Lost In Athens
Lost in Athens
Athens confusing in august, what with the heat and pollution I had spent
The night sitting on a park bench, looking at a white wall on a tall building
lit up by moonlight and I had waited for a movie to begin. Forenoon,
staggered into a church, joined a queue, a priest was handing out bags of
sweet cakes, the old lady behind got none since she had been in the line
three times. I ate a cake and gave the rest to the lady. Grateful she ate
the rest blew up the bag and hit it against a tree and we were surrounded
by an anti terrorist squad. The old lady, a known would be terrorist, she had
been blowing up paper bag all over the town, was arrested, they were going
to arrest me too since I had supplied the bag, but since I was a tourist they
let me go with dire warning. Deep in the park I found a grotto, walked in and
saw baby Jesus inside a looked like an aquarium, he looked like a dead
angel as painted by Caravaggio, Jesus opened his eyes smiled like a street
urchin and began masturbating, chocked I took a step back and collided with
two nuns who laughed hysterically. Escaped the park and found a cellar cafe
drank some ouzo served by a women who looked like horse; she was a pony
that had escaped from a Swedish circus. We hit it off I have always been fond
of horses, especially since according to an Indian chief in, an Alice walker’s
poem said that they make the landscape more pretty. Midnight she closed her
bar and we bareback we rode through the moonlit August night.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Girl In Park
Girl in the Park
In the park I saw my dog Bambi, she was playing with
another dog that belonged to a girl who sat in the grass.
Bambi didn’t see me she had a glossy coat, and looked
beautiful, so I waited for her to see me and come over.
The girl was of no interest, looked as a black & white
photo taken with box camera 1950, I didn’t see her face.
She got up and walked into a café its door was open but
the entrance had a curtain of fake pearls that sounded as
of water in a stream, when moved. The park was empty
and there was no ducks in it dark pond. I walked into
the café, it was empty too; the owner was reading
a paper I asked if he had seen a girl with two dogs, he
said dogs were not allowed in his café, and continued to
read and for no reason at all I sat down and cried.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Go Down, Death
Weep not, weep not,
She is not dead;
She's resting in the bosom of Jesus.
Heart-broken husband--weep no more;
Grief-stricken son--weep no more;
Left-lonesome daughter --weep no more;
She only just gone home.
Day before yesterday morning,
God was looking down from his great, high heaven,
Looking down on all his children,
And his eye fell of Sister Caroline,
Tossing on her bed of pain.
And God's big heart was touched with pity,
With the everlasting pity.
And God sat back on his throne,
And he commanded that tall, bright angel standing at his right hand:
Call me Death!
And that tall, bright angel cried in a voice
That broke like a clap of thunder:
Call Death!--Call Death!
And the echo sounded down the streets of heaven
Till it reached away back to that shadowy place,
Where Death waits with his pale, white horses.
And Death heard the summons,
And he leaped on his fastest horse,
Pale as a sheet in the moonlight.
Up the golden street Death galloped,
And the hooves of his horses struck fire from the gold,
But they didn't make no sound.
Up Death rode to the Great White Throne,
And waited for God's command.
And God said: Go down, Death, go down,
Go down to Savannah, Georgia,
Down in Yamacraw,
And find Sister Caroline.
She's borne the burden and heat of the day,
She's labored long in my vineyard,
And she's tired--
She's weary--
Do down, Death, and bring her to me.
And Death didn't say a word,
But he loosed the reins on his pale, white horse,
And he clamped the spurs to his bloodless sides,
And out and down he rode,
Through heaven's pearly gates,
Past suns and moons and stars;
on Death rode,
Leaving the lightning's flash behind;
Straight down he came.
While we were watching round her bed,
She turned her eyes and looked away,
She saw what we couldn't see;
She saw Old Death.She saw Old Death
Coming like a falling star.
But Death didn't frighten Sister Caroline;
He looked to her like a welcome friend.
And she whispered to us: I'm going home,
And she smiled and closed her eyes.
And Death took her up like a baby,
And she lay in his icy arms,
But she didn't feel no chill.
And death began to ride again--
Up beyond the evening star,
Into the glittering light of glory,
On to the Great White Throne.
And there he laid Sister Caroline
On the loving breast of Jesus.
And Jesus took his own hand and wiped away her tears,
And he smoothed the furrows from her face,
And the angels sang a little song,
And Jesus rocked her in his arms,
And kept a-saying: Take your rest,
Take your rest.
