Her Hair Was Gold (Than-Bauk)
Her hair was gold,
her hand cold, slim,
I bold they say.
poem by Gert Strydom
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In The Louvre
Queen Karomana, slim you stand,
In bronze with little flecks of gold—
Queen Karomana.
O royal lady, lift your hand,
Shatter the stone museum cold,
Queen Karomana.
The wide Nile sleeps, the desert stings
With color. Shake your tresses free,
Queen Karomana !
The sleepy lotus shines and swings—
Loose your bound limbs and sail with me
In a smooth shallop to the sea,
Queen Karomana!
Queen Karomana, still so mute,
So delicate, yet cold as snow,
Queen Karomana?
An ice-wind, boldly resolute,
Rippled your thin robe long ago,
And froze you into bronze—I know—
But left your garment's flecks of gold
And the slim grace men loved of old,
Queen Karomana!
poem by Harriet Monroe
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The Artist
THE year has turned the corner,
Cold June is with the dead,
And Spring, the singing artist,
Is mixing gold and red.
The red is meant for roses,
Rich roses, brave and bold;
The gold is for the wattle —
'Tis delicate, pale gold.
The Sun, grown tired of exile,
Comes marching south again;
'Tis he that stays the west wind
That chills the hearts of men.
There shall be frond and feather,
Glad ways of greenery,
When Spring unveils her painting
For all the world to see.
Oh, red 'twill be and golden,
That canvas of the South:
* * * * *
The gold shall be a girl's hair,
The red shall be her mouth.
poem by Roderic Quinn
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Slim Carter
Whos gonna give a job to old slim carter,
Whos gonna give a man a place to say.
Who do you know that needs an old tired out rodeo man
Who do you know nowadays needs a gun hand
Who needs a gunhand
I heard he was born somewhere in south dakota
His mama ran off with an indian agent
They say they hung his daddy for selling bad whiskey to the balckfeet
So at ten years old, he hit the road, and kept on moving
Whos gonna give a job to old slim carter
Whos gonna give a man a place to say
Who do you know that needs an old tired out rodeo man
Who do you know nowadays needs a gun hand
Who needs a gunhand
He finally ended up in hollywood california
He hocked the gold buckle that he worked so hard for
Landed a job as a stuntman for americas favorite cowboy
Until the stage had a wreck, he broke his neck
And it was all over
Whos gonna give a job to old slim carter
Whos gonna give a man a place to say
Who do you know that needs an old tired out rodeo man
Who do you know nowadays needs a gun hand
Who needs a gunhand
Who needs a gunhand
Who needs a gunhand?
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Bold Buccaneer
One very rough day on the Pride of the Fray
In the scuppers a poor little cabin-boy lay,
When the Bosun drew nigh with wrath in his eye
And gave him a kick to remember him by,
As he cried with a sneer: “What good are you here?
Go home to your mammy, my bold buccaneer.”
Now the Captain beheld, and his pity upwelled:
With a plug in the peeper the Bosun he felled.
With humility grand he extended his hand
And helped the poor lad, who was weeping, to stand,
As he cried: “Have no fear; I'm the manager here.
Take heart, and you'll yet be a bold buccaneer.”
But how he did flare when the lad then and there
Doffed his cap and shook down a gold banner of hair.
Though his movements were shy, he'd a laugh in his eye,
And he sank on the Captain's broad breast with a sigh,
As he cried: “Is it queer that I've followed you here?
I'm your sweetheart from Bristol, my bold buccaneer.”
On an isle in the west, by the breezes caressed,
The bold buccaneer has a warm little nest,
And he sits there in state amid pieces of eight
And tackles his rum with a manner elate,
As he cries: “O my dear little cabin-boy, here
Is a toast to the babe of the bold buccaneer!”
poem by John Le Gay Brereton
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The Buckskin Bag of Gold
Last night I met him on the train--
A man with lovely eyes;
And he gave me a searching glance
Of sweet charm'd surprise!
I knew 'twas he the lady meant,
Who once my fortune told,
By his jet black eyes, his grand moustache,
And his buckskin bag of gold.
Yes! (Ha! ha!) Yes! (ha! ha!) his is the man
Who does your fortune hold!
He has jet black eyes, a grand moustache,
And a buckskin bag of gold.
Tall! (Ha! ha!) slim! (ha! ha!) quick as a flash!
And twenty two years old;
He has jet black eyes, his grand moustache,
And his buckskin bag of gold.
The dearest man you ever saw
How much I love him now!
