La Japonaise Paris
Restaurant Musee D'Orsay
silver spoon of creme de choufleur soupe
poised
beneath the chandeliers
even a spear of white asparagus
might pierce
the fluttering wood-moth
as with upturned face
it disappears
once more
somehow in woodfern lace
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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Related quotes
Born Without A Silver Spoon
I was born without a silver spoon.
On a raining day in the month of june.
We lived in a face me and face you,
it was a crowded neighbourhood.
Born without a silver spoon.
To have a three square meal
is like wishing for the moon.
Many times we bed the night,
cold night without food.
Without a silver spoon.
My father struggled me through school.
Primary, secondary and university
education i made it through.
A silver spoon.
My wish which must come true.
For i dream of it everday.
Think about those moves i'll make.
Praying to God for steps to take.
Though i was born without
silver spoon.
Yet if heaven be true,
my family's pain will not be vain.
I was born without a silver spoon
shall be erased.
To my generations it shall be a tale.
And only a silver spoon shall remain.
poem by Enebeli Ifyprada
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Lucky Bride
White lace
Silver jewelry
Diamond tiarra
And a smile that melts all hearts
Her face covered in a veil
Her dress flowing like a cloud
A lovely day
A happy day
A day of love
It spreads to all
Like the crimson stain
That seeps through
That snowy white lace
Silver rusted
Tiarra smashed
Smile gone
Crimson everywhere
Spilling, flowing, wrapping
Around everything
In its path
This is the day
Such a joyous day
As Fallen Angels
Greet the lucky bride
And welcome her
To their world
Which is now hers
poem by Janelle Morehart
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Antiquaire's Paris
at a sort of deconstruction site of the Golden Age
full-frontal for the passing-trade
a marble copy of a Greek
exposing all his majestique
on being sold to a dealer from Japan
crashed the glass and away he ran
finally booked for loitering
they overlooked his none last fling
he'd spoiled a nymph with rampant foreplay
in bas relief at the Musee D'Orsay
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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Silver Spoon
I aint lookin like nobodys fool, save it for somebody else
And I aint makin any desperate move, till Im satisfied myself
I aint waitin for no invitation, I just wanna walk on thru
I never needed anybody, and like my daddy said
Chorus:
I wasnt born with a silver spoon, nowhere to hide in a crowded room
I see the attitude thats in your eyes, I got no reason to apologize
cos whats so special bout a girl like you, with a silver spoon
In a city where the buildings rise, I was just another face
But mama told me when somebody dies, no one else can take your place
I never needed anybody, and like my daddy said
I wasnt born with a silver spoon, nowhere to hide in a crowded room
I see the attitude thats in your eyes, I got no reason to apologize
cos Ive got something for a girl like you, with a silver spoon
I always knew Id be somebody, I kept it in my head
I never needed anybody, and like my daddy said
Chorus...
song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Dada Da-da da. (Call Everything By Its Proper Name)
So you call 'the rain' in pain.
In pain you call 'the rain'
the rain, the rain, the rain
that molten lava rain,
that beats the windowpane,
that is the blade tht cuts your face.
the rain that runs down swollen face,
water like lace,
water like lace on your face,
so the lace, lace, lace
traces your face, face, face
rain, pane, train
and everything' in pain.
The rain is the pain,
that cuts your face with a blade,
so your blood it runs like lace,
blood lace, bloodied lace,
on your face
your face, your face.
poem by Ursula De La Mer
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Roses On White Lace
I saw you in your wedding gown
The prettiest dress
I came into the room that night
And made such a mess
In my own way, I lovingly kiss the bride
With your ring in your hand
Your eyes and your mouth open wide
In my eyes
Blood drops look like roses on white lace
They won't wash away
In my mind they're roses on white lace
Straight from the heart
So dead upon the bed
You hurt me in the deepest way
I'm crippled inside
I took your evil skin away
It's all cut and dried
I saw you tonight and carefully took your hand
With some smears on my cheeks
I knew that you would understand
In my eyes
Blood drops look like roses on white lace
They won't wash away
In my mind they're roses on white lace
Straight from the heart
So dead upon the bed, still searching for your head
They're never gonna find your face
It's hidden away
I found a very special place where you used to play
In my own way, I lovingly kiss the bride
With your ring in your hand
Your eyes and your mouth open wide
In my eyes
Blood drops look like roses on white lace
They won't wash away
In my mind they're roses on white lace
Straight from the heart
Blood drops look like roses on white lace
Crimson and sweet, stained on the sheet
Roses on white lace, pretty in red, dripping and wet
Roses on white lace, spilled on the walls, dark in the hall
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Les Fleurs des Mots: Le Genre de Place
Femmes sont Seine,
Universite,
Paris, Place,
Cathedral,
Avenue et Rue;
Aussi Tour Eiffel.
Hommes sont Centre,
Restaurant,
Musee, Metro et Hotel.
poem by Douglas Scotney
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Moonlight Moth
When moonlight lit
Moth's light wings
It shone bit by bit
In deep silver strings
At moth's demise
Many moon lit swings
In well come improvise
It inverted things
It turned to grit
Silver wind disguise
And made moon a twilit
In its shining arise
poem by Pedro Cescon
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Silver
Slowly, silently, now the moon
Walks the night in her silver shoon;
This way, and that, she peers, and sees
Silver fruit upon silver trees;
One by one the casements catch
Her beams beneath the silvery thatch;
Couched in his kennel, like a log,
With paws of silver sleeps the dog;
From their shadowy cote the white breasts peep
Of doves in silver feathered sleep
A harvest mouse goes scampering by,
With silver claws, and silver eye;
And moveless fish in the water gleam,
By silver reeds in a silver stream.
