Medical Virginity
I undress each month for my doctor
and he either feigns disinterest
or is blind to what he sees.
This is a particular kind of intimacy;
one where I undress on demand
and he looks
but does not see.
I turn,
wanting some acknowledgment
that he sees me
wants me.
But he does not acknowledge my need.
He touches me then
in intimate spots
and I feign
not feeling his hands
which he pre-warms just for me
before he touches.
I get dressed slowly
and he watches me
for a second and disappears
leaving me
with a tiny bit of my virginity
restored.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Maybe
Maybe
Maybe Im wrong
To go on thinking, to sing my song
Maybe
This worlds falling down
Call up the trumpeters and knock the walls down
Someone who needs
Someone who feels
Someone who sees can find you
Slowly
Slowly we walk
No harm in crying, no sense in talk
Slowly
The ice melts away
Call on the choir to sing
And turn no-one away
Someone who needs
Someone who feels
Someone who sees can find you
Someone who needs
Someone who feels
Someone who sees can find you
Maybe
Maybe Im wrong
The river holds its breath
The sea will keep its calm
Slowly
Slowly we turn
A look at where weve been
The juggler has to learn
Someone who needs
Someone who feels
Someone who sees can find you
Someone who needs
Someone who feels
Someone who sees can find you
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Undress for the T.S.A (tune of Come to the Cabaret)
What good is sittin' alone in your room
Hop on a flight today,
First Take off your coat, your hat, your shoes
Undress for the T.S.A..
We’ll scan your suitcase, your ipod and phone
Mister, we have all day,
Undress for the T.S.A. you scum
Undress for the T.S.A..
We grope the guys, we fondle girls
Best of all our acts are legal
Because we’re working for the Eagle
No use permittin' a Prophet’s buffoons
To Wipe every smile away, yes
Undress for the T.S.A. you scum
Undress for the T.S.A!
What good are privacy rights anymore?
With full body scans O.K’d,
Bend over, cough, salute the flag
Undress for the T.S.A.
I once enjoyed holidays by the shore
but now I just drive most days,
rather that than the T.S.A, old Chum
Rather that than the T.S.A.
And as for me,
As for me,
What good is waiting on long airport lines
at the mercy of the T.S.A.
While someone named Kalid pats you down
wands you and kicks your bags around
Makes me loathe the T.S.A.!
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nothing Touches Me
Nothing touches me man
These walls are three feet thick
Wouldn't take one of them little drills to get through it
I try to make her listen
When I turn away she's split
I try to make her listen
When I turn away she's split
She went..
Nothing touches me
Nothing touches me now
Nothing touches me man
No matter how you split
Sticks and stones can get through bones
So I've given up looking out of it
I try to make her listen
When I turn away she's split
I try to make her listen
When I turn away she's split
She went..
Nothing touches me now (x4)
Laugh if you can, if you can, if you can, at me now (x4
song performed by by Radiohead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Midwinter Spring
Cloudless sky big and blue,
pale yellow sun warms clear air.
Now comes a new day;
a new season begins,
where winter has been.
Where sorrow has been
a tiny huge shift toward healing,
toward hope.
A new season begins
where winter has been.
Fragile warmth touches chill soil,
tender shoots push toward the surface
seeking nourishing rays.
A new season begins
where winter has been.
A heart slowly opens in tentative inches,
pain still fresh and loud within;
blue sky reaches down.
A new season begins
where winter has been.
The chatter of baby birds
rises on fresh air,
touches the ear, turns the mind.
The heart hears a tiny huge voice consoling.
A new season begins
where winter has been.
(1/2009)
Turn The Key
turn the key...
put your hand
on the knob and
open the door!
there is more
to life than the boxes,
the bows, and the ribbon.
open the package!
you are who you undress for!
undress yourself
for yourself....
open your mouth
and let your song out!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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With Some Passion That Touches Me
Try my love song from the heart inside
Let it touch here through its going
Feel the gathering of its truest glide
As it is willingly and knowing
With some passion that touches me
With some passion that touches me
Let the beauty from within come right here
Through the deep of the dark night
With its flowing and its limits to share
Till all its touches become alright
In the end of its limitless deep
Of the hours from down dark under
With its dances and beats to keep
As we drift though the waves asunder
With some passion that touches freely
With some passion that touches freely
I might be in heart feeling lonely
Though I had my luck in its try
You are touching my soul here and only
Filling moments with each their try
With some passion that touches me
With some passion that touches me
Try my love song from the heart inside
Let it touch here through its going
Feel the gathering of its truest glide
As it is willingly and knowing
With some passion that touches me
With some passion that touches me
With some passion that touches me
poem by Peter S. Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Touches Of Her Hand
The touches of her hands are like the fall
Of velvet snowflakes; like the touch of down
The peach just brushes 'gainst the garden wall;
The flossy fondlings of the thistle-wisp
Caught in the crinkle of a leaf of brown
The blighting frost hath turned from green to crisp.