And if I should live a thousand years,
No other hears my vow.
Like Judas--no, like Jupiter,
He look'd so brave and bold,
With his jet black eyes, his grand moustache,
And his buckskin bag of gold.
Sweet boy bring me the "Morning Call"
Perchance I'll find his name;
At the "Grand Hotel" he must have stopp'd,
I wonder when he came!
He must have charm'd those Lumpkin girls,
So haughty, proud and cold,
By his jet black eyes, his grand mousetache,
And his buckskin bag of gold.
How can I seek a name unknown?
Oh, tell me where he went!
What is this I read! why Papa's bank
Is robb'd of ev'ry cent!
The thief, it seems, left town last night,
Well, well! I'm nicely sold!
He had jet black eyes, his grand mousetache,
And his buckskin bag of gold.
poem by Henry Clay Work
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No Fault
Hold, told, bold, gold, cold, fold, sold;
They made a fire of coals for it was cold!
Coal, foal, goal;
I've found no fault in you!
But put your sword back in its own sheath.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Faith More Precious Than Gold
Although now, for a while,
Sore distressed by grievous trial,
And your love for your Lord may grow cold,
You are shielded by Him,
To His hope you’re born again,
And your faith is more precious than gold.
How intense is the fire
Of your grief and deep desire
And the pain of the sob of your soul;
Of God’s plan you’re afraid,
And by Him you feel betrayed,
But your faith is more precious than gold.
Though He slay, you can trust
Him who made you out of dust;
He is still the same God as of old.
Though you can’t see Him now,
Still you love Him anyhow
With your faith that’s more precious than gold.
God is now glorified
When in Him you still abide
And His fruit of endurance show bold.
You’re the work of His hand,
And on Him you must depend,
So your faith is more precious than gold.
You can greatly rejoice
In His name and in His choice
More like Jesus your being to mold.
So then run to the Lord,
To His side and to His Word;
Put to practice this faith more than gold.
When you flee thus in prayer
And experience His care,
Then the proof of your faith will be told.
Though some pain might remain,
You’ll thank God for all the rain,
For you’ll know your faith’s worth more than gold.
And this faith has an end
That you’ll better comprehend:
The salvation and life of your soul,
An inheritance sweet,
Bowing at your Savior’s feet,
Praising Him for this gift more than gold.
(Based on 1 Peter 1: 3-9)
poem by Edward A. Morris
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November
There is wind where the rose was,
Cold rain where sweet grass was,
And clouds like sheep
Stream o'er the steep
Grey skies where the lark was.
Nought warm where your hand was,
Nought gold where your hair was,
But phantom, forlorn,
Beneath the thorn,
Your ghost where your face was.
Cold wind where your voice was,
Tears, tears where my heart was,
And ever with me,
Child, ever with me,
Silence where hope was.
poem by Walter de la Mare
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Gold
Pale gold of the walls, gold
of the centers of daisies, yellow roses
pressing from a clear bowl. All day
we lay on the bed, my hand
stroking the deep
gold of your thighs and your back.
We slept and woke
entering the golden room together,
lay down in it breathing
quickly, then
slowly again,
caressing and dozing, your hand sleepily
touching my hair now.
We made in those days
tiny identical rooms inside our bodies
which the men who uncover our graves
will find in a thousand years,
shining and whole.
poem by Donald Hall
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Hypnotize
I want to hypnotize you baby
On the telephone
So many times I called your house
Just to hear the tone
And though I knew you werent home
I didnt mind so much cause Im so alone
I want to hypnotize you baby
On the telephone
I want to spin my little watch
Right before your eyes
Youre the kind of girl a guy like me
Could hypnotize
And if this comes as a surprise
Just think of all those guys
Who would tell you lies
I want to spin my little watch
Right before your eyes
I want to hold your little hand
If I can be so bold
And be your right hand man
til your hands get old
And then when all the feelings gone
Just decide if you want to keep holding on
I want to hold your little hand
If I can be so bold
If I can be so bold
If I can be so bold
song performed by by White Stripes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Now it is winter when trees are skeleton
Now it is winter when trees are skeleton,
stripped bare and have no more leaves
as if they are lifeless
and the weather is grey as if
there’s only chill and sieving rain
with banks of covering fog
that cuts the sun and light,
into a cold pitiless world
and then you first past and come to me
with a yellow raincoat, your pants splashed wet
where you shake your hair out, like a dog does with rain
in a blizzard of spray, getting it out of your hair
and I know that our time is only burrowed
when you stretch against me, cuddly and slim, just you and me alone
and you are hot like a ray of light that unexpectedly comes down,
we are one in passion, in a moment
after which I remove the hairclips from your hair,
your eyes are gleaming like shining pieces of steel
and you are only mine, with soft lips and big eyes
and bliss descends between us.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Gold
Theres a mountain and its mighty high
U cannot see the top unless u fly
And theres a molehill of proven ground
There aint no where 2 go if u hang around
Everybody wants 2 sell whats already been sold
Everybody wants 2 tell whats already been told
Whats the use of money if u aint gonna break the mold?
