Her Lips Are Copper Wire
whisper of yellow globes
gleaming on lamp-posts that sway
like bootleg licker drinkers in the fog
and let your breath be moist against me
like bright beads on yellow globes
telephone the power-house
that the main wires are insulate
(her words play softly up and down
dewy corridors of billboards)
then with your tongue remove the tape
and press your lips to mine
till they are incandescent
poem by Jean Toomer
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Related quotes
The Yellow Ribbon On The Old Oak Tree
who can forget the yellow ribbon
on that old oak tree? tell me.
tomorrow, i shall wear my yellow cap
my yellow shirt, my yellow brief,
my yellow pants.
my jaundiced eye, my golden yellow ring.
tomorrow, in my country, the sky is yellow.
all steps lead to the yellow brick road.
all fruits are ripe and mellow and yellow.
Tomorrow, the country is yellow.
Yellow for integrity, Yellow for change.
Yellow for justice. Yellow for truth.
One day more, and the sun shall rise
Yellow as ever.Yellow forever.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Little Yellow Butterfly
Oh, liitle yellow butterfly
to this lonely house
please come in
and let your shadow
fill the empty wall
as I watch closely
till I fall asleep.
Oh, little yellow butterfly
to this lonely house
please come in
and change the color of my life
with your tiny yellow wings.
Oh, little yellow butterfly
to this lonely house
please come in
I have prepared flowers for you
so you can stay with me
without being lonely.
Oh, little yellow butterfly
to this lonely house
please come in.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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Yellow Man
Very far away in a foreign land
Live the yellow woman and the yellow man
Hes been around for many-a-year
They say they were there before we were here
Eatin rice all day
While the children play
You see he believes
In the family
Just like you and me
Oh, yellow man, oh, yellow man
We understand, you know we understand
He keeps his money tight in his hand
With his yellow woman hes a yellow man
Got to have a yellow woman
When youre a yellow man
song performed by by Randy Newman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Springs Splendor
The nighttime air baptized the earth
with a fresh, clean renewing dew
admitting the seasons rebirth
bidding ‘old man winter' adieu.
The sun emerges warm and immense
casting a golden illumine
adorning springtime's resplendence:
yellow daffodils flowering
in meadows and dandelions'
their tiny sunburst dewy globes
drizzled about in disunion;
each claiming its own abode
amidst ground ivy and clover
nurtured by a gentle zephyr.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Yellow Roses
Hello you said the day we met
Handing me a yellow rose
You asked me out
And to your surprise
And to mine I said Id go
I thought it so romantic
And I found you sweet and bold
Though wed only met
I still said yes
To a single yellow rose
And for years to come
You were the one
To sleep with me at night
To laugh and talk
And share my thoughts
And hold me when Id cry
And on every occasion
And for no good reason to
A big bouquet or a single yellow rose
Was sent from you
Chorus:
Yellow roses
The color of sunshine
You loved me at one time
Why did you have to go
Yellow roses
Are you sending your new love
My bright yellow rose buds
I still love you so
I never see a yellow rose
That I didnt think of you
Its still my favorite flower
Though the yellows turned to blue
The day you left my teardrops fell
Upon your farewell not
You said goodbye like you said hello
With a single yellow rose
Chorus:
Yellow roses
The color of sunshine
You loved me at one time
Why did you have to go
Yellow roses
Are you sending your new love
My bright yellow rose buds
Oh I still love you so
Yellow roses
The color of sunshine
You loved me at one time
Why did you have to go
Sweet yellow roses
Are you sending your new love
My bright yellow rose buds
I still love you so
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Play Me A Whisper
play me a whisper in my ear
where i
whimper
and tremble
in desire
(that is your
word not mine)
play me softly a whisper of love
in my hair
i let you
and tell you how it means to me
play it on
turn me on, i let you know how much it means
to me
my hair thinking my skin whimpering
let me have your whisper
now not in my ear
let it be in my mouth
let it stay
let it stray inside my tongue
play me a little soft whisper
not in my mouth now
but in my heart
let it stay there for a while
and then play me another whisper
not in my heart now
let it be inside my guts
down in my belly
let it go deeper
let it escape in the toes of my feet and let this whisper
dissolve in a distance in the infinite silence of the space
between us
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dippold the Optician
What do you see now?
