Sex Ridden Figures Die Hard.
On the wooden wall of the wooden room
At Erumely, as far back as 1965,
I hung a monthly calendar for the picture
Of Vyjayantimala in sitting posture,
Her chin resting on her left hand,
A pose still fresh in my memory,
So fresh to draw it off hand, after four decades.
Sexual symbol is too strong to erase.
31.12.2002
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Closeness
your hand
entwined to my hand
your hair under my chin
your head resting on my chest
you smell my breath
there is no sound from your mouth
you close your eyes and see some trees
and ponds and waterfalls
and birds and clouds and flowers blooming
over a field of green grass
and butterflies and bees
the air you feel is as fresh as the scent of our skins
i caress your arms you let my hands go
you touch my face and then you look at me
we kiss and then we both melt
in paradise.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Was Once
She would often stare at you
sitting by the pond
the summer sunlight
playing there
on the waters' skin
the holidays
having just begun
and she'd say
you do love me don't you?
and you'd look away
from the sunlight's dance
and reply
of course I do
and you'd see that look
in her eyes
like worlds
being born
and she'd say
Mother wouldn't want
me here alone with you
and you looking back
at the pond's water
would say
why is that?
what have I done
to cause her alarm?
Birds flew across
the pond
their cries breaking
the silence of the summer day
she moved her hand
and touched your hand
resting on the dry earth
because she's jealous of me
being loved I suppose
or maybe she thinks
we do things while alone
you look back at her
the way she sat
the skirt lifted
along her thigh
her hand squeezing yours
that summer
that love
the fresh life
of loving
the being
out of doors.
poem by Terry Collett
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You Were Just Here
(Troy Verges, Brett James, Hillary Lindsay)
I woke up at 5 a.m.
Hearing your voice again
But it was just the TV
Coming from the other room
Your half empty coffee cup
Is sitting right where it was
I almost moved it last night
But it didn't feel right
It's too soon, it's too soon
It still feels like
Chorus:
You were just here
You were just holding me
I was alright
I never would have believed
That you'd go away
That you could just disappear
When you were just here
The calendar on the wall
Doesn't miss you at all
It still says you'll be there
With us all on christmas eve
The picture you hung last week
Keeps staring back at me
There we are still laughin'
Like nothin' ever happened
I still feel you in the air
It's not fair, it's not fair
Repeat chorus
I reach out and you're not there
But I still feel you everywhere
No matter how much I try
Or how hard I cry
It still feels like
Repeat chorus
song performed by by Jo Dee Messina
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Upon My Heart
She was so fresh in that dress
A small voice said resist
But the devil was in my heart
And the future was on her lips
She's so fresh in my head
Her eyes haunt me still
Of course love's meant to hurt
That's why girls dress to kill
With my hand upon my heart
A promise starts, I'll rescue you
With my hand upon my heart
Just one slowdance I'll rescue you, rescue you
She was so fresh in that dres
Flirting's such a bore
Why can't she just walk up to me and say
You're the man I'm looking for
With my hand upon my heart
A promise starts, I'll rescue you
With my hand upon my heart
Just one slowdance I'll rescue you, rescue you
La la la etc.
She was so fresh in that dres
Flirting's such a bore
One chance to caress
Well worth angling for
With my hand upon my heart
A promise starts, I'll rescue you
With my hand upon my heart
Just one slowdance I'll rescue you, rescue you
La la la etc
song performed by by Right Said Fred
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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(Hide and seek)
My father gets the wooden stick
he counts from five
i run and hide...
My father is coming with the wooden stick
he counts from four
i close my bedroom door...
My father is looking for me with the wooden stick
he counts from three
as he searches for me...
My father is close by with the wooden stick
he counts from two
my face turns blue...
My father is right next to me
with the wooden stick
he counts from one
now i'm done...
My father finds me
with the wooden stick
he counts from zero
...yes i know, i'm in trouble...
