We put the urn abord ship
We put the urn aboard ship
with this inscription:
This is the dust of little
Timas who unmarried was led
into Persephone's dark bedroom
And she being far from home, girls
her age took new-edged blades
to cut, in mourning for her,
these curls of their soft hair
Related quotes
The Dust Of Timas
This dust was Timas; and they say
That almost on her wedding day
She found her bridal home to be
The dark house of Persephone.
And many maidens, knowing then
That she would not come back again,
Unbound their curls; and all in tears,
They cut them off with sharpened shears.
Variations of Greek Themes
I
A HAPPY MAN
(Carphyllides)
When these graven lines you see,
Traveler, do not pity me;
Though I be among the dead,
Let no mournful word be said.
Children that I leave behind,
And their children, all were kind;
Near to them and to my wife,
I was happy all my life.
My three sons I married right,
And their sons I rocked at night;
Death nor sorrow ever brought
Cause for one unhappy thought.
Now, and with no need of tears,
Here they leave me, full of years,—
Leave me to my quiet rest
In the region of the blest.
II
A MIGHTY RUNNER
(Nicarchus)
The day when Charmus ran with five
In Arcady, as I’m alive,
He came in seventh.—“Five and one
Make seven, you say? It can’t be done.”—
Well, if you think it needs a note,
A friend in a fur overcoat
Ran with him, crying all the while,
“You’ll beat ’em, Charmus, by a mile!”
And so he came in seventh.
Therefore, good Zoilus, you see
The thing is plain as plain can be;
And with four more for company,
He would have been eleventh.
III
THE RAVEN
(Nicarchus)
The gloom of death is on the raven’s wing,
The song of death is in the raven’s cries:
But when Demophilus begins to sing,
The raven dies.
IV
EUTYCHIDES
(Lucilius)
Eutychides, who wrote the songs,
Is going down where he belongs.
O you unhappy ones, beware:
Eutychides will soon be there!
For he is coming with twelve lyres,
And with more than twice twelve quires
Of the stuff that he has done
In the world from which he’s gone.
Ah, now must you know death indeed,
For he is coming with all speed;
And with Eutychides in Hell,
Where’s a poor tortured soul to dwell?
V
DORICHA
(Posidippus)
So now the very bones of you are gone
Where they were dust and ashes long ago;
And there was the last ribbon you tied on
To bind your hair, and that is dust also;
And somewhere there is dust that was of old
A soft and scented garment that you wore—
The same that once till dawn did closely fold
You in with fair Charaxus, fair no more.
But Sappho, and the white leaves of her song,
Will make your name a word for all to learn,
And all to love thereafter, even while
It’s but a name; and this will be as long
As there are distant ships that will return
Again to your Naucratis and the Nile.
VI
THE DUST OF TIMAS
(Sappho)
This dust was Timas; and they say
That almost on her wedding day
She found her bridal home to be
The dark house of Persephone.
And many maidens, knowing then
That she would not come back again,
Unbound their curls; and all in tears,
They cut them off with sharpened shears.
VII
ARETEMIAS
(Antipater of Sidon)
I’m sure I see it all now as it was,
When first you set your foot upon the shore
Where dim Cocytus flows for evermore,
And how it came to pass
That all those Dorian women who are there
In Hades, and still fair,
Came up to you, so young, and wept and smiled
When they beheld you and your little child.
And then, I’m sure, with tears upon your face
To be in that sad place,
You told of the two children you had borne,
And then of Euphron, whom you leave to mourn.
“One stays with him,” you said,
“And this one I bring with me to the dead.”
VIII
THE OLD STORY
(Marcus Argentarius)
Like many a one, when you had gold
Love met you smiling, we are told;
But now that all your gold is gone,
Love leaves you hungry and alone.
And women, who have called you more
Sweet names than ever were before,
Will ask another now to tell
What man you are and where you dwell.
Was ever anyone but you
So long in learning what is true?
Must you find only at the end
That who has nothing has no friend?
IX
TO-MORROW
(Macedonius)
To-morrow? Then your one word left is always now the same;
And that’s a word that names a day that has no more a name.
To-morrow, I have learned at last, is all you have to give:
The rest will be another’s now, as long as I may live.
You will see me in the evening?—And what evening has there been,
Since time began with women, but old age and wrinkled skin?
X
LAIS TO APHRODITE
(Plato)
When I, poor Lais, with my crown
Of beauty could laugh Hellas down,
Young lovers crowded at my door,
Where now my lovers come no more.
So, Goddess, you will not refuse
A mirror that has now no use;
For what I was I cannot be,
And what I am I will not see.
XI
AN INSCRIPTION BY THE SEA
(Glaucus)
No dust have I to cover me,
My grave no man may show;
My tomb is this unending sea,
And I lie far below.
