I Once Looked At A Face
I once looked at a face
which in a single glance spoke volumes to me,
the traffic lights, the cars
the other people on the sidewalk
went by unnoticed
The glittering of her eyes
their colour and expression
her slender nose, her dimpled cheek
her lustrous dark hair
made a lasting impression
as if I was looking at an ideal form
but there was more to it than just that
and her sparkling laughter
the way that she threw her hair back
had an own significance
Yet more stunning was her actions
of which years later I am still trying
to decipher the meaning
as she walked up to me
flinging her arms around my neck
She drew my head down to hers
her perfume was enchanting
her lips sweet, soft and hot against mine
and there was a kind of electricity
while she kissed me
I was totally dumbfounded
while her laughter
was both sweet and serene
and she was a stranger to me
but extremely pretty
She looked at me
for another moment in excitement
with a smile on her lips
before she walked away
with swinging hips
poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes
On a Durban street at twilight
On a Durban street at twilight,
when lights started piercing the coming night
in winter with rain sieving down
like you would expect in Cape Town
a gorgeous girl walked right up to me,
and it’s still one hell of a memory.
For long moments her eyes looked into mine
and she slid her slender arms around my neck
giving me much more than a peck
and her hair silky and fine
brushed against my face
before she kissed me even more passionately
and spellbound and probably surprised, unfortunately
I let her slip away unknown, totally without a trace
and still this bugs me, for what I do not know
and why I let her go?
poem by Gert Strydom
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Fantasies Of A Mirror Part-1
The mirror gasped as she stood in front of it with her tresses flowing longingly
The mirror looked in her dark brown eyes
The mirror admired her almost perfect lips
The mirror gazed longingly at her perfect hips
The mirror took her in its arms
The mirror embraced her reflection in itself
The mirror ran its fingers through her soft hair
The mirror kissed her lips a thousand times
The mirror bit her slender neck
The mirror whispered a thousand nothings in her ears
The mirror …..The mirror ……The mirror
The mirror left its love bites all over her soft warm body
poem by Leonard Rebello
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My prayers
I touched your cold hands
hands that worked the land
caressed your tousled hair
hair that had known flair
kissed your silent lips
lips that sweet secrets keep
My prayers in vain
tears leaving stain
Your words lodged themselves
deep in the crevices and shelves
awaiting the moment of freedom
to shine in the kingdom
I touched her little hands
hands that hold no plan
caressed her soft hair
hair that dances in the air
kissed her sweet lips
lips that smile at the tips
My prayers in pain
soul bare lain
Her laughter clear as bells
chasing away spells
dispersing shadows with her light
casting wrongs putting them right
Your words came flying back
Have faith tho thee lack
it will sustain thee
in life without plea
My prayers in gratitude
love in servitude
The Perfect Girl
Maybe I will have to wait through aeons
to find her, to find the perfect girl
whose feelings reach out to me
softer than the fluttering of any butterfly
whose voice is crystal clear with an own loveliness
and at times she dwells in my dreams
walking at times covered in a white cloak
with slim feet and pearly white toes.
I have heard her sweet laughter
falling softly as snow
but covering me in a kind of warmth
that delights, that at times are amusing
at other times brings sheer tranquillity
and if she’s human or something of the divine
I do not really know
only that she is beyond beautiful
One night suddenly she appeared
in another kind of dream
looked straight at me through her veil
her countenance had pure perfection
a kind of untouched innocence
but it was a sheer mystery
as her gaze had a kind of lust, a kind of longing
and it was clear that she know men
probably had made love to many of them
and as she lifted her veil
her eyes were the colour of the sea
but were ever changing in their hue
they were sometimes green, sometimes grey
and at times blue
Her hair was almost onyx black
and streamed down lustrous
streamed down right to her waist
glittering in a blue-black hue
and I was almost thunder struck
as she stepped out of her cloak
and I saw her sublime body
in every perfect line
the contours of her magnificent breasts,
her sleek belly
with its triangular thatch of dark hair
and she looked somewhat ethereal,
sublimely serene
and lovely beyond words
and it felt if I had waited my whole life
just to see her face
with its dimples, her narrow straight nose,
her full soft lips
and now she was displaying
her whole body in sheer nakedness.