Soft as the falling of the dusk at night,
The touches of her hands, and the delight--
The touches of her hands!
The touches of her hands are like the dew
That falls so softly down no one e'er knew
The touch thereof save lovers like to one
Astray in lights where ranged Endymion.
O rarely soft, the touches of her hands,
As drowsy zephyrs in enchanted lands;
Or pulse of dying fay; or fairy sighs;
Or--in between the midnight and the dawn,
When long unrest and tears and fears are gone--
Sleep, smoothing down the lids of weary eyes.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dear Hands
The touches of her hands are like the fall
Of velvet snowflakes; like the touch of down
The peach just brushes 'gainst the garden wall;
The flossy fondlings of the thistle-wisp
Caught in the crinkle of a leaf of brown
The blighting frost hath turned from green to crisp.
Soft as the falling of the dusk at night,
The touches of her hands, and the delight--
The touches of her hands!
The touches of her hands are like the dew
That falls so softly down no one e'er knew
The touch thereof save lovers like to one
Astray in lights where ranged Endymion.
O rarely soft, the touches of her hands,
As drowsy zephyrs in enchanted lands;
Or pulse of dying fay; or fairy sighs,
Or--in between the midnight and the dawn,
When long unrest and tears and fears are gone--
Sleep, smoothing down the lids of weary eyes.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Every age has its massive moral blind spots. We might not see them, but our children will. Slavery was one of them and the people who best served that age were the ones who called it as it was — which was ungodly and inhuman. … Segregation. There was another one. America sees this now but it took a civil rights movement to betray their age. … What are the ideas right now worth betraying? What are the lies we tell ourselves now? What are the blind spots of our age?
Keep distance for grace
Just grant audience.
He sees you on a peak.
Just throw a glance.
He sees you on a desk.
When access is granted
He sees you on a pedestal.
By physical intimacy,
You fall on floor, equal.
Woman, try to be on pedestal, the least.
18.08.2001, Pkd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Undress
The river undress
Qualified and with sea
The mountain undress
Qualified and touch sky.
About me face shy
With so many dress
No road no direction
To see and go by.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Devotion
admiration followed him from the men and women
of the beach as he walks one summer
his skin glowing to the sun: gold
the color of mud, his hair blowing freely
on his head, his steps mellow to the sand
a young maiden from the village follows him
at a distance but not so near bringing him his shirt
neatly folded in her hands-
a little bit angry, she looks at him lifting her eyes
but again not so near
she gives up devotion and throws his shirt
on the grey sand
runs toward the other end of the shore
and disappears
her feet are so tiny leaving this awkward
cloud when she runs away from him
he sees her vanish
ignoring what cloud she left from her tiny feet
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Undress me! ! ! ! !
Living under a cover
Hiding me.....
Undress my emotions
I want to break free
The inside clown
Long left the stage
Under his mask
A human disguised
Friend, foe or love
This human decides
Changes identity
Changes faces
Amidst the crowd
Masks to change
How do i select? ? ?
When i've lost the clown......
Humans are not unique
Indeed not
Carrying their masks along
Identical and fake
My lost identity
Glued with masks
Shed me off this burden
Undress me
Undress me............
poem by Royston Serrao
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Hornbridge and Girls.
Hornbridge likes to see girls undress.
But slowly. Their thin fingers and thumbs
Holding the cloth and taking off. Especially
The black negligee held just so. He fully
Dressed waits until the final article of
Clothing is removed and she stands gazing
At him with her bright expectant eyes.
He likes to have music in the background
Playing. Jazz or classic. Gerry Mulligan for
Some types or Mozart for others depending
On their breeding or class. Occasionally a Rock
Chick makes it through his defences and he
Puts on the Stones or something of their ilk.
He likes it when the girls place their hands on
Their hips as they wait for him to undress.
Yet there is always some disappointment.
Some flaw in either breasts or waist or legs
Or ass. Gloria spoilt him. Hard act to follow.
Those eyes. How he could swim there in that
Blue liquid of the two eyes. Those breasts.
How could he ever forget them? His dear friends.
