Images
I have an image in my head,
It's of my mother
in an old pinny,
her hard, broad hands
that were soft and plump on the palm,
with cigarette yellow
at the fingertips.
I have this image in my head
It's of her with a washing board,
sighing, tired
and me, small and tubby,
taking mini steps
towards the wringer,
'can I do it mummy, can I do it'
I have this image in my head
of her face, all lit up,
her excitement
at her first ‘twin tub'
and my heart aches for her.
I see her poor, over worked body,
her anguished face and I cry for her.
I have this image in my head
and it never fades.
I wish she'd had a better life,
taken more care of herself.
She had this matter of fact attitude,
resololute, never to give in
and at the end, when all was done
there was nothing left but pain.
poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Yes, you.
If you have a voice
And you choose not to use it
Because it is convenient…
Because your image reflects
A check mark…
A stamp from the small souls
On the surface of your head...
Then please reexamine it
From the inside.
Do not try to further build an image
By visiting a country in the great continent…
The problem is right here, darlings…
As soon as you step on their ground
And play nice…
They can see right through you.
Because you are representing
The small souls that destroyed their mother land.
So stop building a nice image for yourself
Your shiny ego…
And start questioning the root of the pain.
poem by Erica Borges
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
With No Hairs At All
Shine-head,
Skin-head,
With no hairs at all;
But the image of your face says it all,
And like the tattoos on your body to crown the day.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Images Of The Past
Image 1
A big white horse
Galloping
All four feet hanging in mid-air
On the ground below it
A yellow butterfly
A broken wing.
Image ii
A dirty boy chases a dirty pig
His dirty father chases both
While mother hides her face
Behind a black umbrella.
Image iii
I see on the ceiling a little spider, a lizard
And a white moth
The faded yellow fluorescent bulb blinks
I blink too
The little spider is gone and the moth flew away.
Image iv
A girl on a swing swinging high on air
Her left slipper left in space
Rightly so
Captured still in the middle of air
The two of us look we did not move
Like a Flemish painting
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Very Image - To Rene Magritte
An image of my grandmother
her head appearing upside-down upon a cloud
the cloud transfixed on the steeple
of a deserted railway-station
far away
An image of an aqueduct
with a dead crow hanging from the first arch
a modern-style chair from the second
a fir-tree lodged in the third
and the whole scene sprinkled with snow
An image of a piano-tuner
with a basket of prawns on his shoulder
and a firescreen under his arm
his moustache made of clay-clotted twigs
and his cheeks daubed with wine
An image of an aeroplane
the propellor is rashers of bacon
the wings are of reinforced lard
the tail is made of paper-clips
the pilot is a wasp
An image of the painter
with his left hand in a bucket
and his right hand stroking a cat
as he lies in bed
with a stone beneath his head
And all these images
and many others
are arranged like waxworks
in model bird-cages
about six inches high.
poem by David Gascoyne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The one image that's been causing a lot of discussion is one image that I shot of a man falling head-first from the building, before the buildings fell down. He was trapped in the fire, and decided to jump and take his own life, rather than being burned.
quote by Richard Drew
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Hunter's Even-Song
THE plain with still and wand'ring feet,
And gun full-charged, I tread,
And hov'ring see thine image sweet,
Thine image dear, o'er head.
In gentle silence thou dost fare
Through field and valley dear;
But doth my fleeting image ne'er
To thy mind's eye appear?
His image, who, by grief oppress'd,
Roams through the world forlorn,
And wanders on from east to west,
Because from thee he's torn?
When I would think of none but thee,
Mine eyes the moon survey;
A calm repose then steals o'er me,
But how, 'twere hard to say.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Give Me Image
Enough!
Enough of this...
Self righteous ambiguity!
Fed by those seeking consciousness.
Give me image.
I have yet to have enough,
Of this 'truth-as-I-see-it-life-I-live'.'.
Give me image.
How else can it be expected,
I keep my pretensions alive and thriving?
Do not rid from me my freedom,
To exist living for images I see fit to project.
I can not bare the acceptance of the reality...
Thrown in my face I am suppose to respect!
Give me image!
Do not strip me of my need,
To seek quality delusions to please, eat and feed.
Give me image.
So that I may feel free,
To live in the midst of unending fantasies.
And aspects of threatening truth...
Disturbs my mentality!
As I witness it pursue the awakening of masses.
Pass me my rose colored glasses, please!
Enough!
Enough of this...
Self righteous ambiguity!
Give me image.