Weep not--weep not,
She is not dead;
She's resting in the bosom of Jesus.
poem by James Weldon Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Memories On A Park Bench
He sat on a park bench
just to pass the time away
when he saw her there
from the corner of his eye.
She was older now,
but her beauty had not faded.
She turned in his direction
and he smiled at her.
At first, she looked at him strangely
until there was recognition.
She smiled back
and then joined him.
They sat there on the park bench
the sun smiling down on them
as the daffodils swayed in the breeze.
For both of them came a flood
of memories of when they were young
before the world spirited them away.
Both had walked down many roads,
had some hard knocks along the way.
Both recalled them now
the way old friends meeting do.
As they sat there
recalling memories from happier days.
All too soon they would be parting
and as they would go,
they would take with them
a little of each other
in the form of memories
that they acquired on a park bench.
5 April 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Old Man
The old man sat on a park bench
just watching the people pass by.
He did it day after day
alone in everyone's eyes.
He would smile occasionally
but no one ever knew why.
Everyone who saw him
wondered why he sat so still
and just looked out
at everyone who passed him there.
The old man sat in repose
from dawn until dusk fell.
He sat there in the summer sun
and as winter's bleakness fell.
He looked for some face
he might remember from his past
so they could reminisce for a while.
Sadly, the years slipped away.
Everyone spoke about him,
but no one ventured to talk.
Then one day the old man
wasn't on the park bench
and he was nowhere to be seen.
Now a different question was asked.
Day after day, the bench was empty.
Where had the old man gone?
Had he simply passed away?
The questions remained unanswered
because no one ever stopped
to enquire of his name.
I would like to think
that in the dying hours
on the park bench one day
that he had found
what he was waiting for
and then happily he faded away.
12 July 2012
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Woman at the Crossroad Who Laughed
As I walked up the pavement, up the slight hill
to the traffic lights at the crossroads outside the station,
I saw her waiting to cross.
Or rather, I saw first, her laugh..
She held the hand of her son
as she exchanged words with a passing friend
and laughed..
and what I saw in her eyes, her whole face,
as she laughed, was that as she laughed -
(did she know this? How could I tell her, a stranger?
Lady, lady, at the crossroad of our lives,
I’m writing this poem for you now…)
as she laughed, while she laughed,
I saw that she was in touch, the whole of her,
with her deepest self – just that… all that…
and as I saw that self, which was
(Lady, are you reading this?)
the perfection of perfection, all that’s perfect…
it was as if – no, it was just so –
her self looked at me, and so
the perfect looked at the perfect;
herself and mine together laughed,
laughed at imperfection
and as the perfect looked, it saw perfection
spreading through my eyes from our shared self
so that her son was perfect; and her friend was perfect;
and all around us, every they and it were perfect..
(Lady, Lady, at the Cross’s foot,
was it like this for You?)
the light turned green. And we were free
to cross the road; and
free to live; and
free to laugh away illusion; and
free to be ourselves; forever,
in that time which is forever.
Lady, by my faith, this by my hand;
and with my life I do yet swear
upon my life, this to be true;
Lady, hear, in this my orison,
there are no sins
to be remembered.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
You Gave Me Love
You gave me time
When no one gave me time of day
You looked deep inside
While the rest of the world looked away
You smiled at me
When there werent just friends everywhere
You gave me love
When nobody gave me a prayer
Thats why I call you savior
Thats why I call you friend
cause you touched my heart
You touched my soul
And helped me start all over again
Thats why I love you jesus
Thats why Ill always care
cause you gave me love
When nobody gave me a prayer
You gave me laughter
After Id cried all my tears
You heard my dreams
While the rest of the world just closed its ears
I looked in your eyes and I found such tenderness there
cause you gave me love
When nobody gave me a prayer
Thats why I call you savior
Thats why I call you friend
cause you touched my heart
You touched my soul
And helped me start all over again
And thats why I love you jesus
Thats why Ill always care
cause you gave me love
When nobody gave me a prayer
Yes he gives us love
When nobody gives us a prayer...
song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
A Baby With His Whiskers On (Fun Poem 115)
One day a gypsy came to the door
selling a sprig of heather.
Cross my palm with silver
and I’ll make your wish come true.
I gave some silver coins
and she gave me a green and purple pill.
“Take this last thing at night
and tomorrow your wish will be granted.”
I took her green and purple pill
just as she had instructed.
