Summer in the country
One smiles at me
from where she sits
with her hands on a cow’s tits
spraying milk in a bucket
with her blonde hair
bunched beneath a big straw hat,
a picture of unspoilt beauty and innocence
another whistles from horseback
while having a jolly ride
waving as she gallops by
an image of movement
caught under a blazing sun
and you my love are the only one
who gives me kisses,
plaster my cheeks with mulberry lips,
who rides bareback, unsaddled
sitting behind me
on my black stallion
clinging as if you are part of my body
and being a full grown woman,
with great beauty and the right curves,
acting like a tomboy,
a devil’s child,
pulling me down
in a field of Lucerne
with small blue flowers
tangled in your hair.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Picture Of A Little Boy
I have a lovely picture
Set in a golden frame;
A picture of a little boy,
I do not know his name.
He's sitting by a waggon,
Upon an old car-tyre;
To know just what he's thinking
Would be my heart's desire.
He seems so small and helpless,
And troubled in his mind;
But one, more cute than he,
I doubt that you could ever find.
His hair is blonde and beautiful,
His eyes the deepest blue;
He sits there like 'The thinker'
Debating what to do.
I love this little picture
That's hanging on my wall;
This picture of a little boy
So young and very small;
He looks a perfect mixture
Of two boys that I once knew;
Just sitting in time's window,
And I am looking through.
Written Oct 1994
poem by John Carter Brown
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The farmer and his wife (Sestina)
A girl was lying down flat on her back
with a straw hat at eye height over hair,
she was sun-struck, curling and fair
with a rain cloud ominous and black
drifting in a blue sky and a small track
meandering past and it needed some repair.
Some of your makeup is in need of repair,
there’s a guitar bag slung over your back
where you walk pass the girl at the dirt track
with the strong wind frizzling through your hair
and the sky is already turning black
but the evening up to now is fair.
Slowly you walk past the local fair
with some of the stalls needing repair,
the guitar you are carrying is black
and you walk straight on, do not look back
at the whistles of some men with long hair
while home you take a narrow long track.
Watching our horses on the racetrack
you are really sexy and very fair,
our horses do parade with shining hair
you notice that the stands need some repair
and I am standing somewhat at your back
while you are dressed prettily in black.
The highway is like a ribbon that is black
where it meets the old overgrown farm track,
there are huge blue-gum trees some way back
and you agree that the price of the Lucerne is fair
where some cows graze at the pen, needing repair,
swishing with tails to drive flies from their hair.
I pull my fingers slowly through my hair
and there are streaks of grey in the black,
but the cattle are only doing fair
while my love is coming with the field’s track
that must constantly be kept in repair
and I hear her singing over my back.
There were torn out hair a long time back,
when I met my darling and she was fair,
at a fight at a track, I was in need of repair.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Sweet smelling afternoon
You are lying on your back
with a straw hat drawn at eye height over hair
sun-struck, curling and fair
with a rain cloud ominous and black
drifting past in a blue sky and a small track
needing some repair
meander past and grey ibises in a pair
are picking at a snail snack
and the smell of fresh Lucerne in purple flowers
is almost enveloping
after the last rain showers
and you play your guitar and sing
a sweet melody like a pop star but without followers
and the beauty of spring is around us in everything.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Refugio's Hair
In the old days of our family,
My grandmother was a young woman
Whose hair was as long as the river.
She lived with her sisters on the ranch
La Calera--The Land of the Lime--
And her days were happy.
But her uncle Carlos lived there too,
Carlos whose soul had the edge of a knife.
One day, to teach her to ride a horse,
He made her climb on the fastest one,
Bareback, and sit there
As he held its long face in his arms.
And then he did the unspeakable deed
For which he would always be remembered:
He called for the handsome baby Pirrín
And he placed the child in her arms.
With that picture of a Madonna on horseback
He slapped the shank of the horse's rear leg.
The horse did what a horse must,
Racing full toward the bright horizon.
