The oohs and OH’s... of a winter rose
Shyly, the distilled November— light!
Exudes around; the blushing rose.
Till then her beauty is unduly, contrite!
Her virginal warmth; tingles, oohs,
And OH’s …OH’s and Oohs …Oohs and OH’s…
She’s more haunting than anybody, knows?
She ends each season unrequited.
In her pensive, star like milky throes…
That mercy blood makes hearts ignite.
So much so, her leafless, invite.
Trembles… inside with …Oohs
And OH’s …OH’s and Oohs …Oohs and OH’s…
Leaves like golden; Leaflets frostbite-
Top-another has no partite.
That my soul would; disperse that lovely rite!
From the, oohs,
And OH’s …OH’s and Oohs …Oohs and OH’s…
Not even the thorny crown; does impose
Upon; the vision of her, clothes.
Such clear translucent splendor, oohs,
And OH’s …OH’s and Oohs …Oohs and OH’s…
…Here's my ode to a white winter rose.
poem by Mark Heathcote
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Singles choose themselves. You can tell when you are playing the record to the company from the oohs and aahs whether a track works or not. I used to know what a single would do 10 years ago but now I don't have any idea and tend to leave it to the record company.
Please Play This Song On The Radio
We wrote this song, its not too short, not too long
Its got back-up vocs in just the right places
Its got a few oohs and ahhs
It takes a little pause
Just before the second chorus
Please play this song on the radio
Almost every line is sung on time
Almost every verse ends in a rhyme
The only problem we had was writing enough words
But thats okay, because the chorus is
Coming up again now
Please play this song on the radio
Please play this song on the radio
song performed by by NOFX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fanmail
Dear Sirs,
To whom is may concern
theres facts id like to learn
so many things i wanna know
especially trivial info paraphernalia
badges and regalia please send me everything
Cuz I
am interested in you
and everything you do
i find myself at all your shows
could you tell me were you buy your clothes
could you sign my little sisters face
put your signature any place and please send me a bio
Cuz we've got fan mail
we really really read it
Fan Mail
we really really read it
I sent you my letter now i want a reply
you dont know any better than you wont take your time
with my Fan Mail
So i would like to know just if and when
you'll be in town again
so that i could meet with you
and brag at my freinds at school
have you been all around the world
have you seen every kinda of girl
or are you from the other side
Cuz you
you cant believe everything that you read
with the hypocrisy and the greed
the papers all the things that they say
they dont tell me anything anyway
thats why ive gotta get it straight from you
without an obligation
My Fan Mail (oohs and ahhs)
Whats this i find to my suprise
those fans that i idolized
no longer seem to exist
song performed by by NOFX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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By the horn
Heightened excitement and a little fear
The matador faces a bull, with a crowd behind him it lessens his care
Frustrated, harnessed to entertain
Frantic charging with poor aim
Targeting this red rag, the bull has missed
While the matador plays to the crowd and blows a kiss
A stroke of luck, our bull has made contact
While the matador feels sheepish, the crowd witnessed the fact
Carried by his breeches he's tossed up high
Oohs, aahs, the crowd sees his breeches torn
He attempts to cover his modesty as they are exposed by a horn
Heartened, our bull charges again and delivers a better aim
Escape is on hand as the matador takes flight and is tossed into the stand.
poem by Brian Roy Skyers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Let's Face It, She's Wonderful!
Her hair is black as ravens' wings cascading casually
Like oil out of newborn springs determined to be free!
Her eyes are grey as glistening clay within the potter's hands,
Like twilight melts away the day in service to God's plans...
Her cheeks are pink, flamingo style, when gentle and serene,
Until she blushes with a smile and scarlet tones are seen...
Her lips are red as ripened fruit and focus every thought...
It's not enough to say they're cute, if by true love you're caught.
Her teeth are white as polar ice, as shiny as the stars.
Her grins are wondrous, she's so nice that she gets oohs and ahs.
Her female frame transcends all dreams, all fervent hopes and prayers.
Enough to fuel some marriage schemes in he who dearly cares.
If I were blessed by her embrace, just once, then I'd propose,
Then kiss the lips upon her face, then offer her a rose...
If I were granted half a chance, I'd marry her next week!
With special licence for romance with her, the one I seek...
But you know me, I'm awfully shy! All tongue-tied when she's near!
