In Resisting
in resisting you
your breaths so near my nostrils
your hands
warming my hands
your hair blown by this
scented air
from your eyes
silently too
gazing
sizing what i may give you
i gently
lift your hands
away from my hands
shy away from your hair
trying to entwine
some locks of my hair
i waft the scented
air away from
my nostrils
i gaze away
from your gaze
i walk a step farther
away from you
i become a boat
my mind like paddles
sailing away from you
against the current
i begin to feel
that i am a rock
in the middle
of this raging river
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Music Is Hapiness
I lift up my hands
The smile on my face tells all
The music
Takes me away
Away from everything bad
The Music
It makes me laugh
It makes me happy
I lift up my hands
Sway back and forth
If there is one thing good in this world
Its Music
It fills my mind
With good thoughts
Replacing the bad ones
My eyes
Full of joy
Instead of sadness
The music
Is my happiness
I lift up my hands
Shake my head back and forth
My hair in my face
The music
It lets me
Come out of my shell
The music
Lets me be who I am
I lift up my hands
The rhythm pounds on my eardrums
The ends of my mouth
Curl up
Instead of down
I lift my head
Brush the hair out of my eyes
The music
Is my happiness
Your Hair
Your hair, a city of chestnut brown
With locks resilient like hands, steady ambidextrous hands
And the chamomile bliss and breeze in the land,
Subtly sit like an orphaned child
Your hair, and the enticing air
Twisted and curled, devoured by a cicada
With pointed antenna beaming forward
Quantum leaps and celestial bodies reunited
Your hair, of soft and cozy feel
Buried me underneath the aroma
Of coffee-laced and inebriated mornings,
In the strands of the rays of the Sun,
Hanging by a thread,
Dwindling by the street lamps that flicker -
Ensconced in the premise of the night
And the eyes resembling a masked crescent moon
Then it should appear to me,
Like a fire and a name emblazoned on pavements
Talking like puppets and mannequins
With shunned eyes and stationary stances
Your hair, not that I know of -
The surreal and bizarre complex
Of the strands and locks that entwine
With fate and time, leaving me dismantled
I feel naked underneath your hair,
And over your lips, your lips of iridescence
My soul, lit like fireworks in high spirits
My oh my, do I wish to be buried underneath your hair
If I couldn't see you, like time eschewing the breath
Of sunshine's mouth, and the prying moon
Then I shall think of your hair and not your feet
For it is in your hair, have I found divine solace
And when I run my hands and caress thy chestnut brown
Of a hair so delighted by the chandeliers and lamps,
I feel my soul runaway in the impasse, the opaque tunnel
Your hair not of the arbitrator, not the trivial, but the certain
Your hair of enthralling fragrance and glowing with poise
Like stellar eyes in the dead azure, not resurrected
I long for your hair, and for your soul, like water flowing endlessly
And perhaps my love for you, on a mountainside streaming like a river.
poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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These Hands
Given by God -are these hands!
One can do many things -with these hands
With love one can help a strangers' hands-
Allay and comfort the elders' gnarled hands
Clean sweep and mop with these hands
Decorate and embellish with these hands
Cook and serve food to all with these hands
Clasp a loved one with these hands
Applaud one with pleasure with these hands
Dig the soil and form a garden with these hands
Hold a book to read with these hands
Write and post a card with these hands
Type a poem to cheer someone with these hands
Draw a picture and sew clothes with these hands
Paint a beautiful scene to amuse with these hands
Play a game of volley ball or cricket with these hands
Swim the waters and row a boat with these hands
Pick the harvests and fruits with these hands
Feed the animals and birds with these hands
Seek the warmth of dear ones with these hands
Feel the soft petals of a flower with these hands
Fold the palms to pray with these hands
Given by God - are these hands!
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Suffocation
Last night I had the weirdest dream
I dreamt that I was lying in bed
With this girl whose hair was
As black as the night and as
Thick as a forest,
And her hair, her hair was
Smothering me
Or at least, I thought it was
Her hair,
Until I noticed it was her hands
Running over my face,
My lips
My eyes
My cheeks.
