To a woman like you
To a woman like you experience might have told me
That all must love you once they catch a glimpse of you
For there is no measure to one’s pleasure invoked from your view
Yet such treasure as you does not come without a plea
And surely experience of my age might have taught
That your firmest assurances are naught
But being placed all your charms and vulnerability before me
Age failed me, all I forgot except adoring thee
For sure the numbers of replacements are vast
All eager to fulfill your urgent as trivial tasks
I have never been an advocator of quantity
When it comes to friends, in the contrary, of quality
But why shall I be stern to the haughty
By all means and good intends let me bless them all
The dwarf, the round and the tall
Guarding you from your friends never has been my duty
Nor shall I draw your attention
To a noble madam with a daughter in a mansion
Both pretty with shiny feathers and lush falls from head
Trying to lure and corral fresh young blood to the Madam’s husband bed
A woman of thousands enticements fair and fond deceiver
How prompt are we like naive striplings to believe her
How throb the pulse, how chock the throat
Little we know it is all show of naught
The manly weakness that fails me when I view
The eye that roll in glossy haze I knew
Or sparkles black, or mildly throws
A piercing beam from under hazel brows
How quick I applaud and credit every oath
When I hear your plight the willing troth
Amorously I hope it will take us around the globe
When, Lo! She changes all like stones rolling down slop
A woman fickle like you, her nature is so false
Her character full of frauds, a beauty with so many flaws
Yet I never reach apprehension or satiety
With such complex of beauty and fallacious variety
I shall be glad to say farewell to you deceitful maid
It is in vain and fruitless to regret
Nor hope nor memory yield their aid
But pride may guide me and strengthen me to forget
I shall seek other endeavors and joys
Yet to think nowadays, would drive my soul to chaotic madness
Even in careless throngs in thoughtless empty noise
I can conquer only half of my bosom’s sadness
copy rights 2010
Related quotes
To Woman
Woman! experience might have told me,
That all must love thee who behold thee:
Surely experience might have taught
Thy firmest promises are nought:
But, placed in all thy charms before me,
All I forget, but to adore thee.
Oh memory! Thou choicest blessing
When join'd with hope, when still possessing;
But how much cursed by every lover
When hope is fled and passion's over.
Woman, that fair and fond deceiver,
How throbs the pulse when first we view
The eye that rolls in glossy blue,
Or sparkles black, or mildly throws
A beam from under hazel brows!
How quick we credit every oath,
And hear her plight the willing troth!
Fondly we hope't will last for aye,
When, lo! she changes in a day.
This record will for ever stand,
'Woman, thy vows are traced in sand.'
To A Lady
O! had my Fate been join'd with thine,
As once this pledge appear'd a token,
These follies had not, then, been mine,
For, then, my peace had not been broken.
To thee, these early faults I owe,
To thee, the wise and old reproving:
They know my sins, but do not know
'Twas thine to break the bonds of loving.
For once my soul, like thine, was pure,
And all its rising fires could smother;
But, now, thy vows no more endure,
Bestow'd by thee upon another.
Perhaps, his peace I could destroy,
And spoil the blisses that await him;
Yet let my Rival smile in joy,
For thy dear sake, I cannot hate him.
Ah! since thy angel form is gone,
My heart no more can rest with any;
But what it sought in thee alone,
Attempts, alas! to find in many.
Then, fare thee well, deceitful Maid!
'Twere vain and fruitless to regret thee;
Nor Hope, nor Memory yield their aid,
But Pride may teach me to forget thee.
Yet all this giddy waste of years,
This tiresome round of palling pleasures;
These varied loves, these matrons' fears,
These thoughtless strains to Passion's measures---
If thou wert mine, had all been hush'd:---
This cheek, now pale from early riot,
With Passion's hectic ne'er had flush'd,
But bloom'd in calm domestic quiet.
Yes, once the rural Scene was sweet,
For Nature seem'd to smile before thee;
And once my Breast abhorr'd deceit,---
For then it beat but to adore thee.
But, now, I seek for other joys---
To think, would drive my soul to madness;
In thoughtless throngs, and empty noise,
I conquer half my Bosom's sadness.
