To his Girls
Wanton wenches do not bring
For my hairs black colouring :
For my locks, girls, let 'em be
Grey or white, all's one to me.
poem by Robert Herrick
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Shades of Grey
Black is the color of the night
Grey is the shadow of you I sight
White is the shirt you wear
Black is your suit I declare
White is the wall you lean against
Grey is our path I sensed
Black is the memory I lost
Black is the road we never crossed
Grey is the prospect of the day
Grey is the taxi driving away
Black is the truth to never find you
Black is everything I can't undo
Black is my room without light
White is my color of hope in spite
Grey is the circle around my heart
Black is the truth like a work of art
© 2011
poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Black and White (Stream XV)
I have black thoughts,
It is a black day,
A day when the black dog
Coal black, hovers at my shoulder.
I shoulder the burden.
Deep in the black hole.
Black as a black hearted night.
Negative.
Stark.
Black and white.
I do not call my good days white days.
Why?
Or have white thoughts
On a white day,
When the white dog
Pure white sits upon my shoulder.
Which is unburdened.
Out of the pit,
Luxuriating in the bright white light;
White as the purest snow.
Positive.
For we live in a too white world
Maybe we should have grey days,
And light days.
Why should Black be negative and White poitive?
For me then, today is a grey day.
Maybe tomorrow will be a light day.
Copyright P H Brookes 2012
poem by Paul Brookes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Grey World
Grey nights in the wind,
And the grey-faced dead.
Grey hairs in my head,
And grey eyes in my mind.
Grey mists in the morn,
And grey waves that rave,
Grey mould on my grave,
And grey eyes forlorn.
Grey clouds in the sky,
And the grey world asleep,
Grey ghosts that sigh,
And grey eyes that weep.
poem by Leon Gellert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Dead Host's Welcome
It is late and cold; stir up the fire;
Sit close, and draw the table nigher;
Be merry, and drink wine that's old,
A hearty medicine 'gainst a cold:
Your beds of wanton down the best,
Where you shall tumble to your rest;
I could wish you wenches too,
But I am dead, and cannot do.
Call for the best the house may ring,
Sack, white, and claret, let them bring,
And drink apace, while breath you have;
You'll find but cold drink in the grave:
Plover, partridge, for your dinner,
And a capon for the sinner,
You shall find ready when you're up,
And your horse shall have his sup:
Welcome, welcome, shall fly round,
And I shall smile, though under ground.
poem by John Fletcher
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Black Girls
I dig the black girls, oh so much more than the white girls.
I was so pleased to learn they were faster.
Cest, cest, cest vous Im after.
All comes a faggot white boy.
Said look, look, look first kind of joy.
They come around so queer and quiet,
As I rebel and riot.
Shall I dig the white boys?
All so much more that the black boys.
I was so pleased to learn theyre not smarter.
Go on, give, give, give it to me harder, harder, harder, just say harded.
You know I love the lord of hosts,
The father, son, and the holy ghost.
I was so pleased to learn that hes inside me
In my time of trouble he will hide me.
I dig the black girls.
I dig the black girls.
I dig the black girls.
I dig the black girls.
Gordon gano: vocals, guitar
Brian ritchie: electric bass, slide bass, jews harp, vocals
Victor delorenzo:drums,vocals
John zorn: sax, clarinet peter balestrieri: sax drake scott cornetto
Produced by mark van hecke
Recorded at secret sound studio, new york city
gorno music reprinted with permission
song performed by by Violent Femmes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
BLACK AND COLOUR's
Your dreams
Colour
Are
Black and
White...?
Enjoy the
'Colours'
Hear
Colour
Mean's
youngy girls...
Black and
White
Mean's
Old age girls...
Dream yours
Choise....
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
~Reconciliation~
A black woman migrates to Europe
War devastated Germany in she finds a tolerant white widower to cope
Years some later a mulatto is born with arrear
Unluckily the newborn not so towards white but usual spirally knotted hair
She grows up and gets because of her white father´s repute a government job
Ego came out spontaneous in black aggression as corn on the cob
Her work by job agency comes mostly foreigners for demonstrations
Majority a jobless black immigrant who has not the lucky touch of Midas parentage in confrontations
She looks of blacks down and she herself is black
When asked to justify says she is more white hidden traits back
She repeats her satisfaction from day to day
Until she went to a white german barber for hair trim and foam some day
Your hair is another says the white old barber woman
I have no experience and i cut not those hairs as talisman
Go to a black barber she added
They understand more your hair as they the same headed
Bangles
In festival seasons,
Miles walked bangle sellers
Tread the vennel unforgettable,
On feet, worn and torn,
With white clothe bundles,
Full of bangles and their lives,
On their heads wobble,
Whose calls village girls listen,
Break their clay pots,
In which they had collected coins,
And buy bangles
In hues and designs diverse.