As hot as the desert
And smooth as silk
But pressing down
Pressing me into my pillow
Until I could see nothing
But the pink of her skin
And I thought,
Im gunna die
Those hands are gunna
Kill me
Until I realized really,
It wasn’t hands,
But lips,
Sucking the air from mine
Engulfing my last breath
And drawing it into her being
And I thought, well,
At least lips are
A nice way to go
Until finally I came
To my goddamn senses
And I realized,
I realized it wasn’t her lips
But the words coming
From those sweet lips
That was suffocating me
And it was “I love you”
I was choking on
Not her hair, hands or lips
At all.
poem by Nick Downer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Shall Have These Hands That Shall Write About Hands....
must have i forgotten
from where all these come?
ah, i have read about your hands
and now i shall have to mind about mine
once i had these hands
whose name is
work and struggle and
sacrifice
they lifted rocks
outlined by Sisyphus
and roll them from
atop the hill
and put them again there
in senseless
labor
when i got reason
my hands began to think
as though they have brains
under their nails
these hands begin the
questions
grapple for answers
and got
no satisfaction
they dabble in poetry
trembling and tense and
looking for
a compromise for some
fetish
must have i forgotten from where
these hands come?
someone says these hands are from
the hands of God
whose hands hand what we do not have
in hand yet
these hands did what was wrong then
and covered the face of the
penitent and the remorseful
these hands that slap a face that
triggered a gunfire
that lay upon the hardened breasts
and held breaths
these hands that write now for you
face upside down not asking for anything in return
these hands that speak for you
as you turn your head for someone else.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hands Up!
Live and direct, busy again.
Let there be rhythm, let there be fun.
Were just warming up to rock the groove.
On our journey of sound we gonna make you move.
You know what I mean.
In search for something like the next tomorrow
Ive got a suggestion and I need you to follow.
Hands up! hands up!
Hands up! yeeeeaheah!
This is the voice from outer space,
Responsible rhythm for the human race.
No return, no regret but resurrection.
We shout it out loud to get a reaction.
Jump all up, keep it up to the top.
That was then but this is now.
What a wonderful day just let yourself go.
Hands up! hands up!
Hands up! yeeeeaheah!
Cmon!! allright.
Once again! hands up!
Hands up! hands up! yeeeeaheah!
Yeeeeeeheah.
song performed by by Scooter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hairbrush
how i wish my fingers were the bristles
or my breath were the wind when it whistles
thru your hair, thru your hair
i wish you'd hold me in your hands
and let me skate thru all the strands
of your hair, of your hair
i could style it anyway you like it
i could brush it straight or even spike it
au contraire! au contraire!
or i would wait patiently in my box
until next i would comb the locks
of your hair, of your hair
i would braid it tight, tousle, and tease!
or pull it back in a ponytail, if you please;
if you dare, if you dare
how often is it a man confesses
that he wish to run barefoot thru the tresses
of your hair, of your hair?
you may think me a little touch'd
but can i tell you just how much
i hate your hairbrush?
this obsession may be zealous
but can i tell you just how jealous
i am of your hairbrush? !
poem by Rev. Dr. A. Jacob Hassler
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love Calling
Sun goes down I rise
Red hair flames so bright
Iced gin breaks the night
Steal into her mind
Walk without a sound
Fire in the mountains now
If you wanna rub-a-dub, rub-a-dub
If you wanna rub-a-dub, dub love
Love calling, love calling
If you wanna rub-a-dub, rub-a-dub
If you wanna rub-a-dub, dub love
Love calling
So baby rock on
Clap hands, clap hands
For the song man
Rock on, rock on
Ooo baby rock on,
Clap hands, clap hands
For the song man
Rock on, rock on
Song man dreams for you
Moves his clapping space
Turns us into snakes
Hot hits
And the blue moon move, move, move
Move until we die
Move until she cries
If you wanna rub-a-dub, rub-a-dub
If you wanna rub-a-dub, dub love
Love calling, love calling
If you wanna rub-a-dub, rub-a-dub
If you wanna rub-a-dub, dub love
Love calling
Oo baby rock on
If you wanna rub-a-dub, rub-a-dub
If you wanna rub-a-dub, dub love
Love calling, love calling
If you wanna rub-a-dub, rub-a-dub
If you wanna rub-a-dub, dub love
Love calling
So[ooo? ] baby rock on
Clap hands, clap hands
For the song man
Rock on, rock on
Ooo baby rock on,
Clap hands, clap hands
For the song man
Rock on, rock on
song performed by by Billy Idol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Your Hair Dreams
Your hair
(fine as a baby’s fine)
so soft
softly
your hair
falls asleep
before the rest
of you.
Your hair
dreams of being
stroked
caressed.
The rest of you
follows suit
& soon
all of you
is sleeping.
Your hair
dreaming of my hands.
Your body
dreaming of my hands.
