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First Kiss

We met for drinks and music
in a quiet little bar.
A singer, Reno Sweeney,
was the evening’s featured star.
Bob and Shelia never showed,
throwing us together:
You, a dark eyed beauty,
loquacious and quite clever.
I, your unexpected swain,
With eyes an emerald treasure.

Later at the Piper’s inn
We sat before the fire
You sipped on your white Russian
I drank my Pinot Noir.
I could not know, did not foresee
Our future in my glass:
Our sensual adventures
On rooftops and on grass.
Our joys, our sorrows, and our fears
Which then could not be guessed-
Just your sweet face upturned to me
anticipating to be kissed.

poem by John F. McCullagh
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Transient Immortal

Tommorrow is on my calendar
as is every day next week.
I have interviews, appointments,
Dinners at which I'll speak.

I'll make some time for family
and writing, I suppose.
I may find time to barbecue
and to launder my work clothes.

When evening comes I'll settle back
with a glass of Pinot noir.
I'm a transient immortal,
I'm on loan here from a star.

The future is a game;
against ourselves we play.
We act as if we still have left
forever and a day.

In truth we all are transients
For just this moment free.
Self observing stardust
poised t'wixt two eternities

poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All The Way To Reno

humming
All the way to reno
You've dusted the non believers
And challenged the laws of chance
Now, sweet
You were so sugar sweet
You may as well have had 'kick me'
Fastened on your sleeve
You know what you are
You're gonna be a star
You know what you are
You're gonna be a star
Wing
Is written on your feet
Your achilles heel
Is a tendency
To dream
But you've know that from the beginning
You didn't have to go so far
You didn't have to go.
You know what you are
You're gonna be a star
You know what you are
You're gonna be a star
You know who you are
You know who you are
You know who you are.
Humming
All the way to reno,
You've written your own directions
And whistled the rules of change
You know what you are
You're gonna be a star
You know what you are
You're gonna be a star
You know what you are
You're gonna be a star
You know what you are
You're gonna be a star
Humming
All the way to reno
You're gonna be a star, you are
You're gonna be a star,
You're gonna be a star, you are
You're gonna be a star

song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At Glan-y-Wern

White-robed against the threefold white
Of shutter, glass and curtains' lace,
She flashed into the evening light
The brilliance of her gipsy face:
I saw the evening in her light.

Clear, from the soft hair to the mouth,
Her ardent face made manifest
The sultry beauty of the South:
Below, a red rose, climbing, pressed
Against the roses of her mouth.

So, in the window's threefold white,
O'ertrailed with foliage like a bower,
She seemed, against the evening light,
Amongst the flowers herself a flower,
A tiger-lily sheathed in white.

poem by Arthur Symons
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All The Way To Reno

Humming
All the way to reno
Dusted the non-believers
And challenge the laws of chance

Now sweeter
You're so sugar sweet
You may as well have 'kick me'
Fastened on your sleeve

You know what you are
You're gonna be a star.
You know what you are
You're gonna be a star

Wing is written on your feet
Your achilles heel
Is the tendency to dream
But you've know that from the beginning
You didn't have to go so far
You didn't have to go.

You know what you are
You're gonna be a star.
You know what you are
You're gonna be a star

You know who you are
You know who you are
You know who you are

Humming
All the way to reno
You've written your own directions
And whistles the rules have changed

You know what you are
You're gonna be a star (star)
You know what you are

song performed by by R.E.M. from Reveal
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Cup Of Drinks

My cup of drinks will,
never be filled.
The drinks of nature,
in my eyes, get reeled.
I drank the beauty of
the hill, streams, rivulet,
All other beauties,
before them ever fade.
The rivers dance as,
the little lass in me,
the trees, the plants,
the meadows and lea,
captivate me with their,
never-forget-smile,
The seas, oceans and the
mountains beguile,
their time, with me,
in my mind's little room.
Borrowing a brush and color,
I like them to groom.
My cups of drinks I
want to fill with thee.
O Nature! I know other
beauty can not satisfy me!

poem by Nilakshi Das
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Le Balcon

Mere des souvenirs, mattresses des mattresses
Mother of Memories! O mistress-queen !
Oh ! all my joy and all my duty thou !
The beauty of caresses that have been,
The evenings and the hearth remember now,
Mother of Memories! O mistress-queen !