Yet, even in these, a thought will steal,
In spite of every vain endeavor;
And fiends might pity what I feel---
To know that thou art lost for ever.
Of human bondage
When my love and I mutually swear that we both are made of truth
I do believe her, though I know she is fickle; full of frauds and dry lies,
Making me wondering if she might think me some untutored youth,
Unlearnèd in the ways of the vast world's false cunning subtleties.
Thus lying to each other, I cannot tell if she thinks me young,
Although in her mind she knows my days are past their best,
Being an occasional adulterous myself, I credit her false-speaking tongue;
On both sides hypocrisy thrives and thus is simple truth suppressed.
But wherefore I can never say or guess when and if she is unjust?
Consuming fresh young flesh wherefore say not I that I am old?
The thrusting thought that love's best habit is in seeming trust,
And age in love, loves not to have years told.
Therefore I do bed her, and she does bed me,
And in our faults by lies and by false evasive excuses we flattered be.
Beware when being seduced by sweet fresh younger nymph's kind
Love becomes a monster that plays havoc with your mind
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Fair is my love from far
Fair is my love from far, but she is far from being fair
She is fickle, her nature is false and her character full of frauds.
No beauties can compensate for such flaws!
Yet her face; her face is so divine without the touch of impurity
She is mild as a dove, but neither true nor trusty
Brighter than glass, and yet as glass she is brittle
A soul softer than wax, and yet as iron rusty
A lily pale skin, with damask dye to grace her clad
None fairer, nor none falser to deface her.
Her lips how often she to truth and to logic she joined
Between each of her oaths of true love swearing
How many tales to please the truth she coined,
Dreading the truth, the loss of love and strength still fearing
Yet amid of all her pure protesting
Her faith in love, her oaths of the truth were all jesting.
She burned with love, as straw with fire flames
She burned herself out of true love as soon as straw out burns
She framed her feign love, and she foiled the framing
She forlorn with phantom of love, dark shadows and foul fair
She bade love last, and fell into a bust
Is he a lover last, he that inflicts pains in caress
Agony in soft whisper
A lecher, a vampire of the soul whichever
Bad in the best, though excellent in neither
What for me in all of that, any aspiration? Any goal?
Old, crumpling tattered soul
Do not look at the mirror tonight
For I profoundly hate thee for you keen sight
Rest; take your sleep in the tempest of the night
No comport will lay by your pillow
After such an acid, such a poison spilled by your ink
You awakened sleeping devils, released bottle of imps
O stay at the table! Cried the lines I wrote
We have no power to let her read love by rote
And watch her not able to spell
For her soul is enthralled by the devil of hell
I watched the silver moon plays upon glassy streams
Twinkle another counterfeit beam
How she can not tell
Foul from fair and fair from foul
So seems her gorgeous beauty to mine eyes
But I see her mind full of foul and follies
Fain shall I try to woo her wit, yet again? I dare not speak
Let me back for a pen and an ink I shall rather write my mind
Cowards have no tongue no character
Their comfort is in hide their pride is in hypocrisy
Is she not here?
Will you be daunted at the woman’s sight?
Beauty’s princely majesty is such
That it confounds the tongue
And makes the senses rough and the mind blur
Can such a villain woo such a virtuous woman?
Can she thus be won?
What side of the bed?
I shall rest my exploding head
My body is in flames of pains
Oh let it not start again!
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Her Hidden Treasure
Her flame was only for the women –
Not for us unlucky men;
A weakness lay for feminine way:
To feel an even fairer skin
In silky slide.
Her lips were for the satin love that
Only flows from rising breast;
The creamy tan was not for man
To pull towards a chiselled chest
In weathered hide.