Yet if she kissed me by and by, I know I'd lose all fear!
I'd be as brave as Superman! I'd stand tall as a king!
Yes, with one kiss I know I can do almost anything!
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spring's Best of Show
The set is ready and everything is fine
the weather is perfect and so divine
The media is waiting holding their breath
The flowers of spring will show their best
It's spring time and the colors stands out from all the rest
Mothers are walking their strollers in the parks
From mouths of mothers and babes alike
There comes a chorus of oohs and aahs
The sunlight glows and flowers will grow
Spring time is showing its best of show
The colors are everywhere standing out
Beauty in nature there is not doubts
Children are playing and singing songs
The family picnic is coming on real strong
The trees are greening and the plants are growing tall
Soon more will add to this bountiful affair
Summer this year will be such a wonderful time
Baseball and games to the children's delight
With the dance of colors to start off the show
Spring is here and see all the colors so dear
So come on out to the gardens and parks and cheer! ! !
poem by Michael Brock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Troubling Moment
It was all very troubling:
after seven years of marriage to her whiny husband
with whom he exchanged a functional loathing
when their virtual twin-ship must needs be admitted
in spite of biological differences, by all involved,
when Fortune seemed to shine again,
his sister began to show; smiled mysteriously
informing the table at dinner one night, 'Yes, it was true'
confirming her first pregnancy at thirty-three.
He contributed to the round of clapping
the oohs and ahs of genuine delight;
too, tinked his water glass with a nearby fork,
the tedious wedding enacted again
in a smaller, more intimate version,
but it made him uneasy.
It was the usual thing: love-neutralized venom-
he didn't like it-it gave him indigestion,
the now-endless prospect of blame.
And then she raised her glass
and took a sober little sip of water
having given up table wine a month before
and looking sideways at her father swallowed
her eyes full of love and shared, secret triumph
in acknowledgement of their unassailable,
their special bond. She had done what she could:
the future was up to itself.
poem by Morgan Michaels
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Woman, The Oranje And The 2010 World Cup
In a bar in Amsterdam,
I realise how football consumes the soul.
Did I care yesterday whether there had been changes to the team?
Or whether one particular player was match fit?
No.
But, today I am swept along,
I feel the electricity in the air,
The hoping, the waiting, the tension,
The tangible excitement as the team walks out.
I grasp the momentary pride as the national anthem plays
And feel the lump in my throat as I see players join in and sing along.
I’m not even Dutch.
But, I’ve bought the shirt.
Then, as the game progresses I feel the air coarse back and forth,
As each spectator gasps, oohs and ahhs when free kicks go astray and shots on goal are deflected.
I watch fingers twitch, hands wring, and nails being bitten - all in the name of football.
Football, the beautiful game.
Football, the life giving ether that unites a nation and makes busses late.
Soon a hush descends,
As a player (who I don’t know the name of) “storms” his way through to the centre,
And slides the ball neatly under the goalkeeper.
Goal! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Time stops.
In this moment there is no war, no hunger, no pain, no hate in the world,
God is alive and he wears a number 11 shirt.
poem by Teedy Dawn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Call Me Claus
May not know by lookin' at me
Who you're looking at exactly
Wonder who could that be in your stockin'
Suit of red and cheeks of cherry
Lookin' extraordinary
Spare me cause you scare with your gawkin'
Hold your applause
Pick up your jaws
Call me Claus, hoah
I got the spirit of the season in me
Spreadin' joy and toys a'plenty
Nimbly down your chimney I'll be bumpin'
Give me room 'cause I'm a packin'
Only time for toys and snackin'
Love to stay here yackin'
But I'm humpin'
I got a cause
No time to pause
They call me Claus
Hoah, call me Santa
Call me Kringle
Call me Old Saint Nick
All those have a beautiful ring
Pleasin' is the reason
And the season's a kick
When your Santa
Baby, you gotta swing
Swing, I dare ya, yeah
Hey, call me Santa
Call me Kringle
Call me Old Saint Nick
All those have a beautiful ring
Pleasin' is the reason
And the season's a kick
When you Santa
Baby, you gotta swing
So while in your jammies sleepin'
Roof to roof I'll be a leapin'
Quickly if your creepin' for a peepin'
The oohs and aahs
Are all because
They call me Claus
Hold your applause
Hey, watch the paws
They call me Claus
song performed by by Garth Brooks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Common Scents!