I have known many women
have loved some
maybe beyond what love should be
and in reality
she remains to me a mystery
an ethereal being
that visits me in dream after dream
poem by Gert Strydom
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Girl on the street
On one cloudy night you came
while it felt as all the world
was rushing by
and cars were driving
up and down in the street.
You’re pretty face
was wet from the rain
and you were sheltering
next to a lighted display windowpane.
Some innocence was in your eyes,
but it was clear that you
had experienced life
and a shared cigarette was enough
to bring you close to me.
You kissed me without any reason
and your desire was burning,
on your hot soft lips
and you smiled
and hugged me for a moment.
I smelled your perfume
and your soft hair
brushed my face
and you were sweet and hot,
and a car stopped
and you had simply left.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Ines
I saw that glance
As you looked back
Your eyes so brown
Your hair so black.
Those perfect lips
A sculptors dream
That oval face
Your skin like cream
You hair like silk
Down that sweet back
I wish you'd looked
At me like that!
Copyright © Res John Burman 2009
poem by Res John Burman
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The White Witch
O, brothers mine, take care! Take care!
The great white witch rides out to-night,
Trust not your prowess nor your strength;
Your only safety lies in flight;
For in her glance there is a snare,
And in her smile there is a blight.
The great white witch you have not seen?
Then, younger brothers mine, forsooth,
Like nursery children you have looked
For ancient hag and snaggled tooth;
But no, not so; the witch appears
In all the glowing charms of youth.
Her lips are like carnations red,
Her face like new-born lilies fair,
Her eyes like ocean waters blue,
She moves with subtle grace and air,
And all about her head there floats
The golden glory of her hair.
But though she always thus appears
In form of youth and mood of mirth,
Unnumbered centuries are hers,
The infant planets saw her birth;
The child of throbbing Life is she,
Twin sister to the greedy earth.
And back behind those smiling lips,
And down within those laughing eyes,
And underneath the soft caress
Of hand and voice and purring sighs,
The shadow of the panther lurks,
The spirit of the vampire lies.
For I have seen the great white witch,
And she has led me to her lair,
And I have kissed her red, red lips
And cruel face so white and fair;
Around me she has twined her arms,
And bound me with her yellow hair.
I felt those red lips burn and sear
My body like a living coal;
Obeyed the power of those eyes
As the needle trembles to the pole;
And did not care although I felt
The strength go ebbing from my soul.
Oh! she has seen your strong young limbs,
And heard your laughter loud and gay,
And in your voices she has caught
The echo of a far-off day,
When man was closer to the earth;
And she has marked you for her prey.
She feels the old Antæan strength
In you, the great dynamic beat
Of primal passions, and she sees
In you the last besieged retreat
Of love relentless, lusty, fierce,
Love pain-ecstatic, cruel-sweet.
O, brothers mine, take care! Take care!
The great white witch rides out to-night.
O, younger brothers mine, beware!
Look not upon her beauty bright;
For in her glance there is a snare,
And in her smile there is a blight.
poem by James Weldon Johnson
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Nothing Anymore
When I once looked into your eyes,
I saw honesty lying there.
When I once looked into your eyes,
I saw loyalty with love and care.
When I once looked into your eyes,
I saw life and love forever more.
When I now look into your eyes,
I see darkness, and nothing anymore.
When I once held onto your hand,
I felt compassion, kindness and love.
When I once held onto your hand,
I felt the warmth from GOD above.
When I once held onto your hand,
I felt a joy from the person I adored.
When I now hold onto your hand,
I feel coldness, and nothing anymore.
When I use to listen to your voice,
I once heard it with vigor and excitement.
When I use to listen to your voice,
I once heard it with warmth and fulfillment.
When I use to listened to your voice,
I once heard it with truth which I swore.
When I now listen to your voice.
I go dumb, as I hear nothing anymore.
When I once looked upon your face,
I would always look with pride and a smile.
When I once looked upon your face,
I would always thank GOD your with me now
When I once looked upon your face,
I would always be there to open your door.
When I now look upon your face,
I go blind, as I see nothing anymore.
When I once kissed your lips,
I tasted myself and also your flavor.
When I once kissed your lips,
I tasted life as you were my savior.
When I once kissed your lips,
I tasted excitement and your love in store.
