The Silver Moon
The silver moon is up, the sterling silver down,
Lucinda comes down to sup, in elegant evening gown.
Without, in starlit darkness, dreaming is the town,
within, the beams of happiness are streaming from her crown.
Golden chestnut tresses, soft eyes of honey brown,
my prayer's that ne'er her features fair should frame care, wear, wear frown.
Should sorrows wear or grieve her, then groundless life would sound.
Lucinda is dressing for dinner in gossamer evening gown.
(23 March 1975)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Lucinda
We met one summer evening
As the sun was going down
She was lying on the beach
In her graduation gown
She was wrapped up in a blanket
(I could tell she knew her way around)
And as I lay down beside her
You know she never made a sound
On down the beach came the beach-cleaning man
Scoopin up the papers and flattening down the sand
Lucinda, lucinda, lucinda - weve got to run away
That big white truck is closin in
And well get wounded if we stay
Now lucinda lies buried neath the california sand
Put under by the beach-cleaning man
Lucinda, lucinda, lucinda - whyd you have to go?
They sent her to high school
They sent her to low school
She just wouldnt go further
song performed by by Randy Newman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little Lucinda
LITTLE LUCINDA
Little Lucinda came to tea,
she wasn’t asked by you or me,
but when she left it seemed that she
and sunlight would for ever be
linked henceforth to eternity.
4 May 1975
robi03_0073_robi03_0000 XXX_OMX
poem by Jonathan Robin
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La Derniere Robe De Soi
OH, silken gown, all pink and pretty,
Bought, quite a bargain, in the City,
Your ill-trained soul full false has played me--
No Paris gown would have betrayed me.
You knew, my pretty silken treasure,
I must not wed for love or pleasure,
But for a settlement and title;
Yet you encouraged his recital!
He said--oh, faithless gown, you listened
While on your sheen two tear drops glistened--
He said . . . let love to music set it,
I'll never speak it--nor forget it!
'No, no!' I cried, I tried to save you--
False gown, you showed the tears I gave you!
You looked discreet when first I found you.
How could you let his arm go round you?
You darling dress--I'll smooth your creases,
I'll wear you till you drop to pieces;
But poor men's wives wear cotton only--
Dear gown--I hope you won't feel lonely!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Can You Hear Me Lucinda?
I am yelling Lucinda...
Asking you to open up your ears--
For you have been deaf far too long--
For way too many years;
Theres so much that you've missed out on...
With those ears that have been closed...
Can you hear me Lucinda?
All of the rhyme, the reason, the prose? ;
And what of your eyes Lucinda?
How long are you going to just keep looking away?
The truth is staring you in the face, Lucinda...
All of the horrid of yesterday! ;
Is it all just too heart wrenching?
Too much for your broken heart to face?
Can you hear me now Lucinda?
Beyond all of the ruffles, trifles and the frilly lace? ;
Beyond all of their false praise?
Beyond all of your friends who only pretend?
Beyond all of the reality that you face this day?
Beyond all of your real enemies eventual end? ;
Can you hear me now, Lucinda?
Are your ears opened up wide?
Are your eyes finally focusing, Lucinda?
There is no reason for you to hide! ;
For it was always them, Lucinda...!
It was always their plans and their schemes...! ! !
Counterfeit souls with greedy greenback goals...! ! !
Who shattered all of your dreams! ;
I know its all too painful...
But face them you must-my dear!
Its time for your eyes to see them and their reality...!
And its time for your ears to fully hear! ;
June 2,2010
The Essence
poem by Theodora Onken
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Nature Has Donned Her Dressing Gown
Snow is falling all around
like the shaking from a heavenly sieve while
Nature has donned her dressing gown.
Silently, it cascades down
for one and all to see, and smile
Snow is falling all around.
The beauty has arrived in our little town,
And all around the countryside for miles
Nature has donned her dressing gown.