The evenings burning with the glowing fire,
And on the balcony, the rose-stained nights!
How sweet, how kind you were, my soul's desire.
We said things wonderful as chrysolites,
When evening burned beside the glowing fire.

How fair the Sun is in the evening !
How strong the soul, how high the heaven's high tower !
O first and last of every worshipped thing,
Your odorous heart's-blood filled me like a flower.
How fair the sun is in the evening !

The night grew deep between us like a pall,
And in the dark I guessed your shining eyes,
And drank your breath, O sweet, O honey-gall!
Your little feet slept on me sister-wise.
The night grew deep between us like a pall;

I can call back the days desirable,
And live all bliss again between your knees,
For where else can I find that magic spell
Save in your heart and in your Mysteries ?
I can call back the days desirable.

These vows, these scents, these kisses infinite,
Will they like young suns climbing up the skies
Rise up from some unfathomable pit,
Washed in the sea from all impurities ?
O vows, O scents, O kisses infinite !

poem by Lord Alfred Douglas
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Throwing Fire At The Sun

I think of venus sinking down into the sea.
And what it is to be alone and have nothing.
I dont know why you want to leave this space between.
Is it easier to be alone and have nothing ? .
You and me and everyone,
Throwing fire at the sun.
I put my hands up, lay my weapons down.
I know that I was stupid, I was wrong.
You and me and everyone,
Throwing fire at the sun.
If I listen theres something deeper that speaks.
If we reach out maybe we could make a little peace.
You and me and everyone,
Throwing fire at the sun.
Remember stealing oranges and how they bled.
And youre the one who showed me how to touch myself.
You and me and everyone,
Throwing fire at the sun.
Blood is a river, ties you to me,
Blood is a river, ties everyone.
Blood is a river, ties you to me,
Blood is a river, ties everyone.

song performed by by Heather Nova
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm a huge fan of Cabernet and Bordeaux, and am passionate about Pinot Noir and Burgundies.

quote by Raymond E. Feist
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why I Love Oregon Pinot Noir

In misty valleys of “Great Northwest”
A delicate, fragile grape doth grow
Sought by wineries wanting the best
And wine maker’s “In the know”

From bottle I decant, so all may see
Willamette Valley’s finest ruby wine
So they may indulge with you and me
This complex liquid, bold and fine

How softly Pinot rolls upon thy tongue
Aroused taste buds fill at once with zest
A noble wine without peer amongst
All others…for it's by far the very best

This be why I love Oregon Pinot Noir
So now let us enjoy another pour

ROTMS

poem by Ray Lucero
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My Lady April

Dew on her robe and on her tangled hair;
Twin dewdrops for her eyes; behold her pass,
With dainty step brushing the young, green grass,
The while she trills some high, fantastic air,
Full of all feathered sweetness: she is fair,
And all her flower-like beauty, as a glass,
Mirrors out hope and love: and still, alas!
Traces of tears her languid lashes wear.

Say, doth she weep for very wantonness?
Or is it that she dimly doth foresee
Across her youth the joys grow less and less
The burden of the days that are to be:
Autumn and withered leaves and vanity,
And winter bringing end in barrenness.

poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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The Green River

I know a green grass path that leaves the field,
And like a running river, winds along
Into a leafy wood where is no throng
Of birds at noon-day, and no soft throats yield
Their music to the moon. The place is sealed,
An unclaimed sovereignty of voiceless song,
And all the unravished silences belong
To some sweet singer lost or unrevealed.
So is my soul become a silent place.
Oh, may I wake from this uneasy night
To find a voice of music manifold.
Let it be shape of sorrow with wan face,
Or Love that swoons on sleep, or else delight
That is as wide-eyed as a marigold.

poem by Lord Alfred Douglas
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White star! !

