The Gardener LIX: O Woman
O woman, you are not merely the
handiwork of God, but also of men;
these are ever endowing you with
beauty from their hearts.
Poets are weaving for you a web
with threads of golden imagery;
painters are giving your form ever
new immortality.
The sea gives its pearls, the mines
their gold, the summer gardens their
flowers to deck you, to cover you, to
make you more precious.
The desire of men's hearts has shed
its glory over your youth.
You are one half woman and one
half dream.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Man And Woman, Two Hands
Man and woman are half, half,
Not exact but asymmetrical.
Man and woman form a whole;
Together they tend the race.
Two men cannot form a whole
And not two women either,
Gays and lesbians to note.
Man and woman are stake and vine.
They are two hands: right and left.
Hands don’t fight for supremacy.
They work for integrity.
Man and woman must learn from this.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Woman, Oh Woman (A Song)
Woman, Oh woman
Why do you make me feel
Every time I'm near you
My heads a spinning wheel
Woman, Oh woman
What have you done to me
Woman, Oh woman
Did you cast a spell on me
Woman, Oh woman
When you touch me, I chill
When you kiss me, I'm in heaven
I've known nothing so real
Woman, Oh woman
When I gaze into your eyes
I'm blinded by the passion
I feel that's deep inside
Woman, Oh woman
Did you over do your spell
My hearts in many pieces
It sadens me to tell
Woman, Oh woman
What have you done to me
Woman, Oh woman
Did you cast a spell on me
Woman, Oh woman
In sadness I do tell
My hearts in tiny pieces
Did you over do your spell.
poem by Bill Simmons
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Engrossed Grandmother In Her Cross Stitching
it is this absurdity of choosing words
for a nice handiwork
knitting some fairies in some mathematical colors of threads
some butterflies and flowers in bright colors
a painting in cloth and threads
takes time
when she is finally hypnotized
falling into a deep sleep
inside a room
where she is alone on dim light
i open the door
i see the best handiwork of God
a woman so indulged so engrossed
in her art
sleeping.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Engrossed In The Making Of Art
it is this absurdity of choosing words
for a nice handiwork
knitting some fairies in some mathematical colors of threads
some butterflies and flowers in bright colors
a painting in cloth and threads
takes time
when she is finally hypnotized
falling into a deep sleep
inside a room
where she is alone on dim light
i open the door
i see the best handiwork of God
a woman so indulged so engrossed
in her art sleeping.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chauvinist
I’d never really comprehended such a mighty range of
Shapes and sizes down behind, it’s really rather strange:
The buttock muscle in a woman, overlaid with fat
Is actually such a focal point for men to want to pat
Or squeeze, and then to tease her if it’s eminently stout,
Or even risk a stay in clink to sting it with a clout!
After all, we men are tuned to be that way inclined –
And tho’ our needs are varied, girls, they’re all perverse of mind!
Best of all, our sacred dream: to see her shed her gown
When gliding to the shower for the ritual sponging down.
But then alas! With body lathered, oops! she drops the soap;
‘Please! ’ we beg her, ‘bend and bare! ’ But we can only hope!
I’m sure by now you get the picture – like a rule of thumb –
That men like me obsess all day about the fairer bum.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
My dreams are of a
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman woman
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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So Weary And So Dedicated Sleeping
it is this painstaking
choice of words
for a nice handiwork
knitting some fairies
in some
mathematical colors of threads
some butterflies
and flowers in bright colors
using strictly the mandate
of numbers
a painting in cloth and threads
taking her
time
when she is finally
hypnotized
falling into a deep sleep
inside a room
where she is alone
on a dim light
of her loneliness
i open the door
to check on her
i see the handiwork of God
a woman so indulged
so engrossed
in her art
so weary
and dedicated
sleeping.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Heart Of Hearts
I found myself
In a cross condition
Maybe it was her
Maybe it was me
Somethin's wrong
There was somethin' missin'
I couldn't stand to stay
So I had to leave.
A half a tank of gas
Brought me this distance
Half a mind to run
Got me this far
There's a woman willin'
Where there ain't no witness
'Cept the one that lives
In my heart of hearts.