My father says
'there you are!
i found you
now it's your turn to count
and my turn to hide'
...and the game continued...
poem by Allen Steble
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That's It That's All
Back on the scene for ya'll people's delight
You want peace for the people then ya say alright
'Cause George W's got nothing on me
We got to take the power from he
When I'm on the mic I feel good to go
Like a snow day for school with hot cocoa
So don't speak what I heard, just say what I know
And my zodiac sign is Scorpio
Look what the cat dragged in
The creme de la creme without the skin
So take a rest and mind your own biz
And that's it that's all that's all there is
Fresh...fresh...fresh...for you...for you...for you
That's fresh...fresh...fresh...for you...for you...for you
One for Brooklyn, two for Manhattan
Let's go to work, get those hands clappin'
Make you bounce, rock, roll and skate
Don't underrate how I operate
It ain't what you say, it's what you mean
Intention leads to action, that is my theme
So pay attention now as I begin to recap
Puttin' words and ideas stacked back to back
Some rhymes go flat, well mine go fizz
I got no time for the drama 'cause stress is for kids
'Cause when you're dead and buried well you got no biz
And that's it that's all that's all there is
Fresh...fresh...fresh...for you...for you...for you
That's fresh...fresh...fresh...for you...for you...for you
Brand new
The time and place for the mind is here and now
Keep the mind present less to worry about
But like the hammer to the nail hit the nail on the head
Well I don't shoot blanks and I don't shoot lead
Well I'm a freaky streaker like Winnie the Pooh
T-shirt and no pants and I dance the bugaloo
Like George Whipple on New York One
Got a hairy ass and that's no fun
I'm in the rhyme zone a different time zone
And on the microphone you know that I'm at home
It's time we looked past all our differences
An' that's it that's all that's all there is
Come on
Fresh...fresh...fresh...for you...for you...for you
That's fresh...fresh...fresh...for you...for you...for you
An' that's
Fresh...fresh...fresh...for you...for you...for you
That's fresh...fresh...fresh...for you...for you...for you
song performed by by Beastie Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Good-By To The Cradle
GOOD-BY to the cradle, the dear wooden cradle,
The rude hand of Progress has thrust it aside:
No more to its motion, o'er Sleep's fairy ocean,
Our play-weary wayfarers peacefully glide;
No more by the rhythm of slow-moving rocker
Their sweet, dreamy fancies are fostered and fed;
No more to low singing the cradle goes swinging--
The child of this era is put into bed!
Good-by to the cradle, the dear wooden cradle,--
It lent to the twilight a mystical charm:
When bees left the clover, when playtime was over,
How safe seemed this shelter from danger and harm;
How soft seemed the pillow, how distant the ceiling,
How weird were the voices that whispered around;
What dreams would come flocking as, rocking and rocking,
We floated away into slumber profound.
Good-by to the cradle, the old wooden cradle,
The babe of the day does not know it by sight;
When day leaves the border, with system and order
The child goes to bed, and we put out the light.
I bow to Progression; and ask no concession,
Though strewn be her pathway with wrecks of the Past.
So off with old lumber, that sweet ark of slumber,
The dear wooden cradle, is ruthlessly cast.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Old Wooden Cradle
Good-bye to the cradle, the dear wooden cradle
The rude hand of Progress has thrust it aside.
No more to its motion o’er sleep’s fairy ocean,
Our play-weary wayfarers peacefully glide.
No more by the rhythm of slow-moving rocker,
Their sweet dreamy fancies are fostered and fed;
No more to low singing the cradle goes swinging –
The child of this era is put into bed.
Good-bye to the cradle, the dear wooden cradle,
It lent to the twilight a strange, subtle charm;
When bees left the clover, when play-time was over,
How safe seemed this shelter from danger or harm.
How soft seemed the pillow, how distant the ceiling,
How weird were the voices that whispered around,
What dreams would come flocking, as rocking and rocking,
We floated away into slumber profound.
Good-bye to the cradle, the old wooden cradle,
The babe of to-day does not know it by sight.
When day leaves the border, with system and order,
The child goes to bed and we put out the light.
I bow to Progression and ask no concession,
Though strewn be her pathway with wrecks of the past;
So off wit old lumber, that sweet ark of slumber,
The old wooden cradle, is ruthlessly cast.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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You gave me the rose
They are still alive,
As red as my own blood.
They are as fresh
As your memory
Which I shall never
Forget, because, they
Taught me how to
Love, they keep me
Fresh always like
Your memory.
They are getting dry,
Mother wants to throw.
I forbid as I know,
They are your lost memory.
poem by Nitin Sahni
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Posting In The Street
this picture says it all:
we must learn
together to live as brothers
or
we shall perish together
as fools
framed in maroon colors
of hardwood
a black man in black suit
raises his right hand to
stress his point
his left hand rests on the railing
a shadow of a street sign
lands on this figure
as i see it
there are no men watching this picture anymore
left to the sun
which the strong winds want to destroy.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fresh Feeling
You dont have a clue,
What it is like
To be next to you.