My fate, O stranger, was to drown;
And where it was the ship went down
Is what the sea-birds know.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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It Is This Poem
thunderstorm
carries a ship
relentlessly aboard
a hopeless man he confesses to be
one hopeless man
losing his sense of direction
climbs
aboard towards the roof of the ship
gazing at the horizon
i fear that he would jump
out the ship into the whirlpool
he looks at me
and i sense the same
fear
to an identical situation
upon the same
storm upon the same ship
upon the same
dark hour
somehow we change
and so here i am
writing about him
it is this poem.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Girl in a Bar
You're so uncool
But I don't care,
Don't like cool girls....
You're no-one's fool,
You got those curls
And ringlets in your hair.
You sure ain't hip,
(Perhaps you're square!)
But I don't care,
You got those curls....
Come home with me,
We'll have some fun,
I'll shoot my gun,
And you can be my only one.
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Aboard At A Ship's Helm
ABOARD, at a ship's helm,
A young steersman, steering with care.
A bell through fog on a sea-coast dolefully ringing,
An ocean-bell--O a warning bell, rock'd by the waves.
O you give good notice indeed, you bell by the sea-reefs ringing,
Ringing, ringing, to warn the ship from its wreck-place.
For, as on the alert, O steersman, you mind the bell's admonition,
The bows turn,--the freighted ship, tacking, speeds away under her
gray sails,
The beautiful and noble ship, with all her precious wealth, speeds
away gaily and safe.
But O the ship, the immortal ship! O ship aboard the ship! 10
O ship of the body--ship of the soul--voyaging, voyaging, voyaging.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Girls With Curls
Girls who have a natural curl
to their hair are completely
agitated with the bending trend...
they heat their flat iron discreetly
Testing to make sure it won't burn
patiently taking their hair by strands
smoothly ironing the kink... firmly
pressing as hard as it will withstand
Gradually natural curls are
entirely straight as a board
not a wave or twist is insight...
An hour of diligence gives reward
Girls with naturally straight hair
admire girls with curly hair
they wish they too could have
bounce and twirls without a care
It is their desire to duplicate
curly hair in order to feel pretty
Hours are spent carefully spinning
strands upon spools until weary
After waiting somewhat patiently
the time for triumph slowly arrives
Gently undoing the spins to see
beautiful ringlets for which they strive
It is a perplexing mystery to unravel
It is unknown to the great intellects
of the world why some girls undo
curls while others pursue… it is complex
9/4/2010
poem by Theresa Ann Moore
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How Do You Talk To Girls
Well Im sick of hanging out on the street
Every saturday night with the boys
Listening to the radios big beat
We crank it just to hear the noise
Yeah we talk about the girls, girls, girls
And we talk, talk, talk all night
Sure were all romeos and casanovas
But we cant seem to get it right
Seems Im making it harder and harder
While everybody else is doing well
I get confused by their bodies
I get tangled in their curls
How do you talk to girls
How do you talk to girls
Whats a poor boy to do
Tell me how do you talk to girls?
How do you talk to girls?
I see this girl over there right away
Im trying to think of something to say
Well I think Ill have one more drink
Ill be ready to make my play
But this guy moves in and he talks to her
And she nods her head
Well Im used to missing out on the girl
But I want to know what he said
Seems Im making it harder and harder
While everybody else is doing well
I get confused by their bodies
I get tangled in their curls
How do you talk to girls?
How do you talk to girls?
Whats a poor boy to do
Im tangled up in their curls
How do you talk to girls?
How do you talk to girls?
Out of wisdom and out of pearls
Tell me how do you talk to girls
Am I stupid or misunderstood
Id say something clever if I only could
Were only ten feet apart
But it feels like the world
How do you talk to girls?
How do you talk to girls?
Out of wisdom and out of pearls
Tell me how do you talk to girls
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Good Time Girls
It's another summer holiday
We go looking out for the good time girls
Good time girls smarter than normal girls
Good time girls drinking and taking pills
Good time girls having a good time
Sit in the sun drinking expensive wine
Good time girls I want to be with you
Pick me up when I am feeling blue
It's another summer holiday
We go looking down for the good time girls
Good time girls smarter than normal girls
Good time girls straight hair and hair that curls
Good time girls having a good time
Sit in the sun drinking electric wine
Good time girls will you come out with me
Making me happy bringing me cups of tea (ha!)
Oh yes
Good time girls having a good time [etc...]
song performed by by Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Transit of the Gods
Strange that the self’s continuum should outlast
The Virgin, Aphrodite, and the Mourning Mother,
All loves and griefs, successive deities
That hold their kingdom in the human breast.