Even at the center of fire there is cold
All that glitters aint gold
All that glitters aint gold, mmm
Theres an ocean of despair
There are people livin there
Theyre unhappy each and every day
But hell is not fashion so what u tryin 2 say?
Everybody wants 2 sell whats already been sold
Everybody wants 2 tell whats already been told
Whats the use of money if u aint gonna break the mold?
Even at the center of fire there is cold
All that glitters aint gold, no no
All that glitters aint gold, no no
Theres a lady, 99 years old
If she led a good life, heaven takes her soul
Now thats a theory and if u dont wanna know
Step aside and make a way 4 those who want 2 go
Everybody wants 2 sell whats already been sold (sold)
Everybody wants 2 tell whats already been told (told)
Whats the use of bein young if u aint gonna get old? (old)
Even at the center of fire there is cold (cold)
All that glitters (glitters) aint gold, no no no no no
All that glitters aint gold
Alright
All that glitters, all that glitters, all that glitters.. aint gold
Na na na na na na na (gold {x4})
Na na na na na na na (gold {x4})
Gold, gold, gold
All that glitters aint gold, gold, gold
All that glitters aint gold, gold, gold (na na na na na na na)
All that glitters aint gold, gold, gold (na na na na na na na)
All that glitters aint gold, oh
Oh yeah
1 2.. 1 2 3, lets go!
(na na na na na na na) {repeat}
U are now an official member of the new power generation
Welcome 2 the dawn
All that glitters aint gold (gold) {repeat & loop}
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The opposites
I could be fat, you could be thin
I could be red, you could be green
I could have hair, you could be bold
I could be young, you could be old
I could be weak, you could be strong
I could be right, you could be wrong
Until the people start to yawn
The list could go on and on
The point that I would like to make
Depends on what it is at stake
The opposites of certain kind
Complete each other when combined
Who’s young today, tomorrow’s old
Had head of hair, now – bold
I won’t be lying under oath
It’s either or, but never both!
poem by Slava Olchevski
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Sell Me A Coat
La la la la la la la la la la la la la
A winters day, a bitter snowflake on my face
My summer girl takes little backward steps away
Jack frost took her hand and left me, jack frost aint so cool
Sell me a coat with buttons of silver
Sell me a coat thats red or gold
Sell me a coat with little patch pockets
Sell me a coat cause I feel cold
And when she smiles, the ice forgets to melt away
Not like before, her smile was warming yesterday
See the trees like silver candy, feel my icy hand
Sell me a coat with buttons of silver
Sell me a coat thats red or gold
Sell me a coat with little patch pockets
Sell me a coat cause I feel cold
See my eyes, my window pane
See my tears like gentle rain
Thats the memory of a summer day
Sell me a coat with buttons of silver
Sell me a coat thats red or gold
Sell me a coat with little patch pockets
Sell me a coat cause I feel cold
Sell me a coat with buttons of silver
Sell me a coat thats red or gold
Sell me a coat with little patch pockets
Sell me a coat cause I feel cold
La la la la la la
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When Doves Cry
Dig if you will the picture
Of you and I engaged in a kiss
The sweat of your body covers me
Can you my darling
Can you picture this?
Dream if you can a courtyard
An ocean of violets in bloom
Animals strike curious poses
They feel the heat
The heat between me and you
How can you just leave me standing?
Alone in a world that's so cold? (So cold)
Maybe I'm just too demanding
Maybe I'm just like my father too bold
Maybe you're just like my mother
She's never satisfied (She's never satisfied)
Why do we scream at each other
This is what it sounds like
When doves cry
Touch if you will my stomach
Feel how it trembles inside
You've got the butterflies all tied up
Don't make me chase you
Even doves have pride
How can you just leave me standing?
Alone in a world so cold? (World so cold)
Maybe I'm just too demanding (maybe maybe)
Maybe I'm just like my father too bold (too bold)
Maybe you're just like my mother
She's never satisfied (She's never satisfied)
Why do we scream at each other (why)
This is what it sounds like
When doves cry
ooh ooh ooh - baby
How can you just leave me standing?