Next morning I awoke still with my whiskers on,
but my poor wife almost had fit
thinking she’d had a baby in the night.
The magic had changed me rapidly
and now I looked only three.
My wish had been to look younger,
it had come very true,
and the magic had turned me
back to the age of three.
My wife was all fingers and thumbs
wondering just what to do.
How was she going to take me out,
a baby of three with his whiskers on?
I looked like her grandson
and not her husband o f many years.
Even I began to wonder how long
it would take before the magic wore off.
Days moved into weeks
and a baby with his whiskers on
I remained to be.
People took photos of me
not quite believing what they saw.
One day my wife took me to the park
and around in the grass I crawled,
a baby with his whiskers on wearing a nappy.
Then suddenly and without warning,
I came back to my normal age.
Now everybody stared at me,
a man in his sixties in the park with only a nappy on.
I managed to get home
without being arrested,
but had to stay in the car until after dark
in case anyone saw me go in.
The moral of this story,
be careful what you wish for,
as the consequences will not
be exactly what you think
and never take
any green and purple pills from a gypsy.
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Some Kind Of Friend
Music by Barry Manilow
Lyrics by Adrienne Anderson
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I saw you at the Beechwood Cafe
You looked at me and then you looked away
That was some kind
Some kind of friend you turned out to be
You said you had places that you had to be
Now who is gonna be there for me
That was some kind
Some kind of friend you turned out to be
Lady that was some kind
Some kind of friend you turned out to be
Baby that was some kind
Some kind of friend you turned out to be
They say that women like you can't get enough
Got your Maserati built for two
They say that women like you like to play
with love
Is that true?
When I ran into you the other day
You smiled at me but you had nothing to say
That was some kind
Some kind of friend you turned out to be
Tell me why'd you do what you did to me
Covered up your life so I couldn't see
Now that was some kind
Some kind of friend you turned out to be
Lady that was some kind
Some kind of friend you turned to be
Baby that was some kind
Some kind of friend you turned out to be
I never should have let you get to me
Nevershould have let you bring me down
Didn't know that I was just some fantasy
That you found.
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Argentna
Argentina.
When I got up and looked out of the window the village was
floating on a cloud. I walked to where the cloud ended and
saw the pampas of Argentine and horses galloping in a circle
around a dead cypress. The horses looked tired and starved,
but could not stop their senseless galloping around the tree.
There were also many dead foals trampled down in the dust.
I was in Buenos Aires once, remember a great ballroom and
a big marble staircase I saw the dictator’s wife walk down it.
She was dressed in white and striking at a distance, but close
up she looked hollow eyed and her skin was yellow. A band
played wiener waltzes, officers and their women danced with
decorum. It was only when thousand guitars struck up a cord,
music born from paucity and dreams to break free and flee,
the dictator’s lady smiled and looked young again.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Three Bushes
SAID lady once to lover,
'None can rely upon
A love that lacks its proper food;
And if your love were gone
How could you sing those songs of love?
I should be blamed, young man.
O my dear, O my dear.
Have no lit candles in your room,'
That lovely lady said,
'That I at midnight by the clock
May creep into your bed,
For if I saw myself creep in
I think I should drop dead.'
O my dear, O my dear.
'I love a man in secret,
Dear chambermaid,' said she.
'I know that I must drop down dead
If he stop loving me,
Yet what could I but drop down dead
If I lost my chastity?
O my dear, O my dear.
'So you must lie beside him
And let him think me there.
And maybe we are all the same
Where no candles are,
And maybe we are all the same
That stip the body bare.'
O my dear, O my dear.
But no dogs barked, and midnights chimed,
And through the chime she'd say,
'That was a lucky thought of mine,
My lover. looked so gay';
But heaved a sigh if the chambermaid
Looked half asleep all day.
O my dear, O my dear.
'No, not another song,' siid he,
'Because my lady came
A year ago for the first time
At midnight to my room,
And I must lie between the sheets
When the clock begins to chime.'
O my dear, O my d-ear.
'A laughing, crying, sacred song,
A leching song,' they said.
Did ever men hear such a song?
No, but that day they did.
Did ever man ride such a race?
No, not until he rode.
O my dear, O my dear.
But when his horse had put its hoof
Into a rabbit-hole
He dropped upon his head and died.
His lady saw it all
And dropped and died thereon, for she
Loved him with her soul.
O my dear, O my dear.