Abandoned by the gods, woman with an ageing body
That half remembers the Annunciation
The passion and the travail and the grief
That wore the mask of my humanity,
I marvel at the soul’s indifference.
For in her theatre the play is done,
The tears are shed; the actors, the immortals
In their ceaseless manifestation, elsewhere gone,
And I who have been Virgin and Aphrodite,
The mourning Isis and the queen of corn
Wait for the last mummer, dread Persephone
To dance my dust at last into the tomb.
poem by Kathleen Jessie Raine
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Us girls
Girls are so beautiful
inside and out
love is big
hair untouched
lips so soft with our gloss
We just want fun
continuous sun
lots of love and friends
good ones, that are
there till the end
A helping hand they will lend
love always they will send
that is a true friend
us girls are so bubbly
so fine and divine
but still boys are the ones
who try the pick up lines
cuz were so gorgeous
no one can recist
come on girls agree
with this
no boy can never handle this
(us) , us beautiful girls
cuz were all so beautiful
inside and out
love is big
hair untouched
lips so soft with our gloss
poem by Nicole Buckland
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How’s My Boy?
“HO, Sailor of the sea!
How’s my boy—my boy?”
“What’s your boy’s name, good wife,
And in what good ship sail'd he?”
“My boy John— He that went to sea—
What care I for the ship, sailor?
My boy's my boy to me.
“You come back from sea,
And not know my John?
I might as well have ask’d some landsman
Yonder down in the town.
There ’s not an ass in all the parish
But he knows my John.
“How’s my boy—my boy?
And unless you let me know
I’ll swear you are no sailor,
Blue jacket or no,
Brass buttons or no, sailor,
Anchor and crown or no!
Sure his ship was the ‘Jolly Briton’”—
“Speak low, woman, speak low!”
“And why should I speak low, sailor,
About my own boy John?
If I was loud as I am proud
I’d sing him over the town!
Why should I speak low, sailor?”
“That good ship went down.”
“How’s my boy—my boy?
What care I for the ship, sailor?
I was never aboard her.
Be she afloat or be she aground,
Sinking or swimming, I’ll be bound,
Her owners can afford her!
I say, how’s my John?”
“Every man on board went down,
Every man aboard her.”
“How’s my boy—my boy?
What care I for the men, sailor?
I’m not their mother—
How’s my boy—my boy?
Tell me of him and no other!
How ’s my boy—my boy?”
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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Tonight
Remember when we said, girl, please dont go,
And how Id be loving you forever,
Taught you bout hangin tough as long as you got the right stuff,
Didnt we, girls, ooh, didnt we, girls, aah?
Well, I guess, its a brandnew day after all
Every time we hear the curtain call,
See the girls with the curls in the hair,
The buttons and the pins and the loud fanfares.
Tonight, tonight.
Remember when we traveled round the world,
There were a lot of people and girls,
Fan mail from everywhere showed us how you care,
Didnt it, girls, ooh, didnt it, girls, aah?
Well, I guess...
(spoken:) sounds good, hey fellas, lets do it, here we go.
La-la-la-la-la-la tonight, la-la-la-la-la-la tonight.
Tonight, tonight (repeat & fade)
song performed by by New Kids On The Block
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Online II
Unmarried fathers,
Unmarried mothers,
And, children are born left and right! !
But, who is now online?
Babies,
With unmarried fathers and unmarried mothers;
Babies,
With married fathers and married mothers;
But, this issue is now investigated with care,
Because, other accessibilities are now found at various locations!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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A Few Lines to Beauty
Girls!
You with the bobbed hair or Mary Pickford curls,
Likewise you others
Who still adopt the hair-dressing style,
That makes the moderns smile.
But was undoubtedly the dearest attribute of your mothers.
And, by the by,
You with the glad-eye -
We've seen you in the street
Looking particularly sweet.
And we ask you
Do you think that those girls in the city that is reputed to possess a harbor
can overtask you?
In the matter of looking nice -
We do not seek to give advice;
And, frankly, we don't know.
We have seen both types and so,
Being diplomatic,
We refrain from expressing an opinion that is too emphatic.
We'll leave it to the vote,
Yet hasten to remark that we simply dote
Upon the maiden who
Is just like you,
Fair reader!
We seek not to assume the office or prerogative of a special pleader.
And we own that this question of State Rights
Gives us uneasy dreams o' nights.
Take no notice of those churls
Who tell you that the Sydney girls
Can put it all over you in regard to female beauty.
My dears, you have a duty
At any rate,
Toward your State.
Go in
And Win!
Among you are undoubtedly quite a number of perfect peaches
And the sirens of the Sydney beaches
May yet be proved to be not exactly the pick of the basket.
