Dress
What is in dress I do not know
And I failed to recognize after
The dress changed and it does not
Matter whether it is made of cotton
silken fabrics gold or iron flowers
Or stones sandal paste or tulsi leaves
And it is my duty to offer myself to you
And established a link with you
And I know You will not give me up
I belong to you and everything I do
Is only for you and your dresses
Are not there to disturbed me anyhow.434
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Related quotes
Dress- What Is In It
What is in dress I do not know
And I failed to recognize after
The dress changed and it does not
Matter whether it is made of cotton
silken fabrics gold or iron flowers
Or stones sandal paste or tulsi leaves
And it is my duty to offer myself to you
And established a link with you
And I know You will not give me up
I belong to you and everything I do
Is only for you and your dresses
Are not there to disturbed me anyhow.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Your Gold Dress
You gold dress is whirling around
Like a fan its lifting you high
High above the ground
Never coming down
You gold dress is burning alight
Deafens me with the sound of the sun
Setting fire to the night
And everythings all right
Vibrations coming my way
When youre floating on by
In your gold dress
Vibrations coming to play
When youre filling the sky
With your gold ... dress
Your gold dress is shaming the stars
A thousand melting dali guitars
Make no sound
And dripping slowly down
Your gold dress is all I can see
Blind my eyes but there it will be
Beacon burning bright
And everythings all right
Your gold dress!
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Your Ugly: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :
Your ugly
and your mom
dresses you funny
Your ugly
and does your
mom still dress you.
I`m pretty now
and don`t need
my mom to dress me
I`m pretty now
and dress myself.
I`m ugly now
because I dress
myself
I`m ugly now
you can`t blame
my mom no more.
Your ugly because your
mom still dresses you
I`m ugly now because I
dress myself.
poem by Tracey Collins
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All's Well
The red dress hung from a hanger on the door.
A garment that she had never worn before.
Its vibrant rich colour called to her to buy,
But why?
The red dress made her feel very feminine.
Clad in silkiness she’d felt sylph-like and thin.
Would he really like it, would he like her too,
No clue!
The red dress fitted, so clever the design.
No doubt he would think this lady so divine.
So out on her date she went, one heart beating,
First meeting!
The red dress had made all her dreams come true.
Her beau was so charming the whole evening through.
Love was in the air, the dress had worked its spell,
All’s well!
poem by Ernestine Northover
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The Woman In The Red Dress
The woman in the red dress
How I admire thee
How could one walk with such grace
And such beauty?
The woman in the red dress
Your comforting eyes
The beautiful color
Resembles the sunrise
The woman in the red dress
So young and youthful
A lie never leaves your lips
You are always truthful
The woman in the red dress
Your name, unknown
Your voice speaks with
The most beautiful of tone
The woman in the red dress
Why must you go?
Why don’t you stay
And allow our love to grow?
(May 2010)
poem by Devon McElveen
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Detroit Medley
Devil with the blue dress, blue dress, blue dress
Devil with the blue dress on
Devil with the blue dress, blue dress, blue dress
Devil with the blue dress on
Fe, fe, fi, fi, fo, fo, fum
Look at Molly now, here she come
Wearin' a wig, hat, shades to match
High healed sneakers and an aligator hat
Wearin' her diamons, wearin' a big ring
She got rasors on her fingers and everything
Devil with the blue dress, blue dress, blue dress
Devil with the blue dress on
Devil with the blue dress, blue dress, blue dress
Devil with the blue dress on
Wearin' her perfume, Chanel number five
Got to be the finest looking woman alive
She looks so pretty every time she walks by
The boys are too nervous, even to say hi
Not too skinny, not too fat
She's a real humdinger and I like it like that
Devil with the blue dress, blue dress, blue dress
Devil with the blue dress on
Devil with the blue dress, blue dress, blue dress
Devil with the blue dress on
Good golly Miss Molly, sure like to ball
Good golly Miss Molly, sure like to ball
When you're rockin' and rollin'
Don't you hear your mama call
From the early, early morning to the early, early night
See Miss Molly rockin' in the house of blue light
Good golly Miss Molly, sure like to ball
When you're rockin' and rollin'
Don't you hear your mama call
Well c., c.c. rider
Come on see just what you've done
Well I said c., c.c. rider
Come on see just what you've done
You made me loving you
And now, now, now your man has come
Well now I'm goin' c.c. rider
Goin' to see my baby c.c. rider
And I won't be back c.c. rider
B
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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So Finer
To bear a dress one picks from the academy
Is to deliver a speech for the other men who are men;
The laity speaks with a duty to be heard,
One expert has spoken on the tasks of beauty
And suffering.
