As a wife…
I don’t want to be your doll;
Dolls are kept in show cases.
I don’t want to be your pillow;
Pillows aren’t wanted at day.
Neither shoes, idling at night,
Nor mother, a one side lover,
Do I want to be, my dear.
I want to be liquor in your belly
To activate you to my whims,
To respond to my needs
And to make me fly with wings.
12.02.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Lover Doll
(words & music by wayne - silver)
Lover doll, oh lover doll
Lover doll, lover doll
Youre the cutest lover doll
That I ever did ever see
Let me tell you lover doll
You were meant, just meant for me
On the first time that I saw you
How I fell for your cuddly charms
Lover doll Im crazy for you
Let me rock you in my arms
Im so glad I found you
Never thought dollies came full grown
Im gonna tie a ribbon around you
Wrap you up and take you home
I would never treat you badly
Like a cast away broken toy
Lover doll I love you madly
Let me be your lover boy
Im so glad I found you
Never thought dollies came full grown
Im gonna tie a ribbon around you
Wrap you up and take you home
I would never treat you badly
Like a cast away broken toy
Lover doll I love you madly
Let me be your lover boy
Lover doll, lover doll
Lover doll, lover doll
Lover doll, lover doll
Let me be your lover boy
Lover doll, lover doll
Lover doll, lover doll
Lover doll, lover doll
Let me be your lover boy
Let me be your lover boy
Let me be your lover boy
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Unexpected Father.
Your mother
had brought Helen
home for tea after school
and she had held on
to the handle
of the pram
your mother pushed
and you walked
along side
thinking of whether
to show her
your toy soldiers
and cowboys and Indians
and the guns
that fired
loud banging caps
or whether to just sit
and watch the TV
and eat your tea
and show her nothing
but once you got home
and your mother went off
to the kitchen to prepare
the tea stuff and such
Helen looked at you
and shyly smiled
and said
Can I see your sister's dolls
and pram
and does she have
a doll's house
I could play with?
you dismissed the idea
of showing her
the guns that fired caps
or your toy soldier collection
and took her
into the room
where you kept the toys
and pointed to
your sister's dolls
and the pram
and said
Take care
my sister doesn't like
people messing
with her stuff
and Helen nodded
and picked up a doll
and held it to her chest
and rocked it
to and fro
and walked up and down
murmuring there there sounds
that echoed softly
around the room
Where's your sister?
Helen asked
will she mind me
rocking the baby to sleep?
Guess not
you replied
and stood watching her
as she walked
and talked to the doll
in an undertone
and you stood there
hands in pockets
like a father
of an unexpected child
wondering what to say
or do and taking in
her thick lens glasses
and her eyes
seemingly enlarged
focusing on the doll
and the way her head
moved from side to side
so that her plaited hair
went from side to side
and up and down
and she said softly
and suddenly
We may have a baby like this
one day and you had better
say something more
than you are now
or I'll think
you didn't want it
and off she walked
up and down the room
and hoped your mother
would come soon
and save you from the fate
of being the father
of a doll with a dodgy eye
and a painted smile
but having a tender spot
for Helen
all the while.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Dolls
A DOLL in the doll-maker's house
Looks at the cradle and bawls:
'That is an insult to us.'
But the oldest of all the dolls,
Who had seen, being kept for show,
Generations of his sort,
Out-screams the whole shelf: 'Although
There's not a man can report
Evil of this place,
The man and the woman bring
Hither, to our disgrace,
A noisy and filthy thing.'
Hearing him groan and stretch
The doll-maker's wife is aware
Her husband has heard the wretch,
And crouched by the arm of his chair,
She murmurs into his ear,
Head upon shoulder leant:
'My dear, my dear, O dear.
It was an accident.'
