
home in wilderness.
What have I done but
wander with my eyes
in the trees? So I
will build: wife,
family, and seek
for neighbors.
Or I
perish of lonesomeness
or want of food or
lightning or the bear
(must tame the hart
and wear the bear).
And maybe make an image
of my wandering, a little
image—shrine by the
roadside to signify
to traveler that I live
here in the wilderness
awake and at home.
poem by Allen Ginsberg
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The age of image.
The people who know you
Are the canvas on which
Your image, good or bad,
Is drawn rightly or not.
Mind! The image you built
Will die with the canvas
When it’s torn or worn out.
Yet, each one wants an image.
Don't we desire leaving
A child for our copy,
which will not last long though?
02.01.2009.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Girl With Demon Eyes
A cloudy image appears before me.
Who is that with demon eyes?
They speak of horrors that I never want to see.
A girl raped and they say it was justified.
She was asking for it by being such a tease.
Wearing skin tight cloths.
Walking with a strut saying I know you want it.
But you'll never have it.
A cloudy image appears before me.
Who is that with demon eyes?
They speak of horrors that I never want to see.
Her brother died trying to stop it.
His head got shoved right through a window by three men.
The glass broke and dropped slashing his throat.
And the men turned back on her.
She could smell the whiskey on their breath even from distance.
A cloudy image appears before me.
Who is that with demon eyes?
They speak of horrors that I never want to see.
She knew what they wanted.
But looking at her brother she had to fight it.
She grabbed the nearest object she could get her hands on.
And clobbered the biggest one of the bunch with a lamp.
Down he went crashing right across the coffee table.
A cloudy image appears before me.
Who is that with demon eyes?
They speak of horrors that I never want to see.
The other two grabbed her and started ripping off her cloths.
She screamed multiple times at the top of her lungs.
Kicking, punching, and clawing her way to be free.
And it was not a completely an unanswered plea.
The a man and his wife next door heard the woman being brutalized.
A cloudy image appears before me.
Who is that with demon eyes?
They speak of horrors that I never want to see.
He thundered, call 911 I'm going to grab my gun.
Tossed her his cell phone, as he started running.
To bedroom he went.
No hesitation, for it was a matter of life and death.
Meanwhile these gruff men were taking turns forcing her to do unspeakable acts and her brother just lay there unable to move.
A cloudy image appears before me.
Who is that with demon eyes?
They speak of horrors that I never want see.
By the time he made it their these men were already in their car.
They peeled out like never before.
He shot at them but only took out one of there headlights.
The front door was wide open.
And there on the floor lied a naked woman crying out for her brother.
A cloudy image appears before me.
Who is that with demon eyes?
They speak of horrors that I never want to see.
He knew not what to do.ay's
hits
He first grabbed a blanket to cover her up.
Then he went to see about her brother,
The brother was gurgling something.
He listen closely and heard these words.
'I don't want to die here, but if I do tell her I love her.'
A cloudy image appears before me.
Who is that with demon eyes?
They speak of horrors that I never want to see.
He tried to put pressure on this mortal wound.
But her brother lost too much blood.
With sadden eyes he went back and whispered something in her ear.
She screamed out in agony.
'Oh how can this be'
A cloudy image appears before me.
Who is that with demon eyes?
They speak of horrors that I never want to see.
The cops and ambulance finally arrived.
With all the flashing lights onlooker came and gawked.
Witness statements were taken.
Descriptions were given.
One of these men still lay on her floor.
Unconsciousness but not dead.
A cloudy image appears before me.
Who is that with demon eyes?
They speak of horrors that I never want see.
The others didn't get far.
They made to the bar.
As it happens too be one she frequented very often.
They claimed that took them her house.
Where her brother was also temporarily staying.
A cloudy image appears before me.
Who is that with demon eyes?
They speak of horrors that I never want to see.
They said she agreed to a threesome till he got involved.
But she said they followed and forced their way into her home.
Figuring she was all alone.
But she was not.
And that's when things went all wrong.
A cloudy image appears before me.
Who is that with demon eyes?
They speak of horrors that I never want see.
The cops discovered that she was telling truth.
For their was an eye witness on the other side of the street.
Who saw the whole thing.
The question that bothered the police is why this did nothing about what the witness saw.
The witness thought by the way woman dressed that she deserved it.
This was the story behind those demon eyes.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Almighty, Please Give Me Beautiful Heart!
When I look into your eyes,
Reflected image of my being,
there I found my eyes,
My eyes found themselves in yours!