Her hidden treasure down below
Would shy away from macho length
And only rouse upon the blouse
Undone by other sapphic strength –
In time, inside!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Beauty of a Woman
The beauty of a woman lies in her silence
Rather than her speech
The beauty of a woman lies in her patience
Rather than her inquisitiveness outreach
The beauty of a woman lies in her experience
Rather than her age
The beauty of a woman lies in her veil for awhile
Rather than her face
The beauty of a woman lies in her submission
Rather that her dominance
The beauty of a woman lies in her smile
Rather than her laughter
The beauty of a woman lies in her abode
Rather than her adventure
The beauty of a woman lies in her offspring
Rather than herself ever
The beauty of a woman lies in her heart's spring
Rather than in skin cover
Shashikant Nishant Sharma
(शशिकांत निशांत शर्मा ‘साहिल')
poem by Shashikant Nishant Sharma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Secret
My soul its secret has, my life too has its mystery,
A love eternal in a moment's space conceived;
Hopeless the evil is, I have not told its history,
And she who was the cause nor knew it nor believed.
Alas! I shall have passed close by her unperceived,
Forever at her side, and yet forever lonely,
I shall unto the end have made life's journey, only
Daring to ask for naught, and having naught received.
For her, though God has made her gentle and endearing,
She will go on her way distraught and without hearing
These murmurings of love that round her steps ascend.
Piously faithful still unto her austere duty,
She will say, when she shall read these lines full of her beauty,
"Who can this woman be?" and will not comprehend.
poem by Felix Arvers, translated by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Simona Enache
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Who would be there to tell me
Who would be there to tell me
When I catch my falling star
where all my past years are
Many friends of mine in owe and plea
The ones I stirred for love like industrious bee
Here rests his head upon the lap of earth
A man to fortune and to fame is unknown
Fair science frowned not in his humble birth
And misfortune with melancholy marked him for their own
Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere
Heaven did a recommence as largely said
He gave to misery all he had, a tear
He gained from Heaven, it was all he wished, he never fret
No further seek his merits to disclose
Or draw his frailties from their clear abode
There they alike in trembling hope repose
The bosom of his soul believes and God
Let the moon climb over the grave into the vaults of the skies
How silent is the world, and how with a wane dimming face
What, may it be that even in Heavenly eternal place
This divine archer, this Queen of the night her sharp arrows tries
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Pretty or Beautiful?
As I step onto the scale I wait for it to read my weight.115.
'What am I going to do I am still fat.
My family says that I am pretty but my boyfriend says that I am beautiful.
Which one am me? Pretty or beautiful?
I hear my mother saying 'come down for breakfast.'
I call to my mother 'one minute.'
I stare into the mirror and I don't see what my family sees.
I see my boyfriends point of view; beautiful.
The prettiest long brown hair and dark, hazel - green eyes
and perfect white teeth.
I see a young woman who’s ready to live her life to the fullest.
I see a woman who loves to help children in their day - to - day lives.
I see a woman who’s going to succeed in whatever she believes
it is right or wrong.
I see a woman who will help adoption agencies, shelters
and the homeless.
I see a woman who will believe in everyone around her and who
will motivate those who need motivating and help them succeed.
I see a woman who can do anything that is put in her way and who
will get it done right the first time.
I am that woman, of success.
I am that woman of motivating people and challenging them to
do the right thing.
I am a woman of faith of love and of beauty.
I am a woman who is ready to live her life to the fullest.
I am me!
poem by Shannon Monroe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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O Woman What Beauty
O woman what beauty I have seen in thee.
Who's beauty and grace delivers but tranquillity.
What face at birth could deliver such joy.
And through the years does most kind I employ.
God made man in his image, but woman he made in his dreams.
Though with woman, man still lives in Eden it would seem.
For woman are natural mothers, beautiful fruit to behold,
if it were not for a woman a man's history would not be told.
So through all of life's stages from young, middle aged, and old;
as a man I say O woman what beauty I see in thee, so forever,
may it unfold.
poem by Robert K. Allison III
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chauvinist
I’d never really comprehended such a mighty range of
Shapes and sizes down behind, it’s really rather strange:
The buttock muscle in a woman, overlaid with fat
Is actually such a focal point for men to want to pat
Or squeeze, and then to tease her if it’s eminently stout,
Or even risk a stay in clink to sting it with a clout!
After all, we men are tuned to be that way inclined –
And tho’ our needs are varied, girls, they’re all perverse of mind!
Best of all, our sacred dream: to see her shed her gown
When gliding to the shower for the ritual sponging down.
But then alas! With body lathered, oops! she drops the soap;
‘Please! ’ we beg her, ‘bend and bare! ’ But we can only hope!