My heart of hearts
Won't lie to me
It won't tell me things
That I can't believe
I better stop this thing
Before it starts
'Cause it don't feel right
To my heart of hearts.
I could be tastin'
Stolen kisses
But that might
Tear my world apart
When it all comes down
To my wish of wishes
I'd have to go with
My heart of hearts.
My heart of hearts
Won't lie to me
It won't tell me things
That I can't believe
I better stop this thing
Before it starts
'Cause it don't feel right
To my heart of hearts.
I better stop this thing
Before it starts
'Cause it don't feel right
To my heart of hearts.
My heart of hearts
Won't lie to me...
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Primrose
Upon this Primrose hill,
Where, if Heav'n would distil
A shower of rain, each several drop might go
To his own primrose, and grow manna so;
And where their form and their infinity
Make a terrestrial Galaxy,
As the small stars do in the sky:
I walk to find a true Love; and I see
That 'tis not a mere woman that is she,
But must or more or less than woman be.
Yet know I not which flower
I wish; a six, or four;
For should my true-Love less than woman be
She were scarce any thing; and then, should she
Be more than woman she would get above
All thought of sex, and think to move
My heart to study her, and not to love;
Both these were monsters; since there must reside
Falsehood in woman, I could more abide
She were by art than Nature falsified.
Live primrose then, and thrive
With thy true number five;
And woman, whom this flower doth represent,
With this mysterious number be content;
Ten is the farthest number; if half ten
Belong unto each woman, then
Each woman may take half us men;
Or if this will not serve their turn, since all
Numbers are odd or even, and they fall
First into this, five, woman may take us all.
poem by John Donne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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the handiwork of God
it is this painstaking
choice of words
for a nice handiwork
knitting some fairies
in some
mathematical colors of threads
some butterflies
and flowers in bright colors
using strictly the mandate
of numbers
a painting in cloth and threads
taking her
time
when she is finally
hypnotized
falling into a deep sleep
inside a room
where she is alone
on a dim light
of her loneliness
i open the door
to check on her
inside the cramped room
i see the handiwork of God
a woman so indulged
so engrossed
in her art
so weary
and dedicated
in passion sleeping.....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sunshine’s Once Again Here
Sunshine is once again here
Glowing from in and out
Golden threads everywhere
When low down and in doubt
Wishing wells of yesterday
All that was in its old song
As the threads come and play
Together when we do long
All is in footsteps that come
Colors to a heart pounding
That where our feelings are from
Gold echoes their sounding
Sea of the touches and deep
Flowers within that don´t fall
Yours forever assets to keep
When colors of summer call
Sunshine is filling my window
With all that I see outside
Summer my roses shall grow
Now to its loveliness abide
Wishing wells to tomorrow
Every time in your uncertainty
Let summer yielding adagio
Make every desire guarantee
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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The Primrose, Being at Montgomery Castle, Upon the Hill, on Which It Is Situate
UPON this Primrose hill,
Where, if heaven would distil
A shower of rain, each several drop might go
To his own primrose, and grow manna so;
And where their form, and their infinity
Make a terrestrial galaxy,
As the small stars do in the sky;
I walk to find a true love; and I see
That 'tis not a mere woman, that is she,
But must or more or less than woman be.
Yet know I not, which flower
I wish; a six, or four;
For should my true-love less than woman be,
She were scarce anything; and then, should she
Be more than woman, she would get above
All thought of sex, and think to move
My heart to study her, and not to love.
Both these were monsters; since there must reside
Falsehood in woman, I could more abide,
She were by art, than nature falsified.
