Randshaw Muses
Randshaw stands in a shop
Behind a young woman.
He studies her figure.
Nice legs. Bit thin maybe.
Not as thin as Minnie’s.
Matchsticks. He moves closer.
She is next in line to be served.
Nice bottom; firm, but not big,
Not floppy; not like Bet’s. Hips good.
Childbearing Mother would say.
The young woman moves forward
To be served. The waist goes in nicely.
Put arms about easy. Squeeze.
Would do if she were mine.
She moves nearer. Perfume,
Not cheap. Powerful, but not
Overwhelming. He wants to
Feel her hair, but holds his hands
By his sides. He sniffs the air
Around her. He cannot decide
Which brand. He holds in
The scent of her. Closes his eyes
Momentarily. Tries to imagine
Waking up beside her. He opens
His eyes and she’s gone. Yes, Sir,
Can I help you? The till girl asks.
Maybe, Randshaw says,
Maybe. Let me see...
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Over His Latte.
He's only just sat down
in the cafe when she enters
and stands at the counter
waiting to be served. He lets
his latte settle. Allows his
eyes to scrutinize. The waitress
serves the woman in the white
hat and black dress. He notes
her fine figure, the low cut at
the neck, the thin straps over
shoulders. He tries to breathe
in from where he sits her perfume,
but it doesn't come. The woman
orders an espresso and says it
with an Italian accent. He follows
her with his eyes as she walks
to a table alone. She looks like a
girl Modigliani would have painted.
She looks at her watch and then
around the room of the cafe.
She crosses her legs, one over
the other, thigh revealed. He sips
his latte. Wipes his lips with the
back of his hand. Bad habit, mother
would have slapped his hand as a
child once. The waitress delivers
the woman's coffee; he notes the
waitress's fine behind, the hands
serving, the legs touching together.
Then she's gone. Just the woman
in the white hat to study. The way
she lifts the small white cup to her
mouth, her fingers holding delicately,
as if afraid to break. Get a life Brody
would say if he were there. But he's not;
he's away with that girl from the office,
having a lay. The woman in the hat
stares at him, her eyes devour, her lips
part like legs before sex. She looks boringly
away. He sips more latte. He doesn't like
her white hat or black dress anyway.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Miss Alva Maria
I know I'm young, but its the oldest I've ever been
I'm 23 now, halfway to 24
I'll never see these years again
so don't make me ask again, and hold out this old tin cup
just reach out for my reaching hands
and pull me up...
got no trouble staying thin
and might think that I've been blessed
lord you know that I'd say yes
god smiles upon the hungry, while you laugh...
in this second story novel, that I call home
up the stairs and down the hall
its just like turning the page
got no rugs upon my floors, but it'll have to do for now
but I'm only getting older...
and I worry about MISS ALVA MARIA
though she'll never even know that I exist
well we lost her 15 years ago, but I've been finding her all my life
there's something about the way she looks that moves me
there's something about the way she loves that moves me...
this stale cigarette smoke, still clings
to my shirt, my hair and my hands
well you know I ain't making jack, but you know that I'll be back
I've got nothing else to offer
I've got nothing else to offer
this is all I've got to offer...
and I worry about MISS ALVA MARIA
though she'll never even know that I exist
well we lost her 15 years ago but I've been finding her all my life
there's something about the way she looks that moves me
there's something about the way she loves that moves me
there's something about how she loses it all that moves me
wont you tell me what its like to be remembered?
I know I'm young, but this is the oldest I've ever been
I'm 23 now, halfway to 24
I'll never see these years again...