I see the flown wings of an older generation,
Their suits are in the middle of golden dresses;
Ladies so finer than themselves shall sway
In time with the music that is concrete and sad,
Innocence is sad.
To be caution is to be godly, and this message made me
A monument on the glad surfaces,
On those narratives we call upon
In the middle of forefingers,
Those glaring feet of fingers and dresses.
poem by Naveed Akram
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A Flower To Auroville Mother-105
Tulsi, (Holy basil, Ocimum tenuiflorum)
Watch, o' hitherto flowers
Here comes She from Him
With providential prowess
And you all sing your hymn
She treats you all bound
And you all inhale hmm..
Such is Tulsi, her range
Ovate leaves perfuming
Toothed margins strange
Green or reddish calming
Sanity supremacy deified
Lakshmi, Krishna outrange
Clustered flora circling
On hearty bracts spiked
In wonder all whispering
As she ties you fastened
And treated you let not
Tulsi, away your gathering
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Amorous Interlude
A brown dress was far from romantic
Oh my! What must she do?
Tonight is the night
She meets her beloved
At their magical rendezvous.
The brown dress she changed
For a new gown of blue
And as they met in the moonlight
Hopes of love were born anew
Kisses were sweet at the rendezvous.
Brown dresses are far from romantic
But she knew just what to do...
One marvellous night,
She shone with delight
As amour lit up the whole rendezvous.
poem by Joyce Hemsley
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Reds
Red dress, red shoes,
A dancing moonlight reflecting from you
A diamond laced necklace, so cheap but expensive
Shining on through,
knowing a charged up essence of you jeweled
Will never escape the memory of you
Red dress, red shoes,
Ripples in the still breeze
Tracing the woods following footsteps made of you
Red dress red shoes,
I remember clearly the day I met you,
The beauty of you, red dress red shoes
Cold day, warm night
That red dress red shoes first entered my sight
Like a demon or devil, delving deeply to my heart, you entered my blood stream
With an evil curderling scream of art,
The ripping then began to start
This lady of red dress and red shoes
Enters the mind
Red dress, red shoes
Trapped in time
its true
poem by Daniel Richards
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America!
America!
"Take my flesh and give my dress"
The naked child cries
but not for the bread
"You may change tops
or you may not
but you never stop
to suck my blood"
"It is nice to you
to give my dress
when I put the dress
your wound will be lost"
Oh! my America!
listen child's words
Child's dress doesn't suit to you
give it back
poem by Harishan Arulseelan
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Beauty is for women
Flowers dress themselves in different colours
To attract bees, who are not colourful.
Flowers mind visits of bees, not their colour.
Hence women dress to get spotted.
20.09.2000, Vijayavada
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Conceit and Deceit
what i have in my hands
are only stones
if you search for more
pebbles
my mind can give you
but first
you must entice me
with a flower in your hand
for you to have stones
that soon will grow you
some leaves of sand
that soon shall show you
how pebbles can be flowers
too
what you have are only
flowers
a little bit lighter than
the twigs of their source
what i have in my hands
are pebble that give us weight
yes, weight is wisdom
and they are all stones
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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It's Tearin Up My Heart (Revised)
Chorus:
It's tearin up my heart
cuz were all fags
But when we are apart
I still dress drag
and no matter what i do
I can't get laid
With or without you
(ba ba ba ba)
Baby I don't understand
just why we can't F*CK dogs
things are getting out of hand
tryin to much but I can't get it up
.......... Skanky hoe
If you want me boy let me know
I am down on my kneeees just like Monica!!!!
Chorus:
It's tearin up my heart
cuz we're all fags
but when we are apart
I still dress drag
And no matter what I do
I can't get laid
With or without you
Justin don't misunderstand
That i'm tryin to F*CK ya
In the corner of my @$$
It feels like ur sperm is runnin out fast
Skanky hoe
If you want me boy let me know
I am down on my kneeees
Just like Monica!!!!!
