Pure Woman
Sometimes when I pass the dressing shop
in between the barber's and butcher's junk
a bride in a show case lean and beautiful
smiles at all and never cries
never speaks and sleeps.
A bouquet in her hand
the flowers that never withers
and a clear white lace she wears
that will never fade.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Related quotes
Roses On White Lace
I saw you in your wedding gown
The prettiest dress
I came into the room that night
And made such a mess
In my own way, I lovingly kiss the bride
With your ring in your hand
Your eyes and your mouth open wide
In my eyes
Blood drops look like roses on white lace
They won't wash away
In my mind they're roses on white lace
Straight from the heart
So dead upon the bed
You hurt me in the deepest way
I'm crippled inside
I took your evil skin away
It's all cut and dried
I saw you tonight and carefully took your hand
With some smears on my cheeks
I knew that you would understand
In my eyes
Blood drops look like roses on white lace
They won't wash away
In my mind they're roses on white lace
Straight from the heart
So dead upon the bed, still searching for your head
They're never gonna find your face
It's hidden away
I found a very special place where you used to play
In my own way, I lovingly kiss the bride
With your ring in your hand
Your eyes and your mouth open wide
In my eyes
Blood drops look like roses on white lace
They won't wash away
In my mind they're roses on white lace
Straight from the heart
Blood drops look like roses on white lace
Crimson and sweet, stained on the sheet
Roses on white lace, pretty in red, dripping and wet
Roses on white lace, spilled on the walls, dark in the hall
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Parlez-Vous Francais?
Caesar, the amplifier voice, announces
Crime and reparation. In the barber shop
Recumbent men attend, while absently
The barber doffs the naked face with cream.
Caesar proposes, Caesar promises
Pride, justice, and the sun
Brilliant and strong on everyone,
Speeding one hundred miles an hour across the land:
Caesar declares the will. The barber firmly
Planes the stubble with a steady hand,
While all in barber chairs reclining,
In wet white faces, fully understand
Good and evil, who is Gentile, weakness and command.
And now who enters quietly? Who is this one
Shy, pale, and quite abstracted? Who is he?
It is the writer merely, with a three-day beard,
His tiredness not evident. He wears no tie.
And now he hears his enemy and trembles,
Resolving, speaks: "Ecoutez! La plupart des hommes
Vivent des vies de desespoir silenciuex,
Victimes des intentions innombrables. Et ca
Cet homme sait bien. Les mots de cette voix sont
Des songes et des mensonges. Il prend choix,
Il prend la volonte, il porte la fin d'ete.
La guerre. Ecoutez-moi! Il porte la mort."
He stands there speaking and they laugh to hear
Rage and excitement from the foreigner.
poem by Delmore Schwartz
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Flowers
(orbison/dees)
When I was a boy I ran among the flowers
Looking left and right at the bright array
I played through the spring, whiled away the hours
Lingered with the flowers every day
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, along the way
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, along the way
When the summer ends and the storms of life are over
When the winter comes and the petals fall away
They may write it on my stone, he was just a roller
But he stopped to pick some flowers along the way
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, picked some flowers, along the way
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Modern Love XXXV (Manhattan's white flowers)
I always saw these
beautiful white flowers
blossoming in March,
as I walked the streets
of east Manhattan in my
garden. I strolled
from 77th to 92nd street
and Madison to 3rd avenue
This year, for some
reason it will be
in April,
This year, for some
reason it will be
in April, say the
tiny chickadees.
So, during this winter
let us meet during a storm
and after sitting
and observing
let us go down
to the wall street market
and see if we may sell
the snow we carry
on our hats and coats.
I always saw these
beautiful white flowers
blossoming in March.
This year it will be
in April, the tiny
chickadees remind us.
Ah, Federico, one must still
have strong legs to walk
by the butcher shop of the world.
poem by Liberatore Suffoletta
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My First Bouquet
He brought to me a sweet bouquet
that sparkled in the light.
I touched the hand that picked the flowers,
daisies all so white.
When he left I held them close
afraid that I might cry.
If only I could keep them
and never let them die.
But tears that flow
and flowers that grow
can both be dried you know?
Thinking of this brought a smile,
never a falling tear.
My first bouquet would last forever
inside pages I revere.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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A Bouquet
He brought to me a sweet bouquet
that sparkled in the light.
I touched the hand that picked the flowers,
daisies all so white.
When he left I held them close,
afraid that I might cry.
If only I could keep them
and never let them die.