song performed by by Nine Days
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ballad Of Nice & Easy
And so we ride on
The ballad of nice and easy
Young and carefree
We're coming along
The ballad of nice and easy
Young and carefree
Two of these kids grew up on the same street
And though some folks blow it, there's no smoke in their eyes
They're tying their dreams with doubled up laces
Falling, free falling, tangled up 'til they die
And so we ride on
The ballad of nice and easy
Young and carefree
We're coming along
The ballad of nice and easy
Young and carefree
'Cause everyone knows they'll get their hands dirty
Ripping at seams and smoking hot knives
But sooner or later there's an end to this candle
We'll burn it at both ends and switch on the lights
And so we ride on
The ballad of nice and easy
Young and carefree
We're coming along
The ballad of nice and easy
Young and carefree
And so we ride on
The ballad of nice and easy
Young and carefree
We're coming along
The ballad of nice and easy
Young and carefree
song performed by by Gomez
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oklahoma-Texas Line
Got an old dog, it don't like me much
That thing starts to bark his head off every time we touch
Sittin' on the porch listenin' to the radio
We sing every single song we know
Even the ones we don't
When she moves a little closer
She puts her hand in mine
Oh what I wouldn't give to stop the hands of time
She's got long blonde hair and deep blue eyes
I got all I ever need when at girl is by my side
Everything I love is there inside
A little brick house on the Oklahoma-Texas Line
She's got a part time job at the Tastee-freeze
She took the weekend off to spend a little bit of time with me
I got an old car we drove to the edge of town
We stopped by Old Man Millers' farm
Just to watch the world spin around
And she moves a little closer
She puts her lips to mine
Ain't funny how the good Lord out does himself sometimes
She's got long blonde hair and deep blue eyes
I got all I ever need when at girl is by my side
Everything I love is there inside
A little brick house on the Oklahoma-Texas Line
Everything I love is there inside
A little brick house with a black top drive
Big oak tree with our names carved on the side
She's got long blonde hair and deep blue eyes
I got all I ever need when at girl is by my side
Everything I love is there inside
A little brick house, little brick house on the Oklahoma-Texas Line
Oh here they come
Long blonde hair and deep blue eyes
Everything I love...
song performed by by Rascal Flatts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hazel On the Edge
Dunne watches as Hazel unpins her hair.
She can see her facial expression in the
Dressing table mirror. I usually do that,
Dunne says. I thought you’d like a break
From being my maid, Hazel replies, catching
Dunne’s eyes. Dunne fiddles with her fingers,
Stares back at her mistress’s reflection. She
Notices Hazel’s smile. I feel useless if I don’t
Do anything, Dunne says. Hazel turns around
And says, you are never useless to me. They
Look at each other as if time had stopped.
Hazel seems on the edge of a chasm. She
Wants to put her arms around Dunne and
Draw her close to her. She just stands feeling
A falling sensation. Dunne looks away and says,
Did you want me to prepare a bath for you?
Hazel breathes in slowly. Calm, she tells herself.
Dunne goes to the window to peer out onto
The Parisian street below. Hazel moves up
Behind Dunne. She looks at Dunne’s hair,
The slope of shoulders, the smell of scent
She’d given her. Yes, Hazel says, a bath would
Be welcome after such a busy day sightseeing.
Dunne turns and smiles. Hazel is on the brink
Of putting out a hand to touch Dunne’s cheek.
She holds her hands by her side. Dunne moves
Off and out of the room to prepare a bath in
The bathroom next door. Hazel sighs. So close.
So near. She holds onto the scent of Dunne.
She senses things fall away: prejudices, class,
Manners, mores; feels her emotions flood her
Mind. Love, all love, Father used to say, is blind.
poem by Terry Collett
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Be Sexy Effortlessly
Being sexy is not revealing parts.
Being sexy is highlighting features.
Highlight hair, ears, neck, upper back,
Arms or legs but one or two at a time.
There's a fine line between being sexy
And being cheap, which a woman must note.
For a toned body, no need of windows.
For defying hair, no need of hair-do.
For evenness of the skin, no cosmetics;
For hygiene body, no need of perfume.
On a pair of high heels one is sexy
With breasts forward and buttocks upward.
To look sexy, woman must feel sexy.
In feeling sexy, she gains confidence
About her sexual prowess and command.
Be sexy effortlessly and feed man's eyes.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Her Golden Veil
She moves to kiss me from above,
her body over mine,
moves to brush back her hair,
to keep it from my face when,
stopping her hand,
I draw her closer and,
nearing me, her hair
falls around my head.