When I was young, my garden grew
Its rambling roses there,
Thank God, because the whole year through
Sweet perfume I could share...
From dainty petals stored in jars
Came my first fragrant friends,
Still cherished like they're superstars,
In mixtures and in blends...
In time, I learnt of other plants,
Aromas all their own,
Like precious gifts meant to enhance,
Once every secret's known...
From Nature's wondrous treasure chest,
Comes perfumes young and old,
Such that we've only to invest
Our time to find pure gold!
That's why designers roam the Earth,
Researching as they go,
To learn which plants they find have worth
Of all that Man can grow...
Experiments then pave the way
So progress is assured,
For from each scent a single spray
Can bring its own reward...
For while its presence still exists,
Consider what it does,
As buyers spray a tiny spritz
And then proceed to fuss...
With oohs and ahs and sudden smiles
And spritz, spritz, spritz again,
Each perfume goes through many trials,
For women and for men...
Is this new fragrance sweet or what,
Too spicy, or just right
And is it cool, or is it hot,
For daytime, or for night?
As cheap as chips, or way too much,
Or somewhere inbetween?
Perhaps it's truly hard to judge,
Without appearing mean!
I'm testing perfumes now and then
And savouring each one,
Technology's beyond my ken,
But I'm just having fun...
I'll spritz, spritz, spritz at breakfast time
And hold my head up high!
Then recommend what smells sublime!
Just buy! Just buy! Just buy!
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Early Works - The Spirit Of Christmas
The December wind howled outside
rattling the windows,
the children played on the floor
as the crimson glow of the fire
warmed the heart of the room.
In the corner stood a Christmas tree
sparingly decorated with tinsel and lights
but beneath were no presents in sight.
Jason watched his children
with sadness tinting his eyes
he knew how important
Christmas was to young lives.
He had tried to save through the year,
but there was always something needed
from the money he tried to save
clothes, food and shoes to wear.
Oh how he would have loved to see
them smile from ear to ear
instead of sadness in their eyes
for toys that wouldn’t be there.
He wished he hadn’t spent so much on petrol
when he was looking for a job
that he had walked the lonely miles
from refusal to rejection
and used the money to buy
his children a Christmas present collection.
The smiling face of his wife
cheered him little from his frown.
His thoughts were of his childhood
and the presents crowded around
the bottom of the tree,
of stockings filled with sweets, toys and fruit,
and creeping down the stairs at the first light of dawn
to see what Santa Claus had left.
Those were happy Christmases
not like this one so bare.
The children went to bed early
excitement filled the air
with the expectancy of presents under the tree,
which sadly would not be there.
Jason and his wife waited
until they were asleep
and then filled each stocking
with all that they could afford.
Then set about arranging
the few presents that they had
before they themselves retired to their bed.
The silence of the night
was disturbed by a rustling sound
of old iron chains
being dragged across the ground.
No one in the house heard it
as in sleep they lie
as in crept the spirit of a slave
from centuries gone by.
The ghost climbed the stairs
dragging his chains behind,
flitted from room to room
as if by some design.
Downstairs he hurled himself
in a sliding fashion
his moans were but a whisper
that could be mistaken as the wind.
He then flew around again
over everywhere he’d been.
He flew around the Christmas tree
causing a few pine needles to fall
and as each needle hit the floor
a present appeared
until beneath the tree was no longer bare.
He rattled his chains again
this time they sounded like bells,
and then flew up the chimney
with muffled sooty yells.
The streaks of dawn broke the sky
the children woke with wonder
at the stocking on the end of the bed.
Stealing through the shadows
from the break of day,
they moved silently down the stairs
to the living room and the tree.
Unlike the night before
beneath the tree, you couldn’t see the floor
presents covered in multi-coloured paper
decorated the bottom of the tree.
Their faces lit up and they said
a lot of oohs and mees.
Jason woke to their joyful tones;
he looked at his wife in question
just as there came a sound
of laughter and running feet.
“Oh Mummy, Daddy
come see what Santa has brought.”
Said the little girl with golden curls
as she jumped up on their bed.
“Come and see, come and see.”
two other voices yelled.
Jason smiled and nodded
as the children returned downstairs.
With sighs, they threw back the covers
and followed the children down.
They stood in the living room doorway
with faces masked in question.