Alone in a world that's so cold? (a world so cold)
Maybe I'm just too demanding
Maybe I'm just like my father too bold (you know
song performed by by Ginuwine from The Bachelor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silly; Human nature: Do You Have A Sister, King?
Do you have a sister
Oh My Royal Mister?
If you do I would come to Your Court,
And would, with her, consent to consort.
If she is pretty and slim, all the better,
But she doesn't need to measure up to the letter.
Yes, slim, rather than fat would be best;
That makes it easier to hold ALL of her to my chest.
It's not that I dislike fat girls; I know they can be nice. And
There are those who would choose MORE meat,
And, at a slim girl, not look twice.
As for my mention of the word 'pretty',
I know there will be those who, on me, may feel pity.
Truth be told "pretty" isn't needed if she is nice, and sweet,
And maybe wealthy and quick-on-her-feet.
So here is my supplication to You, Oh King:
Give me her hand, and
I'll give her the ring.
(Nov.2012)
poem by Bri Edwards
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It's Forth Across The Roaring Foam
IT'S forth across the roaring foam, and on towards the west,
It's many a lonely league from home, o'er many a mountain crest,
From where the dogs of Scotland call the sheep around the fold,
To where the flags are flying beside the Gates of Gold.
Where all the deep-sea galleons ride that come to bring the corn,
Where falls the fog at eventide and blows the breeze at morn;
It's there that I was sick and sad, alone and poor and cold,
In yon distressful city beside the Gates of Gold.
I slept as one that nothing knows; but far along my way,
Before the morning God rose and planned the coming day;
Afar before me forth he went, as through the sands of old,
And chose the friends to help me beside the Gates of Gold.
I have been near, I have been far, my back's been at the wall,
Yet aye and ever shone the star to guide me through it all:
The love of God, the help of man, they both shall make me bold
Against the gates of darkness as beside the Gates of Gold.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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When I shiver with cold.....
When I shiver with cold
a blanket Shiva does hold
in poverty he showers gold
my wishes from your mould
VICTORY OVER ENEMIES write bold
poem by Elangovan Selvapperumal
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Everlasting Love
Every now and then I get a little bit cold
And I need somebody to hold me
I look at you and your body of gold
And I think oh why did she hurt me
Yes I do, yes I do, yes I do, yes I do
Sometimes when Im out at night I think of your smile
And your long slim beautiful body
Person that I used to find youre my perfect girl
So come on babe why did you hurt me
Why did you, hurt me, why did you, hurt me
Cos when you need somebody til the day that you die
And the everlasting love ...... (? ? ? ? ? )
Lie if I could and tell you what I would do
cos I need somebody to hold me
Yes I do, yes I do, yes I do, yes I do
Every now and then I get a little bit cold
And I need somebody to hold me
I look at you and your body of gold
And I think oh why did you hurt me
Yes I do, yes I do, yes I do, yes I do
Cos when you need somebody til the day that you die
And the everlasting love ...... (? ? ? ? ? )
Lie if I could and tell you what I would do
cos I need somebody to hold me
Yes I do, yes I do, yes I do, yes I do
Yes I do, yes I do, yes I do, yes I do
Its e-v-e-r lasting love
Coming down on you from the heavens above
Let me bring it on down to you one time
I was meant to be yours you were meant to be mine
Im speaking the truth aint telling no lies
Its how I feel this aint no disguise
So come on baby be my girl
What Ive gots everlasting love
Cos when you need somebody til the day that you die
And the everlasting love ...... (? ? ? ? ? )
Lie if I could and tell you what I would do
cos I need somebody to hold me
Cos when you need somebody til the day that you die
And the everlasting love ...... (? ? ? ? ? )
Lie if I could and tell you what I would do
cos I need somebody to hold me
Need somebody til the day that you die....
song performed by by Westlife
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mother's Hair Has Turned To Silver
Mother's hair has turned to silver
Her skin is all wrinkled and cold
But i'd never trade my mother
For the world and all its gold. Yes her hair has turned to silver
Her face is all covered with lines
But there'll never be another
Like this gray haired mother of mine. I think of all the hardships
I have caused her to bare
Then I can see the reasons
For the silver in her hair. Mother's hair has turned to silver
And her hard working days are done
But there's still a smile on her face
And a love for everyone.
poem by Kenneth Rickard
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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