I have yet to have enough,
Of this 'truth-as-I-see-it-life-I-live'.'.
Give me image.
Let those images forever in my mind,
Find within me reason to exist!
Give me image.
And enough...
Enough of this,
Self righteous ambiguity.
Fed by those seeking consciousness.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Your Eyes
Around every corner, I turn, you are there;
Fixing me with your steely, unseeing, stare.
Your eyes are static: they do not move,
But, your eternal presence seems to soothe.
The scenario, very slightly, freaks me out,
As, everywhere I go, I see your face about.
Whenever I see your watchful blue eyes,
I suddenly begin to feel just a little bit shy.
You seem to watch me, wherever I go.
But, no emotion does your face show.
What I know for sure, in my own mind,
Is that, in real life, you are caring and kind.
A poster image of you, is what I am seeing:
A momentary snapshot of your very being.
The image lacks colour, but for eyes of light blue;
This very distinguishing feature of yours, is so true.
It brings a strange sense of comfort to me,
Even if, me, you are unable to physically see.
In some strange way, I feel safe and sound,
Knowing that, wherever I go, you are around.
It’s almost as though you have been multiplied;
There is no place where, from you, I can hide.
But when I head home, away from that place,
I no longer see you, or any image of your face.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Your Image
In my madness
Transformed agonies
Existential leanings
Yourself because of me
I hold your image
In my eyes
Like after death
The snake is burnt
As he carries
The image of his slayer
In my own circles
Like a mirror in palm
While you do your eyes
A reflection always
As you shatter me
Into dust
But like the snake
Ye shall burn me
To escape thy image
And by then
Ye shall see thine image
In thy soul
27/2/2009
poem by Sadiqullah Khan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Image Of A Man's Face
Walking along the bush on the 26th of August 2012,
Then came the dark clouds in the sky!
Oh, what will come up next? ! !
Suddenly, came the rainfall;
Shortly after came the rainbow.
I looked at it and,
It suddenly went down very slowly and it disappeared!
Oh, what will come up next? ! !
Then, i saqw the image of a man's face up high in the sky!
Yes, the white clouds gave me this image;
With a very large ring over his head.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Image
Written by: richard marx & fee waybill
Hope you dont believe a word
Of all the things I know youve heard about me
Really just a pack of ies
You see the truth before your eyes around me
Hard to keep it straight
The real from the ruse
Probably way too late
What can I do, but its
Not what you think
Not what you hear
Not what you see
Its just the image
Its all on a string
All fantasy
Not really me
Its just the image
Would it be too much to ask
That you could just gvie me the chance to prove it
Or would it only be a waste of time
To try to make you change your mind and use it
What Ive been looking for
Isnt what I thought
Not behind the golden door
Youre all Ive got, and its
Not what you think
Not what you hear
Not what you see
Its just the image
Its all on a string
All fantasy
Not really me
Its just the image
What Ive been looking for
Isnt what I thought
Not behind the golden door
Youre all Ive got, and its
Not what you think
Not what you hear
Not what you see
Just the image
Its all on a string
All fantasy
Not really me
Its just the image
Not what you think
Not what you hear
Not what you see
Its just the image
Its all on a string
All fantasy
Not really me
Its just the image
song performed by by Richard Marx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Teddy Boy
This is the story
About a boy named ted.
If his mother said:
Ted, be good, he would.
Be good, ted. alright.
She told him tales
About a soldier dad,
But it made her sad.
Then she cried, oh my.
Ted used to tell her
He'd be twice as good
And he knew he could,
'cos in his head he said:
Mummy don't worry,
Your teddy boy's here
Taking good care of you.
Mama don't worry,
Your teddy boy's here.
Teddy's gonna see you through.
And she said:
Teddy don't worry
Your mummy's here,
Taking good care of you.
She said: teddy don't worry,
Your mummy's here,
Teddy's gonna see you through.
He said: ta da da...
Then came the day
She found herself a man.
Teddy turned and ran
Oh far away, oh yeah.
He couldn't stand
Just to be around,
So he left the town
Far away, yeah yeah.
Ted used to tell her
He'd be twice as good
And he know he could,
'cos in his head he said:
Mummy don't worry,
Now teddy boy's here,
Taking good care of you.
Mummy don't worry,
Your teddy boy's here.
Teddy's gonna see you through.
And she said:
Teddy don't worry,
Now mummy's here,
Taking good care of you.
Teddy don't worry,
Your mummy's here,
Mummy's gonna see you through.