I’m sure by now you get the picture – like a rule of thumb –
That men like me obsess all day about the fairer bum.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
My dreams are of a
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Woman made the man
Woman made the man
~
it was woman who made the man
drove him to poetry and the arts
to celebrate the beauty he found
who fed and clothed him daily
who taught him about love
taught him about humility
kept his ego at safe distance
he found in her passion
a fire from the depths of his soul
he shared in her pain
knew full well the wealth
that a good woman brings
he wrote of her and to her
nature and nurture
mother and friend
it was woman who made the man
so he gave his love to her
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Woman In Me (feat. Destiny's Child)
Doo doo da da da da da
Doo doo da da da da da
Doo doo da da da da da
Doo doo da da da da da
Doo doo da da da da da
Doo doo da da da da da
Ohhhhh
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman that I wanna be
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman in me I see (I see)
As I look in, look in the mirror I see
Life is really here to be with me, oh
I can see myself getting stronger everyday
I'm not the same woman I used to be
So now I tell myself I am thinkin strong
I see the beauty lying within my soul
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman that I wanna be
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman in me I see (I see)
When I love myself I can do whatever I want
Doesn't matter what you do to me, do to me
Honest people, there's a possibility
To tell you my real reality
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman that I wanna be (I wanna be)
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman in me I see (woman in me baby)
Doo doo da da da da da
Doo doo da da da da da
Doo doo da da da da da
Doo doo da da da da da
Doo doo da da da da da
Doo doo da da da da da
Can you see the woman in me
Do you really wanna see the woman in me
Hahha, let me show you
Don't underestimate the woman I become
The woman I am
So now I tell myself that I'm thinkin I'm strong
And I see the beauty lying within my soul
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman that I wanna be (I wanna be)
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman in me I see (I see)
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman that I wanna be (I wanna be)
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman in me I see (I see)
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman that I wanna be (I wanna be)
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman in me I see (I see)
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman that I wanna be (I wanna be)
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman in me I see (I see)
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman that I wanna be (I wanna be)
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman in me I see (I see)
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman that I wanna be (I wanna be)
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman in me I see (I see)
(laughter
song performed by by Jessica Simpson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet XXXV. To Fortitude
NYMPH of the rock! whose dauntless spirit braves
The beating storm, and bitter winds that howl
Round thy cold breast; and hear'st the bursting waves
And the deep thunder with unshaken soul;
Oh come!--and show how vain the cares that press
On my weak bosom--and how little worth
Is the false fleeting meteor, Happiness,
That still misleads the wanderers of the earth!
Strengthen'd by thee, this heart shall cease to melt
O'er ills that poor humanity must bear;
Nor friends estranged, or ties dissolved be felt
To leave regret, and fruitless anguish there:
And when at length it heaves its latest sigh,
Thou and mild Hope shall teach me how to die.
poem by Charlotte Smith
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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10:10 A.M.
10: 10 AM
by Inro Lavil
09-13-12
Woman, Woman
This may be respectful but you held me an extra month
Three blood gushed out before I was beamed by
Sunlight and you were not in a right time to deliver
Woman, why did you love me?
Woman, Woman
I might be adamant but you molded me too early
I might be the biggest fool on this world
And I hated it when you made me intelligent like them
Woman, why did you love me?
Woman, Woman
I might be so selfish but you still treated me normal
I'm not normal since I am an extra month held by you
And everyone looks at me with piercing eyes
Woman, why did you love me?
Woman, Woman
I did my best but you angrily pushed me to be more of me
I wanted to do this and that but your eyes always watched me
Like you're some kind of omniscient being in clouds
Woman, why did you love me?
Woman, Woman
I was not prepared but why did you leave me abruptly?
All these tupperwares around me hid to me your stains
The name of the pain that you have also hidden to me
Woman, why did you betray me?
Woman, Woman
Your loss gave me no Merry Christmas since you left me
I had two graduations you failed to attend and now
The third is coming, when will I hear you're proud of me?
Woman, why did you leave me?
Woman, Woman
I am free to choose my path but yours is still the one
The one I still chose since you're not here, I will
Run the steps you have walked and try to surpass them
Woman, why did you love me?