White star making another round
Evening sun dawn blooming its sunshine
Making the world web online
Tuning ducet face freakin out

Meanwhile grabbing heartbeat
Burning fire in side
Fire of deep desires taking out
Just with one of his hunting eye
Cribbling scribbling da words

Making a downtown east side
Givng sweet gestures to his way
Making world round round
Grab da heartbeat honney
White star making anodr round

poem by Somia Race
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poem by Eternal Dreamer
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Judy and You and Chagall

What did you think
of the Chagall postcard print
I bought you?
Judy asked as you both sat

outside the Fox Inn
I pinned it on my wall
you replied
and stared at it every time

I entered the room
thinking of you
she sipped her drink
her eyes searching you

her hair tied behind
in a ponytail
so I gathered
by your letters

she said
putting her glass
on the small wooden table
I missed you

you said
I went to London
while you were away
and saw you

in every girl I saw
even at the ballet
at the opera house
she looked at her glass

I was only away for a week
she said
it seemed a year
you said

you inhaled the cigarette
you were holding
taking in her hair
and eyes and how

her lips moved
as she spoke
Florence was fantastic
she said

I picked out
that Chagall print for you
in one of the art galleries
who did you go with?

you asked
friends
she replied
male or female?

both
she said
you inhaled the cigarette again
and thought of the first time

you kissed her
how the moonlight
shone on her face
as you moved her around

you mustn't be so jealous
she said
I have to see others
who was the guy?

Henrik
she said
you imagined her
and this Henrik

making out
in some Florence hotel
his hands touching her
I thought of you

every moment
you said
that's sad
she said

why?
you said
because no one
should think of another

that often
she sipped her drink
and looked around
at the evening sky

how was Florence?
beautiful
she said
like you

you said
I am like Shakespeare's' lily
she said
as it withers

she added
I see
you said
and you studied

her hands as they lifted
the glass to her lips
the fingers
the skin

the way they held
the glass
did you read my letters
when you got home?

you asked
yes
she said
every single one

my mother said
I must have besotted
some poor soul
and you thought

of the Chagall print
and how you had sniffed it
for traces of her scent
and remembered

your mother's words
nothing is given forever
things in this world
are only lent.

poem by Terry Collett
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Emerald Green

Emerald green is the colour of life and of the springtime,
Conveying harmony, joie de vivre and most important, love
Emerald green retains its lively vigour all the time
In all nuances, like those wonderful green eyes that rove.

Sunlight dances across the Gulf of Mexico, a lovely place
With emerald green waters and very hot white sand.
Moreover, we see this green in a forest, a darker space,
Or we can see it in the green grass in the Spring land,

A metallic green body with small yellow sweet stripes
And emerald eyes has the Hine’s emerald dragonfly.
Nymphs hatch in marshes high in sedge meadows,
When sheds its skin and emerges an adult to fly.

A mineral emerald green contains the Romanesque murals.
The old Masters used verdigris for them and copper green
To make a deep brown, mixed it with sulfur-containing colors,
Such as cadmium yellow, vermilion or blue-ultramarine.

The green we see in December represents the evergreen tree,
A symbol of life continuing even in that dark day.
We look to the pins and the rhododendrons and we agree
That greenery will return to the world again someday.

The green chosen for the color scheme of Christmas night
Is emerald green, that deep, pure, clear green inside
That seems to shine with light, in the season of white
When there isn't much natural green available outside.

A very ambitious plant is hymenaea courbaril, the tree named Amber
It has the most attractive emerald-green heart shaped leaves.
Like Orchid Tree, so pleasing to the eye with their alluring shimmer.
Lycopersicon esculentum has emerald green tomatoes with dark green stripes.

With this emerald green Van Gogh wanted to paint plastic correctly
Maybe his eyes saw a special nuance, after cutting his ear
He worked alla prima, on to the canvas painting directly
From his imagination and from reality, making the image believable.

poem by Marieta Maglas
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The Glass On The Bar

Three bushmen one morning rode up to an inn,
And one of them called for the drinks with a grin;
They'd only returned from a trip to the North,
And, eager to greet them, the landlord came forth.
He absently poured out a glass of Three Star.
And set down that drink with the rest on the bar.