Girls!
With or without curls,
The honor of your State and the noble men therein ask it.
Here I conclude.
And I trust that these few well-chosen remarks have not been in bad taste or
over-rude.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Bavarian Gentias
Not every man has gentians in his house
in soft September, at slow, sad Michaelmas.
Bavarian gentians, big and dark, only dark
darkening the daytime, torch-like, with the smoking blueness of Pluto's
gloom,
ribbed and torch-like, with their blaze of darkness spread blue
down flattening into points, flattened under the sweep of white day
torch-flower of the blue-smoking darkness, Pluto's dark-blue daze,
black lamps from the halls of Dis, burning dark blue,
giving off darkness, blue darkness, as Demeter's pale lamps give off blight, lead me then, lead the way.
Reach me a gentian, give me a torch!
let me guide myself with the blue, forked torch of this flower
down the darker and darker stairs, where blue is darkened on blueness even where Persephone goes, just now, from the frosted September
to the sightless realm where darkness is awake upon the dark
and Persephone herself is but a voice
or a darkness invisible enfolded in the deeper dark
of the arms Plutonic, and pierced with the passion of dense gloom, among the splendor of torches of darkness, shedding darkness on the lost bride and her groom.
poem by David McKee Wright
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Talking (and Singing) of the Nordic Man
I
Behold, my child, the Nordic man,
And be as like him, as you can;
His legs are long, his mind is slow,
His hair is lank and made of tow.
II
And here we have the Alpine Race:
Oh! What a broad and foolish face!
His skin is of a dirty yellow.
He is a most unpleasant fellow.
III
The most degraded of them all
Mediterranean we call.
His hair is crisp, and even curls,
And he is saucy with the girls.
poem by Hilaire Belloc
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Haircut.
The Barber came to cut my hair,
I told him that it wasn't fair.
My hair had done him no harm,
Without it I would loose my charm.
The Barber he grinned a silly grin,
Said to cut my hair would be no sin.
That I should face it like a man,
But I'm a coward and away I ran.
Do you like sitting in a Barbers chair,
With him chopping away your lovely hair.
Once my head was full of curls,
Covering my face with twisty twirls.
But then the Barber came my way,
I was a child, I had no say.
Off came my curls one by one,
The Barber seemed to have great fun.
Now I'm old and very grey,
I'm nearly bald, my hairs gone away.
But when I see a Barbers chair,
I feel the loss of my curly hair.
You know I truly rue the day,
When that first Barber came my way.
poem by Bernard Shaw
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Good Girls Go To Heaven
Some girls do some girls don't
Don't mean type don't mean smoke
Lay me down can't seem to sleep
My mind's been thinkin' real deep
(bridge 1)
All my thoughts are runnin wild out of control-outta my mind
(chorus)
'cause good girls go to heaven bad girls go everywhere
If i had my choice of women
I'd pick the ones that'd go anywhere
All good girls they go to heaven
All bad girls go everywhere they like
Late at night when she comes out
The lady moves prowls the town
A perfect match of looks and charm
Where she goes it's light and dark
She's so hot i burn my tongue when i kiss her lips she turns me on
Good girls go to heaven
Bad girls go everywhere
If i had my choice of women
I'd pick the ones that'd go anywhere
All good girls they go to heaven
All bad girls go everywhere they like
(solo)
Made my choice made it well had my pick of heaven or
Good girls go to heaven bad girls go everywhere
If i had my choice of women i'd pick the ones that'd go anywhere
All good girls they go to heaven all bad girls go everywhere they like
Good girls they've got manners bad girls got what matters
Good girls leave at home bad girls come with the singer
Good girls go to heaven bad girls go everywhere that they like
song performed by by Cheap Trick
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blue Girls
Blue girls
of a blue generation,
hear my supplication,
I ask for love
do not give hurt.
.
Blue girls
of ancediary century,
they hacked my love,
and left me crying.
.
Blue girls
of times vanity
tell this to Cupid,
Persephone and Hades.
.
Tell them to give us money.
poem by Efe Benjamin
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Girls Were Made To Take Care Of Boys
Ralph blane
Girls were made to take care of boys
To be kind and dutiful
Hmmm...
Girls were made to take care of boys
Made to share their sorrows
Made to share their joys
Made to help and guide them
With ever a patient hand
Made to give affection
In the right direction
(always understand)
Now boys may think they take care of girls
Just because they pass on their fashions and their curls
But Ive always found
Its just the other way around
(other way around)
If you need the girl
And declare you do
(tell her that you need her)
Shell be there
To take care of you
(shell be there)
(now boys may think they take care of girls
Just because theyre clever with their fashions and their curls)
But Ive always found
Its just the other way around
song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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