The teenage acts
A lady, of an aristocratic look,
Older than me who myself am old,
Seated beside me in a concert,
With oval face, prominent nose,
And pouted mouth,
Drawn to narrow chin,
Despite wrinkled skin,
Kept me engaged through out.
Next day I went to see her in vain.
I recollect my teenage acts.
02.03.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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One Small Act
There was a lady whose face was drawn
and everyone she came upon
looked at her and wondered why
she never smiled at them as they passed by?
But none would question this poor soul.
They turned their face on their daily stroll.
A child went up and touched her hand
and the lady's face lit up the land.
A gesture of kindness was all it took
to change the sadness, to change her look.
She seemed to come alive once more
and her face was not drawn like it was before.
It took the innocence of a child to see
that a face that's drawn needs to be
uplifted by love from one who cares.
There's nothing like a touch that compares.
The lady's face that was drawn every day
is filled with peace as she goes on her way.
And the one small child will never know
how he changed a face and made it glow.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Teenage Love
(robert segarini)
Published by robertunes/slalom publishing co. - bmi
I dont want no older woman, who really doesnt dig my scene
And I dont want no spaced out groupie, who wants to be a gypsy queen
And I dont want no nasty lady, who doesnt dig rock n roll
Cause I just want the dew eyed daughter of a father that lost control
Gimme some teenage love, ooh gimme some teenage love
Come on baby, youre drivin me crazy, gimme some teenage love
I dont want no modern lover, who really doesnt dig my sound
And I dont want no boozed out floozy, who needs to lose a few more pounds
And I dont want no nasty lady, who doesnt dig rhythm and blues
Cause I just want the dew eyed daughter of a father that was born to lose
So gimme some teenage love, ooh gimme some teenage love
Come on baby, youre drivin me crazy, gimme some teenage love
I dont want no sophisticated lady, who really doesnt dig my scene
And I dont want no funky chickie, who used to be a country queen
And I dont want no rich bitch sugar, who doesnt dig rhythm and blues
Cause I just want the dew eyed daughter of a father that was born to lose
So gimme some teenage love, ooh gimme some teenage love
So come on baby, youre drivin me crazy, and gimme some teenage love
Gimme some teenage love, gimme some teenage love
Gimme some teenage love, gimme some teenage love
Come on baby, youre drivin me crazy, gimme some teenage love
Come on baby, youre drivin me crazy, gimme some teenage love
song performed by by April Wine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Be Glad Your Nose is on Your Face
Be glad your nose is on your face,
not pasted on some other place,
for if it were where it is not,
you might dislike your nose a lot.
Imagine if your precious nose
were sandwiched in between your toes,
that clearly would not be a treat,
for you'd be forced to smell your feet.
Your nose would be a source of dread
were it attached atop your head,
it soon would drive you to despair,
forever tickled by your hair.
Within your ear, your nose would be
an absolute catastrophe,
for when you were obliged to sneeze,
your brain would rattle from the breeze.
Your nose, instead, through thick and thin,
remains between your eyes and chin,
not pasted on some other place--
be glad your nose is on your face!