Im here to tell you,
That it is good,
That it is true.
Chorus:
Birds singing a song,
Old pain is peeling,
This is that fresh
That fresh feeling.
Words cant be that strong,
My heart is real,
This is that fresh,
That fresh feeling.
Try, try to forget,
Whats in the past,
Tomorrow is here.
Love on the sky above,
Lie in your way,
Theres nothing to fear.
Chorus
Some people are good,
? ? ? the hood,
So pure and so free.
I make a safe bed,
Youre gonna get,
Whatever you need.
Chorus
That fresh feeling.
This is that fresh feeling.
song performed by by Eels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Grandmother's Love Letters
There are no stars to-night
But those of memory.
Yet how much room for memory there is
In the loose girdle of soft rain.
There is even room enough
For the letters of my mother's mother,
Elizabeth,
That have been pressed so long
Into a corner of the roof
That they are brown and soft,
And liable to melt as snow.
Over the greatness of such space
Steps must be gentle.
It is all hung by an invisible white hair.
It trembles as birch limbs webbing the air.
And I ask myself:
'Are your fingers long enough to play
Old keys that are but echoes:
Is the silence strong enough
To carry back the music to its source
And back to you again
As though to her?'
Yet I would lead my grandmother by the hand
Through much of what she would not understand;
And so I stumble. And the rain continues on the roof
With such a sound of gently pitying laughter.
poem by Harold Hart Crane
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Only You
We suffer everyday, what is it for
These crimes of illusion, are fooling us all
And now I am weary and I feel like I do
Its only you, who can tell me apart
And its only you, who can turn my wooden heart
The size of our fight, its just a dream
Weve crushed everything I can see, in this morning selfishly
How weve failed and I feel like I do
Its only you, who can tell me apart
And its only you, who can turn my wooden heart
Now that weve chosen to take all we can
This shade of autumn, a stale bitter end
Years of frustration lay down side by side
And its only you, who can tell me apart
And its only you, who can turn my wooden heart
Its only you, who can tell me apart
And its only you, who can turn my wooden heart
song performed by by Portishead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Somewhere
somewhere, i dont know,
we're having lunch
in some sidewalk cafe...
fresh, crisp salads,
and black coffee
with a shot of brandy...
and somewhere, i dont know,
they're playing music
on an outdoor stage...
we're sitting side by side,
with no need to be anywhere.
somewhere, i dont know,
we're walking hand in hand
thru the evening streets,
just listening to the sounds...
somewhere, i dont know,
in a rented room down by the tracks,
you come to me wearing nothing
but a necklace... and the rocking
of the coming train takes us
to our final destination...
somewhere, i dont know...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Chains Around Me
You went out for a while
I was left alone with him
Before i knew it i was taken
The room was dark and cold
The door was locked
I was alone with him
He came closer
The sound of him filled the room
He grabbed my small arms
And pinned me to the wall
He says dont worry i wont hurt you
One hand lost its grip
He feels my heart race
His hand lets go for a second
I tried to move
And i failed to get away
He pushes me back against the wall
All his weight on me
Silence falls for a second
A sound fills the room
I didnt know it was
He turns around
His cold hard hands run over me
I cry in fear he says be quiet
Before i knew it i was an the floor
I felt his hands hold me down
I look up only to see him over me
The icy stare in his eyes watch me
I cant pull or move away
I can only stay still and watch him
The feeling over me the pain unbearable
Every second hurts every minute kills
I cry wishing it would end
He says never tell
I thought it was over for good
But every chance he got he did it again
I couldnt stop him he was too strong
He is like a chain tied around me
Theres nothing i can do
poem by Kerrie Maurer
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Chair (Two)
Who does not want to hold
And cares your hand but
Soon Regret while realizes
You are nothing but
a seat of thorn
a headache
before sitting upon you
you create ill feelings
and blood shed
you put a man
above all
but make him alone
but man is helpless
while standing
upon his two
feeble and fragile
the back aches
nothing he sees
but sit upon you
you keep the back bone
straight
and keep the brain
fresh
sitting upon you
so many make the white pages
black
with the yellow fallen foliage
get name fame and prizes
but you remain
unrecognised
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Switch
Ladies and Gentleman
Thankyou very much for coming out this evening
Yeah Thank You
Thank You
Please take the Dance Floor
Uh I would like to welcome you to the Switch remix
Now all you got to do is let your body move
And just (woo)
Vibe the vibe a second, it's a club girl why you arrived naked
Hear that, how the veteran glide the record
But don't download, go out and buy the record
Something sexy about a,
Girl on the floor, all her friends around her
I mean real clean, ain't gotta touch or nothing
It ain't like I like a chick on chick or something
Just a sucker for a hot track,
Gimme a drink and a chick to tell 'Stop that'
Dance is a hop and a clap, flip it round
Now bring it on back, break it down
Now Switch!
