Ah, past middle age woman upon whom I gaze
Ah, past middle age woman upon whom I gaze
The measures you take to hide your waning beauty leave me amaze
You are all wrapped in colorful deceit and counterfeit labors
That so immodesty displays nature’s gone favors
With its fallacious arguments of colors and elaborate cloth
Is to the senses cunning counterfeit and cynic loath
This which your self pity practices to delete
The cruel years accumulated horrors
Constraining time to mitigate its rigors
And this oblivion and age defeat
Oh old sunken brittle woman in vain you carry such vanity
Your mask of musk is playing havoc and delirium with your own sanity
Your efforts of concealing what time jaws is peeling and revealing
Is like to play with the devil a hypocritical dealing
As any mortal being you in the path to be a cadaver, ashes, shadows ghosts
The time of your prime irreversibly forever forgotten and lost
And yet you old beauty do not regard these lines
As demon devouring fierce lions
Revealing in their occludent guile
In every stanza, strength and force
In every line a binding spell and leading course
For such is their suppleness of style
But remember this copy that is your prime semblance
Was by tenderness and fortitude of your past beauty inspired
Whereon a clumsy hand ambitiously conspired
To give your pains and suppressed emotions an utterance.
And do not blame these lines as conspirators with time
For robbing you out of your beauty and prime
Neither send me any comments on my verse
I have this human weakness in me of adverse
To judge wise those who sing my praise
Especially in the absence of the wit
That sinks what seemingly it tries to raise
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Related quotes
A walk in Manhattan
Faces that float in rivers of people I meet; I see and pass
Throngs thrust through bustling city, buzzing noise and broken roar
Faces that come and go; faces I see and lose in windows glass
All portraits new I will never see again; I have never seen before
Strangers of all ages and all human specimans encounter my pace
The comers and the goers, marches of face to face
Parades of face after face in string of dazzling colors ware
An endless human streams too busy world to stop and stare
An ant hill city of maddening crowd’s ignoble strife
With sober ambitions without boundaries into all four winds to stray
Along cool sequestered decorum of life
All morals bent with insentient apathy out of way
People in rows, crowds in queues, clans in knots
The famous the anonymous, the have and the have not
Diamonds and ashes in street ashrays
while corners vendors and nooks players reciting their pray
Have you ever imagined how much you can tell
In the instantaneous encounter of human eyes
In ants path where no words are exchanged like soundless tale
You have the brief glimpse of a moment to pierce one's fragile disguise
Hurry, capture, net the rushing secrets of joy, agony and indifferent fatigue
Feeling crying, characters shining from all garments, styles and hidden places
A strode of strives and struggles in all passing faces
Walking, rushing ecstasy of success and the scare of failure and critic
On brandished high heels fashion ladies treat
With the rhythm of sculptured legs on stone walk beat
Tall on burnished hooves astute lawyers; vain confidence that the world fate
Is in their crocodiles leather-ed suitcase encapsulate
In this worlds of stage a middle age woman passes upon whom I gaze
The measures she takes to hide her waning beauty leave me amaze
She is all wrapped in colorful deceit and counterfeit labors
That so immodesty displays nature’s gone favors
With its fallacious arguments of colors and elaborate cloth
Is to the senses cunning counterfeit and cynic loath
Rushing people in elongated avenues; restless streets flocks
I froze for a moment in trepidation and fear of thee
In the meeting of our eyes lock in streets shaded oaks
I can tell, you can tell, as much, so much of me
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Prime Time
Cavalier roses, but the thorns got in my soul
Chocolate box intention, but a bitter taste left me cold
Take a little something, a present clouds the past
Traded our emotions, it couldnt last, wouldnt last at all
And though you didnt say
I knew youd swim away
Fine time for hook and line
And though whats done is done, yeah
I know my right from wrong
Prime time to cast me down!