The way they would be waiting. Her hands soft
And warm and gentle touching him. And how
She loved to disrobe to the tones of a turned
Down Vivaldi from the hifi. Sad she left. Final
Curtain. Big cancer. No fond slow goodbye.
poem by Terry Collett
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The Thought-Fux
Rising in my hand, your Delta, an
Impression of heat on my fingers,
your
Mouth warm and hard, we met just
A moment ago but the chemistry
Is animal, I undress you, we
undress
Each other and the chemical
coupling
Begins, of lust, foreplay, hesitation;
the
Stink of skin and the fox is in,
the page is printed.
poem by Lucas Shakespere
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Rote Lippen Soll Man Kssen
Lately all you can feel is the rain falling
Maybe you feel this world is to blame
you've been crying.
Only
only inside will you know
but still you wonder sometimes:
Where can
where can you go? - Can you go
can you go? -
Remember me
- oh
when you feel this way
And you need someone to lean on.
And if you're ever
- ever too far away
Remember me
- I am the one
- remember me
- I am the one.
Remember me
I am the one who sees in your eyes
Remember me
I am the one who sees in your eyes.
Remember me
- I am yqur guardian angel
and I'll never let you fall.
And if you'Fe ever
ever In fear of danger
-
Remember me
- I am the one
- remember me
- I am the one
-
Who will turn
turn all your darkness to light in the morning.
You'll learn when yov're too hard on yovrself yov can call me.
Remember me
- oh
when you feel this way
. . .
Remember me
I am the one who sees in your eyes
Remember me
I am the one who sees in your eyes.
I can see you
yeah!
Remember me
I am the one who sees in your eyes
Remember me
I am the one who sees in your eyes.
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Inner Side Of Your Perfection
to get intimacy
you make love
to be more intimate
you need to make love some more
like a string of
buds of
tiny flowers
seemingly you want it without
an ending
eternity & infinity
side by side
but there is no intimacy in intimacy
since after each lovemaking
you return to the
emptiness of your arms again
less the other arms of those
other nights & other nights
before them
a cold night returns
with empty hands
and winds begin to pass
by your face
between your eyes
beyond your
hair
outside all of you
finally you try embracing yourself again
as though
you are another distinct set of arms
unto your
inner arms
and then you become one
without need
of any other
silent and
complete
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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King Midas In Reverse
The Hollies
King Midas In Reverse
(Allan Clarke/Tony Hicks/but mainly Graham Nash)
Single release 1967
If you could only see me
I know exactly where I am
You wouldn't want to be me
Oh, I can assure you of that
I'm not the guy to run with
'Cos I'll throw you off the line
I'll break you and destroy you
Given time.
He's King Midas with a curse
He's King Midas in reverse
He's King Midas with a curse
He's King Midas in reverse
It's plain to see it's hopeless
Going on the way we are
So even though I'd lose you
You'd be better off by far
He's not the man to hold your trust
Everything he touches turns to dust
In his hands
Nothing he can do is right
He'd even like to sleep at night
But he can't.
{Interlude with 'all he touches turns to dust' 4x}
I wish someone would find me
And help me gain control
Before I lose my reason
And my soul
He's King Midas with a curse
He's King Midas in reverse
He's King Midas with a curse (all he touches turns to dust)
He's King Midas in reverse (all he touches turns to dust)
{fade out}
He's King Midas with a curse (all he touches turns to dust)
He's King Midas in reverse (all he touches turns to dust)
He's King Midas with a curse....
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stripe Me Pink
We have to be careful
with whatever we say
as it might happen to us one day.
I knew a fellow once
who had a saying that entered
into every conversation that he made.
He would say quite loudly,
well, stripe me pink.
One day he woke up
and found he was striped pink
but the joker didn’t stop there,
he gave him green and purple spots as well.
He went to his doctor
who was quite mystified
with having a man come into his surgery
with pink stripes and green and purple spots.
He asked what he had been eating,
nothing unusual the fellow replied.
The doctor frowned
feeling there was nothing he could do
told him to go home and rest until it wore off.
The days passed and a month went by
but the stripes and spots remained.
Off he trotted back to see the doctor again
who shook his head saying
there was nothing he could do
as is looks like the stripes and the dots are permanent.
The only suggest I can make
is that you get clothes the very same colour
then no one will ever know
which is the clothes and which is you.
So the next time you utter something ridiculous
be careful what you are saying
as you might end up wearing it
until your dying day.
1 October 2009
poem by David Harris
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A priest sees people at their best, a lawyer at their worst, but a doctor sees them as they really are.