Chorus:
It's tearin up my heart
cuz we're all fags
but when we are apart
I still dress drag
And no matter what I do
I can't get laid
With or without you
Tearin up my heart my soul
cuz we dress like fags
and no matter what i do i STILL can't get laid
with or without you
and no matter what i do i STILL can't get laid
with out without you
song performed by by N Sync
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Do You Want To Be Disturbed?
Do you want to be disturbed?
By your family
By your friend
By your relation
By unknown people
Do you want to be disturbed?
With their problem
With their need
With their worry
With their temptation
Do you want to be disturbed?
In inconvenient place
In unexpected moment
In weary condition
In mixed emotion
Do you want to be disturbed?
And will you be glad
And will you grumble
And will you ignore
And will you be generous
Do you want to be disturbed?
And still give your ears
And still give your hands
And still give your smile
And still give your hour
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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No Originality Or Freshness In It
So you changed some things around and called this new?
Yours?
To have others believe it too!
And you know this isn't true.
Don't you?
Have you ever gone in someone's home?
And made suggestions
As to how they can arrange their furniture
To give the interior of their home a different presence?
It is still their furniture!
They recognize it.
You recognize it.
It belongs to them.
No matter how it has been arranged.
Same thing with stolen concepts.
Or a poet 'borrowing' ideas.
No matter how it has been arranged,
The creating brain knows from where it came.
There is no such thing as 'borrowing' someone else's ideas.
To make them new.
Plagiarists make attempts at this.
And some are so ignorant...
They lift whole passages as if they can not be recognized.
That's how empty their minds and lives are!
AND then there are those who will boldly ASK...
If it is okay to put their name on 'your' efforts!
And then to others brag of their tasks.
But not for too long can they do this.
Repetition bores,
Even those who do not recognize what is presented...
Has no originality or freshness in it to begin with!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Little Black Dress
Every woman has one in her closet,
Although some are loathe to confess.
It’s perfect for many occasions.
It is known as the little black dress..
For Women who seek to entice,
or have men they want to impress.,
There is nothing terribly virginal
concerning that little black dress.
Its of Spidery inspiration and,
oh, what a web they can weave.
They use it, some say, ensnaring their prey.
It comes out again when they grieve.
In Wedding, our Ladies wear white.,
A Little black dress when they keen.
They dress in subtler shades of gray
on all the days in between.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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As Per Usual
It'll not be the first time he'll
Have said that and not meant
It and she knows oh how she
Knows that he will probably
Say it again and bring her the
Usual flowers and maybe a new
Dress two sizes too big for her
And have that look on his face
That look he used to give his
Mother when he was late home
Or if he'd not noticed her having
Had her hair done and she knows
He'll get down on his knees and
Pretend to beg for forgiveness
Yet at the back of his mind he's
Already imagining the girl in the
Office bent over her desk and him
Doing what he thinks he does best
And now as she waits for him to
Come home knowing he'll have
The words sitting on the end of
His tongue like obedient puppies
Ready for the false apology and
The flowers in one hand and the
Maybe new dress in the other and
Even though she will be able to
Smell the other woman's scent and
See her hairs on his jacket he'll
Have that dumb look about him
As if butter wouldn't melt as if ice
Wouldn't drown his drink and as
She waits for him she really just
Wants him not to come home at
All wants him to stay with the other
Woman soak into her sheets and
Into her skin with his two bit morality
And sin oh that he didn't come home
At all she mumbles as she hears his
Key in the lock and that stupid look
On his face as the door opens up and
The flowers and bag with dress in each
Hand and hair limp by the rain she knows
He'll say he loves her and she knows he
Will do it again the liar her lover the pain.
poem by Terry Collett
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Pause you who read this, and think for a moment of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flowers, that would never have bound you, but for the formation of the first link on one memorable day.
Charles Dickens in Great Expectations
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet XXXVII.
The poet's fancy takes from Flora's realm
Her buds and leaves to dress fictitious powers,
With the green olive shades Minerva's helm,
And give to Beauty's queen, the queen of flowers.
But what gay blossoms of luxuriant spring,
With rose, mimosa, amaranth entwined,
Shall fabled Sylphs and fairy people bring,
As a just emblem of the lovely mind?
In vain the mimic pencil tries to blend
The glowing dyes that dress the flowery race,
Scented and colour'd by a hand divine!
Ah! not less vainly would the Muse pretend,
On her weak lyre, to sing the native grace
And native goodness of a soul like thine!
poem by Charlotte Smith
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