Character Of Charles Brown
I.
He is to weet a melancholy carle:
Thin in the waist, with bushy head of hair
As hath the seeded thistle when in parle
It holds the Zephyr, ere it sendeth fair
Its light balloons into the summer air;
Therto his beard had not begun to bloom,
No brush had touch'd his chin or razor sheer;
No care had touch'd his cheek with mortal doom,
But new he was and bright as scarf from Persian loom.
II.
Ne cared he for wine, or half-and-half;
Ne cared he for fish or flesh or fowl,
And sauces held he worthless as the chaff,
He 'sdeigned the swine-head at the wassail-bowl;
Ne with lewd ribbalds sat he cheek by jowl,
Ne with sly Lemans in the scorner's chair;
But after water-brooks this Pilgrim's soul
Panted, and all his food was woodland air
Though he would oft-times feast on gilliflowers rare.
III.
The slang of cities in no wise he knew,
Tipping the wink to him was heathen Greek;
He sipp'd no olden Tom or ruin blue,
Or nantz or cherry-brandy drank full meek
By many a damsel hoarse and rouge of cheek;
Nor did he know each aged watchman's beat,
Nor in obscured purlieus would he seek
For curled Jewesses with ankles neat,
Who as they walk abroad make tinkling with their feet.
poem by John Keats
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Spenserian Stanzas On Charles Armitage Brown
I.
He is to weet a melancholy carle:
Thin in the waist, with bushy head of hair,
As hath the seeded thistle when in parle
It holds the Zephyr, ere it sendeth fair
Its light balloons into the summer air;
Therto his beard had not begun to bloom,
No brush had touch'd his chin or razor sheer;
No care had touch'd his cheek with mortal doom,
But new he was, and bright, as scarf from Persian loom.
II.
Ne cared he for wine, or half-and-half;
Ne cared he for fish or flesh, or fowl;
And sauces held he worthless as the chaff;
He 'sdeigned the swine-head at the wassail-bowl;
Ne with lewd ribbalds sat he cheek by jowl;
Ne with sly Lemans in the scorner's chair;
But after water-brooks this Pilgrim's soul
Panted, and all his food was woodland air;
Though he would oft-times feast on gilliflowers rare.
III.
The slang of cities in no wise he knew,
Tipping the wink to him was heathen Greek;
He sipp'd no 'olden Tom,' or 'ruin blue,'
Or Nantz, or cherry-brandy, drank full meek
By many a damsel brave, and rouge of cheek;
Nor did he know each aged watchman's beat,
Nor in obscured purlieus would he seek
For curled Jewesses, with ankles neat,
Who as they walk abroad, make tinkling with their feet.
poem by John Keats
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Cheek To Cheek
Irving berlin
Heaven, Im in heaven
And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak
And I seem to find the happiness I seek
When were out together dancing cheek to cheek
Heaven, Im in heaven
And the cares that hung around me through the week
Seem to vanish like a gamblers lucky streak
When were out together dancing cheek to cheek
*:
Oh I love to climb a mountain
And to reach the highest peak
But it doesnt thrill me half as much
As dancing cheek to cheek
Oh I love to go out fishing
In a river or a creek
But I dont enjoy it half as much
As dancing cheek to cheek
**:
Dance with me, I want my arms about you
The charm about you
Will carry me through
To heaven, Im in heaven
And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak
And I seem to find the happiness I seek
When were out together dancing cheek to cheek
(repeat *)
(repeat **)
song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cheek To Cheek
Heaven, I'm in heaven
And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak
And I seem to find the happiness I seek
When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek
Heaven, I'm in heaven
And the cares that hung around me through the week
Seem to vanish like a gambler's lucky streak
When we're out together dancing (swinging) cheek to cheek
Oh I love to climb a mountain
And reach the highest peak
But it doesn't thrill (boot) me half as much
As dancing cheek to cheek
Oh I love to go out fishing
In a river or a creek
But I don't enjoy it half as much
As dancing cheek to cheek
Now Mamma Dance with me
I want my arm(s) about you
That (Those) charm(s) about you
Will carry me through...