But first he ran under the álamo trees
To rid his back of this unfair weight:
This woman full of tears
And this baby full of love.
When they reached the trees and went under,
Her hair, which had trailed her,
Equal in its magnificence to the tail of the horse,
That hair rose up and flew into the branches
As if it were a thousand arms,
All of them trying to save her.
The horse ran off and left her,
The baby still in her arms,
The two of them hanging from her hair.
The baby looked only at her
And did not cry, so steady was her cradle.
Her sisters came running to save them.
But the hair would not let go.
From its fear it held on and had to be cut,
All of it, from her head.
From that day on, my grandmother
Wore her hair short like a scream,
But it was long like a river in her sleep.
poem by Alberto Ríos
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What a Beauty-Full Life
Beauty is in flowers, and the petals
Bathing in the early morning dew
Beauty is in the eyes of a father
When his son takes the first step
Beauty is on the face of a baby,
Sleeping in mother's lap
Beauty is in freedom,
When you fly high on the wings of hope
Beauty is in the expressions of a poor man
When he gets food after eternity
Beauty is in the pride of a teacher
When his student supersedes
Beauty is in the compassion of a devotee
When he finds solace
Beauty is in the innocence of a child
When he asks you questions
Beauty is in the sips of laughter,
You share with your friends
Beauty is in the springs of desire
that arrive after a prolonged autumn
Beauty is in the cry of a woman,
Whose womb succeeds
Beauty is in the silence,
When you don't speak, and you say a lot
Beauty is in the warmth of passion
That builds around the arms of a lover
Beauty is when those small fights,
End with tears of joy
Beauty is when the first raindrop,
Kisses your cheek
Beauty is in perseverance,
When the world's showing off
Beauty is in the enigma,
When everything's certain
Beauty is in a poem,
Where poetry meets prose
Beauty is in little chunks of life,
Filled with joys and sorrows
Beauty is in your eyes,
your heart, and in every single breath
Beauty is when you say,
"What a Beauty-Full Life..."
poem by Piyush Kaushal
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Hold Dear
Rolland didn’t like her
but he wasn’t in love
with her as you were
he never saw beyond
the skin and hair never
saw the inner beauty
the part that God or
some other deity put
there he’d sit with you
at the back of class in
school hands behind
his head acting like
Brando real cool and
you having her in your
sight remembering the
kisses and the feel of her
in your arms and she sitting
there in her school uniform
across the room looking
at you now and then with
a small smile and bright eyes
not knowing then that cancer
would have its grip on her
in some later year and take
away that aspect of her you
remember and hold dear.
poem by Terry Collett
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My Idea of beauty
Beauty is the sensation of your heart skipping a beat,
when eyes full of mischief glance at you...
Beauty is the smile which appears on your lips, when you think of the way he smiles at you...
Beauty is in the heart which touches another
Beauty is tender hands holding each other
Beauty is strong arms holding you warm
Beauty is in water, beauty is in weather,
beauty is in air, beauty is in life
Beauty is in love, beauty is in wind...
Beauty surrounds you days and nights
yet no one knows beauty's heights...
poem by Nitya Pillai
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Beauty of A Woman
The beauty of a woman
is not in the clothes she wears,
the figure she carries,
or the way she combs her hair;
and...
The beauty of a woman
is not in a facial mole, but...
true beauty of a woman
is reflected in her soul.
The care that she gives, and...
the passion she shows; would be the...
beauty of a woman's character that grows.
Phenomenal Woman: A Lady with love.
Phenomenal Woman: An Angel above.
Phenomenal Woman: An Image of God.
Respectful, kind, and not of a facade.
A Poet with love; her age just a number,
this Woman of God would NEVER slumber.
poem by Donna Womack
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Quest For Beauty
I searched for beauty high and low
As if it were my quest,
For deep inside, I had to know,
Who really was the best?
Brunette or blonde, short hair or long?
Tomboy or catwalk queen?
From Honolulu or Hong Kong
Or somewhere inbetween?