Bitter suite decision, sofa so good the day we met
Eye for eye collision, pillow talking, only pillow talking
Matinee romancing, the bait is set, the net is cast
Cheated our emotions, it couldnt last
Wouldnt last at all
Although you didnt say
I knew youd swim away
Prime time for hook and line
And though whats done is done
I know my right from wrong
Prime time to cast me down!
And words are words thats all
Im going to stand or fall
Prime time for hook and line
Dont you swim away...
Prime time for the hook and line
Prime time for the hook and line
For the hook, the hook and line
Although you didnt say, yeah
I knew youd swim away
Prime time for hook and line
And though whats done is done, yeah
I know my right from wrong
Prime time to cast me down
Line by line adventure
A prime time for the hook and line
Castaway in pleasure
A prime time
Curtain razor tension
A prime time for the hook and line
Wasted our emotions
A prime time
song performed by by Haircut 100
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Old Man's Saddest Story
We sat about the fireplace listening to the old man's tales
Of the youthful years of life he spent in lovely Alder Vale
He told some happy stories but he told some sad one's too
And the saddest story that he told I will relate to you.
'Twas the story of young Joaney Ryan who died whilst in her prime
When the fruits were ripe for picking in September's harvest time
She died at twenty three years old the valley beauty queen
And a fairer maid since her time the old man has not seen.
She was the most beautiful maid the old man ever knew
With sheeny hair of raven black and sparkling eyes of blue
Yet for all of her splendid beauty she did not show conceit
A better mannered girl than her no man could wish to meet.
Beauty it can take a woman quite a long, long way
But beauty quickly withers like the flowers that bloom in May,
You cannot judge a woman by her beauty or her dress
You can only judge a woman by the manner she possess.
He must have loved this lovely maid he must have loved her so
Who died in September forty six years ago
For as he told her story a tear showed in each eye
And it seemed quite clear to all of us that he was near to cry.
She died in a hospital this lady like woman
From Leuchaemia a disease that greatly curtail life's span
On the tenth day of September her remains were put to earth
Twenty three years and thirty six days from the day of her birth.
In each human's life story there is some share of woe
And the old man's saddest thoughts are of a maid he used to know
Who died of Leuchaemia whilst only in her prime
When the fruits were ripe for picking in September's harvest time.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Beauty For All Seasons
Not as the rustle of the dry summer leaves
Will beauty hung upon thee grieve.
Not as the fadding flames of a candlelight
Your splendour will remain ever bright
Nor could season's plague despoil thy beauty's prime
You sweet gentle pulses tickle with the time.
Your lovely spirit misfortune cannot toy
And upon its chamber my lines i do employ
Where i to write of thy beauty still
My sinew will rest but with a numbing pill
For mere lines not enough will produce
Such sum deserved thy beauty's use
And if prize be given for this reason
Gold be yours now and for all season!
poem by Okonkwo Osamedua. Allen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Is There Any Truth in Beauty?
Is there any truth in Beauty?
What of the lies beauty tells thee?
Could my beauty not be as worthy
As I make thy Beauty part of me?
Such is Beauty as to make one's sight loud.
This beauty that veils our sense in a shroud.
beauty: that which deters seeing the person.
Does Beauty not conceal what is and isn't?
Yet merciless time holds beauty as a hostage,
Defiles Beauty and scars it with lasting ravage.
Thus the years that pass send Beauty to its resting-place
For vain beauty will yield, to woefully fall from grace.
If beauty should ever lament on age's cruelty,
Let not Beauty forget how little it has wept for me.
If All The Beauty Of The World
IF ALL THE BEAUTY OF THE WORLD
If all the Beauty of the world
Could be written by me in one line
Would the world be blessed
In reading it?
If all the Beauty of the world
Were one line
And I knew that line by heart
Would the world be happy
By my meeting it
From time to time
Within myself?
If all the Beauty of the world
Were momentarily mine
Would I know
How to give it to others?