(Right up) To heaven, I'm in heaven
And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak
And I seem to find the happiness I seek
When we're out together dancing, out together dancing (swinging)
Out together dancing cheek to cheek
song performed by by Louis Armstrong
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cheek To Cheek
Heaven, Im in heaven
And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak
And I seem to find the happiness I seek
When were out together dancing cheek to cheek
Heaven, Im in heaven
And the cares that hung around me through the week
Seem to vanish like a gamblers lucky streak
When were out together dancing (swinging) cheek to cheek
Oh I love to climb a mountain
And reach the highest peak
But it doesnt thrill (boot) me half as much
As dancing cheek to cheek
Oh I love to go out fishing
In a river or a creek
But I dont enjoy it half as much
As dancing cheek to cheek
(come on and) dance with me
I want my arm(s) about you
That (those) charm(s) about you
Will carry me through...
(right up) to heaven, Im in heaven
And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak
And I seem to find the happiness I seek
When were out together dancing, out together dancing (swinging)
Out together dancing cheek to cheek
Instrumental version
song performed by by Irving Berlin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Upon His Picture
When age hath made me what I am not now,
And every wrinkle tells me where the plow
Of time hath furrowed; when an ice shall flow
Through every vein, and all my head wear snow;
When death displays his coldness in my cheek,
And I myself in my own picture seek,
Not finding what I am, but what I was,
In doubt which to believe, this or my glass:
Yet though I alter, this remains the same
As it was drawn, retains the primitive frame
And first complexion; here will still be seen
Blood on the cheek, and down upon the chin;
Here the smooth brow will stay, the lively eye,
The ruddy lip, and hair of youthful dye.
Behold what frailty we in man may see,
Whose shadow is less given to change than he!
poem by Thomas Randolph
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Wine Bibber
I would rather drink than eat,
And though I superbly sup,
Food, I feel, can never beat
Delectation of the cup.
Wine it is that crowns the feast;
Fish and fowl and fancy meat
Are of my delight the least:
I would rather drink than eat.
Though no Puritan I be,
And have doubts of Kingdom Come,
With those fellows I agree
Who deplore the Demon Rum.
Gin and brandy I decline,
And I shy at whisky neat;
But give me rare vintage wine,--
Gad! I'd rather drink than eat.
Food surfeit is of the beast;
Wine is from the gods a gift.
All from prostitute to priest
Can attest to its uplift.
Green and garnet glows the vine;
Grapes grow plump in happy heat;
Gold and ruby winks the wine . . .
Come! Let's rather drink than eat.
poem by Robert William Service
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I Wish I Cared
(magne furuholmen)
To hold me closer or set me free
To trust completely or let it be
You dont know my destiny
You cant see what I can see
Hey - I wish I cared
Hey - I wish I cared
To love me truely or let me go
Inbetween I dont want to know
This is how it has to be
No more us and no more we
Hey - I wish I cared
Hey - I wish I cared
Once again, on the station
See your face in a crowd
Comes again the sensation
You cant hear yourself think
With their voices inside your head
Hey - I wish I cared
Hey - I wish I cared
I wish I cared
Yes I really do
I wish I cared
(hey) I wish I cared
Yes I really do
I wish I cared
(hey) I wish I cared
I wish I cared
(hey)
song performed by by A-Ha
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet VIII: There's Nothing Grieves Me
There's nothing grieves me, but that Age should haste,
That in my days I may not see thee old,
That where those two clear sparkling eyes are plac'd
Only two loop-holes then I might behold;
That lovely, arched, ivory, polish'd brow
Defac'd with wrinkles that I might but see;
Thy dainty hair, so curl'd and crisped now,
Like grizzled moss upon some aged tree;
Thy cheek, now flush with roses, sunk and lean;
Thy lips with age as any wafer thin;
Thy pearly teeth out of thy head so clean
That, when thou feed'st, thy nose shall touch thy chin.