Celebrities are often thought
To be ten out of ten...
For these, big diamond rings are bought
By fascinated men!
Some girls have smiles that light a room!
Love follows them around!
They're like red roses in full bloom,
Yet few of these I've found!
The girls I've loved caused joy and pain,
Both in equal measure,
Yet if I had my time again,
Each of these I'd treasure.
Of all my loves, who was the best?
Was she the first or last?
I only know God blessed my quest,
Except time's gone so fast!
True beauty lives in memories
And hopes of what could be -
Enough to fill eternities
Beyond this world we see.
For now, I'll only dream of you,
The girl that I adore!
If you love me, my quest is through...
No man could ask for more...
poem by Denis Martindale
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Entangled in Her Hair
Her hair
covers my face
she
kisses my mouth
kisses my kisses.
She chuckles.
I stroke her hair.
She sways &
...moves.
Her hair
covers my chest.
She
titillates a nipple
...it tickles.
I run my fingers
through her hair.
She sashays &
...moves.
Her hair
covers my navel
& there...&
there...abouts!
I…almost beside myself
neither...here...nor... there...
Lost in the anywhere
of an everywhere.
I clutch
her hair.
She shimmies &
...moves.
Her hair
covers my crotch.
She
licks it
into shape.
She
goes to say
something
it’s on
the tip of
her tongue.
But, she says nothing
only: “Mmmmm...! ”
& smiles
...smiles.
I close
my eyes.
My hands
entangled in
her hair.
*******
TREAD SOFTLY
We rest on the bed
your head rests against my head
sharing the same dream.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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Beautiful Woman!
Beautiful like fresh flower,
Beautiful with rainbows in eyes,
Beautiful with shyness and smile,
beautiful woman!
Beautiful are the star like eyes
Deeper than deepest ocean,
Ocean of feelings and love,
Beautiful is that motherly heart!
Beautiful woman thy beauty is thy compassion,
Thy beauty is in patience and knowledge,
Thy beauty lies in flowerless lips with precious smile,
Beautiful woman, most abstract beauty,
Not that beauty felt by eyes
Nor that skin or hair,
Not that grace or style, beautiful woman,
you are the beauty!
Beautiful woman!
thy beauty shines
Moon in star studded sky,
Thy beauty flashes with every turn of your neck to the call of child,
like plant swing with
perfumed flower in the garden
When that beauty of heart beautifully expressed!
Where her beauty lies,
Is it in her body or mind,
Or is it in her heart soft and kind?
Who wants to get stick or bind,
That's why women race fast leaving wondering men behind!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Suffocation
Last night I had the weirdest dream
I dreamt that I was lying in bed
With this girl whose hair was
As black as the night and as
Thick as a forest,
And her hair, her hair was
Smothering me
Or at least, I thought it was
Her hair,
Until I noticed it was her hands
Running over my face,
My lips
My eyes
My cheeks.
As hot as the desert
And smooth as silk
But pressing down
Pressing me into my pillow
Until I could see nothing
But the pink of her skin
And I thought,
Im gunna die
Those hands are gunna
Kill me
Until I realized really,
It wasn’t hands,
But lips,
Sucking the air from mine
Engulfing my last breath
And drawing it into her being
And I thought, well,
At least lips are
A nice way to go
Until finally I came
To my goddamn senses
And I realized,
I realized it wasn’t her lips
But the words coming
From those sweet lips
That was suffocating me
And it was “I love you”
I was choking on
Not her hair, hands or lips
At all.
poem by Nick Downer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tangled In Love
By marcy levy and richard feldman
A modern man with an old-fashioned heart.
One look at her and I fell apart.
I was always the one playing it cool.
I got caught in the act, now theres no turning back.
I got tangled in love, tangled in love.
I got tangled in love, tangled in love.
I got caught up, bought up, strangled, tangled in love.
I got tangled in love, tangled in love.
A long black dress and the call of the wild.
I was a fool to think she was just a child.
Out of my mind, out of control.