Woman, Woman
I was waiting for you on the gate every afternoon you came
Now that you are not here, no one is asking me today
'How's your day? ' which I've done when you're still here
Woman, why did you love me?
Woman, Woman
How will I move on from you when the life I chose is yours?
How will I know that you are proud of me or glad
Of all the achievements I got most of which I've done for you?
Woman, why did you love me?
Woman, Woman
I have never understood how much love you have given me
Since 10: 10 AM of April until 11: 10 AM of the 13th day
Of November almost eight years ago, maybe beyond my birth
Woman, why did you love me?
Woman, Woman
I can be considered mature but I still lone for your kiss
I still blame you for things I can't do but still thank
You because you taught me that freedom is not really free
Woman, why did you love me?
Woman, Woman
I call you woman because I want to how show you I'm big now
But I still long to call you Mama, yet
No ears will be a landing place for those words now
Woman, why did you love me?
Woman, how can I return the love you've shown
When you are already inside that concrete box and
Your soul's somewhere far from where I stand now
poem by Inro Lavil
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Eliza On Her Marriage
You're now, Eliza, fix'd for life;
In other words, you're now - a wife;
And let me whisper in your ear,
A wife, though fix'd, has cause to fear;
For much she risks, and much she loses
If an improper road she choses.
Yet think not that I mean to fright you,
My plan, au contraire's to delight you;
To draw the lines where comfort reaches;
Where folly flies; where prudence teaches.
In short, Eliza, to prevent you
From nameless ills that may torment you:
And ere bright Hymen's torch burns faintly,
From nuptial glare conduct you gently,
Where (cur'd of wounds from Cupid's quiver)
A milder lustre beams for ever!
First, then, Eliza, change your carriage,
Courtship's a different thing from marriage,
And much I fear (by passion blinded)
This change at first is seldom minded.
The miss who feasts on rich romances,
And love-sick sonnets, wisely fancies
That all the end of ardent wooing
Is constant billing, constant cooing.
The nymph again, whom caution teaches.
To doubt the truth of rapt'rous speeches,
She whom experience oft has school'd,
And shewn how husbands may be - rul'd,
Laughs at the whims of fond sixteen,
And thinks that wedlock stamps - a queen.
Now I (though ne'er, alas! contracted)
Consider both as half distracted;
And will predict that endless strife
Must be the lot of either wife.
Not that I would infer from hence
That men of feeling, worth, or sense,
Could every try to wound or pain
A tender breast with cold disdain;
Or e'er descend to storm and battle
At fondly-foolish female prattle.
Yet if sweet madam, without reason,
Will fret and fume, and mutter treason,
Plaguing her plain, unpuffing spouse,
About his former oaths and vows,
And tender sighs, and soft expressions,
With various comments and digressions,
I will not sweat that mere connexion
Will guard the husband's warm affection;
And when affection cools, they say
The husband's apt to - go astray.
Maids, prais'd and flatter'd all their lives,
Expect as much when they are wives;
And think when husbands cease palav'ring,
That love (sweet souls!) is surely wav'ring:
Then hey! for pets, and cold distrust,
Doubt's sullen brow, and dreams accurst :
The game goes on, ma'am's in the dumps,
And jealousy at last is trumps.
For thee, fair flower! of softest dye,
That caught so late each vagrant eye,
Still breathing sweets, still blooming gay,
Beauteous in winter as in May:
For thee this truth the muse has penn'd.
The muse - but more thy anxious friend:
'Woman's bright charms were giv'n to lure us,
They catch, 'tis true; but can't secure us.'
Sage Solomon, who paints with beauty
A virtuous woman's worth and duty,
Compares her to a ship of trade,
That brings from far her daily bread.
This may be true; but as for me,
I'll draw a plainer simile,
And call a virtuous wife a gem,
Which for its worth we ne'er contemn,
Though soon its water, size and hue,
Grow quite familiar to the view.
What then ensues? Why, faith, I'll tell ye;
We think of nothing but - the value.