Live, primrose, then, and thrive
With thy true number five;
And, woman, whom this flower doth represent,
With this mysterious number be content;
Ten is the farthest number; if half ten
Belongs to each woman, then
Each woman may take half us men;
Or—if this will not serve their turn—since all
Numbers are odd, or even, and they fall
First into five, women may take us all.
poem by John Donne
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Half A Woman
They called him great scott
Because he was great
They called her great susan
Cause she was his date
She climbed in a box
He cut her in two
And when he was through
She was just half a woman
And hed tie her up
Set her on fire
Hed douce her with oil
The crowd would go wild
She was always alright
At the end of the night
But somehow she felt
Like just half a woman
The show went the same way
Year after year
Hed wave his magic wand
Shed disappear
One day she asked
How did this come to be
Somewhere there must be more to me
One day she left
She climbed through the stage
And into the trap door
Under the lions cage
And after a spell
He said what the hell
It was just as well
She was just half a woman
song performed by by Fountains Of Wayne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beauty of a Woman
The beauty of a woman lies in her silence
Rather than her speech
The beauty of a woman lies in her patience
Rather than her inquisitiveness outreach
The beauty of a woman lies in her experience
Rather than her age
The beauty of a woman lies in her veil for awhile
Rather than her face
The beauty of a woman lies in her submission
Rather that her dominance
The beauty of a woman lies in her smile
Rather than her laughter
The beauty of a woman lies in her abode
Rather than her adventure
The beauty of a woman lies in her offspring
Rather than herself ever
The beauty of a woman lies in her heart's spring
Rather than in skin cover
Shashikant Nishant Sharma
(शशिकांत निशांत शर्मा ‘साहिल')
poem by Shashikant Nishant Sharma
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Decked With Gold
The woman was arrayed in purple and scarlet colours,
Decked with gold, pearls and precious stones!
But she was worried about the things to come.
Like she who sits on the seven mountains in Rome,
She is desolate and naked after war!
And her desire is with many to make a difference.
Of the wine of her fornications,
Of the beer of her adulteries,
It was very pleasant to the eyes and desirable as food;
But like the work and the care of her lover,
She is always decked with gold.
Of the peace that eludes her,
At the same time of war with mankind;
But when she is dead and gone,
Others will still hope and dream of her.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Her Desire for 40G
Now back when I was 28,
I met and loved a 38 –
DD!
Hmm…I never really saw her eyes…
Perhaps I never needed to –
‘Twas all about her size.
Come on, be honest,
You really show surprise?
Oh yes, the storyline:
One sunny day she said to me,
‘I need to make you happy, see,
By undergoing surgery
So you can have my guarantee
That when you see my 40G,
You’ll hit new heights of ecstasy! ’
‘Phew! ’ I drew a breath.
‘Well thank you dear, you’re very kind,
But won’t you risk me going blind?
If one of those should catch my eye,
I’m sure to wave them both goodbye;
And after all, you’re rather tall –
With extra weight you’ll likely fall;
Forwards, I should clarify.
Hmm…we’re back again to my poor eye.’
‘It’s all about your precious sight! ’
She screamed at me with all her might,
‘I only want to make you proud
And me to stand out in the crowd.’
‘You do already stand right out!
Any more, then there’s no doubt
You might as well just poke me blind,
So in the streets I’ll tag behind,
Unaware of all the fuss,
Especially when on the bus –
Assuming you could squeeze on board…
Hmm…at least I know I’ll be ignored…
Okay – go get them done.’
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman woman woman
woman woman woman woman
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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¤*Every Woman*¤!
Ever womans beauty
Comes from deep within
Covered in a dusty cloud
Of volcanic fierceness
Waiting to erupt
And flame to greatness
Every woman
Starts as a tiny grain
Of sand
Only to mature
To the most
Precious of pearls
Every woman
Is a symbol of protection
Poised in the grass
To strike her foe
Every woman
Is placed in a shell
Only to harden
And bloom
To brightness
Every woman
Is a light at the
End of the tunnel
Lighting her way
Through the darkness
Every woman
Is a symbol
Of a new beginning
poem by Blessing Msiza
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Scent Of A Woman
Now woman...scent of a woman
a man don't add up to much, next to a woman
a man can't ever forget the taste of a woman
a man is half the test, a man is half the best
a man can't understand the reasons why
a man's just a day in the life of a woman
just a few mintues a night to a woman
see what a woman can do
to the man inside of you
it's more than the sum of the sun and the moon
well a man is a man is a hell of a man
a man ain't a man in a one night stand
a man just don't stack up next to a woman
a man can't see what a woman can do
a man is no man hiding next to you
a man don't add up to much next to a woman
oohhh...the scent of a woman
the world would never be, except for a woman
it's hard for a man to see what makes a woman
even harder to impress, cause she expects the best
she never makes it easy to pass the test
well a man is a man is a hell of a man
a man ain't a man in a one night stand
a man just won't stack up next to a woman
a man can't do what a woman can do
a man is not a man lying next to you
and man will just give up next to a woman
oh yeah....here she comes now (here she comes now, she comes now, here she comes now)
here she comes now (here she comes now, she comes now, here she comes now)
well a man is a man is a hell of a man
a man ain't a man in a one night stand
a man just won't stack up next to a woman
a man can't do what a woman can do
a man is a man if he can get to you
all a man wants to do is get to a woman, yeah
yeah yeah x 16
yeah...the scent of a woman
song performed by by Cheap Trick
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Someday Woman
Written by gerry beckley, bill mumy, and robert haimer, 1983
Found on your move.