The chambermaid lived long, and took
Their graves into her charge,
And there two bushes planted
That when they had grown large
Seemed sprung from but a single root
So did their roses merge.
O my dear, O my dear.
When she was old and dying,
The priest came where she was;
She made a full confession.
Long looked he in her face,
And O he was a good man
And understood her case.
O my dear, O my dear.
He bade them take and bury her
Beside her lady's man,
And set a rose-tree on her grave,
And now none living can,
When they have plucked a rose there,
Know where its roots began.
O my dear, O my dear.
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
By the Lake
The old fellow from Shao-ling weeps with stifled sobs as he walks furtively by the bends of the Sepentine on a day in spring. In
the waterside palaces the thousands of doors are locked. For whom have the willows and rushed put on their fresh greenery?
I remember how formerly, when the Emperor's rainbow banner made its way into the South Park, everything in the park
seemed to bloom with a brighter color. The First Lady of the Chao-yang Palace rode in the same carriage as her lord in
attendance at his side, while before the carriage rode maids of honor equipped with bows and arrows, their white horses
champing at golden bits. Leaning back, face skywards, they shot into the clouds; and the Lady laughed gaily when a bird fell to
the ground transfixed by a well-aimed arrow. Where are the bright eyes and the flashing smile now? Tainted with
blood-pollution, her wandering soul cannot make its way back. The clear waters of the Wei flow eastwards, and Chien-ko is
far away: between the one who has gone and the one who remains no communication is possible. It is human to have feelings
and shed tears for such things; but the grasses and flowers of the lakeside go on for ever, unmoved. As evening falls, the city is
full of the dust of foreign horseman. My way is towards the South City, but my gaze turns northward.
By The Lake
The old fellow from Shao-ling weeps with stifled sobs as he walks furtively by the bends of the Sepentine on a day in spring.
In the waterside palaces the thousands of doors are locked. For whom have the willows and rushed put on their fresh greenery?
I remember how formerly, when the Emperor's rainbow banner made its way into the South Park, everything in the park seemed to bloom with a brighter color. The First Lady of the Chao-yang Palace rode in the same carriage as her lord in
attendance at his side, while before the carriage rode maids of honour equipped with bows and arrows, their white horses champing at golden bits.
Leaning back, face skywards, they shot into the clouds; and the Lady laughed gaily when a bird fell to the ground transfixed by a well-aimed arrow.
Where are the bright eyes and the flashing smile now?
Tainted with blood-pollution, her wandering soul cannot make its way back.
The clear waters of the Wei flow eastwards, and Chien-ko is far away: between the one who has gone and the one who remains no communication is possible.
It is human to have feelings and shed tears for such things; but the grasses and flowers of the lakeside go on for ever, unmoved.
As evening falls, the city is full of the dust of foreign horseman. My way is towards the South City, but my gaze turns northward. (tr. Hawkes)
The Wal Mart Foot
I drove to Wal mart the other day
When I parked and got right out
A woman with a little girl
Began to cry and shout
“There’s a foot hanging out
Of a car right over there, ”
She pointed nearly hysterical
So of course I began to stare
My husband started to walk away
When I grabbed his arm and said
“Don’t leave now, look over there
Looks like somebody’s dead”
“It’s not real, ” he said with a glance
The woman’s cell phone was at her ear
“Oh yes it is, she said emphatically
“It is exactly what I feared”
My husband, brave as he can be
Walked over and grabbed right on
“See, it’s just a rubber foot”
He reached for the lady’s cell phone
“Lady, It’s not an emergency, ”
He said right in the phone to 911
'It’s a rubber foot this lady saw, '
And handed her back the phone
I know that there are many times
We don’t see what we think you see
But when I looked at the hole in that car
It looked like a foot jutting out to me!
poem by Marilyn Lott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Blow Up Your TV (Spanish Pipe Dream)
(Prine)
She was a levelheaded dancer on the road to alcohol,
I was just a soldier on my way to Montreal.
Well, she pressed her chest against me about the time the jukebox broke.
She gave me a peck on the back of the neck, and these are the words she spoke.
Blow up your TV, throw away your paper, go to the country, build you a home.
Plant a little garden, eat a lot of peaches, try and find Jesus on your own.
I sat there at the table, and I acted real naive.
Cause I knew that topless lady, she had something up her sleeve.
She danced around the room awhile and she did the hoochy coo.
Yeah, singing a song all night long, telling me what to do.