But tears that flow
and flowers that grow
can both be dried you know.
The thought of this brought a smile
and never brought a tear.
My first bouquet would last forever
between pages I revere.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Junk
Junk
Motorcars, handlebars, bicycles for two
Brokenhearted jubilee
Parachutes, army boots, sleeping bags for two
Sentimental jamboree
Buy, buy says the sign in the shop window
Why, why says the junk in the yard
Ya da da da da la da da da
Buy, buy says the sign in the shop window
Why, why says the junk in the yard
Ya da da da da da da la la la la la
Candlesticks, building bricks,
Something old and new
Memories for you and me
Words and music by paul mccartney
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Girl That Never Smiles
I know a girl, she never smiles,
Her lashes a-sparkling and cold.
I know a girl, she never frowns,
A green bird’s wing on her cheek.
I know a girl, she never laughs,
Flames dancing around her throat.
I know a girl, she never cries,
Her lips never move as she speaks.
I know a girl, she never sleeps,
She poses with dignified pride.
I know a girl, she never stirs,
Her stare shows no sign of remorse.
I know a girl, she never loves,
She knows better than to hide.
I know a girl, she’ll never fade,
I surrender to her silent force.
poem by Anthony J. O.
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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#34
Oh, my head lay back on the seating
Been so tired, throw away my surrounding
Like the sun and moon take for granted
Soon we move through the flood and we fade away
Lie about it,
Cry about it,
Well be ok
Lean upon me,
Ill lean upon you,
Well be okay
Oh, I lay myself at your feet laughing
Hope mine eye made of the soul choir
Lean upon me,
Ill lean upon you,
Well be okay
Lie about it,
Cry about it,
Soon fade away
Lie about it,
Cry about it,
Well be okay
Lean upon me,
Ill lean upon you,
Well be okay
song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Always The Bride, But Not The Groom
Always the bride, but not the groom
that is what I became
when I went to a Wedding in October.
We went to the wedding,
then along to the reception.
I stood talking to a couple of friends
and the bride rushed in and said to me.
“Dave look after these for me“
She then commenced to hand me
her bridal bouquet and handbag.
One of our friends Donall
gave me a hug and kiss
and asked me to marry him.
His partner Janice grabbed her camera
and took a photo of me,
bridal bouquet in one hand, handbag in the other
and a lopsided smile from the mouth ulcer I had.
Right there and then I became a bride, but not the groom.
20 November 2008
Author’s note:
I dedicate this poem to:
Janice Windle (who took the photo)
Donall Dempsey (who planted the kiss)
Tara (the real bride for dropping me in it.)
poem by David Harris
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The Bride Colored With Blood
In our country Parents feel proud.
When their daughter becomes not yet thirteen years old (poor kid)
Instead Of educating her mind to study to become successful one
They begine to tell her how beautiful bride she will become at the dress of bride
And soon their wish becomes real
And the poor kid becomes a bride
She leaves away her pride
Her dreams bright when she wears the white
White dress colored with blood
Leaving behind dreams of purple future
Her childish pure dreams
Her innocency
She enters the groove of cruelty
when she is still alive!
.
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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A Flower Of His Heart
He is walking in his garden,
With so many flowers surrounding him,
He is among his lovely flowers,
He feels happiness as he enjoys their fragrances.
In a corner some red flowers,
Raise their stalks toward the sun,
In that color sleeps the passion,
And sensuality of the women, with their charms.
Next to it he finds some white flowers,
His mind get clensed of bad thoughts,
All purity and innocence of the living,
Is concentrated in a beautiful white rose.
But he sees some orange flowers over there,
So intense, so joyful to his eyes,
They are like the warmth of the summer,
In a wonderful, pleasant day of life.
And suddenly a simple flower show up to him,
She was not well-dressed in amazing colors like her fancy friends,
But she was so beautiful in her simplicity and grace,
Just the flower of his heart that he always expected to have.