When I now think of kissing your lips,
I now bite them shut, I taste nothing anymore.
poem by Randy McClave
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The Last Time I Saw Her
The last time I saw her face, her eyes were bathed in starlight and her hair hung long
The last time she spoke to me, her lips were like the scented flowers inside a rain-drenched forest
But that was so long ago that I can scarcely feel the way I felt before
And if time could heal the wounds, I would tear the threads away that I might bleed some more
The last time I walked with her
Her laughter was the steeple bells
That ring to greet the morning sun
A voice that called to everyone
To love the ground she walked upon
Those were good day
The last time I held her hand, her touch was autumn, spring and summer, and winter too
The last time I let go of her, she walked a way into the night
I lost her in the misty streets, a thousand months, a thousand miles
When other lips will kiss her eyes
A million miles beyond the moon, thats where she is
But that was so long ago that I can scarcely feel the way I felt before
And if time could heal the wounds, I would tear the threads away that I might bleed some more
The last time I saw her face, her eyes were bathed in starlight and she walked alone
The last time she kissed my cheek
Her lips were like the wilted leaves
Upon the autumn covered hills
Resting on the frozen ground
The seeds of love lie cold and still
Beneath a battered marking stone
It lies forgotten
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Last Time I Saw Her
The last time I saw her face, her eyes were bathed in starlight and her
hair hung long
The last time she spoke to me, her lips were like the scented flowers
inside a rain-drenched forest
But that was so long ago that I can scarcely feel the way I felt before
And if time could heal the wounds, I would tear the threads away that I
might bleed some more
The last time I walked with her
Her laughter was the steeple bells
That ring to greet the morning sun
A voice that called to everyone
To love the ground she walked upon
Those were good day
The last time I held her hand, her touch was autumn, spring and summer,
and winter too
The last time I let go of her, she walked a way into the night
I lost her in the misty streets, a thousand months, a thousand miles
When other lips will kiss her eyes
A million miles beyond the moon, that's where she is
But that was so long ago that I can scarcely feel the way I felt before
And if time could heal the wounds, I would tear the threads away that I
might bleed some more
The last time I saw her face, her eyes were bathed in starlight and she
walked alone
The last time she kissed my cheek
Her lips were like the wilted leaves
Upon the autumn covered hills
Resting on the frozen ground
The seeds of love lie cold and still
Beneath a battered marking stone
It lies forgotten
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Graceful Lines Of Your Face Stunned Me
The graceful lines of your face stunned me,
dumbfounded, nothing else I did notice;
beyond me, on the road cars flashed past,
sheer perfection had an own strong power.
Your smile made me feel somewhat ecstatic,
in a instant, my thoughts, my life, reality,
my whole existence changed totally,
living without you became a big void.
Your cat-like glowing eyes burned intensely,
burned into my soul, your small snub nose,
your brow, your soft wavelike hair, your hot lips,
left much more than just a lovely picture;
for long lingering moments you were real
and your loving was absolutely clear.
poem by Gert Strydom
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I Went To The Mirror
In a voice soaked with euphoria:
I went to the mirror this morning
I looked in the mirror instead
The first thing to come into focus
Was a face wrapped all around my head
Theres something sticking out of the middle
I guess its my nose (I suppose)
I just dont recognize those eyes
All these years Ive been watching from the other side
The voice is now one of brutal stupefication. the underlying question is - if
You went crazy, would you know it?
Uh oh, here I go thinking them crazy thoughts again.
Who is that there? you mean I been walking around
In that all these years? whats it all about?
Wheres it all at? I dont want to get heavy but
What am I doing here? uh
My lip has a dark spot upon it
(the voice of a mature adult whos comprehensive
Capacity has suddenly been reduced to that of a
Cherrystone clam)
My teeth look like plastic in chips
And there on my chin I discover
One lonely red and arrogant zit
I went about my business this morning
You got to get out of bed and make that bread
But try as I may to get away
I wont forget what I seen in the mirror today
Boogie on out to a brand new day.
Get off your back and dance!
I seen my eyes. I seen my nose. my lips. my teeth.
My, my gums. I seen my gums! I looked all the way
Down my throat! I looked at my ears. I looked real
Hard at my ears. I looked at my hair. I think Im going
Bald. I had hair all over the sink or something...
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Others May Think.