Blow up your TV, throw away your paper, go to the country, build you a home.
Plant a little garden, eat a lot of peaches, try and find Jesus on your own.
Well, I was young and hungry, and about to leave that place.
Just as I was going. she looked me in the face.
I said "You must know the answer," she said "No, but I'll give it a try."
To this day we've been living our way, here is the reason why.
We blew up your TV, threw away your paper, went to the country, build us a home.
Had a lot of children, fed 'em on peaches, they all found Jesus on their own.
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Jesus Walk
The other day I was weeping
The tears kept coming to my eyes
But then I looked out my window
As though pleaded, to look outside.
But my tears just kept falling
Caused by the worries and world outside
As the hate and sin kept growing
From which, no one can hide.
So then I brushed the world aside
As compelled to search the sky
And then; I shook in wonder,
For I saw Jesus, walking at sunrise.
He was walking with out stretched hands
Though reaching for every woman and man
And I, didnt make a sound,
For I was lost, and never found.
I watched him walk with such concern
As He watched the world below
He walked with such shame and pity
My teardrops, began to grow.
And as I watched as Jesus walked
I knew then the Lord did care
No matter how I felt,
I knew Jesus would always be there.
And as Jesus kept walking
I saw sorrow on his saddened face
Was it though for His children and world
Or was it, for their future and fate.
So I just kept watching Jesus
As he looked, and searched the world
Then suddenly; He just disappeared
As though, He was never here.
So then I closed my window
And fell to my knees to pray and cry
Though this time not for the world or me,
But for Jesus, who walked at sunrise.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Spanish Pipedream
She was a level-headed dancer on the road to alcohol
And i was just a soldier on my way to montreal
Well she pressed her chest against me
About the time the juke box broke
Yeah, she gave me a peck on the back of the neck
And these are the words she spoke
Chorus:
Blow up your t.v. throw away your paper
Go to the country, build you a home
Plant a little garden, eat a lot of peaches
Try an find jesus on your own
Well, i sat there at the table and i acted real naive
For i knew that topless lady had something up her sleeve
Well, she danced around the bar room and she did the hoochy-coo
Yeah she sang her song all night long, tellin' me what to do
Repeat chorus:
Well, i was young and hungry and about to leave that place
When just as i was leavin', well she looked me in the face
I said "you must know the answer."
"she said, "no but i'll give it a try."
And to this very day we've been livin' our way
And here is the reason why
We blew up our t.v. threw away our paper
Went to the country, built us a home
Had a lot of children, fed 'em on peaches
They all found jesus on their own
song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Old Laughing Lady
Don't call pretty Peggy,
she can't hear you no more
Don't leave no message
'round her back door.
They say the old laughing lady
been here before
She don't keep time,
she don't count score.
You can't have a cupboard
if there ain't no wall.
You got to move there's
no time left to stall.
They say the old laughing lady
dropped by to call
And when she leaves,
she leaves nothing at all.
See the drunkard of the village
falling on the street.
Can't tell his ankles
from the rest of his feet.
He loves his old laughing lady
'cause her taste is so sweet.
But his laughing lady's loving
ain't the kind he can keep.
There's a fever on the freeway,
blacks out the night.
There's a slipping on the stairway,
just don't feel right
And there's a rumbling
in the bedroom
and a flashing of light
There's the old laughing lady,
everything is all right.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Betrayed!
Giselle and I had been toughing it out,
With arguments every day,
She loved to spend, and I was the bank
To the point that I said, ‘No way! '
Then she pouted, much as she'd always done
And she dragged me into her bed,
That was the weapon she always used
When trying to turn my head.
She spent it faster than I could earn
Though I'd had a win on the gee's,
A seeming broken-down six year old
A gelding with rickety knees,
I knew the horse was a stayer, though
In a field of sprinting mares,
And after the twenty-five hundred mark
Went rocketing past them there.
I'd dropped a grand, two hundred to one,
The bookies had thought me mad,
But I was rolling in bags of cash
That evening, back at my pad.
Giselle had snaffled a grand or two,
The rest went into the bank,
I wanted to buy a house and land
And I had that horse to thank.
Giselle just wanted to spend and spend
And I finally told her ‘No! '
It was more important to save than splash
On clothes or a picture show,
She'd disappear for days on end
Then come back, looking for cash,
And every time that I told her no
She'd use her tongue, like a lash!