In this life beauty is not important and fragile,
It matters more what pleases your heart,
When it is about love and its magic,
You'll adore that simple flower, no matter what.
poem by Cristina Teodor
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None So Beautiful
Well theres a cross on the hill where the ragweed has grown
Where a mothers young son sleeps all alone
All for the land that he dreamed he could save
Yeah, theres none so beautiful as the brave
Oh, theres a stone in the meadow with all the weight of the world
Where the flowers are watered by the brown eyes of a girl
She cries for the life that her one true love gave
Yeah, theres none so beautiful as the brave
None so beautiful as the boy who cries freedom
None so beautiful as the voice that carries far
None so strong as love beyond all reason that fears no evil
Undaunted by the dark or any wicked mans heart
Oh theres a cross on a hill where no steeple bells ring
A shrine with no name where little children sing to the rhythm that rocks us
From the cradle to the grave
Yeah, theres none so beautiful
Oh, theres none so beautiful
Oh, theres none so beautiful as the brave
Theres none so beautiful as the brave
song performed by by Gino Vanelli
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Barber's Shop
Conversations in a barber's shop,
And like a clay tile in the land of your muse;
But walk upon it and tell me how you feel,
And like the state of the mind and the state of the things around us;
But, i will always love you.
The wheels,
The colour of beryl,
And of the same likeness!!
But to be designed like abarber's shop in your township;
For, one wheel was inside heother wheel,
And to be designed like the fruit of love was the nature of things!
All the same, we all need the barber's shop.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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To a Friend
I had made promise
To be friendly and nice
As her name stood well for name
I sincerely praised her and never blamed
Today she has her birthday
I wish it to become shining and special day
All relatives and friends may be wishing
I need my silver button to brass with polishing
What would is ay to her?
A bouquet in hand to offer
With wishes of long life
Peaceful and sans strife
Smile costs nothing
It conveys beautifully something
If you can offer little happiness
That may reflect cleverly on your face
I would wish you to be friendly
Never a thought in your mind to reveal sadly
That can be real wish on this very beautiful day
Keep always in mind of never going away
Not eyes, face or language may speak
They may only infuriate and make you weak
Just little gesture may make all that beautiful
Life then would be so lovely and purposeful
I may not like stars and moon
As they may disappear soon
But you may remain for long
Even if sometimes I may go wrong
Let roses not fade away from the scene
As it will be auspicious day to be seen
You may shine in your beautiful dress
A lovely smile to be watched on face
Smile you always bear and make it as habit
Many good things mar revolve around your orbit
You shall remain there as dominating force
I shall look with smiles at you of course
Wish your happiness may never fade
You may have all the way clear to trade
What you may not find always gone year
I shall wish you loudly in your ears
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Faded Red Roses
She stood at the alter
A gown of white she did wear
With a bouquet of red roses
And blue ribbons in her hair
She waited for someone
Who was never to come
Tears leaked from her eyes
Across her cheeks did run
The bouquet of red roses
For her wedding day
Have all now faded
As time slipped away
Those faded red roses
She still holds in her hand
Years have come and gone
Waiting for this man
You’ll still find her
With tears in her eyes
As the hopes he’ll still come
Fade like the roses
Washed too much by the sun
Today she still waits all alone
Those faded red roses in her hand
Is now all that she owns
poem by David Harris
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Adage 5
'Joy in looking and comprehending is nature's most beautiful gift.'
Albert Einstein (1879-1955)
we are here
we do not worry
for everything is give
a tray of fruits
a bouquet of flowers
a cool river
a wide blue sea
white clear skies
sun
there is joy in merely looking
not even comprehending
what they are
their reasons
our reasons
we are the gifts
they are the gifts
we are this feasts
this dance
and celebrations
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Junk
Motor cars, handle bars
Bicycles for two
Broken hearted jubilee
Parachutes, army boots
Sleeping bags for two
Sentimental jamboree
Buy buy
Says the sign in the shop window
Why why
Says the in junk the yard
Candlesticks, building bricks
Some old and new
Memories for you and me
Buy buy
Says the sign in the shop window
Why why
Says the in junk in the yard
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where all the poor in the village were buried?
Is this a cemetery?
The Gypsy Tinker, Negro Blacksmith, Grey-bearded Barber, One eyed Arabian butcher, Native Hangman & the family and the rest of all hide somewhere,
Nobody knows to point out so and so as no tombs were found there.
The flat graves show their innocence and poverty.
'Where is she? ' Hangman asks.
Butcher says; 'All are here brother and they are in a deep sleep.'
Hey! Now it's a playground for the children being a promise of the deceased dumb Mayor.
* Dedication to all the poet friends in the site.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Sketchy (2)
how dare
am i
sketching flowers
in her garden
and coloring them
all in blue
she cries
when she sleeps
i change my mind
got some colors
put the stars
and a moon
glows of red
and sparkles of light
bursting
petals of yellow and
orange
sun
flowers and
lush of
grass
green and spreading
she wakes up
and smiles
i am no longer there
into the world
of blue oceans
i have
swam
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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