Apart from the water tower
and the farm
and a few scattered cottages
there were no other buildings
for a mile or more
just you and Jane
and birds in the early morning sky
I like it at this time of day
she said
I like the fresh smell of nature
and the farm
and having few people about
you walked beside her down the lane
that led away from the farm
you noticed how her black hair
seemed freshly washed
and blew slightly in the mild wind
does you father mind
you being out with me?
you asked softly
he doesn't know
she replied
he thinks I came out alone
for a morning walk
why didn't you tell him?
you asked
he was busy writing his Sunday sermon
and it was easier to just go out
and not disturb him
she said looking around at you
her eyes studying you
as she walked on down the lane
would he mind you being with me?
you asked
I don't think he knows you as yet
seeing as you have only moved here
a few months and don't come
to the church
you stopped and took her hand in yours
it was warm and soft
and pulsed with life
she looked at your hand
holding hers and she rubbed
her thumb over the back
of your hand
you wanted to kiss her lips
or cheek just to feel
her flesh on yours
but you didn't you just looked at her
and waited to see
what she would do next
she let go of your hand
and looked around her
there might be people looking
from those cottages up there
she said suddenly pointing up
at the rising bank which went up
to two cottages high up
if they see us they may tell Father
and then it would be awkward
and he might suspect things
and then she went quiet
and looked at the running stream
by the lane
but we haven't done anything
we just walk out and talk
and hold hands now and then
it's not what we do
it's what others think we do
she said softly
and stood looking at you
waiting for you to speak
but you said nothing
just leaned in close to her
and kissed her cheek
and said
even Christ permitted kisses
even the one from Judas
and she smiled
and the early morning sun
pushed through trees
and shone on her hair
and there was the sound of birds
singing in the air.
poem by Terry Collett
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Beauty's Blemish
You are as young, O lady mine,
As ere you were in olden days,
Your lips are red, your blue eyes shine,
And still you have your girlish ways.
I hate to think what years have flown
Since first I praised these things, mine own.
Your frocks still have that youthful cut,
Garbing a svelte form, slim and flat.
You should be spreading, darling but
Your middle-age has brought no fat.
Indeed, you sometimes seem at nights
A flapper, seen in certain lights.
My fond eyes have surveyed you, sweet,
Thro' all these years and found no fault.
Your lustrous hair, your tiny feet
Are still perfection. Yet a halt
In my high praise wakes sudden fears:
You're growing old behind the ears!
Yet, even then, I'd not repine
If that grey matter which should fill
That pretty head, O lady mine,
Gained age, 'twere compensation still;
And I'd forgive the ravening years,
If you'd mature above the ears.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Brilliantine
This hair,
They never looked her way,
Never understood from where she came
And digressed on the story of the grease
In her hair.
There was none.
They never touched her face,
Looked her way,
Nor saw importance in the moment
When she needed one
To hold her hand.
Or take the time for her
When it was called for.
It was the glossy brilliantine.
And the hidden styling.
The face again,
Which had the tendency to glance away.
And the hair which had no grease.
The clear hair that shone of cleanliness
In the light of the dirty windows.
The brown hair
Giving importance to the chrome
Of her eyes.
But they never looked away,
Digressing on the story of the grease
In her hair.
poem by Sammy Edrisi
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Magic Is In You
Magic is in your skin I want to be in
Magic is in your eyes for you the perfect size
Magic is in everything you wear down you your underwear’s
Magic is in your touch I want you so much
Magic is in your voice that makes me loose all choice
Magic is in your look for you have me open like a book
Magic is in your lips right down to you hips
Magic is in your kiss that I do miss
Magic is in the air when you are there
Magic is in your hair for you do care
Magic is in your being for you are worth seeing
Magic is in your nose right down to your toes
Magic is in your quirkiness for you are happiness
Magic is in your walk and the way you talk
Magic is in your style and that beautiful profile
Magic is in your laughter for I’ll stay ever after
Magic is in your cheek for you make me weak
Magic is in your arms that hold me tight makes me feel all right
Magic is in your face so sweet you’re good enough to eat
Magic is in your smile for you I’d walk more than a mile
Magic is in your arms to hold that chases away the cold
Magic is in your kindness for you have taken away my sadness
Magic is in your romance for you have given me a second chance
Magic is in your bosom felt I melt
Magic is in everything you say that makes my day
Magic is in everything and everywhere because you are there
Magic is in everything for the joy you bring
Magic is in everything come what may for in your life I’ll stay
Magic is in everything for sure for you are the one I adore
Magic is in everything you do for I love you
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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It Is In Provence That We Are Dancing
It is in Provence that we are dancing,
when I drink the first whiskey,
while the lights of the Riviera glitters,
a star jumps in the sky;
with you I take a wild chance.