poem by Jack Prelutsky
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Prominent Men
Through all of the highways, the byways Ive travelled
Through all of the sidestreets and alleys of sin
Through all thats been heard nothing sinks quite as low
As the prominent statements of prominent men
Prominent men tell prominent stories
Prominent men tell prominent lies
Prominent men kiss the ass of dame fortune
Prominent men will tear out your eyes
The streets that have life with the cats underbelly
Aligned with their tracks of a thousand good-byes
A poor woman screams with the heat of disaster
As the prominent men sit and strengthen their ties
Oh, the prominent girls of the prominent people
Make prominent dresses and prominent hair
Oh, their prominent wealth and their eyes blazed with shadow
The prominent horrors with the ghost millionaire
The shiny stained window now cracked at sunset
They shiny red dawn of the heart soon must fall
This simply occurred at the seat of the cauldron
Those prominent men hadnt been there at all
Prominent men tell prominent stories
Prominent men tell prominent lies
Prominent men kiss the ass of dame fortune
Prominent men will tear out your eyes
Oh, the prominent child of these prominent people
Seeks prominent schools with the finery of age
With a prominent pink of a tasteless red orchid
The prominent men casts a prominent heir
The child of the agent walks barefoot upon grass
He screams with a power that terrors green eyes
His knife harshly glistening, stabs noways and always
But those prominent men in nowhere in sight
Prominent men tell prominent stories
Prominent men tell prominent lies
Prominent men kiss the ass of dame fortune
Prominent men will tear out your eyes
song performed by by Velvet Underground
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Baba O'Reily
Out here in the fields
I fight for my meals
I get my back into my living
I don't need to fight
To prove I'm right
I don't need to be forgiven
Don't cry
Don't raise your eye
It's only teenage wasteland
Sally ,take my hand
Travel south crossland
Put out the fire
Don't look past my shoulder
The exodus is here
The happy ones are near
Let's get together
Before we get much older
Teenage wasteland
It's only teenage wasteland
Teenage wasteland
Oh, oh
Teenage wasteland
They're all wasted!
song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Baba Oriley
Out here in the fields
I fight for my meals
I get my back into my living
I dont need to fight
To prove Im right
I dont need to be forgiven
Dont cry
Dont raise your eye
Its only teenage wasteland
Sally ,take my hand
Travel south crossland
Put out the fire
Dont look past my shoulder
The exodus is here
The happy ones are near
Lets get together
Before we get much older
Teenage wasteland
Its only teenage wasteland
Teenage wasteland
Oh, oh
Teenage wasteland
Theyre all wasted!
song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Baba O Riley
Out here in the fields
I fight for my meals
I get my back into my living
I dont need to fight
To prove Im right
I dont need to be forgiven
Dont cry
Dont raise your eye
Its only teenage wasteland
Sally ,take my hand
Travel south crossland
Put out the fire
Dont look past my shoulder
The exodus is here
The happy ones are near
Lets get together
Before we get much older
Teenage wasteland
Its only teenage wasteland
Teenage wasteland
Oh, oh
Teenage wasteland
Theyre all wasted!
Originally by the who
song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Baba Oriley
Out here in the fields, I fight for my meals
I get my back into my living
I dont need to fight, to prove Im right
I dont need to be forgiven
Dont cry, dont raise your eye
Its only teenage wasteland
Sally, take my hand
Well travel south, cross land
Put out the fire and dont look past my shoulder
The exodus is here
The happy ones are near
Lets get together befor we get much older
Teenage wasteland
Its only teenage wasteland
Teenage wasteland
(its only) teenage wasteland
Theyre all wasted!
song performed by by Pearl Jam
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Genes
Look at yourself
and you can tell
that you're from people
you knew so well.
The eyes of father
that looked at you
and never stopped
'til he was done with you.
The nose of mother whose scent was near
each time she cooked
all through the year.
The mouth of Granny
that gave a smile
that looks like yours
every once in a while.
A chin that juts
when he was mad,
Grandpa's gift
that's not so bad.
Put them together
and see what it means.
Your face is a product
of all their genes.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, and the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.
quote by Clement Clarke Moore
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Concert Invitation
The following invitation appeared on the programme of a
concert.
If pleasant night you wish to spend,
Go and invite your lady friend;
Oddfellow's concert is the place
Where happiness beams in each face.
When you resolve to call her wife,
And to enjoy the rest of life,
All furniture you may require
You can get cheap from McIntyre.
poem by James McIntyre
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Winter
A wrinkled crabbed man they picture thee,
Old Winter, with a rugged beard as grey
As the long moss upon the apple-tree;
Blue-lipt, an icedrop at thy sharp blue nose,
Close muffled up, and on thy dreary way
Plodding alone through sleet and drifting snows.