They looked at each other for answers,
neither had any to give,
just that their prayer had been heard
and that the spirit of Christmas
they now understood.
6 December 1983
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You've Got Magic!
'America - You've Got Magic! '
Ran the sign on the Glitzy Floor,
For this was the latest Reality Show
To consume consumers with awe;
Some Boffin, deep in a Think-Tank
Had been racking his brain for weeks,
And this was the format he gave them;
Home Magicians! - with tricks and treats!
The Show was into the knockout stage,
The Advertisers were rapt,
None of your Song and Dancing here,
Nobody shedding Fat,
No-one stuck in a boring House
With brains the size of a pea,
But plenty of age-old magic tricks
For the rest of the world to see.
The Judges sat in their glory
Each equipped with a magic wand,
The first of them, Benjamin Glowery
Played his part, in a deep despond,
He hated the Hatted Rabbits
And the Doves that flew over the stage,
While contestants that showed him a Card Trick
Bore the brunt of his fearful rage.
He'd wave his wand in rejection
Like thumbs down, as they did in Rome,
And depending on Betty Abullbull
He would send them all packing, home,
While Betty paraded her implants
And her elegant, coiffured hair,
She was there for the sex attraction
As there wasn't much intellect there.
The third was a known Magician
Who had fallen on harder times,
He'd taken the job for the money
He was known as 'Impeccable' Grimes,
He spent more time on his fingernails
Than watching the acts begin,
He said that he knew all the magic tricks,
That nothing was new to him!
He waited to see how Glowery went
Then voted the other way,
So often it was up to Abullbull
Whether the act would go, or stay,
The audience cheered and hooted,
The idiot audience moaned,
As long as the votes came pouring in
With the fees from the mobile phones!
When things became too restive there
The judges played their games,
They'd introduce some terrible act
But mispronounce the names,
The audience would hoot and jeer
As if the name were a fact,
So some red-faced performer
Would screw up in his Magic Act!
The last one up on the stage was weird,
A Wizard, dressed in black
A garment down to his boots, who
When they stared would stare right back.
A cloak hung loose at his shoulders
And a long, grey flowing beard,
They stumbled over his name again...
Mis... Mister... Toffee... Lees.
The crowd just roared, while he had frowned,
Said nothing in reply,
But charmed a snake with a magic flute
As if it were a toy,
Pulled out a bunch of Chrysanthemums
And watched them fill the stage,
While Glowery jumped about in his seat,
Preparing to vent his rage.
'There's nothing so great in that, ' he said,
'We want to see something new,
We want to be entertained, old man,
Is there anything you can do? '
The Wizard then waved his wand, and changed
The backdropp into stars,
And floated a foot above the stage
To the audience oohs and aahs.
Grimes had sneered, and shook his head,
'An old trick at the best!
You'll have to do better than that, old man
If I'm going to be impressed! '
Ben Glowery then had waved his wand,
To dismiss the ancient sage,
While Betty Abullbull shook her head;
The Wizard growled in rage.
He shimmered and grew in height, then raised
The Wand that he waved on high,
'You think that you're all so clever
That your world's your Reality?
You think you can mock a name that's held
In fear through the centuries...
You're going to regret you played the fool
With Mephistopheles! '
The studio sat in a bubble, floated
Out with the camera crews,
Carried the Judges, audience,
All screaming above the trees,
They're floating forever, alone in space
All praying, in Saturn's Rings,
With each one ruing the day they thought
To play with the Devil's things!
30 April 2009
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Rose Tree Of Winter
In the cold winds of Winter she stands thorny and bare
In Summer large beautiful red flowers she did wear
The Rose tree of Winter not a pretty sight
At a time of year with litle warmth in the sunlight,
When the birds in the sunlit gardens will nest and sing
She will wear her new leaves and rosebuds of the Spring
As a tree the rose tree does not grow very tall
Compared to most trees she does seem very small
But in her full bloom none as lovely as she
In her cloak of flowers she's a beautiful tree
But in Winter she stands there by the garden wall
Of the garden trees the most forlorn one of all
And though it may still be a few months from the Spring
The white backed magpie on the blackwood tree sing
But without her leaves and flowers prickly looking and bare
The rose tree looks drab in the cool morning air.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Red Rose for You
I wish a rose can last forever.
I wish the pedals never fall,
The chance of becoming true? Never.