When you smile draws me and teases,
I see your face in my glass
while more liquor is splashing in
and your laughter with both joy and sadness,
suddenly gives life to my heart.
When you follow me
you invite me to your apartment,
where I count off money for the taxi,
you embrace me
with your arms around my neck,
when we stand in the foyer.
A young couple walks past
when you look mischievously lovely,
look with bright blue eyes at me,
before you take my hand
and we walk up the stairway
while your hips sway inviting.
When we reach your apartment,
your lips sudden find mine,
just there I know no more pain,
outside there are lights flowering,
above us stars that glitter
and your body is sweet and bitter.
poem by Gert Strydom
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My attitude for 'Thanksgiving' and Gratitude
The The Imaginative Intelligent Handsome Man
Kisses on the head,
On the forehead,
On the checks,
On the rosy lips
On the eye led,
On the neck,
On the musical ears,
On the fingertips,
On the generous heart,
And the broad chest,
Call it Love, call it lust,
Call it tenderness,
It is a fusion of all of this;
It is an Arabic woman way;
My very passionate way,
To tell you how grateful
I feel for your brilliant deeds:
Thanks for your laughter
From my spontaneous jokes,
Thanks for your knee touch,
Thanks for your dreamy gaze
It encouraged me to dream
As well,
Thanks for bringing
Smile back to my lips,
Thanks for your broken
Appointment, it made
Soft tears linger on
My eye lashes and led,
Thanks for bringing
Back to life
My adventurous personality,
Thanks for awakening
My desire for love…for life,
Thanks for blushing
From my comments
On the colour of your eyes,
Thanks for telling me
"You are blushing as well",
It brought back to me
Awareness of my femininity,
Americans' symbols for
Gratitude and Thanksgiving
Are ‘ Turkeys'
Mine are soft kisses,
They are a kind of sweet,
Not that nourishing,
Except for an elevated self,
If you compare,
Which will you prefer?
Which do you really desire? !
9 Nov.2005
Iowa City.
poem by Nadia Abduljabbar
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She.
She was tall and proud and graceful,
long laughing red hair framed her face.
Her sea green eyes, calm and serene,
looked at the world with a level gaze.
Generous lips in a half smile
above a firmly rounded jaw.
Small ears nestled close to her head
in each a golden crescent moon.
Even white teeth showed when she smiled.
Clad in a plain green linen dress,
the swelling curves of her firm breasts
were balanced by her rounded hips.
She showed no fear nor yet surprise,
but looked at me with interest.
She spoke, her voice was soft and sweet
In a language I did not know.
I only know my heart was gone,
plucked from me by her mystery.
She smiled and took my hand
and took me whither I should go.
She led me to a small cabin
alone and hidden in the trees.
There without words or need of words,
we came together lovingly.
We loved and slept and slept and loved,
until the evening twilight fell.
In happiness with limbs entwined
we settled in the soft darkness.
I was woken by bright sunlight
In a bramble patch, stiff and sore.
My strange love was nowhere to be seen,
but in my hand a crescent moon.
For thirty years I have returned
faithfully each summer.
In forlorn hope she would appear.
She kept my heart. I kept my faith.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Cloud Formations and Jane..
I like cloud formations
Jane said
laying on her back
in the small church yard
looking up at the sky
above her head
it's like a form of art
you said
grey and white
against a canvas of blue
that looks like a man's head
Jane said
the way it forms
and unforms
you followed
the pointing
of her finger at the sky
that looks like a dog
over there
you said
she looked
and then gazed at you
her blue eyes
catching the sun's light
through a tree above
I like these moments alone
with you
she said
no one near us
no disturbance
no sounds save for birdsong
and the buzz of bees
you moved closer to her
and lay with you right hand
supporting your head
searching her eyes
her dark hair
about her face
daddy said
that Heaven is above us
and looking
at the cloud formations
I feel I see it
especially when the sun
shines through
she said
her lips moving
with slow motion
I think that sometimes
you said
she leaned nearer to you
and kissed your lips
then lay back
and stared at the clouds
and sky
and you lay back too
thinking inwardly
this is where
I'd like to lie
the day I die.
poem by Terry Collett
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