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wishes And Dreams Within
Four dolls in my work station, the
prettiest small amounts of money
could buy - a special doll must be
cheap, otherwise I cannot
play with her at all
The smallest doll represents the
grown-up shell in which the child-
hood version of adults dwell, the
two bigger, younger dolls re-
present the wonderment
Of early youth - the smallest one
reminds of undeveloped potential,
everyone has probable personalities
which had been repressed to allow
one main ego to develop well
A shock might activate other ego-
possibilities - a split into several
identities - I sincerely wish I had
several personalities in me, one
for mathematics, another
For transcribing legalese, one for
cooking, another for social activities
while the real core personality would
be free to write poetry - or swim in the
sea or - dance to the music
My dolls represent my idea of human
personality, a bunch of unrealised
wishes and ideals within…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Ragetty Doll
Rosemary has of dolls a dozen,
Yet she disdains them all;
While Marie Rose, her pauper cousin
Has just an old rag doll.
But you should see her mother it,
And with her kisses smother it.
A twist of twill, a hank of hair,
Fit for the rubbish bin;
How Rosemary with scorn would stare
At its pathetic grin!
Yet Marie Rose can lover it,
And with her kisses cover it.
Rosemary is a pampered pet;
She sniffs a dainty nose
Of scorn at ragged dolls, and yet
My love's with Marie Rose,
In garret corner shy and sweet,
With rag doll Marguerite.
Though kin they are, a gulf will grow
Between them with the years;
For one a life of love will know,
The other toil and tears:
Perhaps that shabby rag doll knows
The rue of Marie Rose.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At Helen's for Tea.
After school
Helen's mother took you home to tea
and she was wheeling
the big pram along the pavement
with you on one side
and Helen on the other
and she said
hold onto the pram
while we cross the roads
I don't want anything
to happen to you
and as you crossed
the busy roads
you kept glancing over
at Helen with her plaited hair
parted in the middle
and her thin wired glasses
and her raincoat
buttoned tight
against the wind
and her small hand
clutching the pram handle tightly
and beside you
Helen's mother
short and stocky
pushing and puffing
and her eyes dark as night
and kind at the same time
and when you reached their home
and went inside
and she took off your coat
you went with Helen
into the sitting room
with a coal fire blazing
and the smell
of drying clothes
and past dinners
and Helen said
do you want to see my dolls
and the doll's house
my daddy made
out of boxwood
with lights you can turn off and on?
sure ok
you said
and you followed her
into her bedroom
where her toys and dolls
were laid up along the wall
next to her bed
and she took up a doll
and held her out to you
and said
this is my favourite
this is Jenny
and you said
hi Jenny how you doing?
and Helen smiled
her slightly goofy smile
and you liked that
her smile
and her eyes large as duck eggs
behind the thick lens
and she handed the doll
to you to hold
and you held the doll
and kissed the head
and hugged it close
thinking glad the other boys
can't see me now
here with this girl
and kissing and holding
the darn doll
out of some small boy love
and shyness
and you know
they'd laugh out loud
and point their tough boy fingers
and you're glad
they aren't there
just Helen
and her little girl love and kindness
against their rough ways
and small boy toughness.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Showing Dolls
And Mrs Clark said
why doesn’t your son
come to tea
I’m sure Helen
would like that
she can show him
her collection of dolls
and your mother said
yes that would be nice
I’m sure he’d like that
and Helen peered at you
through her spectacles
her pupils like
two brown fish
in a glass bowl
and she smiled
one of those smiles
which frighten small boys
and Mrs Clark said
yes and you can come too
and your mother nodded
and off they went
into one of their
long conversations
and as they talked
Mrs Clark rocked the pram
with her youngest kid
wrapped up inside
and your mother stood
with you by her side
with the creeping dread
riding up in you
of tea looming
and Helen standing there
her plaits on either side
of her head
going back and forth
as she moved her head
and Mrs. Clark laughed
and the pram shook
and the kid cried
and she rocked the pram
backward and forward
and all you
could think about
was the dolls
and the baked beans
on toast
and Helen showing you
her dolls
as she had before
and taking
a secret kiss
behind a closed door.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rosie O’Donald Turns into a Giant
Rosie O’Donald showed up in my dream,
It was on Krendoll island where things are surreal.
Krendoll huts are quiet for all dolls are asleep,
Then a loud thud sounds from the Feronian trees.
A big tree falls down, crashing to the ground.