They should have drawn thee by the high-heapt hearth,
Old Winter! seated in thy great armed chair,
Watching the children at their Christmas mirth;
Or circled by them as thy lips declare
Some merry jest, or tale of murder dire,
Or troubled spirit that disturbs the night,
Pausing at times to rouse the mouldering fire,
Or taste the old October brown and bright.
poem by Robert Southey
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Beauty-See Beauty-Don't
There was in her face,
in the contours of her
beauty lines
a past smoothing out
which I could see
would match
her older photographs.
The older her
only hinted at
that prior
state.
But I took my time
to look at her
now past 55
to see
in that older landscape
what my eye
sought
in her face at twenty and five..
Could not the face
before me
be seen
on its own terms?
Where is that beauty
line between
beauty and non-beauty?
Is it the tightness of the skin
the twinkle in the eye,
healthy look or
non-healthy look?
What's true is that
my own Western
eye
can only see age;
not nobility;
only TV screen beauty-
not maturity.
But you know
there are a myriad of exceptions;
children don't see age
the same way we do
nor does most of the world.
What is going on here?
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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My Inspiration
O recollection of the heart! You're stronger
Than reason's cheerless recollection.
Your sweetness oft
Enchants me in a far-off land.
I recollect her voice, her precious words,
I recollect her azure eyes,
I recollect the golden locks
Of loose and curling hair.
My peerless shepherdess's
Simple clothes I recollect.
Her precious, unforgotten face
Still wanders with me everywhere.
This guardian spirit love bestowed
To comfort me in solitude:
When'er I slumber, it will nestle near
To sweeten cheerless sleep.
poem by Konstantin Nikolaevich Batiushkov
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The Most Visible Mask
you have loved the most visible mask i have
my face
everyday, this face, tomorrow this face, yesterday
this face
you are proud of my nose, and you tell all your friends about
it
aquiline, conquest of a nose, occupying almost all parts
of your territory
not even the hands but this face
the mouth that eats you
the eyes that close when
i kiss you
the tongue that maps out
what has to be found when lost
this face, the most visible mask
inside
is the real face, the face of my mind
it is thinking something else
all these years
the invisible mask is silent
tomorrow shall be the scorn
you must bear it,
you are fond of the most visible
though not really enduring.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I wonder how I fit into my new country
Respect for other people
and self are missing
and while I go up the steps
of the bus
teenage girls are shouting
loudly to each other
and a ghetto blaster,
is playing very loud music
and it’s much worst
than in a mad bazaar.
a Toddler pushes her fingers
one after the other
into her nose
and draws lines
on seats and windows
and her mother
wipes her nose against her jersey.
An overweight lady
sits down next to me
and there’s a sharp smell
that hits my nose
and no other seat
to go to
and I wonder if she
bathed this week,
or this month
and are scared that head lice
are going to jump on to me.
The bus draws away
and misses a car narrowly
and jerks
while the driver changes gears,
as if he’s struggling
to get the right one.
When I get off at the bus stop
there’s a man relieving himself
and the urine smell,
hangs heavy in the air
and I wonder how
I fit into my new country.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Angel's Restraining Order
Through my eyes
I see your beautiful face
A seraphim's promise
I watch your hips
move in heavenly grace
Through my ears
I hear a masterful chorus
spoken in words
detailing the simplest conversation
and I rejoice
in your laughter
Through my touch
I feel your silky skin
arousing my being
O how hard it is
to end the press
of this skin on skin contact
Through my nose
I smell your rosie odor
piercing the air in which
I breathe
penetrating my memory
locking you in forever nostalgia
But when I open my mouth
I utter a few words
and through all your senses
I'm perceived as a creep
poem by Justin Tallman Gonzalez
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Le Testament: Les Regrets De La Belle Heaulmière
By chance, I heard the belle complain,
The one we called the Armouress,
Longing to be a girl again,
Talking like this, more or less:
‘Oh, old age, proud in wickedness,
You've battered me so, and why?