When your eyes shine,
How can I believe myself,
When my image is so small,
What growth may make me,
great in your eyes?
I imagine what may be my size,
if that small lens capture half world,
Is image large when you are so near,
your image cover whole world,
I can't see anything but you,
My eyes are blind to world!
But you look at the world,
how much I can be In Your eyes dear?
I was able to lose myself,
Trying to find myself in you,
Is it love or simply a madness,
Am I mad with my own desire?
Your eyes captured my image,
But with eyes you captured my soul,
By being is lame,
It can't walk,
Only sit where it is,
Absorbed in own calculations,
Absorbed in dreams and expectations,
My soul is not where it should be,
Gone out of my body,
It goes wherever you go,
Trying to measure your footsteps!
Strange enough, you are unmoved by me, Moved my soul,
like unmoved mover of souls,
Is it love? If it is, then what is use of this love,
Is it only to make me feel strain?
is it only to add more pain?
Why can't Almighty,
Give that beautiful heart,
Which can see and feel beloved within?
Please, Almighty, give me a beautiful heart!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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I Close My Eyes
I close my eyes.
I see your face.
The image of you
I can't erase.
I toss at night.
I cannot sleep.
My thoughts of you
Go too deep.
The night becomes day
And time moves on.
And soon
Another day is gone.
I close my eyes.
I see your face.
The image of you
I can't erase.
Can't break the cycle.
Don't know how.
If I swore I would
I'd break that vow.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Image of a Friend
As I look through the window of friendship,
I see in the gentle wind,
The whispered breeze of an angel,
It is in the image of 'friend'.
This friend has a heart of compassion,
Caring that comes without end,
The giving of love to others,
Characterizes my dear friend.
This friend has hands that carry,
The load of your burdens with ease,
Hands that will hold others' problems,
Grasping with love, not to cease.
This friend has eyes, understanding,
That see to the heart of a soul,
Eyes that are never condemning,
But rather see new ways to grow.
This friend has ears that listen,
And hear the call of a friend,
Ears that will cherish the moment,
And take the time to lend.
The image of friend described here,
Is the picture I see in my mind,
When I look through the window of life,
Your image is what I find!
poem by Jean Penner
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An Allowance For Some Mistakes Of How We Perceive Things To Be
our thoughts have what in them an allowance for the possibilities
that what they perceive are just illusions of the mind
far away from the flesh and bone of the things-in-themselves
a mirage, or just the image of a mirage, come to think of it,
a man that you hate or love, could not be me, but the image of the man
in your dream in your mind like air dripping from your forehead to your lips
you taste and feel it but it does not taste and feel as you have seen it
there are possibilities of optical illusions, and what you see are evil
come to think of it, could just be as good as your disguises.
you are made to believe that what you see is what you get.
but there are those which your eyes do not see which your eyes failed to find.
what you feel is also what you get on such matters that only your heart can feel.
i have written this because you wish to see my love through your eyes.
you grieve because you have not seen that red flower in the blue sky.
it is not in the mind, it is right there in that garden when you close your eyes.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Give Me Image
Enough!
Enough of this...
Self righteous ambiguity!
Fed by those seeking consciousness.
Give me image.
I have yet to have enough,
Of this 'truth-as-I-see-it-life-I-live'.'.
Give me image.
How else can it be expected,
I keep my pretensions alive and thriving?
Do not rid from me my freedom,
To exist living for images I see fit to project.
I can not bare the acceptance of the reality...
Thrown in my face I am suppose to respect!
Give me image!
Do not strip me of my need,
To seek quality delusions to please, eat and feed.
Give me image.
So that I may feel free,
To live in the midst of unending fantasies.
And aspects of threatening truth...
Disturbs my mentality!
As I witness it pursue the awakening of masses.
Pass me my rose colored glasses, please!
Enough!
Enough of this...
Self righteous ambiguity!
Give me image.
I have yet to have enough,
Of this 'truth-as-I-see-it-life-I-live'.'.
Give me image.
Let those images forever in my mind,
Find within me reason to exist!
Give me image.
And enough...
Enough of this,
Self righteous ambiguity.