Dream & Reality
merging.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Have The Touch
The time I like is the rush hour, cos I like the rush
The pushing of the people - I like it all so much
Such a mass of motion - do not know where it goes
I move with the movement and ... I have the touch
Im waiting for ignition, Im looking for a spark
Any chance collision and I light up in the dark
There you stand before me, all that fur and all that hair
Oh, do I dare ... I have the touch
Wanting contact
Im wanting contact
Im wanting contact with you
Shake those hands, shake those hands
Give me the thing I understand
Shake those hands, shake those hands
Shake those hands, shake those hands
Any social occasion, its hello, how do you do
All those introductions, I never miss my cue
So before a question, so before a doubt
My hand moves out and ... I have the touch
Wanting contact
Im wanting contact
Im wanting contact with you
Shake those hands, shake those hands
Give me the thing I understand
Shake those hands, shake those hands
Pull my chin, stroke my hair, scratch my nose, hug my knees
Try drink, food, cigarette, tension will not ease
I tap my fingers, fold my arms, breathe in deep, cross my legs
Shrug my shoulders, stretch my back - but nothing seems
To please
I need contact
I need contact
Nothing seems to please
I need contact
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My heart is my hands
My hands
Is
Only my hands...
Not for
your hands....
So...
I want too work
My hands...
I want too serve
My hands...
I want to do about
Somthing of my
Hands...
My hands is
Free for only
Sleeping time only...
my hands is
working all the times
My hands not only
Hands...
It is human workers...
Allways for my friends...
My hands...is my heart...
My heart is my hands.....
Ok...How is your hands...?
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Have The Touch
The time I like is the rush hour, cos I like the rush
The pushing of the people, I like it all so much
Such a mass of motion, do not know where it goes
I move with the movement and ... I have the touch
Im waiting for ignition, Im looking for a spark
Any chance collision and I light up in the dark
There you stand before me, all that fur and all that hair
Oh, do I dare ... I have the touch
Only, only
Wanting contact
Only, only
Im wanting contact
Only, only
Im wanting contact with you
Shake those hands, shake those hands
Give me the thing I understand
Shake those hands, shake those hands
Shake hands, shake hands.
Any social occasion, hello, how do you do
All those introductions, I never miss my cue
So before a question, so before a doubt
My hand moves out and ... I have the touch
Only, only
Wanting contact
Only, only
Im wanting contact
Only, only
Im wanting contact with you
Shake those hands, shake those hands
Give me the thing I understand
Shake those hands, shake those hands
Shake those hands
Pull my chin, stroke my hair, scratch my nose, hug my knees
Try drink, food, cigarette, the tension will not ease
I tap my fingers, fold my arms, breathe in deep, cross my legs
Shrug my shoulders, stretch my back, but nothing seems to please
I need contact
I need contact
Nothing seems to please
I need contact
Tac-tacatac, tac-tacatac
I need contact
Nothing seems to please
I need contact
Tac-tacatac, tac-tacatac
I need contact
Ah, tac-tacatac
I need contact
Nothing seems to please
I need contact
I need contact.
song performed by by Heather Nova
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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65
My hands holding some shadows
On white laces and flowing
Whiteness of dress
You walk towards a breezy
Shore on some dreams
Your black long hair flowing
Blown against your direction
Your soft hands touch your face
In disbelief
Why this sadness must come and
Happen and linger
In your almond eyes
Sadness like the night
Hovers you except for a surprise
You hum our song
From your heart
And though faraway I will always
Be there
My hands holding some shadows
To comfort you
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Punk Rock 101
She works at hot topic
His heart microscopic
She thinks that it's love
But to him it's sex
He listens to emo
But Fat Mike's his hero
His bank account's zero
What comes next
Same song, different chorus
It's stupid, contagious
To be broke and famous
Can someone please save us from Punk Rock 101
My Dickies, your sweatbands
My spiked hair, your new Vans
Let's throw up our rock hands for Punk Rock 101
She bought him a skateboard, a rail slide, his knee tore
He traded it for drums at the local pawn shop
She left him for staring
At girls and not caring
When she cried cause she thought Bon Jovi broke up
Same song second chorus
It's stupid, contagious
To be broke and famous
Can someone please save us from Punk Rock 101
My Dickies, your sweatbands
My spiked hair, your new Vans
Let's throw up our rock hands for Punk Rock 101
Don't forget to delay
On the very last word
Seven years later
He works as a waiter
She married a trucker and he's never there
The story never changes
Just the names and faces
Like Tommy and Gina
They're livin' on a prayer
Did you just say that
I said
It's stupid, contagious
To be broke and famous
Can someone please save us from Punk Rock 101
My Dickies, your sweatbands
My spiked hair, your new Vans
Let's throw up our rock hands for Punk Rock 101
It's stupid, contagious
To be broke and famous
Can someone please save us from Punk Rock 101
My Dickies, your sweatbands
My spiked hair, your new Vans
Let's throw up our rock hands for Punk Rock 101
It's stupid, contagious
(Same song, different chorus)
To be broke and famous
(Same song, different chorus)
Can someone please save us from Punk Rock 101
My Dickies, your rock hands
(Same song, different chorus)
My spiked hair, your new Vans
(Same song, different chorus)
Let's shoplift some sweatbands for Punk Rock 101
song performed by by Bowling For Soup
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunshine And Flowers And Your Way Of Loving
susnhine, spreading sunshine, warming my face
spreading this warm caress to my body, my shoulders,
bathe
take the basins of sunshine in the cups of your hands
feel
close your eyes and feel the sunshine falling in your hair
running to your ears
then open your eyes
to the blooms of flowers, the roses and daffodils in the garden
where a chair is there
where you sit
looking at me, beside you, bathing to sunshine, closing my eyes
feeling the warmth of the gazes of your eyes, the pulse of your wrist
the palm
your hands running
slowly all over me,
sunshine and hands and eyes closing
opening to dazzling color and closing again
to the thoughts of love
of you always loving me
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Passing Of A Heart
O touch me with your hands--
For pity's sake!