For there is a something walking real big all around,
It’s Rosie O’Donald who is a giant walking a foot,
She ate one of the Razelberries of Razel that Rosie did uproot.
See Razel knew that Rosie would show up one night,
So Razel planted her Razelberrie and hid it out of site.
She knew since Rosie was a human from Earth,
She would eat anything she saw small in the dirt.
Rosie kept walking and bounced into a pillow real grand,
It was a Pillow mountain is where Rosie did land.
Now luckily the Krendoll dolls did not awake,
They would be really scared, make no mistake.
Now this is the end of my dream where Rosie does survive,
Survive a Big Pillow Mountain that actually comes alive.
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lover, Brother
Are you my brother or lover, brother?
don´t be my mother lover!
kiss you my brother lover
can´t be your mother, brother
never found you in the arms of another
Are you my lover, brother?
don´t touch my mother lover!
kiss you and not another
find out the love to your mother, brother
don´t even mistreat my brother, mother
Are you like my brother, lover?
don´t hate my mother lover!
kiss me instead of my mother, brother
not even be afraid of my brother, mother
we are the same but another
Are you my friend sweet brother?
please get in touch with my lover!
but do not kiss each other, brother
´cause he´s my lover, brother
treat him as your brother, my lover
Why aren´t lovers like brothers?
why mothers not like lovers!
kissing my man and not another, brother
but love you too my mother, never another
together we can treat us like brothers, brother.
@floydfloydson
(c) uni-verse.de 12.20.2011
poem by Floyd Floydson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Ancient of Days
A child sits in a sunny place,
Too happy for a smile,
And plays through one long holiday
With balls to roll and pile;
A painted wind-mill by his side
Runs like a merry tune,
But the sails are the four great winds of heaven,
And the balls are the sun and moon.
A staring doll's-house shows to him
Green floors and starry rafter,
And many-coloured graven dolls
Live for his lonely laughter.
The dolls have crowns and aureoles,
Helmets and horns and wings.
For they are the saints and seraphim,
The prophets and the kings.
poem by G.K. Chesterton from The Wild Knight and Other Poems (1900)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Flavors
*there was a red light coughing up a room of blood
And there were forecast seven inches of snow
And there were two tunes playing in my head at once
Arguing guitar and drums
There was a lover standing by a bed
With a cigarette burning in her hand
And there were moonbeams playing on her porcelain flesh
*i caught the arrow while it shot
Company cars and shoes were never meant to play the blues,
You were the only fool I ever wanted to make love to.
Even within my youth I denied I wanted to,
You were the only fool I ever wanted to make love to.
But as her bed made ? ? ?
And there were weak spots only she could detect
And as I rolled over to block the ? ? ?
? ? ?
There was a blue light the other side of the door
*and there were four cats stretching our their claws
And there were two lovers separated by the telephone.
Company cars and shoes were never meant to play the blues,
You were the only fool I ever wanted to make love to.
Even within my youth I denied I wanted to,
cos you were the only fool I ever wanted to make love to.
Your flavors are getting to me
Your flavors are getting to me
Your flavors are getting to me
Your flavors are getting to me
Your flavors
Your flavors
Your flavors
Your flavors
song performed by by Gomez
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Granny Krendoll Brings Star To Life
Granny Krendoll with her sewing flair
sews Star doll and yarns her hair.
Granny Krendoll makes Star into a small doll
once Star is alive the two have a ball.
Star writes Granny Krendoll once in awhile
she likes writing her letters that make her smile.
Then Granny Krendoll does get sick
she is sent to Krendoll hospital to recover quick.
Star had to make sure Granny Krendoll was alright
in fact Granny Krendoll told the nurse, where is Star tonight?
Right then Star with Melodie soon arrived
to sit by friend Granny Krendoll's dear old side.
Now Granny Krendoll gets healthy and recovers real soon
she enjoys sewing new dolls and her new life too.