Knew that feeling too well, tried to run but I fell.
Chorus
I never meant to feel this way,
Now I always want to stay...
Chorus
I got tangled in love, tangled in love.
I got tangled in love, tangled in love.
I got tangled in love, tangled in love.
I got tangled in love, tangled in love.
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Supplement of an Imperfect Copy of Verses of Mr. William
One of her hands one of her cheeks lay under,
Cosening the pillow of a lawful kiss,
Which therefore swell'd, and seem'd to part asunder,
As angry to be robb'd of such a bliss!
The one look'd pale and for revenge did long,
While t'other blush'd, 'cause it had done the wrong.
Out of the bed the other fair hand was
On a green satin quilt, whose perfect white
Look'd like a daisy in a field of grass,
And show'd like unmelt snow unto the sight;
There lay this pretty perdue, safe to keep
The rest o' th' body that lay fast asleep.
Her eyes (and therefore it was night), close laid
Strove to imprison beauty till the morn:
But yet the doors were of such fine stuff made,
That it broke through, and show'd itself in scorn,
Throwing a kind of light about the place,
Which turn'd to smiles still, as't came near her face.
Her beams, which some dull men call'd hair, divided,
Part with her cheeks, part with her lips did sport.
But these, as rude, her breath put by still; some
Wiselier downwards sought, but falling short,
Curled back in rings, and seemed to turn again
To bite the part so unkindly held them in.
poem by John Suckling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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For A While
i stop for a while on this morning walk
to see the ripening rice plants on the field
golden indeed like the blonde hairs
of the american woman
under the gentleness of the sun that has
newly arrived from the split sides of the
nearby mountain
my eyes were caught however
on this maiden with a brown skin
long black hair with an earthen jar
on her left shoulder held by her
small hands
she is just passing by to fetch
some water in the old stone-walled well
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Grammar of beauty
The stress long, jet black, tightly plaited,
The eyes, fish like, black, brows blackened,
The face, moon shaped, yellow, with red lips,
And the bosom massive were once of beauty.
Jewels and silk in profuse adorned every part.
Short cut, dishevelled, unoiled is the hair,
Eyes and lips are kept in subdue with out paints,
The face of any shape, stripped of blush,
And the toned body are now taken for beauty.
Coarse garments without jewels adorn.
With the yellow skin, also came in dusky skin.
Plumpness went out and thinness came in.
Why is this somersault in beauty grammar?
Fashion is invented by the upper one and
Is caught by others to identify with the upper
02.10.2000, Vijayavada
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Have hues a role?
Grass lends beauty to ‘green’;
Tooth lends beauty to ‘white’;
Sky lends beauty to ‘blue’.
So do lips to ‘red’.
Red lips excel red blood;
Brown horse excel brown ass;
Yellow gold excels yellow brass.
So does black hair, black skin.
Black hair yields to white hair;
Green meadow yields to gray one.
Brown curls yield to fallen leaves
So does tender skin to one wrinkled.
The stuff rules; the merit rules;
The young rules. Have hues a role?
13.03.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Love Outshines The Summer Sun (Sonnet Corona)
(after William Shakespeare)
I
My love outshines the summer sun,
even stars in their remote twinkling light
and her eyes are more beautiful, each one
than the stars glimmering at night
Her cheeks is dimpled cute
her hair is an auburn crown,
her cheeks is rosy beyond repute
her hair is sun-shot twisting in a way of their own.
Her lips are more soft and warm
and her spirit is more mild
than a ray of light falling on my arm
or at times more free and wild
than birds where they fly,
my love is like the radiant sapphire sky.
II
My love is like the radiant sapphire sky
like the breeze rustling through trees
so lovely on my eye,
eager to please.
My love is like the summer sun,
like the blue hued sea
always warm and full of fun,
touching me gently
even when the darkness calls
and when time goes to its finality
like a star her light still falls,
my love stays true to me
in every thing her face I see
so gentle, sweet and free.