poem by Walter de la Mare
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Things Do Not Seem To Be Them After A Careful Seeing
a spoon
and a fork and they seem to appear
with food on a silver platter
when we talk we talk like poets now
after years
a spoon is no longer just a spoon
and neither is the fork
and neither is the food the food that we
eat on the table
and neither is the silver platter a mere
silver platter as it seems to be
for a spoon may be me and i may also be
a tongue and i could be a tongue to your
fork, a protrusion that stabs me like a knife
and the silver platter could be our mind
a garden where we put every seed
and the table and the cloth that covers it
with leaves and flowers
myabe our worlds, covered and uncovered
with some intricate designs
this could be our world now. a world of poems
where everything is a roll of sensitive skin
a mind so fertile with its array of metaphors
and similes and
exaggerations, and these make us so happy
we tiptoe, we choose the word, we equate
every object to a meaning, we dance to a lot
of its nuances, and then we touch and then
we are so silent. we choose not to hurt.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Playwrights are like men who have been dining for a month in an Indian restaurant. After eating curry night after night, they deny the existence of asparagus.
quote by Peter Ustinov
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For M.W.
There is no transcience of twilight in
The beauty of your soft dusk-dimpled face,
No flicker of a slender flame in space,
In crucibles, fragility crystalline.
There is no fragrance of the jessamine
About you, no pathos of some old place
At dusk, that crumbles like moth-eater lace
Beneath the touch. Nor has there ever been.
Your love is like the folk-song's flaming rise
In cane-lipped southern people, like their soul
Which burst its bondage in a bold travail;
Your voice is like them singing, soft and wise,
Your face, sweetly efflgent of the whole,
Inviolate of ways that would feile.
poem by Jean Toomer
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A Hammock, A Dream, A White Butterfly
i was relaxing on a
hammock
there was this little
white butterfly
fluttering and fluttering
no hovering ever
no stopping
it rises up over the fence
of my house
and then it is gone away....
i slept and dreamed about
a little white butterfly
fluttering and never stopping
it flew away from my mind...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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All my pupils are the creme de la creme. Give me a girl of an impressionable age, and she is mine for life.
quote by Muriel Spark
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lavender Lace
Lavender lace, tears on my face
Our love ? ? ? to celebrate our first date
But Im alone in lavender lace
Lavender lace, theres not a trace
Of that guy that I love so well
Now he wont see me in lavender lace
Why oh why didnt my baby show?
Why oh why, didnt he love me, no
I dont know if Ive ever been so lonely
Lonely in lavender lace
Oh, lavender lace seems out of place
Its 2am, well whats with him, making me cry?
Giving me blues in lavender lace
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Moon Looks In
I
I have risen again,
And awhile survey
By my chilly ray
Through your window-pane
Your upturned face,
As you think, 'Ah - she
Now dreams of me
In her distant place!'
II
I pierce her blind
In her far-off home:
She fixes a comb,
And says in her mind,
'I start in an hour;
Whom shall I meet?
Won't the men be sweet,
And the women sour!'
poem by Thomas Hardy
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The Birch
The white birch is covered
All with snow veil,
As with silver, rather,
Outside my dwell.
On the fluffy boughs,
With the snow lace
There appeared flowers
On the white hoar dress.
And the birch is staying
In the quiet dream,
As the gold, the snowflakes
Are sparkling in the peace.
And the dawn, so lazily
Going around,
Sprinkles the new silver
On the lacy boughs.
poem by Sergei Yesenin, translated by Lyudmila Purgina
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Prayer
White, O white face—
from disenchanted days
wither alike dark rose
and fiery bays:
no gift within our hands,
nor strength to praise,
only defeat and silence;
though we lift hands, disenchanted,
of small strength, nor raise
branch of the laurel
or the light of torch,
but fold the garment
on the riven locks,
yet hear, all-merciful, and touch
the fore-head, dim, unlit of pride and thought,
Mistress–be near!
Give back the glamour to our will,
the thought; give back the tool,
the chisel; once we wrought
things not unworthy,
sandal and steel-clasp;
silver and steel, the coat
with white leaf-pattern
at the arm and throat:
silver and metal, hammered for the ridge
of shield and helmet-rim;
white silver with the darker hammered in,
belt, staff and magic spear-shaft
with the gilt spark at the point and hilt.
poem by Hilda Doolittle
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Seeds and soil
Rabindranath Tagore was born
With a silver spoon in the mouth.
He got connections and the Nobel Prize.
Subramini Bharathi was born
With no silver spoon in the mouth
And being great lived low.
Seeds and soil together contribute.
19.04.2007
Both are Indian Poets, one a Bengali poet and the other a tamil poet.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Spoonful
By willie dickson
Could be spoonful of diamonds
Could be spoonful of gold
But I want a spoon ot your precious love
To satisfy my soul
Chorus
Men lies about it
Some are wild about it
Some dies without it
Everythings right about spoonful
That spoon,that spoon,that spoonful
That spoon,that spoon,that spoonful
Could be spoonful of coffee
Could be spoonful of tea
But I want a spoon of your precious love
Thats good enough for me
Chorus
Men lies about it
Some are wild about it
Some dies without it
Everythings right about spoonful
That spoon,that spoon,that spoonful
That spoon,that spoon,that spoonful
.
Could be a spoonful of water
Searching from the desert sand
But just a spoon of that fortifies
Saved you from another man
Chorus
Men lies about it
Some are wild about it
Some dies without it
Everythings right about spoonful
That spoon,that spoon,that spoonful
That spoon,that spoon,that spoonful
song performed by by Allman Brothers Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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