Globes of red, yellow, purple.
Just a moment! And now?
My father and mother and sisters.
Yes! And now?
Knights at arms, beautiful women, kind faces.
Try this.
A field of grain—a city.
Very good! And now?
A young woman with angels bending over her.
A heavier lens! And now?
Many women with bright eyes and open lips.
Try this.
Just a goblet on a table.
Oh I see! Try this lens!
Just an open space—I see nothing in particular.
Well, now!
Pine trees, a lake, a summer sky.
That’s better. And now?
A book.
Read a page for me.
I can’t. My eyes are carried beyond the page.
Try this lens.
Depths of air.
Excellent! And now?
Light, just light, making everything below it a toy world.
Very well, we’ll make the glasses accordingly.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Night On The Prairies
NIGHT on the prairies;
The supper is over--the fire on the ground burns low;
The wearied emigrants sleep, wrapt in their blankets:
I walk by myself--I stand and look at the stars, which I think now I
never realized before.
Now I absorb immortality and peace,
I admire death, and test propositions.
How plenteous! How spiritual! How resumé!
The same Old Man and Soul--the same old aspirations, and the same
content.
I was thinking the day most splendid, till I saw what the not-day
exhibited,
I was thinking this globe enough, till there sprang out so noiseless
around me myriads of other globes. 10
Now, while the great thoughts of space and eternity fill me, I will
measure myself by them;
And now, touch'd with the lives of other globes, arrived as far along
as those of the earth,
Or waiting to arrive, or pass'd on farther than those of the earth,
I henceforth no more ignore them, than I ignore my own life,
Or the lives of the earth arrived as far as mine, or waiting to
arrive.
O I see now that life cannot exhibit all to me--as the day cannot,
I see that I am to wait for what will be exhibited by death.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Talkin' Bout My Baby (Midfield General's Disco Reshuffle Mix)
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,
Wah Yeah, Talking Bout My Baby,
Talking Bout My Baby,
When She Go Walking Down Bourben Street,
I Just Can't Understand As I Walk Behind Her,
She Got Red Hotpants On,
She Got On A Low-Neck See Through Blouse With No Brassier On,
She Shaking Like Two Big Old Balloons In A Hurricane,
She Got A Purple Afro,
She Got Her Hand On Her Hip,
Better Not Let Her Slip???
Battering Her Eyes
Looking Straight At Me Yeah,
She's Battering Her Eyes
And Looking Straight At Me With That Sassy Saucy Look On Her Face,
She's Beside Me,
I Wanna Go Out On A Picnic With You Baby,
Out Under The Big Bright Yellow Sun,
She Said I Wanna Go Out On A Picnic With You Baby,
Out Under The Big Bright Yellow Sun,
Out Under The Big Bright Yellow Sun,
Out Under The Big Bright Yellow Sun,
Out Under The Big Bright Yellow Sun
song performed by by Fatboy Slim
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Yellow Camaro
And the wheels of motion will move fine
God bless the U.S. assembly line
It's a game and you play with hi-octane
It's the pace of the race, and you are following
Right on
Yellow Camaro
Yellow Camaro
With freedom of eagles you soar high
God bless you're a mess before you try
It's a shame that you've done such a dumb thing
It's the pace of the race, and you are following
Right on
Yellow Camaro
Yellow Camaro (Oh no)
Oooh Right on
Yellow Camaro
Yellow Camaro (Oh no)
song performed by by Weezer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Canary Yellow Canoe
In my canary yellow canoe - my yellow canoe
I want to go tripping in my canary yellow canoe
The eastmain, coppermine, back river too
In my canary yellow canoe
In my canary yellow canoe - yellow canoe
I want to run rivers in my canary yellow canoe
The desmoines river, rupert river, george river too
In my canary yellow canoe
In my canary yellow canoe - mellow yellow canoe
I want to go tripping in my canary yellow canoe
Chebugema, peace river, resolute too
In my canary yellow canoe
In my canary yellow canoe - my elephant too
I want to go tripping in my canary yellow canoe
Churchill, yellowknife, ross river too
In my canary yellow canoe
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Yellow School Bus
The yellow school bus with the black wheels took sick children to school each day.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels was driven whether or not the sky was gray.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels went pass three streets and up a hill.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels was driven whether sunny or chilled.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels always brought a smile to little kids face.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels was filled with love and filled with grace.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels kept breathing until that final breath.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels was painted red with blood and death.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels and the little sick children were all of friends.