Some unknown artists
Shaped the designs on bangles,
Who never came to the limelight,
Instead, wages collected
And withdrew in to silence.
Village girls put on bangles;
Always mesmerised beauty little pains out kept.
Jingling arms love CDs inserted
In to the heart-players of rustic guys,
Who always combed their hairs.
Girls keep and care the bangles,
Like virginity, till the nuptials.
Bracelet turns bracelets,
Often, after the wed locks.
Uncared…
Broken…
And discarded bangles:
“All Fate”, they say…yes!
In kitchens, a few scattered;
Into wells, a few thrown;
And, also, a few burnt in flames.
Unalloyed simple joys,
Experienced worn bangles,
Like virginity, left village girls.
poem by Fabiyas M V
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Black & White
I am one with the world tonight
I am proud to be this far from you
You say that you have no regrets
But I know that you do
You told me someone stole the eye
I know him too
Ive come to the conclusion - yes, I know
That between black and white, there is no room for two
The scale might be wide, but there's no need to be blind
Cause between black and white, there is no room for two
I leave all of the grey behind
I see clear, I know that Ill find
You claim that you are innocent
But tell me who isnt
You think that youre going to be saved
Theres no such thing as a saint
Ive come to the conclusion - yes, I know
That between black and white, there is no room for two
The scale might be wide, but there is no need to be blind
Cause between black and white, there is no room for two
I've come to the conclusion - yes I know
That between black and white, there is no room for two
The scale might be wide, but there is no need to be blind
Cause between black and white, there is no room for two
song performed by by In Flames
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Village Virtue
Jenny was my first sweetheart;
Poor lass! she was none too smart.
Though I swore she'd never rue it,
She would never let me do it.
When I tried she mad a fuss,
So damn pure and virtuous.
Girls should cozen all they can,
Use their wiles to get their man.
June, my second, was no prude;
Too good-looking to be good;
Wanton and a giddy-gadder,
Never knew who might have had her;
Kept me mad and jumping jealous,
Tempting all the other fellows
Like a wayside flower to pluck her:
So at last I had to chuck her.
Now I'm settled down with Jill,
And we're safely married still.
She began to wail and worry,
So we wedded in a hurry.
Well, it's quite all right that way -
We're all made of common clay,
And the grey-haired folk that bore us
Just as wanton were before us.
June, I hear, now lives in London
Where, I fear, she's sadly undone.
Jenny, still as virtuous
Missed the matrimonial bus,
Where our "first" set gossips buzzin'
Jill and I now have a dozen,
Ready in their turn to prove
There's no chastity in love.
June, so fickle and so fair,
Common was as barber's chair;
Jill provides me with good grub,
Lets me go nights to the pub.
Though her silver hairs are many,
One eve I might call on Jenny . . .
She may not need too much urging:
Must be hell to die a virgin.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Grey Areas: Revised
they think and teach you
that black is black and white is white
that either you are moral or immoral
that either you leave or stay
that either you die or live
that there are only choices of
either/or
they tell you do not do this
do not do that
do only this and that
they prohibit you and tell you
it is for your own good
as though they are gods
and you are the dogs
an old man with bright eyes
asks me to go near him
and he says: try the middle of things
it is not just black or white but
there are shades and shades of choices
in between
in there everything is allowed.
the grey areas. the exceptions. the exemptions.
try them. they are all exciting. like the colors of the rainbow
like the patches of red, and orange and blue and pink
you see, who is telling you that there are no other colors
than black and white?
i am neither good nor bad.
In truth, i am just myself.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Black and White and Red
Black and White
And Red I see
Demons they do
Torture me
Black and White
And Red all day
The voices are real
Or so they say
Black and White
And Red abound
I'm lost I call
I'm never found
Black and White
And Red flow out
I scream but you
Don't hear me shout
Black and White
And Red so bright
Exit blood and
Enter light
Black and White
And Red of death
Now I breathe
My final breath
poem by Anonymous Ghurl
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Turning White Into Black
Deep inside their strong stubborn skulls,
and ev’n in their glitt’ring eyeballs,
they really know that black is black,
no way white will be black –
ev’n when they attempt to burn it to black,
its ashes cannot be black but grey.