And he said:
Mummy mummy don't worry,
Your teddy boy's here
Taking good care of you.
Mummy don't worry,
Now teddy boy's here.
Teddy's gonna see you through.
Take your partner
And don't [...],
Hold them tight
And don't let go.
Got it. jump up.
Take your partners
And don't see
When you got it,
Then let it go
Hold them tight then.
Now ted used to tell her
He'd be twice as good,
And he knew he could
'cos in his head, he said:
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Almighty, Please Give Me Beautiful Heart!
When I look into your eyes,
Reflected image of my being,
there I found my eyes,
My eyes found themselves in yours!
When your eyes shine,
How can I believe myself,
When my image is so small,
What growth may make me,
great in your eyes?
I imagine what may be my size,
if that small lens capture half world,
Is image large when you are so near,
your image cover whole world,
I can't see anything but you,
My eyes are blind to world!
But you look at the world,
how much I can be In Your eyes dear?
I was able to lose myself,
Trying to find myself in you,
Is it love or simply a madness,
Am I mad with my own desire?
Your eyes captured my image,
But with eyes you captured my soul,
By being is lame,
It can't walk,
Only sit where it is,
Absorbed in own calculations,
Absorbed in dreams and expectations,
My soul is not where it should be,
Gone out of my body,
It goes wherever you go,
Trying to measure your footsteps!
Strange enough, you are unmoved by me, Moved my soul,
like unmoved mover of souls,
Is it love? If it is, then what is use of this love,
Is it only to make me feel strain?
is it only to add more pain?
Why can't Almighty,
Give that beautiful heart,
Which can see and feel beloved within?
Please, Almighty, give me a beautiful heart!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Intussusception
this is now, we live
so cold, and lifeless
just sitting here
with my head between my legs
staring at the ground
twitching, convulsing
think about the past
where did it go?
where did it come from?
and why is this such a rhetorical question
to ask myself?
so why?
i must try to seek salvation
in a world that is so cold
cold, cold, cold
loud empty thud
against my head
as the pain rushes in
and loving it
is over here upon myself
listen to time, why? why? why?
try to understand
why do you understand
when no one else does?
no one else does
sick and killing time
killing me forever
forever dead
all in till the end
so this is worth living?
in nothing?
so something is all
it's all a game to debate
contemplate suicide
i don't patronize
i don't sympathize
for you or dissed burnt image
image on top of the forehead in the mirror
where we see no truth
forever lost, forever loveless
loveless forever, loveless forever
tired of living, soul taking
i feel it breaking my mind
so goodbye, so goodbye
song performed by by Velvet Acid Christ
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Success And Image And The Face Of It
Those who say,
Looks aren't everything!
Aren't the ones who are judged,
Based solely upon them.
And besides...
This can be deducted,
From what many prize.
Thick lips, nappy hair and brown eyes...
Are not considered standards,
By those who analyze.
Not for a beauty,
Considered to be immortalized.
No matter who is competent...
In a package that is presented!
If it doesn't suit the taste,
For those who select an image to digest.
As an appearance,
That suggests success...
And not a waste to regret.
It will be the 'image' one picks,
Over a competence that 'may' exist.
'But hasn't it been image and not substance,
That has increased in an invited decadence? '
Well...
Yes.
'But who in reality today believes? '
Remember this...
Image speaks volumes.
And easier to hype.
On the other hand...
Reality is something placed,
On an equality wish list...
Not too soon to happen,
For the sake of changing...
Success and image and the face of it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When I was young, my mindset was image, image, image. I took that approach with the media. As I became more experienced I realized: No matter what, people are going to like you or not like you. So be authentic, and let them like you or not for who you actually are. At that point, I started keeping all of my answers blunt and straightforward. I would mix in some humor and sarcasm, too. I think fans and reporters came to appreciate that, came to appreciate the real me.
quote by Kobe Bryant
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
But Not Forgotten
I think, no matter where you stray,
That I shall go with you a way.
Though you may wander sweeter lands,
You will not soon forget my hands,
Nor yet the way I held my head,
Nor all the tremulous things I said.
You still will see me, small and white
And smiling, in the secret night,
And feel my arms about you when
The day comes fluttering back again.
I think, no matter where you be,
You'll hold me in your memory
And keep my image, there without me,
By telling later loves about me.
poem by Dorothy Parker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Image building.
I’m known for different reasons
In different circles I lived in.
I’m known for different things
In different ages I went through.