`There, that is for Harry,' he said, `and it's queer,
'Tis the very same glass that he drank from last year;
His name's on the glass, you can read it like print,
He scratched it himself with an old piece of flint;
I remember his drink -- it was always Three Star' --
And the landlord looked out through the door of the bar.

He looked at the horses, and counted but three:
`You were always together -- where's Harry?' cried he.
Oh, sadly they looked at the glass as they said,
`You may put it away, for our old mate is dead;'
But one, gazing out o'er the ridges afar,
Said, `We owe him a shout -- leave the glass on the bar.'

They thought of the far-away grave on the plain,
They thought of the comrade who came not again,
They lifted their glasses, and sadly they said:
`We drink to the name of the mate who is dead.'
And the sunlight streamed in, and a light like a star
Seemed to glow in the depth of the glass on the bar.

And still in that shanty a tumbler is seen,
It stands by the clock, ever polished and clean;
And often the strangers will read as they pass
The name of a bushman engraved on the glass;
And though on the shelf but a dozen there are,
That glass never stands with the rest on the bar.

poem by Henry Lawson
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If men could foresee the future, they would still behave as they do now.

Russian proverbs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nightmare

'Draw three cards, and I will tell your future . . .
Draw three cards, and lay them down,
Rest your palms upon them, stare at the crystal,
And think of time . . . My father was a clown,
My mother was a gypsy out of Egypt;
And she was gotten with child in a strange way;
And I was born in a cold eclipse of the moon,
With the future in my eyes as clear as day.'

I sit before the gold-embroidered curtain
And think her face is like a wrinkled desert.
The crystal burns in lamplight beneath my eyes.
A dragon slowly coils on the scaly curtain.
Upon a scarlet cloth a white skull lies.

'Your hand is on the hand that holds three lilies.
You will live long, love many times.
I see a dark girl here who once betrayed you.
I see a shadow of secret crimes.

'There was a man who came intent to kill you,
And hid behind a door and waited for you;
There was a woman who smiled at you and lied.
There was a golden girl who loved you, begged you,
Crawled after you, and died.

'There is a ghost of murder in your blood-
Coming or past, I know not which.
And here is danger-a woman with sea-green eyes,
And white-skinned as a witch . . .'

The words hiss into me, like raindrops falling
On sleepy fire . . . She smiles a meaning smile.
Suspicion eats my brain; I ask a question;
Something is creeping at me, something vile;

And suddenly on the wall behind her head
I see a monstrous shadow strike and spread,
The lamp puffs out, a great blow crashes down.
I plunge through the curtain, run through dark to the street,
And hear swift steps retreat . . .

The shades are drawn, the door is locked behind me.
Behind the door I hear a hammer sounding.
I walk in a cloud of wonder; I am glad.
I mingle among the crowds; my heart is pounding;
You do not guess the adventure I have had! . . .

Yet you, too, all have had your dark adventures,
Your sudden adventures, or strange, or sweet . . .
My peril goes out from me, is blown among you.
We loiter, dreaming together, along the street.

poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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song performed by by Judas Priest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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En.Citatepedia^®.ro

First Kiss

Related quotes

Transient Immortal

All The Way To Reno (You're Gonna Be A Star)

All The Way To Reno

At Glan-y-Wern

All The Way To Reno

My Cup Of Drinks

Le Balcon

Throwing Fire At The Sun

Why I Love Oregon Pinot Noir

My Lady April

The Green River

White star! !

You are the stars

Judy and You and Chagall

Emerald Green

The Glass On The Bar

Nightmare

Evening Star

En.Citatepedia®.ro

First Kiss

Related quotes

Transient Immortal

All The Way To Reno (You're Gonna Be A Star)

All The Way To Reno

At Glan-y-Wern

All The Way To Reno

My Cup Of Drinks

Le Balcon

Throwing Fire At The Sun

Why I Love Oregon Pinot Noir

My Lady April

The Green River

White star! !

You are the stars

Judy and You and Chagall

Emerald Green

The Glass On The Bar

Nightmare

Evening Star

En.Citatepedia^®.ro