But for the thirty silv’rs they want to receive,
they, from their basket mouths that can nev’r
hold on a dropp of wat’r,
say that white is not white but dark black.
Lies are now their Messiah here,
and their odour are their John, the forerunner;
Justice but their Israelites in Egypt!
Their hands are cloth’d with mess,
making all their body smell shit, shit of lies:
in the scept’r, it is there;
in the cross, it is there,
not ev’n our homes are spar’d of this mess.
They know that white is white,
for their eyes are not blind;
neith’r are they, themselves, confus’d,
but their greedy mouths have made it so,
turning justice to injustice!
poem by Eche Ononukwe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Grey Areas
they think and teach you
that black is black and white is white
that either you are moral or immoral
that either you leave or stay
that either you die or leave
that there are only choices of either/or
they tell you do not do this
do not do that
they prohibit you and tell you
it is for your own good
as though they are gods
and you are the dogs
an old man with bright eyes
asked me to go near him
and he says: try the middle of things
it is not just black or white but there are shades and shades of choices
in there everything is allowed.
the grey areas. the exceptions. the exemptions.
try them. they are all exciting. like the colors of the rainbow
like the patches of red, and orange and blue and pink
you see, who is telling you that there are no other colors
than black and white?
i am neither good nor bad. In truth, i am just myself.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
If I go into a club now, all the blonde girls leave my corner and all the black girls come into my corner. It's as if I'm racist towards white girls!
quote by Boris Becker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
My Coloring Book
(fred ebb / john kander)
For those who fancy colouring books
And lots of people do
Here's a new one for you
A most unusual colouring book
The kind you'll never see
Crayons ready?
Very well
Begin to colour me
These are the eyes that watched him as he walked away
Colour them grey
This is the heart that thought he would always be true
Colour it blue
These are the arms that held him and touched him
Lost him somehow
Colour them empty now
These are the beads i wore
Until she came between
Colour them green
This is the room that i sleep in and walk in
And weep in and hide in
That nobody, nobody's seen
Oh, colour it lonely, please
This is the man whose love i depended upon
Colour him gone
song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I am a man of black and white
I am a man of black and white,
my name is written on the gates of the sky.
i am a man of black and white
my origin is united, yet two apart.
I speak the language of the whites,
but lost in the language of the blacks.
i am a man of black and white,
my resemblance is same with the blacks.
I am a man of black and white,
i was brought up in the land of the whites.
i am a man of black and white,
my home is in the south-east, in the abode of my black dad.
I am a man of black and white,
i love the aspirations of life.
i am a man of black and white,
although two apart, we are united as one.
poem by Randy Micheal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Colouring Book
(fred ebb / john kander)
For those who fancy colouring books
And lots of people do
Heres a new one for you
A most unusual colouring book
The kind youll never see
Crayons ready?
Very well
Begin to colour me
These are the eyes that watched him as he walked away
Colour them grey
This is the heart that thought he would always be true
Colour it blue
These are the arms that held him and touched him
Lost him somehow
Colour them empty now
These are the beads I wore
Until she came between
Colour them green
This is the room that I sleep in and walk in
And weep in and hide in
That nobody, nobodys seen
Oh, colour it lonely, please
This is the man whose love I depended upon
Colour him gone
song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet XIII: Bring, Brick to Deck My Brow
Bring, bring to deck my brow, ye Sylvan girls,
A roseate wreath; nor for my waving hair
The costly band of studded gems prepare,
Of sparkling crysolite or orient pearls:
Love, o'er my head his canopy unfurls,
His purple pinions fan the whisp'ring air;
Mocking the golden sandal, rich and rare,
Beneath my feet the fragrant woodbine curls.
Bring the thin robe, to fold about my breast,
White as the downy swan; while round my waist
Let leaves of glossy myrtle bind the vest,
Not idly gay, but elegantly chaste!
Love scorns the nymph in wanton trappings drest;
And charms the most concealed, are doubly grac'd.
poem by Mary Darby Robinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
It's a Pack Thing
My puppies may be racist.
The white ones,
Do not sleep with the black one.
But, being the first out,
I'd say it's the black one,
Not sleeping with them.
Dogs see in black and white and grey,
And never notice,
The different shades.
You have to be human, to be racist,
Basing hundreds of years of slavery, murder and hate
On something as meaningless as color.
With puppies,
It’s a pack thing.
poem by Sandra Osborne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!