I don't want nobody sitting on the wall (Switch)
If you didn't come to dance then why'd you come at all (Switch)
Heres your chance (heres your chance)
Take my hand (take my hand)
Do that dance
Girl lets Switch
I gotta question, I need to ask somebody
Why is it that when y'all see me at the party
Y'all be looking like 'Ooo he a movie star
He ain't supposed to be out on the floor with everybody'
But oh wait, whoa y'all forgetting
When I was, amateur spitting before the scripts were written
First one in, last one out the club
Bursting in, passing out in the club
Back at it, this cat is the wit and the charm
Taking you higher like a syringe hittin ya arm
Bringing the fire, making you Benz ring the alarm
Let me see you clap, spin baby come on
Switch!
I don't want nobody sitting on the wall (Switch)
If you didn't come to dance then why'd you come at all (Switch)
Heres your chance (heres your chance)
Take my hand (take my hand)
Do that dance
Girl lets Switch
time girl)
time girl)
time girl)
slide it up front)
Left right east west up down north south (Robin Thicke)
Left right east west up down (Big Will)
Look so fine as you baby
Keep switchin whether you in your car or kitchen
Switch and hittin like it's a brand new dancing religion
Chance collision with robin thicke advancing my mission
Dancing vision by my man O Money keep switchin
I don't want nobody sitting on the wall (nobody on the wall)
If you didn't come to dance then why'd you come at all (dance with my mama)
Heres your chance (heres your chance) (its ya chance baby)
Take my hand(take my hand) (take my hand baby)
Do that dance (do that dance do that dance)
Girl now Switch baby
I don't want nobody sitting on the wall
If you didn't come to dance then why'd you come at all (uh ya don't stop)
Heres your chance (as fine as you baby) (ya don't stop)
Take my hand (as fine as you baby) (ya won't stop/you cant stop)
Do that dance (so fine as you baby) (you dont stop/you wont stop)
Girl lets Switch
Huh Big Will (Switch)
Thank y'all very much for coming out this evening (look so fine as you) (Switch)
The love that I feel in this room (look so fine as you) (Switch)
Is beyond compare (look so fine as you)
song performed by by Will Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Is A Boat
this is a boat and it is in my hand
the hand is the sea
and my fingers keep it wavy
this is the boat and it is wooden
and it is loaded unevenly on its left side
and so it leans on the heavy
edge like it is a man
with a shorter left foot
and walks like the
floor is uneven
and imperfect
this is my body and it has become an ocean
and the boat sails on without the sun
my eyes the moon and stars
and they are closed
this is the darkness where the boat sails
and this is the silence
of its journey
this is my mind
and everything: the boat, the sea, the ocean
the tilting, the weight of the load,
things exist because i let them so
this is my hand and this is the sea of waves
these emotions
this is the mouth speaking
without any sense at all like a woman nude
running for life away from the atomic bomb
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wooden Heart
As the fire warms my eyes
I cannot not burn myself
Inside
As the cold hands all my cries
I cannot not loosen the flaws I have, hold
Inside
As I use some wood to make my heart
I throw the blooming flowers in the fire
that grow from my wooden heart apart
And those sticks I hold between my broken hands
I throw them in the remaining cold
The flames as they slowly eat my grown respect
The fright that fearlessly warms my eyes
I' ve learnt to appreciate my multiple faces
Respect my wooden hearts all the exhausted made-up tears
I've been taught how to show gracious respect to my clothes made of laces
And how to be incapable to bare my nudity inside the cold
In the weirdest crowded and vacant places
Between all the exhausted made up cries
And their coldest faces
I bleed, I'm touched
I feel moved like I'm taking far too much
I tear as I let the fire stop
I'll burn my heart
My wooden heart
And as I lie
I'll let the freezing cold
Regain my trust
And burn me till I die
I burn my wooden heart
At last i get control now
In my wooden
paralyzed
cold
hand.
poem by Katerina Val
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Better walk on wooden legs, than be carried on a wooden bier.