Miss Kitty peers from the snowy mound
leaping and prancing like a ballet dancer, while
Snow is falling all around.
The pond is shimmering on level ground
the reflection of her majesty, she styles
Nature has donned her dressing gown.
There is not even heard a faint sound
As she hurries down the miles
Snow is falling all around
Nature has donned her dressing gown.
(12/17/08)
(Style - Villanelle)
poem by Doris McGohon
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You Wear It So Well
All of those things
Yeah, that you got to give
Yeah, you wear it so well
Hey, you wear it so well
All of those stories
Honey, that i know you could tell
Yeah, you wear it so well
And your face hides it so we can't tell
That you knew we would wear it so well
You wear it so well
Yeah darling, you wear it so well
(you wear it so well)
Yeah baby, you wear it so well
(you wear it so well)
Yeah now baby, you wear it so well
(you wear it so well)
Hey now darling now, yeah, you wear it so well
(you wear it so well)
All of those things
That make poets sing
You wear it so well
Yeah, you hide it so well
And all of those pain
That you used to tell
You hide it so well
Can't tell from your face that you knew it so well
Hey, now that you have such a story to tell
Yeah, you got style and grace and you wear it so well
You wear it so well
And you got, you got such a story to tell
Yeah, yeah, yeah, you wear it so well
Grace and style equals you so well
Yeah, yeah, yeah, you wear it so well, well, yeah, so well
Yeah, you wear it, wear it, wear it now, wear it now, baby
Yeah, now you wear it so well
And you got such a story to tell
(ooohhh, ooohhh, ooohhh)
(ooohhh, you wear it so well)
(you wear it so well)
(you wear it so well)
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Red Dress
I always saw, I always said
If I were grown and free,
I'd have a gown of reddest red
As fine as you could see,
To wear out walking, sleek and slow,
Upon a Summer day,
And there'd be one to see me so
And flip the world away.
And he would be a gallant one,
With stars behind his eyes,
And hair like metal in the sun,
And lips too warm for lies.
I always saw us, gay and good,
High honored in the town.
Now I am grown to womanhood....
I have the silly gown.
poem by Dorothy Parker
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I want to find a way to reach young women emotionally and also to start providing clothing for them so that they can wear the same things their thin friends can wear. I really want to do evening wear and prom dresses for these girls.
quote by Delta Burke
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silver Earrings
When you fall in love with love
your heart and soul will tell you true,
and if you wear your silver earrings
on wings of song he'll fly to you.
Over the rainbow you'll be floating,
love's old sweet story must be told;
you will wear bright silver earrings
with his wedding band of gold.
Through the years you both will cherish
magic moments ~ forever new...
so always wear bright silver earrings
and on wings of love he'll fly to you.
poem by Joyce Hemsley
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A Song From "The Player Queen"
MY mother dandled me and sang,
"How young it is, how young!'
And made a golden cradle
That on a willow swung.
"He went away,' my mother sang,
"When I was brought to bed,'
And all the while her needle pulled
The gold and silver thread.
She pulled the thread and bit the thread
And made a golden gown,
And wept because she had dreamt that I
Was born to wear a crown.
"When she was got,' my mother sang,
I heard a sea-mew cry,
And saw a flake of the yellow foam
That dropped upon my thigh."
How therefore could she help but braid
The gold into my hair,
And dream that I should carry
The golden top of care?
poem by William Butler Yeats
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The Wedding Gown Of The Spring Is More Fair (Rondel Prime)
The wedding gown of the spring is more fair
than the stark nakedness that winter does bring,
when many trees do their bright garments wear
and day and night birds do rejoicing sing,
while insects buzz and flutter in the air
and happiness is in everything living.
The wedding gown of the spring is more fair
than the stark nakedness that winter does bring,
than the silence that is cold and bare,
when some birds do frolic, to and thro wing
their way and gladness is in their flying
until the sun's late afternoon red glare.