These lines that now thou scorn'st, which should delight thee,
Then would I make thee read but to despite thee.
poem by Michael Drayton
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Crying As An Art Form.
Mother made act of crying
An art form; she knew
Sense of tears on cheek
And leak from blue of eyes.
Father would have his way
Of bringing on the tears in
Her, making the blue eyes
Red, bruising the cheek of
Bone and flesh, making an
Art of bringing black and
Blue in such human skin.
You recall once the time
He slapped her cheek with
A back of hand for making
Remark in jest: you look like
A Yank with that camera held
So. You never could divine how
Love could have altered form
And made a mockery of care
And concern and deepest sense
Of being well and other’s need
Of being needed here and now.
You think that Father lost it if
He had it ever at all. Some how.
poem by Terry Collett
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Ninon De Lenclos, On Her Last Birthday
So let me have the rouge again,
And comb my hair the curly way.
The poor young men, the dear young men
They'll all be here by noon today.
And I shall wear the blue, I think-
They beg to touch its rippled lace;
Or do they love me best in pink,
So sweetly flattering the face?
And are you sure my eyes are bright,
And is it true my cheek is clear?
Young what's-his-name stayed half the night;
He vows to cut his throat, poor dear!
So bring my scarlet slippers, then,
And fetch the powder-puff to me.
The dear young men, the poor young men-
They think I'm only seventy!
poem by Dorothy Parker
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Summer Romance
The sky melted into summer,
when i met you with your friend
and you were like no other
so we met up again.
Inseperable after a week,
and the memories we shared
like when you kissed me on the cheek
and whispered that you cared.
A summer in the wood
making passion under stars
i never knew you could
make me love you so so hard.
While summer slips away
and winter's seeping through
our romance on last days
next Summer i wait for you.
poem by Sofia Darling
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Angel Of The Morning
(chip taylor)
Producer for bonnie: jimmy smyth
Therell be no strings to bind your hands
Not if my love can find your heart
And theres no need to take a stand
For it was I who choose to start
I see no need to take me home
Im old enough to face the dawn
Just call me angel of the morning, angel
Just touch my cheek before you leave me
Oh my baby
Just call me angel of the morning, angel
Then slowly turn away from me
Maybe the sunlight will be dim
But it wont matter anyhow
If mornings echoes say weve sinned
Then it was what I wanted now
And if were victims of the night
I wont be blinded by the light
Oh my baby
Just call me angel of the morning, angel
Just touch my cheek before you leave me, baby
Just call me angel of the morning
Then slowly turn away from me
Baby baby baby
Just call me angel of the morning, angel
Just touch my cheek before you leave me
Oh my baby
Just call me angel of the morning, angel
Just touch my cheek before you leave me, baby
Just call me angel of the morning, angel
Just touch my cheek before you leave me
Oh my baby
Just call me angel of the morning, angel
song performed by by Bonnie Tyler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Leprechaun
The leprechaun came out on a moonlit night,
All dressed in green and a hat with a feather so bright,
Which swayed up and down and tickled his nose,
But this did not stop him for around he rode
On his fairy chariot down into the glen,
Followed by a band of fairy men. They danced and laughed with glee,
Played hide and seek behind the old oak tree,
Music could be heard from a fairy's fiddle,
Some told stories and they all had a giggle. They drank wine and water to a quarter to nine,
Then someone said it was now time,
So they all crept away and fell asleep
In a deep, deep slumber because they were all very weak
And they lay together cheek to cheek.
poem by Carole Lawrence
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One-Sided Conversation
She sat, head bent,
In her old, grey chair,
The blinds were pulled and drawn,
The shadows caught
In the gathering gloom,
But she moved not at all;
Her husband, stood by the old oak door
He'd cleared his throat to speak,
'You wanted to see me, then, ' he said,
A pallor upon his cheek.