These awkward faltering lines
With not much Beauty in them.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blame The Weather
When your loves flown out the window,
And the pain comes through the door.
Once again youve missed the boat,
And youre stranded on the shore.
And you find out that what you had,
Was never yours at all,
Friends and lovers that you knew so well,
Will never take your calls.
So,
You blame the weather,
Oh-oh,
Blame the weather,
Oh-oh,
Blame the weather,
Oh-oh
Cant you see youre in your prime?
Youre turning creases into lines.
If you play the game
Youve got to be prepared to take a knock,
You get put down so many times,
But you keep on getting up.
So put your tears away,
And dont forget to worry is a crime,
Nothing bears thinking about too much,
Youll be old before your time.
So,
You blame the weather,
Oh-oh,
Blame the weather,
Oh-oh,
Blame the weather,
Oh-oh
Cant you see youre in your prime?
Youre turning creases into lines.
The pool of tears you left to drown in,
The helping hands that never came,
The years you lost out to another,
All up in flames
So,
You blame the weather,
Oh-oh,
Blame the weather,
Oh-oh,
Blame the weather,
Oh-oh
Cant you see youre in your prime?
Youre turning creases into lines.
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blame The Weather
When your loves flown out the window,
And the pain comes through the door.
Once again youve missed the boat,
And youre stranded on the shore.
And you find out that what you had,
Was never yours at all,
Friends and lovers that you knew so well,
Will never take your calls.
So,
You blame the weather,
Oh-oh,
Blame the weather,
Oh-oh,
Blame the weather,
Oh-oh
Cant you see youre in your prime?
Youre turning creases into lines.
If you play the game
Youve got to be prepared to take a knock,
You get put down so many times,
But you keep on getting up.
So put your tears away,
And dont forget to worry is a crime,
Nothing bears thinking about too much,
Youll be old before your time.
So,
You blame the weather,
Oh-oh,
Blame the weather,
Oh-oh,
Blame the weather,
Oh-oh
Cant you see youre in your prime?
Youre turning creases into lines.
The pool of tears you left to drown in,
The helping hands that never came,
The years you lost out to another,
All up in flames
So,
You blame the weather,
Oh-oh,
Blame the weather,
Oh-oh,
Blame the weather,
Oh-oh
Cant you see youre in your prime?
Youre turning creases into lines.
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grace In Retrospect
GRACE IN RETROSPECT
Beauty of raising sun at break of dawn
Forever can’t hold on after it is gone
Beauty of sun setting in to ocean in evening
At the night’s beginning is not forever holding
Beauty of blooming flowers in all different colors
Is only passing pictures before its time to wither
Only grace in retrospect
Beauty of changing seasons for nature’s good reasons
Is only temporary vision of life’s many illusions
Beauty of many events sweet and sad moments
Are only time’s sentiments of ascent and descent
Beauty of life’s birth on this mortal earth
Is faith of truth before time for death
Only grace in retrospect
poem by Mittur Ramprasad
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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race In Retrospect
GRACE IN RETROSPECT
Beauty of raising sun at break of dawn
Forever can’t hold on after it is gone
Beauty of sun setting in to ocean in evening
At the night’s beginning is not forever holding
Beauty of blooming flowers in all different colors
Is only passing pictures before its time to wither
Only grace in retrospect
Beauty of changing seasons for nature’s good reasons
Is only temporary vision of life’s many illusions
Beauty of many events sweet and sad moments
Are only time’s sentiments of ascent and descent
Beauty of life’s birth on this mortal earth
Is faith of truth before time for death
Only grace in retrospect
poem by Mittur Ramprasad
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The shell
Look what a beautiful shell of ivory white
Recently thrown at the sands by the rushing tide
See what a lovely shell a pad of a soft sloth snail
Small and pure without the notoriety of a pearl
Lying on the back of sand hill so nigh to my foot
Brittle, frail spared by the violent breakers loot
Oh what mind what hand has made it so fairly well
Ah, empty, vacant from the creature that within it dwells
Its delicate spire and whorl
How exquisitely are weaved its stripes of colors in whole
A miracle of design, that lives through ancient time
No less in beauty and charm than a poet rhyme
A piece of beauty is called a 'shell' by man
Not a pearl, not a jewel but unmoving dull clumsy name
A 'shell' which does not recall any treasure or historical fame
Let him who did not create it call it as he can
He who passes by it without notice, this pleasure from his eyes to ban
Yet this beauty holds in the sands and its charm contends the same
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Beauty-See Beauty-Don't
There was in her face,
in the contours of her
beauty lines
a past smoothing out
which I could see
would match
her older photographs.