Thank you Granny Krendoll for raising the bar
if it wasn't for you, the world would not have Star.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on February 14,2012
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blue Suede Shoes
(carl perkins)
Well, its one for the money, two for the show
Three to get ready and its go man go
You can do anything that you want to do
But uh-huh honey, lay off of my shoes
And dont you step on my shoes
Dont you step on my blue suede shoes
You can do anything that you want to do
But uh-uh honey stay off of my shoes
And dont you step on my blue suede shoes
You can burn my house, steal my car
And drink my liquor out of my fruit jar
You can do anything that you want to do
But uh-uh honey stay off of my shoes
And dont you step on my shoes
Dont step on my blue suede shoes
You can do anything that you want to do
But uh-uh honey stay off of my shoes
And dont you step on my blue suede shoes
Well, its down on beale street late one night
A woman got mad and started a fight
Split my chin and bust my nose
Tore out the back of my best suit of clothes
I said, knock me down, step in my face
Slander my name all over the place
Do anything that you want to do
But uh-uh honey stay off of my shoes
And dont you step on my shoes
Dont step on my blue suede shoes
You can do anything that you want to do
But uh-uh honey stay off of my shoes
And dont you step on my blue suede shoes
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lover Be Thy Name
Lover, lover
Lover be thy name I say
Hey, hey, hey lover
Lover, lover
Lover be thy name
Everyday when the sun goes down
And all alone I face the night
I thinkof you and all that you've been
To me you've torn away a hole in my life
Don't try to be my sister, my mother, my friend
Cause it would never ever be the same
Hey, hey, hey
Lover be thy name
In the Middle of the night
Lover be thy name
In the middle of the night
Lover be thy name
Go live your life and I'll try live mine
But baby, if you see me out on the street
Walk away, turn away
Don'tlook in my eyes
Till I get my heart back on my feet
Don't wanna be your brother or the
Shoulder you lean on
Just to ease the burning pain
When I Call you there's no answer
When I had your love
I didn't know the words to say
Those words to make you stay
I should have said
Lover, lover
Lover be thy name
song performed by by Haddaway
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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(Growing Pains) Red Shoes Blues
This is a song which should be chanted! (Based on a childhood memory)
............................................. ................................................. ..............
Red shoes,
she wanted...
red shoes...
they had to be red she said,
they had to be red...
no way she could explain
when she was only three...
no way that she could dance
through her three-year-old day
without
red shoes...
red shoes...
she got the red shoes blues.
She wanted
stiletto heels...
stiletto heels...
stilet-tos...
stilet-tos...
she was fifteen
and there wasn’t any way
that she was going to dance
through her teenage day
without stilet...tos...
with those...
pointy toes...
she got the winkle-picker blues.
She wanted... high boots...
she wanted... ankle boots...
she wanted stamp-your-face
Bob Marten bovver boots...
she wanted... slippers
as wide as... kippers...
she wanted sandals
with wedge heels,
flip-flops and pumps...
she walks into a shoe-shop and everybody jumps...
And now she’s forty
it isn’t naughty...
to try ‘em, to buy ‘em,
not to walk on by ‘em...
But nothing ever beat those
red shoes...
red shoes...
the red shoes...
dancing through the day until you’re dead shoes...
red shoes...
red shoes....
she got the red shoes blues.
poem by Janice Windle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Granny Krendoll Brings Star To Life
Granny Krendoll with her sewing flair
sews Star doll and yarns her hair.
Granny Krendoll makes Star into a small doll
once Star is alive the two have a ball.
Star writes Granny Krendoll once in awhile
she likes writing her letters that make her smile.
Then Granny Krendoll does get sick
she is sent to Krendoll hospital to recover quick.
Star had to make sure Granny Krendoll was alright
in fact Granny Krendoll told the nurse, where is Star tonight?
Right then Star with Melodie soon arrived
to sit by friend Granny Krendoll's dear old side.
Now Granny Krendoll gets healthy and recovers real soon
she enjoys sewing new dolls and her new life too.