She knew, he thought,
She knew full well
His cheating, shiftless ways,
He'd married her more for her money
Than for her wit, her charm or grace.
She'd warned him once
She'd warned him twice,
She'd said that he made her sick,
Now he was the one who was feeling ill
As she still refused to speak.
'I 'spect you want
Me gone, ' he said,
And waited for some response,
She sat, head bent in her favourite chair
As he stood there, like a dunce.
'I need some money,
A thousand pounds,
Will get me out of a fix.'
The way she sat, and stared at the floor
Meant: 'No, I'll give you nix.'
He mopped his forehead
With trembling hands,
The sharks were closing in,
If she didn't come to his rescue, well,
He'd seen what they'd do to him…
'I beg you, think
Of your own good name, '
But she wasn't listening then,
Her face was grim, she stared at the floor,
With nothing left for him.
He went to a drawer
And took a gun,
Then held it up to his head,
'I'd never have thought you could be so cruel
To the man who shares your bed.'
The air grew chill
In the silent room
As he let out a plaintive cry,
The shot rang out, but she didn't move
As he fell to the floor, and died.
The doctor came,
And the police, of course,
But the wife still sat and stared,
The husband lay on the bloodstained rug
As if she'd never cared.
'It's very odd, '
Said the sergeant then,
But the Doctor suppressed a laugh,
'He's only been dead for an hour, ' he said,
'She's been dead for an hour and a half.'
9 April 2008
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Memory of Touch
A touch,
Never knew it could mean so much.?
A kiss on the cheek
That good morning speak
I miss memories like that
that so caring stare
As you pass each other in a room
Memory of touch...
Without you my life is doom.
I still hear laughter in each room
I still hear those love sighs and croons.
No, you...
No touches...
Just memories of where you've been in my life.
I did not know you are...
The blood that flowed in my vain?
The shade is now being pulled down
The door over head is closing
Memories of your touch
Never knew they meant so much.
My life blood is now...
No more.
Connection to you is lost... and so is my soul.
whisperkwane
[email protected]
poem by whisperkwane Lamb
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Song: Tis Not the Beam
'Tis not the beam of her bright blue eye,
Nor the smile of her lip of rosy dye,
Nor the dark brown wreaths of her glossy hair,
Nor her changing cheek, so rich and rare.
Oh! these are the sweets of a fairy dream,
The changing hues of an April sky.
They fade like dew in the morning beam,
Or the passing zephyr's odour'd sigh.
'Tis a dearer spell that bids me kneel,
'Tis the heart to love, and the soul to feel:
'Tis the mind of light, and the spirit free,
And the bosom that heaves alone for me.
Oh! these are the sweets that kindly stay
From youth's gay morning to age's night;
When beauty's rainbow tints decay,
Love's torch still burns with a holy light.
Soon will the bloom of the fairest fade,
And love will droop in the cheerless shade,
Or if tears should fall on his wing of joy,
It will hasten the flight of the laughing boy.
But oh! the light of the constant soul
Nor time can darken nor sorrow dim;
Though woe may weep in life's mingled bowl,
Love still shall hover around its brim.
poem by Joseph Rodman Drake
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Mr. MacCall at Cleveland Hall
Mr. MacCall at Cleveland Hall,
Sunday evening-date to fix-
Fifteenth April, sixty-six,
Speech reported and redacted
By a fellow much distracted.
I
Who lectures? No mere scorner;
Clear-brained, his heart is warm.
She sits at the nearest comer
Of I will not say what form.
II
The Conflict of Opinions
In the Present Day, saith Chair.
What muff in the British dominions
Could dispute that she is fair?
III
Mammon-worship is horrid,
Plutocracy is base.
Dark hair from a fine small forehead;
I catch but the still side face.
IV
We wallow in mere dimension,
The Big to us is Great.
If she stood at her utmost tension
She might pass four feet eight.
V
We lay on colour in splashes,
With a mop, or a broom for brush.