The older her
only hinted at
that prior
state.
But I took my time
to look at her
now past 55
to see
in that older landscape
what my eye
sought
in her face at twenty and five..
Could not the face
before me
be seen
on its own terms?
Where is that beauty
line between
beauty and non-beauty?
Is it the tightness of the skin
the twinkle in the eye,
healthy look or
non-healthy look?
What's true is that
my own Western
eye
can only see age;
not nobility;
only TV screen beauty-
not maturity.
But you know
there are a myriad of exceptions;
children don't see age
the same way we do
nor does most of the world.
What is going on here?
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beauty, Beautious, Beautiful
Beauty is not a superficial form
Each has their own in essential nature
And in the actions they perform
Until the dissolution of their life
To leave beauty’s impressions in our hearts
Yesterdays beauty never leaves or departs.
Beauty is all around
Each and every place it may be found
As you look with open eyes
Upon the forms that nature makes
Then man seeks to imitate
Yearning to match that beauty all around.
Beauty if you cannot find
Beauty must be in mind
Beauty is in purity
Beauty of simplicity
Beauty runs right through and through
Beauty in me, and them, and you.
Beauty, beauteous, beautiful
Beauty in heaven
Beauty in fire
Beauty in earth
And finally beauty in a simple verse.
poem by David Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Woman In Love
I dont know why its the way of the world
But meanwhile....
Youve seen her sway when she walks down the street
Look at her eyes see the glow in her cheeks
It aint no secret she cant hide it away
Theres someone special shes the dish of the day
Shes a woman in love
Shes a woman in her prime
(shes a woman in love)
Look at her face its a picture
Shes a woman in love
Shes a woman
This chemistry youll never find in a book
No ectochromes gonna capture this look
These mixed emos make your senses to reel
Youve got to be there to feel what she feels
Shes a woman in love
Shes a woman in her prime
(shes a woman in love)
Look at her face its a picture
Shes a woman in love
Shes a woman
Why should a woman in all innocence
Be the one to inspire looks that kill
I dont know
I dont know why its the way of the world
Some will win, some will lose
But she cant tell
This kind of beauty comes from within
Shouldnt be allowed yeh its really a sin
Youd sell your soul for a night in her bed
Youre far too late boy Ive already said
Shes a woman in love
Shes a woman in her prime
(shes a woman in love)
Look at her face its a picture
Shes a woman in love
Shes a woman
(repeat until fade)
song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beauty And Character
As graces fade, and praise speaks oft no more,
To mirrors, dimmed for face, of erstwhile glow;
Beholders now belie, the sight before,
Which they were known, to have professed to know;
For Charm would ebb, as seawards flow the tide,
Where stony coast, would show its dried up coves,
When marks of Time, it no longer could hide,
And what frailty, that beauty is, it proves.
But Character accumulates with time;
Though fools fussed over looks Time stole, the wise
Seeks no ambrosia to prolong his prime,
Or shun wrinkles that etch Beauty's demise;
...Should Wrinkles squeal: 'Time's the thief! Time's the thief! '
...Character would say: 'Time farms in my fief.'