But the now dead children will never take a ride in the yellow school bus again.
poem by RaShawn Ince
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Soap Suds
This brand of soap has the same smell as once in the big
House he visited when he was eight: the walls of the bathroom open
To reveal a lawn where a great yellow ball rolls back through a hoop
To rest at the head of a mallet held in the hands of a child.
And these were the joys of that house: a tower with a telescope;
Two great faded globes, one of the earth, one of the stars;
A stuffed black dog in the hall; a walled garden with bees;
A rabbit warren; a rockery; a vine under glass; the sea.
To which he has now returned. The day of course is fine
And a grown-up voice cries Play! The mallet slowly swings,
Then crack, a great gong booms from the dog-dark hall and the ball
Skims forward through the hoop and then through the next and then
Through hoops where no hoops were and each dissolves in turn
And the grass has grown head-high and an angry voice cries Play!
But the ball is lost and the mallet slipped long since from the hands
Under the running tap that are not the hands of a child.
poem by Louis Macneice
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A Calendar of Sonnets: September
O golden month! How high thy gold is heaped!
The yellow birch-leaves shine like bright coins strung
On wands; the chestnut's yellow pennons tongue
To every wind its harvest challenge. Steeped
In yellow, still lie fields where wheat was reaped;
And yellow still the corn sheaves, stacked among
The yellow gourds, which from the earth have wrung
Her utmost gold. To highest boughs have leaped
The purple grape,--last thing to ripen, late
By very reason of its precious cost.
O Heart, remember, vintages are lost
If grapes do not for freezing night-dews wait.
Think, while thou sunnest thyself in Joy's estate,
Mayhap thou canst not ripen without frost!
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
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Two Distant Worlds
who does not like to put some
yellow daisies on your black glossy hair?
you become so beautiful with a chain of yellow
daisies in your hair
where i can possibly touch them and caress them
and how would you know that this is more than just putting a chain of
daisies in your black hair?
you shall never know and that is good enough for me
for i am the simplest man that puts those chain of yellow daisies in your hair
no prince charming for you, nothing special
just another common friend putting those usual yellow daisies in your hair
when our hands touch by accident
how would you know that i have become a forest burning?
this burning fire that is softly killing me
how would you know? your world is open and mine is closed.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Golden Shower! ! ! ! !
Scattered by the broken string, bent to pick the beads.
You stood with some in cupped hands, did you my thoughts read?
Led me gently to balcony, to show Laburnum bloom.
Clusters of bright yellow flowers watch them with awe, droop.
Yellow petals formed a carpet, underneath the tree
You said its called golden shower, from far one can see.
The breeze carries the flowers, away from the loose bunch,
Just like my beads got separated, and I sat hunched.
I forgot about my rosary, as we stepped in the avenue.
Your nearness and fragrant air, tears blurred the view.
Careful not to crush the blossoms, lying on the grass
We strolled hand in hand, exchanging a glance…
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Bootleg
Chorus:
Bootleg, bootleg;
Bootleg, howl.
Bootleg, bootleg;
Bootleg, howl.
Take you a glass of water
Make it against the law.
See how good the water tastes
When you cant have any at all.
Chorus
Findin a natural woman,
Like honey to a bee.
But you dont buzz the flower.
When you know the honeys free.
Chorus
Suzy maybe give you some cherry pie,
But lord, that aint no fun.
Better you grab it when she aint lookin
cause you know youd rather have it on the run.