The wedding gown of the spring is more fair
than the stark nakedness that winter does bring.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Unforgettable Marina! !
Marina, my darling, you are a woman,
For you change your clothes often,
White sandy silver color with light green ocean border,
You do wear the saree of Goddess of education,
When the sun raises, the gold flakes sprinkles on the sand,
Gold border taken its shape with light orange strands,
You do wear the saree of Goddess of wealth,
When the sun starts to walk in the morning,
The bright red color spreads with energy and fun,
You wear the saree of Goddess of energy.
When the sun runs to seek his concubine in the moon,
You do wear the saree of grey in the afternoon,
When the people come to the shore,
And make up the design on your clothes,
You do wear the sarees of happy women in the evening,
Various designs, vibrant colors, different patterns,
Refined textures, sometimes soft and stiff,
As a woman before she is married off,
Sometimes, tired and soaked,
As a married woman, who is tired of,
Marina, you have made me to dream,
When I was a sparrow, looking through the leaves,
When I was an eagle, came out on Saturdays,
When I was a fish, swam in your waves,
When I was the dust, that stuck,
Under your visitor's feet.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Invocation II
COME to-night in a dream to-night,
Come as you used to do,
Come in the gown, in the gown of white,
Come in the ribbon of blue;
Come in the virgin's colours you wear,
Come through the dark and the dew,
Come with the scent of the night in your hair,
Come as you used to do.
Blue and white of your eyes and your face,
White of your gown and blue,
Will you not come from the happy place,
Come as you used to do?
Tears so many, so many tears
Where there were once so few--
Can they not wash the gray of the years
From the white of your gown and blue?
poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Man in Green
Well, you wonder why
I always wear the green,
The colours of the world’s
Finest football team,
You will never see me wear the colours
Of royal or navy blue,
As I’m a Celtic supporter,
Faithful through and through.
I wear the green for my ancestors,
Who came from Ireland, long ago,
Who left Erin’s shores and settled
In the town of Glasgow,
I wear it for the Irish Diaspora,
Who fled the famine and the crown,
I wear from Brother Walfrid
Who sheltered the poor in the east end of town.
I wear the emerald green
In memory of my father,
Garngad born,
A faithful Celtic supporter,
He walked the path to heaven,
Over ten years ago,
As he stands with Our Lord
Wearing his green, white and gold.
I wear the green for the Celtic legends,
Who have left our lives,
Knowing that they entered heaven
With Our Lord on their side,
I wear it for Willie Maley, Jock Stein
And young John Thomson,
I wear it for Bobby Murdoch, Johnny Doyle
And wee Jimmy Johnstone.
I wear the colours of Celtic,
Each and every day,
I pray for the bhoys of Parkhead each night,
And to God, I do say,
Why do all the Orangemen,
All hate the sight of green?
For green’s the finest colour
That the world has ever seen.
March’29th 2006
poem by Daniel McDonagh
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On Hearing Miss Thrale Consulting with a Friend About a Gown and Hat
Wear the gown and wear the hat,
Snatch thy pleasures while they last;
Hadst thou nine lives, like a cat,
Soon those nine lives would be pass'd.
poem by Samuel Johnson
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The Golden Rose
A POOR lost princess, weary and worn,
Came over the down by the wind-washed moor,
And the king looked out on her grace forlorn,
And he took her in at his palace door.
He made her queen, he gave her a crown,
Bidding her rest and be glad and gay
In his golden town, with a golden gown,
And a new gold lily every day.
But the crown is heavy, the gold gown gray,
And the queen's pale breast is like autumn snows;
For he brings a gold lily every day,
But no king gathers the golden rose.
One came at last to the palace keep
By worlds of water and leagues of land,
Gray were his garments, his eyes were deep,
And he held the golden rose in his hand.