How dark are her long eyelashes!
How pure is her cheek's slight flush!
VI
But we have no perception
For form-the divinest-now.
Each curve there is perfection,
In nostril, chin, and brow.
VI
Our women are good kind creatures,
But they cannot dress at all.
Does her bonnet grace her features?
Clear blue with a black lace fall.
VIII
Low Church-very low-in the gutter;
High Church-as ven'son high.
O'er the flower of her face gleams the flutter
Of a smile like a butterfly.
IX
Herder, Wieland, Lessing;
Bossuet, Montalembert.
Fine names, but the name worth guessing
Is the name of the sweet girl there.
The individual; true man;
Individuality.
A man's but one half, some woman
The other half must be.
XI
Persistent valour the sternest,
With love's most gentle grace.
How grand is the eye fixed earnest
In the half-seen up-turned face!
XII
'How did you like the lecture?
Was it not beautiful?'
I should think she was! 'I conjecture
That your brains have been gathering wool!'
P. S.
The Chairman was a rare man;
At every telling point
He smiled at his post like a jolly host
Carving rich cuts from the joint;
Which the name he bore was Richard Moore
Whom Heaven with grace anoint!
That conflict of opinion
It had its counterpart
In conflict for dominion
Between my head and heart.
poem by James Thomson
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Angel Of The Morning
Chip taylor
Therell be no strings to bind your hands
Not if my love cant bind your heart
And theres no need to take a stand
For it was I who chose to start
There is no need to take me home
Im old enough to face the dawn
Just call me angel of the morning
Just touch my cheek before you leave me baby
Just call me angel of the morning
Slowly slowly turn away from me
Well maybe the suns light will be dim
But it wont matter anyhow
If morning echo says weve sinned
Well, it was what I wanted now.
And if were the victims of the night
I promise you I wont be blinded by light
Just call me angel
Touch my cheek before you leave me baby.
Just call me angel of the morning morning
Just touch my cheek before you leave me baby
Just call me angel of the morning (baby
Just touch my cheek before you leave me, baby)
Just call me angel of the morning
Slowly slowly turn away from me from me
From me
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lady In Red
I've never seen you looking so lovely as you do tonight
I've never seen you shine so bright
mmm-mmm-mmm
I've never seen so many men ask you in you wanted to dance
looking for a little romance
given half a chance
and I have never seen that dress you're waring
or the highlights in your hair
they catch your eyes
I have been blinded
Lady in red
is dancing with me (cheek to cheek)
theres nobody here
its just you and me
its where I wanna be
and I hardly know this beauty by my side
I'll never forget the way you look tonight
I've never seen you looking so gorgeous as you did tonight
I've never seen you shine so bright
you were amazing
I've never seen so many people wanna be there by your side
and when you turn to me and smile
it took my breath away
I have never had such a feeling
such a feeling of complete and utter love
as I do tonight
Lady in red
is dancing with me cheek to cheek
theres nobody here
its just you and me
its where I wanna be
and I hardly know this beauty by my side
I'll never forget the way you look tonight
I never will forget the way you look tonight
Lady in red
Lady in red
Lady in red
my lady in red
I love you
song performed by by Simply Red
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Admire, I Do...You
Admire,
I do...
You.
Admitting it is not as easy.
This feeling I have is new.
Over the years it grew.
And one day out of the 'blue',
I just knew.
Admire,
I do...
You.
The way you walk,
With your head held up.
Your eyes so wise and bright.
Your words direct,
I now respect.
With my mind more open.
And more prepared to accept.
Admire,
I do...
You.
Those times we shared.
With you there caring.
And I then unaware...
Just how much you cared.
And today I reflect,
Upon my attitude.
And those awful moods you met,
You did not let upset you.
When you could...
And perhaps should have left,
Me.
Admire,
I do...
You.
And after all those things I put you through,
You stayed.
With me,
You stayed!
With me,
You stayed!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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