Someday woman, someday will come
Someday woman, well get along
Well its easy to say Im right
And so easy to see Im wrong
Someday woman, well get along
Someday woman, well understand
Someday woman, Ill be your man
Well its easy to say Im right
And so easy to see Im wrong
Someday woman, well get along
Someday our hearts will come together
Well live this dream forever
Well see all weve been through
Someday for me and you
Ba, da, da, da, da ,da
Ba, da, da, da, da ,da
Ba, da, da, da, da ,da
Ba, da, da, da, da ,da
I keep hopin someday soon will come for me
I keep lookin theres too much to see
Someday woman, way down the line
Someday woman, well turn out fine
Well its easy to say Im right
And so easy to see Im wrong
Someday woman, well get along
Someday (someday) our hearts will come together (will come together girl)
Well live this dream forever (someday we will)
Well see all weve been through (you know its true)
Someday for me and you
Ba, da, da, da, da ,da
Ba, da, da, da, da ,da
Ba, da, da, da, da ,da
Ba, da, da, da, da ,da
Ba, da, da, da, da ,da
Ba, da, da, da, da ,da
Ba, da, da, da, da ,da
Ba, da, da, da, da ,da
Ba, da, da, da, da ,da
Ba, da, da, da, da ,da
Ba, da, da, da, da ,da
Ba, da, da, da, da ,da
Ba, da, da, da, da ,da
Ba, da, da, da, da ,da
Ba, da, da, da, da ,da
Ba, da, da, da, da ,da ...
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love's Young Dream
Oh! the days are gone, when Beauty bright
My heart's chain wove;
When my dream of life, from morn till night,
Was love, still love.
New hope may bloom,
And days may come,
Of milder calmer beam,
But there's nothing half so sweet in life
As love's young dream:
No, there's nothing half so sweet in life
As love's young dream.
Though the bard to purer fame may soar,
When wild youth's past;
Though he win the wise, who frown'd before,
To smile at last;
He'll never meet
A joy so sweet,
In all his noon of fame,
As when first he sung to woman's ear
His soul-felt flame,
And, at every close, she blush'd to hear
The one loved name.
No, -- that hallow'd form is ne'er forgot
Which first love traced;
Still it lingering haunts the greenest spot
On memory's waste.
'Twas odour fled
As soon as shed;
'Twas morning's winged dream;
'Twas a light, tht ne'er can shine again
On life's dull stream:
Oh! 'twas light that n'er can shine again
On life's dull stream.
poem by Thomas Moore
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The Seasons of Life
A weaver sits
among the beautiful
threads weaving a glorious
tapestry. Brilliant colors reflect
the seasons of life.
Spring offers
many hues of green,
ever so soothing. When
hearts are young, happy and carefree.
having promises for tomorrow.
Still young enough to
believe dreams will come true.
Oh those days
of summer with wonderful
red, thinking we have found
our hearts delight. Enjoying the heat
of the season, passion abounding.
Then Autumn turns
leaves to many shades of
gold, and cascade to the ground.
Leaving painted pictures lying around.
Looking at life differently.
Knowledge obtainable at last.
Finally the majestic
days of winter silver threads
carefully enter woven. In retrospect
with greens, reds, and gold have created
the wonderful seasons of life.
poem by Heather Burns
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