She left gold gown, gold town, gold crown,
And followed him straight to a world apart,
And he left her asleep on the wind-washed down,
With the golden rose on her quiet heart.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Oh Sweet Silver Moon
Oh sweet silver moon
Tell your lies
Let me drown in the tears your cry
Even if just for tonight
Oh sweet silver moon
Sing me your song of sorrow
Let me drown in your dark voice
Even if just for tonight
Oh sweet silver moon
Lend me your eyes
So that I may see as you see
Even if just for tonight
Oh sweet silver moond
Tell me the stories of your past
So that I may know your darkness
Even if just for tonight
Oh sweet silver moon
Let me feel your misty beams
Flow over my pail skin
Even if just for tonight
For tomorrow I shall be gone
As your sweet beams fade
I will give myself to the eternal sun
And my ashes shall scatter to the wind...
(2006)
poem by Lauren Harris
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Child's Song in Spring
The Silver Birch is a dainty lady,
She wears a satin gown;
The elm tree makes the old churchyard shady,
She will not live in town.
The English oak is a sturdy fellow,
He gets his green coat late;
The willow is smart in a suit of yellow
While brown the beech trees wait.
Such a gay green gown God gives the larches-
As green as he is good!
The hazels hold up their arms for arches,
When spring rides through the wood.
The chestnut’s proud, and the lilac’s pretty,
The poplar’s gentle and tall,
But the plane tree’s kind to the poor dull city-
I love him best of all!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Good Inn
What care if the day
Be turned to gray,
What care if the night come soon!
We may choose the pace
Who bow for grace
At the Inn of the Silver Moon.
Ah, hurrying Sirs,
Drive deep your spurs,
For it's far to the steepled town -
Where the wallet's weight
Shall fix your state
And buy for ye smile or frown.
Through our tiles of green
Do the stars between
Laugh down from the skies of June,
And there's naught to pay
For a couch of hay
At the Inn of the Silver Moon.
You laboring lout,
Pull out, pull out,
With a hand to the creaking tire,
For it's many a mile
By path and stile
To the old wife crouched by the fire.
But the door is wide
In the hedgerow side,
And we ask not bowl nor spoon
Whose draught of must
Makes soft the crust
At the Inn of the Silver Moon.
Then, here's to the Inn
Of the empty bin,
To the Host of the trackless dune!
And here's to the friend
Of the journey's end
At the Inn of the Silver Moon.
poem by Herman K Viele
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The shut-eye train
Come, my little one, with me!
There are wondrous sights to see
As the evening shadows fall;
In your pretty cap and gown,
Don't detain
The Shut-Eye train -
"Ting-a-ling!" the bell it goeth,
"Toot-toot!" the whistle bloweth,
And we hear the warning call:
"All aboard for Shut-Eye Town!"
Over hill and over plain
Soon will speed the Shut-Eye train!
Through the blue where bloom the stars
And the Mother Moon looks down
We'll away
To land of Fay -
Oh, the sights that we shall see there!
Come, my little one, with me there -
'T is a goodly train of cars -
All aboard for Shut-Eye Town!
Swifter than a wild bird's flight,
Through the realms of fleecy light
We shall speed and speed away!
Let the Night in envy frown -
What care we
How wroth she be!
To the Balow-land above us,
To the Balow-folk who love us,
Let us hasten while we may -
All aboard for Shut-Eye Town!
Shut-Eye Town is passing fair -
Golden dreams await us there;
We shall dream those dreams, my dear,
Till the Mother Moon goes down -
See unfold
Delights untold!
And in those mysterious places
We shall see beloved faces
And beloved voices hear
In the grace of Shut-Eye Town.
Heavy are your eyes, my sweet,
Weary are your little feet -
Nestle closer up to me
In your pretty cap and gown;
Don't detain
The Shut-Eye train!
"Ting-a-ling!" the bell it goeth,
"Toot-toot!" the whistle bloweth
Oh, the sights that we shall see!
All aboard for Shut-Eye Town!
poem by Eugene Field
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