Yet take this gem and lay it by
From the possessor's careless eye,
Conceal its lustre, dazzling bright,
From beaming daily on his sight,
I'll take you any bet at pleasure,
Whene'er he views this tempting treasure,
With eager bliss and sparkling eyes
He'll mark each new-born charm arise,
And with the joy of first possession,
Admire and rave sans intermission!
If women, therefore, would be wise,
Instead of murmurs, tears and sighs,
And sullen moods, and scolding frays,
When lovie's absent for some days,
Let ev'ry female art conspire
To drive him from the parlour fire.
Of all the plagues in wedded life,
To teaze or to torment a wife,
There's none more likely to increase
The bane of matrimonial peace,
Than the tame husband always by
With prying and suspicious eye.
Mark then, when * * * * goes to town,
Smile thou, when other wives would frown;
He only goes (nay, don't be angry)
To take a walk to make him hungry;
To taste awhile, unknown to care,
A change of exercise and air;
Observe the pert, the bold, the witty
How diff'rent from his own sweet Betty!
Return impatient to his home,
No husband, but a fond bridegroom.
Lastly, Eliza, let me say
That wives should rather yield than sway;
To thwart a husband's fixt opinion
Is not the way to gain dominion,
For kisses order, tears reprove,
And teach us rev'rence, fear and love!
O! born to soothe and guide the heart
With native softness, void of art!
Thou, whom nor pride nor fashion sways,
Unchang'd by flatt'ry's giddy praise;
And thou to whom a trem'lous youth
First spoke the tale of love and truth,
Blending with passion's fond alarms
The bright'ning beam of virtue's charms
Ah! lend not now a careless ear!-
Yet, yet attend to truth sincere!
These lines, at least with smiles receive,
The last, perhaps, thy bard shall give.
While pleasure spreads her gawdy train,
To lure the trifling and the vain;
While fashion kills the tedious day
With shopping, concert, cards, and play;
While female love and youth's fair charms
Shrink from pure passion's ardent arms,
And cling to splendour's fancied bliss,
With withering age and wretchedness,
Be thine Eliza, more refin'd,
The pleasures of the virtuous mind!
Be thine the transports of the heart
Which love and goodness still impart;
The tender glance, the tranquil smile,
A husband's sorrows to beguile:
The blush of joy divinely meek;
That paint's a mother's glowing cheek;
The balm that friendship still bestows;
The tear that drops for human woes!
These, these, Eliza! light the way,
And cheer when other charms decay;
Conduct through care and worldly gloom,
And whisper joys - beyond the tomb.
poem by Hector Macneill
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Farewell
My farewell is a long one, I just have a lot to say.
Farewell to all of my teachers, you have taught me well.
You have taught me to grow with the world and with society.
You have taught me everything I know, and I say 'Thank you! '
My farewell goes to all of my friends,
You have been great throughout the years.
You have taught me a lot about life.
You have been there through the hatred and the love,
Through the ups and the downs,
Through thick and thin,
You have proved yourselves worthy of being true friends.
And I just want to say, 'I love you all! '
My Farewell goes to my parents.
You have also taught me well.
You are the ones who taught me how to credit others that I love and care
about. You sat with me in the doctors office through those painful shots.
You have been through hell and back with me, literally.
You have seen me grow from a little girl to the woman that I am today.
Father, you are the one who is going to give me away at the alter someday.
And Mother, you are the one who is going to help me find the perfect dress for my wedding and you are the one who is going to help me prepare for it.
You are the ones who I can trust with my life and I just want you to know that I am grateful and that I will love you with all my heart.
I will never forget you!
My farewell goes to Auburn High School.
I don't care how much I have said that I hated this old Brick building, I have come to be comfortable with it.
And I just want to say,
'CONGRATS CLASS OF 2010! WE MADE IT THROUGH! ! !
poem by Shannon Monroe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Woman's Beauty
The beauty of a woman
Is not determined by a man
Her beauty can be found in her grace
Not just the beauty of her face
It can be found in her style
It can also be found in her smile
Her beauty is in her thoughts
Not just what she has been taught
It can also be found in her soul
It cannot go untold
Her beauty is within her
She does not need to lure
Anyone, because her presence
It is her whole essence
A woman’s beauty is in her heart
Her beauty is her art