Chorus
song performed by by Creedence Clearwater Revival
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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4 Southwest Chief/LA Central
(copyrighted material, Coffee House Press)
#4 Southwest Chief/LA Central
FOR DERYA AND HEID
The sheen of incandescent lamppost light travels this rail,
up ahead the Conductor
reminds us, if there’s anything
we can do to make your trip worthless just let us know
and no one cracks a smile.
This Amtrak car glides between
concrete pillars wrapped with steel for quake protection.
Projects plastered in graffiti by day now sink into 9: 00 p.m. comfortable-
this time of night you’d think they were condos
if you rode this rail for the first time.
What I see is concertina riding chain link fence tops-
as if there is an escape attempt due any moment.
Then, somehow, I see myself in the window. Not a reflection
but an actual replica looking back at me and at the glare,
over further than a bounce of light could flash, where
planes coming in to land look like falling stars,
and I’m taking my mother to the asylum in my memory.
I can still hear her saying, bad, bad girl and look
at the pretty stars and Christmas lights sometime late July.
L.A. River on my left, tonight there’s water more than trickle down.
Along the concrete banks where someone wrote out: RECKLESS
a concrete mixer is parked right by the river and rail,
and one single truck has its lights on bright.
By morning, jump-starts will cardiac it back to life.
My gut aches. The whole world’s in a window at Fullerton and
through arches, past electric globes, it spins
high over a Pepsi machine on the floor far below.
Bad, bad girl. Look at the pretty stars and Christmas lights.
FROM OFF-SEASON CITY PIPE, COFFE HOUSE PRESS,2005.
poem by Allison Hedge Coke
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Yellow Rainbow
First of all let me describe
Major struggle to survive
Just a weary group of people
Waiting for the world to end
Feel it spreading rapidly
Radio...
Bound together by a legend
To protect usand defend
Lead us to the yellow rainbow
Just in case the earth should fall
If you find the yellow rainbow
You can save us all
.. come from blackened cloud
Sometimes seems to speak out loud
Icy brew of winds prevailing
From the cauldrons of the storm
Hear the childrens voices plead
Please dont let the sky fall in
We might find the yellow rainbow
Ferry lights to keep them warm
Chorus
I can take the atmosphere then tape it down
Overactive mind works like an underground
Fear our hopes about to be
Buried in obscurity
Saw a man with eyes like saucers
Caught up in a web of lies
.. that opened up before us
Cast a rainbow big and bright
Lead us to the yellow rainbow
Just in case the earth should fall
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Colors Passing Through Us
Purple as tulips in May, mauve
into lush velvet, purple
as the stain blackberries leave
on the lips, on the hands,
the purple of ripe grapes
sunlit and warm as flesh.
Every day I will give you a color,
like a new flower in a bud vase
on your desk. Every day
I will paint you, as women
color each other with henna
on hands and on feet.
Red as henna, as cinnamon,
as coals after the fire is banked,
the cardinal in the feeder,
the roses tumbling on the arbor
their weight bending the wood
the red of the syrup I make from petals.
Orange as the perfumed fruit
hanging their globes on the glossy tree,
orange as pumpkins in the field,
orange as butterflyweed and the monarchs
who come to eat it, orange as my
cat running lithe through the high grass.
Yellow as a goat's wise and wicked eyes,
yellow as a hill of daffodils,
yellow as dandelions by the highway,
yellow as butter and egg yolks,
yellow as a school bus stopping you,
yellow as a slicker in a downpour.
Here is my bouquet, here is a sing
song of all the things you make
me think of, here is oblique
praise for the height and depth
of you and the width too.
Here is my box of new crayons at your feet.
Green as mint jelly, green
as a frog on a lily pad twanging,
the green of cos lettuce upright
about to bolt into opulent towers,
green as Grand Chartreuse in a clear
glass, green as wine bottles.
Blue as cornflowers, delphiniums,
bachelors' buttons. Blue as Roquefort,
blue as Saga. Blue as still water.
Blue as the eyes of a Siamese cat.
Blue as shadows on new snow, as a spring
azure sipping from a puddle on the blacktop.
Cobalt as the midnight sky
when day has gone without a trace
and we lie in each other's arms
eyes shut and fingers open
and all the colors of the world
pass through our bodies like strings of fire.
poem by Marge Piercy
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