Thank you Granny Krendoll for raising the bar
if it wasn't for you, the world would not have Star.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on February 14,2012
poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Doll
The Doll
When mum went to work at the fish factory, there was no
money for baby-sitters; she gave me a black rag doll, to play
with. The doll, called Tom, was a caricature and today would
be seen as an insult. We had no radio or TV, and in the long
hours, when it rained and I could not go out, Tom became my
friend. Mum didn’t believe me when I said Tom could talk, but
only when we’re alone. School began I had new friends, and
boys don’t play with dolls; Tom ended up at the bottom of
a drawer. Forty years later I found Tom, in a shoe-box in
the basement, his fuzzy head rested on a pillow. I thought of
the time when he could talk. I put him back in the box and
taped the lid. Tom is dead, so is my childhood. In the stillness
I hear winds of coming chill, blow leaves along the asphalted
lane and far from where it all began.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Magic At My House
In the closet there is a pair of shoes
The stay in the box kind of shoes.
The gray leather open toed high heeled shoes.
The fancy night on the town shoes.
The make you taller shoes.
The makeup wearing time shoes.
The too big but a perfect fit shoes.
The magic make you grown up shoes.
In the jewelry box there is a necklace.
The aquamarine and pearl and gold necklace.
The this is older than you or I necklace.
The shiny rainbow making necklace.
The color and feel of the ocean necklace.
The mother’s mother necklace.
The too nice for any day necklace.
The magic make you an elegant lady necklace.
In the bathroom there is a bag.
The painting for ladies bag.
The filled with vials and potions bag.
The put your face on bag.
The make your lips redder bag.
The give you doe eyes bag.
The not in public until your 16 bag.
The magic make you look beautiful bag.
In the bed there is a woman.
The wears the magic shoes woman.
The keeps the magic necklace woman.
The use the magic bag woman.
The lets me put on the shoes woman.
The tells me the story of the necklace woman.
The wipes off the magic of the bag woman.
The magic I want to be just like her woman.
poem by Gabrielle Shutt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dressing the Doll
THIS is the way we dress the Doll:—
You may make her a shepherdess, the Doll,
If you give her a crook with a pastoral hook,
But this is the way we dress the Doll.
Chorus
Bless the Doll, you may press the Doll,
But do not crumple and mess the Doll!
This is the way we dress the Doll.
First, you observe, her little chemise,
As white as milk, with ruches of silk;
And the little drawers that cover her knees,
As she sits or stands, with golden bands,
And lace in beautiful filagrees.
Chorus
Now these are the bodies: she has two,
One of pink, with rouches of blue,
And sweet white lace; be careful, do!
And one of green, with buttons of sheen,
Buttons and bands of gold, I mean,
With lace on the border in lovely order,
The most expensive we can afford her!
Chorus
Then, with black at the border, jacket
And this—and this—she will not lack it;
Skirts? Why, there are skirts, of course,
And shoes and stockings we shall enforce,
With a proper bodice, in the proper place,
(Stays that lace have had their days
And made their martyrs); likewise garters,
All entire. But our desire
Is to show you her night attire,
At least a part of it. Pray admire
This sweet white thing that she goes to bed in!
It ’s not the one that ’s made for her wedding:
That is special, a new design,
Made with a charm and a countersign,
Three times three and nine times nine:
These are only her usual clothes.
Look, there ’s a wardrobe! gracious knows
It ’s pretty enough, as far as it goes!
So you see the way we dress the Doll:
You might make her a shepherdess, the Doll,
If you gave her a crook with pastoral hook,
With sheep, and a shed, and a shallow brook,
And all that, out of the poetry-book.
Chorus
Bless the Doll, you may press the Doll,
But do not crumple and mess the Doll!
This is the way we dress the Doll;
If you had not seen, could you guess the Doll?
poem by William Brighty Rands
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Having a lover
Having a lover is not having pills
When ill, nor tonic when unwell,
Nor juice for thirst, nor food for hunger.
Having lover is having ginger
For appetite, liquor for lethargy
And a Viagra for man’s function
In his fantasy in bed with his wife
And an opium for woman’s orgasm
In fantasy when in bed with her husband.
By having a lover beside your spouse
You can eat your food you’re weary of.
The stigma of the extra marital is slain
07.11.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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