I got a call on a Thursday night
To meet her up in the town,
She wanted to meet in the basement
Of a car-park, underground,
I thought I should, I could meet her there
And finally call it quits,
There wasn't a whole lot of love to share,
That part had fallen to bits.
I parked the car and I saw her there
But she stood, and waited for me,
Close to a concrete pillar, then
A shadow was all I could see,
A guy came out and pointed a gun
And Giselle said, ‘Go on, shoot! '
I heard the retort, two bullets fired
As they tore through my business suit.
I don't recall there was too much pain
Just the echoing sound of the shots,
I swayed and crumpled, my knees gave way
I thought I was dead on the spot.
I lay unable to move while she
Rifled my pockets through,
Took my passbook, spat in my face,
Said: ‘That's what I think of you! '
They found me there in a pool of blood,
I don't remember the rest,
The police were sat by my hospital bed,
They said they'd made an arrest.
They'd picked the guy and had matched the gun
When Giselle had put him in,
And he must have emptied my bank account,
She said - It was all just spin!
They thought they'd left me for dead out there,
Had freaked when I was alive,
Giselle thought she could cover herself
By telling a thousand lies,
She'd been ‘an innocent bystander',
She said, was scared by the gun,
She'd wanted to meet me there, she said,
Hit the town, and have some fun.
She came to visit and sat by the bed,
Looked sick and she cried a lot,
She asked me what I remembered, and
I said, ‘Not even a jot! '
I could have had her arrested then,
Made a statement based on fact,
But I had my very own vengeful thoughts,
And that would put paid to that.
The shooter they found dead in his cell,
Strung up with a blue striped tie,
He just couldn't face a life in jail
While Giselle stayed high and dry.
They'd seen each other behind my back
She'd sucked him in for the kill,
I hid my total contempt for her
But it called for an iron will.
It took three months and she moved back in,
She was finally over her fear,
But needed to cover herself, I knew
She'd leave, when the coast was clear!
She had my money, all stashed away,
In a locker at Central Park,
I'd found the key in her underwear
As I roamed around in the dark.
One night I said we should take the train,
Go down and take in a show,
We got to the end of the platform, and
I hustled her down below,
Down and into the tunnel, said:
‘We're taking a shorter way! '
Revenge is a dish served cold, I thought,
I was cold as cold that day.
We came to an iron grating that
I lifted, to hustle her down,
Down on a rusty ladder to
The sewers, run under the town.
I cuffed her there to a water pipe
While she screamed and kicked and spat,
When I left her stood in the sewage there
I could see the first grey rat!
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hey Lucky Lady
Hey lucky lady lucky lady I was once the lucky lady
I was happy with my baby I was such a lucky lady
Hey lucky lady lucky lady you are now the lucky lady
Are you happy with my baby you know you're a lucky lady you lucky lady
Lucky lady that's what I was I was happy to have his love
All a woman could wish for he was that and so much more
He was mine and how I loved him before your hands ever touched him
Long before your temptin' eyes lured my baby from my life
Hey lucky lady lucky lady...
Is it love or is it pleasure do you know you've found a treasure
Are you only having fun do you know the prize you've won
If you don't want something lasting if it's just the time you're passing
Lucky lady give him up cause I do love him very much
Hey lucky lady lucky lady...
Hey lucky lady lucky lady...
song performed by by Dolly Parton, music by Dolly Parton (1975)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Lullaby
Sleep, pretty lady, the night is enfolding you;
Drift, and so lightly, on crystalline streams.
Wrapped in its perfumes, the darkness is holding you;
Starlight bespangles the way of your dreams.
Chorus the nightingales, wistfully amorous;
Blessedly quiet, the blare of the day.
All the sweet hours may your visions be glamorous-
Sleep, pretty lady, as long as you may.
Sleep, pretty lady, the night shall be still for you;
Silvered and silent, it watches you rest.
Each little breeze, in its eagerness, will for you
Murmur the melodies ancient and blest.
So in the midnight does happiness capture us;
Morning is dim with another day's tears.
Give yourself sweetly to images rapturous-
Sleep, pretty lady, a couple of years.
Sleep, pretty lady, the world awaits day with you;
Girlish and golden, the slender young moon.
Grant the fond darkness its mystical way with you;
Morning returns to us ever too soon.
Roses unfold, in their loveliness, all for you;
Blossom the lilies for hope of your glance.
When you're awake, all the men go and fall for you-
Sleep, pretty lady, and give me a chance.
poem by Dorothy Parker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!