My brow throbs ever on with such an ache
As only your cool touch may take away;
And so, I pray
You, touch me with your hands!
Touch--touch me with your hands.--
Smooth back the hair
You once caressed, and kissed, and called so fair
That I did dream its gold would wear alway,
And lo, to-day--
O touch me with your hands!
Just touch me with your hands,
And let them press
My weary eyelids with the old caress,
And lull me till I sleep. Then go your way,
That Death may say:
He touched her with his hands.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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MO CAILIN ALAINN RUA(My Beautiful Red Haired Girl) /RED RIVER/WEARING HER HAIR - Sequence
MO CAILIN ALAINN RUA
(My Beautiful Red Haired Girl)
Your hair
taken by the wind
blown
into flame
a fiery red
Medussa
standing on
the edge
of this
mountain
a world
turned to stone
as if your gaze
froze this landscape
into place.
I too
still as stone
your hair
flaring up into the air
fiery snakes
like thoughts
bursting out of your mind
fighting the sunset
that only
a small box camera
captures
& contains
this photo
cutting off your head
from the rest of you
mythical
untouchable
mo cailin alainn rua
mo cailin alainn rua.
***
RED RIVER
Your hair
trickles down your back
in curls...curls
curl after curl
rivers of ringlets
cascading down your spine.
I want to drown
in the waters of your hair.
You wear a waterfall
over each shoulder
The fiery flames
of your tresses
crashing over thigh & hip & buttock!
My hands
like fishes
swimming all over
your body
splashed with the beauty
of your hair
touching & touching
the sheer
nakedness
of
you.
***** **
WEARING HER HAIR
You stand
before me
dressed only
in the dress
that your hair
weaves about you
naked
yet
not
you wear
your hair
as a magical
garment
from a half remembered half forgotten fairytale.
You undress
throwing your hair over each shoulder
I come to you as if a spell
commanded me to & you
wrap me
in your hair.
Both our
nakedness
wearing your hair
sheltered here
lost amongst
kisses.
***
A fellow poet(well, it wasn't a fella) divulged that she too was red of the hair(this had been unknown to me) and so this homage to redheads came into being just on this wisp of information...the memories and images flood back into being.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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H o p e
my little hands are always looking for you
my little hands always want to hold you
my little hands will never let you go
I want to walk and be comfortable
together in your grasp
while my little hands have not been able to conquer the world
but at the moment my little hands into a future force
hands that will always hold you
and will not let you go
smile and my little hands is hope
who will take care of you
someday - is my devotion to you
My hands holding some shadows
On white laces and flowing
Whiteness of dress
You walk towards a breezy
Shore on some dreams
Your black long hair flowing
Blown against your direction
Your soft hands touch your face
In disbelief
Why this sadness must come and
Happen and linger
In your almond eyes
Sadness like the night
Hovers you except for a surprise
You hum our song
From your heart
And though faraway I will always
Be there
My hands holding some shadows
To comfort you
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Want More Hair?
I'd love
I think
more hair
more hair
like a big
old grizzly bear
more hair makes
you manly
more hair
makes you tough
more hair feels
like carpet
more hair keeps
you rough
more hair
for pretty ladies
to rub their faces on
more hair for
guys to jealous of
and more locks that can
be flung
I think more hair would be awesome
but I wouldn't wanna overdo it
because too much hair would make
me like a little furry blanket
and I couldn't cover both of us
just you and that ain't fair
more hair!
poem by John W. McEwers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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