III
So gentle, sweet and free
my love lives her life
but I long for her to be near to me
in a world without any strive.
Like a lily prospering alone in the marsh
blooming pure and serene,
my darling lives unknown to a world harsh
out of control, away from the limelight scene
and in that rural place
her beauty is untouched by makeup,
filled with a sweet grace
and even in the morning when she wakes up
the sun is in her hair,
my darling is really fair.
IV
My darling is really fair
there are stars in her eyes,
she’s the most beautiful flower found anywhere,
her eyes are much more pure than the bluest skies.
When she smiles at me,
smiling tenderly,
I in her smile blessings see
as if love is there in all of its glory.
Still more so the bliss
that is caught in her kiss
that comes from the divine
which she is making mine
and sometimes the beauty makes her cry,
when the day flutters by.
V
When the day flutters by
with the sun setting red
you will find my love and I
where stars come out from bed,
then like a butterfly
the sun kisses the night,
touches the dark low and high
before it goes by with its last light
and she unloosens my tie
while we watch the full yellow moon,
while the fire in her eyes lie
sparkling, much brighter than the sunny afternoon,
but with a passing bat flying low she catches a fright,
while the stars are shining bright.
VII
While the stars are shining bright
like jewels in the sky’s crown
on a winter night
it has tranquillity, a beauty of its own,
her eyes are radiant,
as if aflame
lovely and brilliant
and of some she know the name
and something indiscernibly small
creeps into the very soul, into the heart
and of it that is all,
a smouldering, something with which we cannot part:
to me she remains the only one in joy and fun,
my love outshines the summer sun.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Witches' Glen - An Auld Tale
Gather aroon the ingle nuek
For ae eerie tale I'll tell -
'Boot a glen whar a witchy spook
Cast folk in her terrible spell.
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.
Warlocks an witches dance at night
When the full-moon turns its ken!
Thunder rides on a bolt of light
The deil's in the witches' glen!
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.
Auld trees hang o'er the twisted wynd
An' blot oot the licht o' day;
An there, there's staring eyes tae find
A stranger wha's lost their way.
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.
Frae Grennan wood she hailed an flew
A flash thru the black night wind
Come witchin hour everyin knew
She'd get a' the folks wha sinned.
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.
They burned her on Kirkmaiden hill
An' they bound her on a stake:
She chanted spells that made 'em ill
An' they pray'd for Jesus' sake.
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she was the devil's queen.
When ere ye walk the witches' glen,
Whar branches stretch oot like hands
Tak' Bible, cross an' say, Amen!
An' heed the guid Lord's commands.
Her hair sae black, her eyes sae green
Black Meg she's still there tae be seen.
poem by Patrick Scott Hogg
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Oklahoma-Texas Line
Got an old dog, it don't like me much
That thing starts to bark his head off every time we touch
Sittin' on the porch listenin' to the radio
We sing every single song we know
Even the ones we don't
When she moves a little closer
She puts her hand in mine
Oh what I wouldn't give to stop the hands of time
She's got long blonde hair and deep blue eyes
I got all I ever need when at girl is by my side
Everything I love is there inside
A little brick house on the Oklahoma-Texas Line
She's got a part time job at the Tastee-freeze
She took the weekend off to spend a little bit of time with me
I got an old car we drove to the edge of town
We stopped by Old Man Millers' farm
Just to watch the world spin around
And she moves a little closer
She puts her lips to mine
Ain't funny how the good Lord out does himself sometimes
She's got long blonde hair and deep blue eyes
I got all I ever need when at girl is by my side
Everything I love is there inside
A little brick house on the Oklahoma-Texas Line
Everything I love is there inside
A little brick house with a black top drive
Big oak tree with our names carved on the side
She's got long blonde hair and deep blue eyes
I got all I ever need when at girl is by my side
Everything I love is there inside
A little brick house, little brick house on the Oklahoma-Texas Line
Oh here they come
Long blonde hair and deep blue eyes
Everything I love...
song performed by by Rascal Flatts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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