This rose will have you know it all.
The red rose I have for you
Is as pure as my love for you.
It will let you know that my
Love for you is true.
Hopefully this rose,
Will give you warmth in your heart.
If you feel the warmth,
That's the feeling that we will never be apart.
This red rose I have for you
Will show you the beauty I see.
Everytime I see you,
You are the beauty to me.
This rose will show you
The smile that brightens up my day.
This rose will show you on every pedal,
The words I love you in every way.
This red rose for you
Might show you I'm shy.
But I know for a fact,
That it will show that for you, I'll light up the sky.
This red rose for you,
Will let you know,
That for you,
Any where I'll go.
In this letter it will show you,
That every word is meant.
My words are so faithful,
As the beauty of a red rose you won't forget.
This is my Rose to you.
(December 6,2008)
poem by Joey Rodriguez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Pink Rose
A Pink rose is for the one,
Where love has blossomed and bloomed,
Where passion and purity,
With love and peace,
Combines and grows,
That brings forth the Pink rose,
Of the Red rose,
And of the White rose,
When both entwine,
Comes the Pink rose,
For all the blushing brides,
When the proposal is asked,
With the Pink rose as a sign,
Is one asking another,
In love and loves first
Red and White,
That all will show,
And carry a wedding bonquet,
Are all the Blushing brides to be,
For the Pink rose if for the one,
Where love has blossomed and bloomed,
Representing passion and purity,
That has love and peace,
Combining and growing,
From two different in color,
One extreme to another,
From the Red and the White,
That combine,
And show true love,
A Pink rose evolves,
Showing true love,
It shows in it's splendor of Pink,
For the blushing bride to be,
So to say,
'I do',
When the question is popped,
On this Valentines Day,
Valentine's Day,
A day of proposal's,
Where it is asked,
From one to another,
'Will you be mine',
From this Valentine's Day,
On to,
The next,
And,
The next,
And,
There after.
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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White rose, red
Take my white rose
White rose, red
Love everlasting
Even when dead
Kiss my white rose
White rose, red
In which love flows
In what is said
Cry on my white rose
White rose, red
Always there to be with you
And comfort you when sad
Love my white rose
White rose, red
So I may forever be with you
Loving you with the symbol
White rose...
White rose stained blood red
(Xanxus)
poem by Giotto Vongola
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Entrails Of Autumn
The sun shone through the window
giving a reality of warmth
as outside people shivered.
The wind lifted hats,
turned umbrellas inside out
as people walked quickly in the rain
wishing they were in doors
in with the warmth again.
This was the entrails of autumn
before winter comes to call.
The season of rain, wind,
and leaves from trees fall,
the season of dying colours
before winter spreads its virgin white
across everything in sight.
The entrails of autumn
before winter comes to call.
5 November 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Inside a Rose
Inside a rose there is beauty.
You can’t even take your eyes off.
Inside a rose there is forgiveness
It says thank you as a gift.
Inside a rose is celebration.
Received on special occasions
Inside a rose is love.
To give to the one you really care about.
Inside a rose is many.
Inside a rose are meanings that could mean so much.
Inside a rose there’s you.
Something great and might even change the world.
poem by Tamari Streeter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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First rose
A heart of youthful year was yearning,
Crying out the pain; the burning
Tears would e’er remain until
An answer from the man would see them die.
A sympathetic mirror blessed her –
Softened up the curves, caressed her
Skin to help regain a calm –
Assuage a heaving breast and blushing eye.
And through a struggling mind, a chiming:
Someone at the door; the timing
Perfect and exquisite in the
Reconciliation of her woes.
She took the oak to make the parting,
‘Here! ’ a presentation startling.
Drawing deep through radiant lips, she
Kissed her very dream: a crimson rose.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Rose...
some days i gifted you a rose...
while i did not get, what it means...
and don`t know why...
but some thing inside my heart...
told me to do that, ,
and give it to you...
oh...
o my lovely rose, and my lovely passion...
o my dreamy rose, , ,
did not know some days, how lovely your meaning is...
while you are from my longing...
and from inside....
how mistaken i was in my expression..
when i not gifted you all a roses in the world..
you are my life's` rose..
as i gifted you the rose..
i gifted you to the rose...
and wish that rose gifted to me again..
my rose...
poem by Hazem Al Jaber
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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