Fed by those seeking consciousness.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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As with sound, images are subjective. You and I may not see the same color red as red, but we will probably agree that the image on the screen is a digital image or film image, based on contrast, bit depth, and refresh rate.
quote by John Dykstra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shattered Image
I used to sit for hours as a kid
And dangle my feet from an old flat bridge
Seeing myself in the water below
Shatter my image with the rocks Id throw
Shatter my image with the rocks Id throw
Long time gone and a long time ago
When I shattered my image with the rocks Id throw
The world is cruel and people are cold
Now they shatter my image with the rocks they throw
Shatter my image with the rocks they throw
Im far from perfect but I aint all bad
And it hurts me more than it makes me mad
We all do things that we dont want told
And we all throw stones that we shouldnt throw
You shatter my image with the rocks you throw
Long time gone and a long time ago
When I shattered my image with the rocks Id throw
The world is cruel and people are cold
Now they shatter my image with the rocks they throw
Shatter my image with the rocks they throw
If you live in a glass house dont throw stones
Dont shatter my image til you look at your own
Look at your reflection in your house of glass
Dont open my closet if your owns full of trash
Stay out of my closet if your owns full of trash
Long time gone and a long time ago
When I shattered my image with the rocks Id throw
The world is cruel and people are cold
Now they shatter my image with the rocks they throw
Shatter my image with the rocks they throw
Shatter my image with the rocks you throw
Dont shatter my image with the rocks you throw
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Images
I have an image in my head,
It's of my mother
in an old pinny,
her hard, broad hands
that were soft and plump on the palm,
with cigarette yellow
at the fingertips.
I have this image in my head
It's of her with a washing board,
sighing, tired
and me, small and tubby,
taking mini steps
towards the wringer,
'can I do it mummy, can I do it'
I have this image in my head
of her face, all lit up,
her excitement
at her first ‘twin tub'
and my heart aches for her.
I see her poor, over worked body,
her anguished face and I cry for her.
I have this image in my head
and it never fades.
I wish she'd had a better life,
taken more care of herself.
She had this matter of fact attitude,
resololute, never to give in
and at the end, when all was done
there was nothing left but pain.
poem by Ruth Walters
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The Hunter's Even-Song
THE plain with still and wand'ring feet,
And gun full-charged, I tread,
And hov'ring see thine image sweet,
Thine image dear, o'er head.
In gentle silence thou dost fare
Through field and valley dear;
But doth my fleeting image ne'er
To thy mind's eye appear?
His image, who, by grief oppress'd,
Roams through the world forlorn,
And wanders on from east to west,
Because from thee he's torn?
When I would think of none but thee,
Mine eyes the moon survey;
A calm repose then steals o'er me,
But how, 'twere hard to say.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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O' Mirror
All day long roaming around
Sometimes I stand before the mirror,
See my own image looks at me,
Yet I'm puzzled not to find my `self' there.
I see the quiet nature depicted on my complexion,
And I know my `self' is veiled by a humane mask.
In the mirror my image looks like any other human,
My hand-face-eyes all are normal and intact.
Yet behind that intact wall
How many wounded memories, how much pain of loss,
And emptiness lives
Only my heart knows.
Where does my heart live?
Nobody knows that, even the mirror does not.
Still I look at with deep wonder
To find where in my heart
Inconsistent pain and imperfections are;
In the outer shell of mine I find only indifference.
This mirror shows very strange image;
It does not find my own world, -
My emptiness, frustration, the heart breaking emotion-
It does not show me anything.
Only those impassive eyes look at me,
How much tribulation of heart it hides!
In the outer quiet nature none of that be found;
O' Mirror, show me the image of my heart, if you can.
poem by Riffat Samad
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Zapolya
Song
(Act II, Scene I, lines 65-80)
A sunny shaft did I behold,
From sky to earth it slanted :
And poised therein a bird so bold--
Sweet bird, thou wert enchanted !
He sank, he rose, he twinkled, he trolled
Within that shaft of sunny mist ;
His eyes of fire, his beak of gold,
All else of amethyst !
And thus he sang : `Adieu ! adieu !
Love's dreams prove seldom true.
The blossoms they make no delay :
The sparkling dew-drops will not stay.
Sweet month of May,
[Image] We must away ;
[Image][Image] Far, far away !
[Image][Image][Image] To-day ! to-day !'
----------------------------
Hun ting Song
(Act IV, Scene II, lines 56-71)
Up, up ! ye dames, ye lasses gay !
To the meadows trip away.
'Tis you must tend the flocks this morn,
And scare the small birds from the corn.
Not a soul at home may stay :
[Image]For the shepherds must go
[Image]With lance and bow
To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day.
Leave the hearth and leave the house
To the cricket and the mouse :
Find grannam out a sunny seat,
With babe and lambkin at her feet.
Not a soul at home must stay :
[Image]For the shepherds must go
[Image]With lance and bow
To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day.
poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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