The image built in a circle
Is unknown to other circles.
The image built in one age
Is unheard of in other ages.
Each image is left to die
When I shifted circles and ages.
Image building is a futile
Exercise we’re happy to do.
13.10.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
After our Likeness.
Before me now a little picture lies—
A little shadow of a childish face,
Childishly sweet, yet with the dawning grace
Of thought and wisdom on her lips and eyes.
Fair, oval, broad-brow'd face—small, delicate head—
Transparent skin, with blue veins shining through—
All the soft outlines, beautiful and true,
Bring me the echo of the words “God said.”
Made “in our image”—sure 'tis that we see,
God's likeness, in the fair face of a child,
By the world's sin and passion undefiled—
Ay, as I look, it seems quite plain to me.
The light wherein the little features shine,
Strange, mystic light, so undefined and faint,
So far too pure for any words to paint—
'Tis a reflection of the Face divine.
Some day the earthly shadows will be cast
Across that sunshine—it may be to dim
A while the visible countenance of Him;
But 'twill be there—the likeness—to the last.
Some day the lucid waters, in which lie
Pictured those glorious lineaments, will be
Stirred up and troubled like a stormy sea;—
But they will yet re-settle—by-and-by.
They will re-settle when the soul is still'd,
Its passions, its wild longings, and its pain;
The pure reflection will shine out again
When earth's hopes are relinquish'd, unfulfill'd.
They will re-settle in those after-years
When life's hard lessons have been conned and learn'd;
Then this child's beauty will have all return'd,
More lovely for the trouble and the tears.
They will re-settle in the calm of death,
When the sweet eyes are laid asleep, and when
The heart is hush'd. Truly God's likeness then—
The mirror clear, unsullied by a breath.
Ah! while I look, and trace each tender line,
I think most of the day when I shall see
The dear face in that perfect purity,
Its mortal features clothed with the divine.
This self-same face, but with the image bright,
Nevermore undefined, and faint, and dim;
This self-same face, yet like the face of Him,
In glory and in beauty infinite.
poem by Ada Cambridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hexameters
William, my teacher, my friend ! dear William and dear Dorothea !
Smooth out the folds of my letter, and place it on desk or on table ;
Place it on table or desk ; and your right hands loosely half-closing,
Gently sustain them in air, and extending the digit didactic,
Rest it a moment on each of the forks of the five-forkéd left hand,
Twice on the breadth of the thumb, and once on the tip of each finger ;
Read with a nod of the head in a humouring recitativo ;
And, as I live, you will see my hexameters hopping before you.
This is a galloping measure ; a hop, and a trot, and a gallop !
All my hexameters fly, like stags pursued by the staghounds,
Breathless and panting, and ready to drop, yet flying still onwards,
I would full fain pull in my hard-mouthed runaway hunter ;
But our English Spondeans are clumsy yet impotent curb-reins ;
And so to make him go slowly, no way left have I but to lame him.
William, my head and my heart ! dear Poet that feelest and thinkest !
Dorothy, eager of soul, my most affectionate sister !
Many a mile, O ! many a wearisome mile are ye distant,
Long, long, comfortless roads, with no one eye that doth know us.
O ! it is all too far to send to you mockeries idle :
Yea, and I feel it not right ! But O ! my friends, my belovéd !
Feverish and wakeful I lie,--I am weary of feeling and thinking.
Every thought is worn down,--I am weary, yet cannot be vacant.
Five long hours have I tossed, rheumatic heats, dry and flushing,
Gnawing behind in my head, and wandering and throbbing about me,
Busy and tiresome, my friends, as the beat of the boding night-spider.
I forget the beginning of the line :
[Image][Image][Image][Image][Image] ... my eyes are a burthen,
Now unwillingly closed, now open and aching with darkness.
O ! what a life is the eye ! what a strange and inscrutable essence !
Him that is utterly blind, nor glimpses the fire that warms him ;
Him that never beheld the swelling breast of his mother ;
Him that smiled in his gladness as a babe that smiles in its slumber ;
Even for him it exists, it moves and stirs in its prison ;
Lives with a separate life, and `Is it a Spirit ?' he murmurs :
`Sure, it has thoughts of its own, and to see is only a language.'
There was a great deal more, which I have forgotten. ... The last line
which I wrote, I remember, and write it for the truth of the sentiment,
scarcely less true in company than in pain and solitude :--
William, my head and my heart ! dear William and dear Dorothea !
You have all in each other ; but I am lonely, and want you !
poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!