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My verse
There are those who dip their quill in honey
Before they verse the lines of love
There are those who soak it in agony
Before they lay the lines of solitude and loath
I am none of the above
My verse is simple
It puts a smile between two dimples
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A Former Rose Of Port Fairy
She was a former Rose of Port Fairy where the white waves of Pacific roll
But the years have left their mark upon her the years on us all do take toll
Though for one in her mid to late fifties she certainly does look okay
With anti ageing cream she hides time wrinkles and with brown dye she covers her gray
With primary school going grandsons and granddaughters her biological clock ticking away
Back in the late sixties to the mid seventies I heard one who knew her then say
That she was Port Fairy's finest though since then many a yesterday
And beauty of youth does not last long and prime beauty with one does not stay
In her fifties a two time divorcee she may give marriage one more try
The old saying of the third time lucky in her case who knows might apply
Love in her life once more has blossomed the joy of love is a marvellous thing
Her new love she met in October in the prime of Victoria's Spring
A former Rose of Port Fairy with brown dye she covers her gray
But time does take care of all beauty and time it keeps ticking away.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beauty of the shining self
The life of a ‘minor poet’, an amateur,
of, say, fifty, a hundred years, ago,
and long before that:
a lifetime’s love of poetry;
and one’s personal contribution,
after 25 years, let’s say, might be
a ‘slim volume’ of verse,
distillation of that lifetime,
printed elegantly at one’ s own expense
in 200 copies, maybe,
a few sent to literary journals
for, perhaps, a few lines of review; and
some letters of appreciative response
from friends to whom one sent the poems;
‘the quintessence of a beautiful soul’, wrote one.
today – when ‘beauty’ is no longer thought a virtue
in many areas of art – there’s something
more important, so some think –
a poem on the internet as here
can produce a written response
so unexpected, so beautifully expressed,
that it leaves no doubt of what the sages say:
that there are two aspects of that which we call ‘beauty’:
the fine, yet temporary, one which may be studied, learnt –
a lifetime, say, curating or collecting Chinese ceramics
of the finest period, when making or owning such a pot
was like a spiritual act of devotion –
and that beauty which is eternal – that of the human self,
shining in all its glory from a human being so roused,
beauty that melts one’s heart and brings one to one’s knees
all inwardly; known, reflected; entirely of itself;
and which can be found from time to time
blazing from the screen here, from persons known or unknown,
within a ‘Comments’ box…
a beauty, surely, greater by far than any poem,
revealing all the riches of the human heart
without any inhibition;
and yet, given cause to blaze out thus
by this form of words called poetry.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beautiful One
Oh beautiful one, adorned with spell
To ravage my world as might a sweet angel.
Oh beautiful thing, so much at ease:
Allure of caressing breeze in touch gentle.
Oh beautiful creature, sail me do,
As floating on seas of halcyon blue tincture.
You beautiful being, gracing charm
And features that render feel of deep texture.
Your beautiful poise in glide supreme,
Gives such like a vista honed as from heaven.
That beautiful art of face ornate,
Not ever to understate or be riven.
Your beautiful flame of pulchritude
Doth dizzy me high, so I conclude always
You beautiful girl forever be
My shining Janette; my guide; my stairway.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
All rights reserved
beauty beauty beauty beauty beauty beauty
beauty beauty beauty beauty beauty beauty
beauty beauty beauty beauty beauty beauty
beauty beauty beauty beauty beauty beauty beauty
beauty beauty beauty beauty beauty beauty beauty
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shall I ever let
Shall I ever let my fancy and dream to roam
To bring this rare pleasure and conjure it back home
At touch this pleasure and memory melts
Like bubbles of water when the rain pelts
Nature has withhold Catherine beauty across the wide skies
What an adornment for the human eyes for next thousands of years
She has taken their cream of beauty, fairest dyes
And shaped and tinted sweet Catherine above all peers
When I behold her on the earth descend
My heart begins to throb and to burn; only in pains
This is my fancy and dreams that melt and vanish; my sad life's end
Love has poured her slaying beauty into my veins
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