Who cares, who, for my distress,
Or whether at all your blows I die?
You've stolen away that great power
My beauty ordained for me
Over priests and clerks, my hour,
When never a man I'd see
Would fail to offer his all in fee,
Whatever remorse he'd later show,
But what was abandoned readily,
Beggars now scorn to know.
Many a man I then refused -
Which wasn't wise of me, no jest -
For love of a boy, cunning too,
To whom I gave all my largesse.
I feigned to him unwillingness,
But, by my soul, I loved him bad.
What he showed was his roughness,
Loving me only for what I had.
He could drag me through the dirt,
Trample me underfoot, I'd love him,
Break my back, whatever's worse,
If only he'd ask for a kiss again,
I'd soon forget then every pain.
A glutton, full of what he could win,
He'd embrace me - with him I've lain.
What's he left me? Shame and sin.
Now he's dead, these thirty years:
And I live on, old, and grey.
When I think of those times, with tears,
What I was, what I am today,
View myself naked: turn at bay,
Seeing what I am no longer,
Poor, dry, meagre, worn away,
I almost forget myself in anger.
Where's my smooth brow gone:
My arching lashes, yellow hair,
Wide-eyed glances, pretty ones,
That took in the cleverest there:
Nose not too big or small: a pair
Of delicate little ears, the chin
Dimpled: a face oval and fair,
Lovely lips with crimson skin?
The fine slender shoulder-blades:
The long arms, with tapering hands:
My small breasts: the hips well made
Full and firm, and sweetly planned,
All Love's tournaments to withstand:
The broad flanks: the nest of hair,
With plump thighs firmly spanned,
Inside its little garden there?
Now wrinkled forehead, hair gone grey:
Sparse eyelashes: eyes so dim,
That laughed and flashed once every way,
And reeled their roaming victims in:
Nose bent from beauty, ears thin,
Hanging down like moss, a face,
Pallid, dead and bleak, the chin
Furrowed, a skinny-lipped disgrace.
This is the end of human beauty:
Shrivelled arms, hands warped like feet:
The shoulders hunched up utterly:
Breasts….what? In full retreat,
Same with the hips, as with the teats:
Little nest, hah! See the thighs,
Not thighs, thighbones, poor man's meat,
Blotched like sausages, and dried.
That's how the bon temps we regret
Among us, poor old idiots,
Squatting on our haunches, set
All in a heap like woollen lots
Round a hemp fire men forgot,
Soon kindled, and soon dust,
Once so lovely, that cocotte…
So it goes for all of us.
poem by François Villon
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The Little Lady
O The Little Lady's dainty
As the picture in a book,
And her hands are creamy-whiter
Than the water-lilies look;
Her laugh's the undrown'd music
Of the maddest meadow-brook.--
Yet all in vain I praise The Little Lady!
Her eyes are blue and dewy
As the glimmering Summer-dawn,--
Her face is like the eglantine
Before the dew is gone;
And were that honied mouth of hers
A bee's to feast upon,
He'd be a bee bewildered, Little Lady!
Her brow makes light look sallow;
And the sunshine, I declare,
Is but a yellow jealousy
Awakened by her hair--
For O the dazzling glint of it
Nor sight nor soul can bear,--
So Love goes groping for The Little Lady.
And yet she's neither Nymph nor Fay,
Nor yet of Angelkind:--
She's but a racing school-girl, with
Her hair blown out behind
And tremblingly unbraided by
The fingers of the Wind,
As it wildly swoops upon The Little Lady.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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An engaged woman is always more agreeable than a disengaged. She is satisfied with herself. Her cares are over, and she feels that she may exert all her powers of pleasing without suspicion. All is safe with a lady engaged; no harm can be done.
quote by Jane Austen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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