A curtain, golden, for us,
just her and me,
intensifying intimacy,
and concealing us,
just her and me,
in a golden dusk
that, as it closes,
disregards all the world,
but her and me.
Her face,
her lips,
her breath,
her mouth.
And me.
poem by Red O'Mara
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Lisa and The Aftermath After Sunday
Lisa dresses for school,
buttons up the blouse
with fumbling fingers.
She stares down at her
bed where she and Mona
had lain the day before.
The same sheets, pillows
having no doubt her hair,
her smell. She puts on her
school tie, loops it through,
her fingers sensing the
smoothness of the cloth.
She remembers how they
had made love on that bed,
how they had lain naked and
hot and kissing. Best Sunday
ever, she muses, looking away,
stepping into her school skirt,
pulling it over her waist.
Her mother had called out
to her some minutes before.
Breakfast ready, not in the
mood for food. She looks out
the window at the farmyard
across the way, cows heading
out to the fields, her father
following, bellowing, a stick
in his hand, his arms raised
to move them on. She sits on
the bed and takes a pillow
and holds it to her nose
and sniffs. Mona's scent,
borrowed from her mother,
she had said. She feels along
the sheet with her hand.
They had laid there, their
bodies, their lips kissing,
their hands holding. No one
had known they were
making love. Her parents
and family had thought them
drying after getting drench
in the Sunday downpour.
She closes her eyes, imagines
Mona is still there, thinks
she feels her hands around
her waist. Her mother's voice
calls from downstairs. She sighs,
stands up and slips on her
socks and shoes. Leans down
and puts a kiss on her top
pillow where Mona had
laid her head, now she has only
images and memories instead.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Pearls Worth
Silver pearls fall down her skin
She knows she must do it for she can't stay strong
For all she has to do is count to ten
She knows he's always wrong
Silver pearls fall down her face
In the dead of night, it is so dark
She stands in the room with fear, with hate
In her soul the pain he gave has left its mark
Silver pearls fall on the barrel
As she holds the gun in her hands
For long before this night their love grew stale
And oh how she thinks it is easy to hold life and death in her hands
Silver pearls fall over bruises, the pain
She bites her lip as she counts one... two
In her heart he's left the stain
She looks at his still body three... four
Silver pearls fall as she moves her hands
She walks to his side
In front of his face she stands
As her mind starts the chant 'he lied'
Silver pearls fall five... six
She holds the barrel to his head
Seven... Eight... she moves her feet just to stall
She knows it won't matter for she is already dead
Silver pearls shade her eyes
Nine... she counts on
her mind filled with his lies
Ten... her finger tightens as he opens his eyes
Silver pearls fall as she pulls the trigger, pulls the string
His eyes wonder, as he fades
His mouth moves, and she remembers the thing
Now she only see dark shades
Silver pearls fall as he leaves her, as she turns
Her daughter stands at the door at only six
Her hand turns
Her eyes search through the young girls eyes
Silver pearls fall as she mouths her last breath
The trigger is pulled as she sinks to her knees
The girls screams fill her mind, for she feels the hand of death
And only now she sees
Silver pearls fall as her daughter sinks to the floor
The pearls fill her eyes as she watches her daughter fade into black
She closes those tired eyes for now she knocks at heavens door
It's life she knows she lacked
Silver pearls fall as the rubies of blood over her face
As she goes, and says goodbye
She looks to the light, white as lace
As she rises into the sky
Silver pearls fall as her daughter waits
As she lays there with a cold heart
No feeling, no end, no clean slate
Silver pearls fall as she takes the dart
Silver pearls fall from her daughters eyes
The daughter she shall never hold again, never watch laugh
For now silver perls fall from her eyes
For only she knows the pain that she has left behind
Silver pearls so cold
Siver pearls worth more than gold
Silver pearls that haunt the girls dreams
Silver pearls that fell from her mothers eyes that night
Silver pearls fell down her skin
She knew she must do it for she couldn't stay strong
For all she had to do was count to ten
But now she knows she was wrong, now shes gone, as silver perls fall
(ok yeah this is my longest poems and probibly most confusing, so I guess I will make a summery: a lady was abused by he husband so in the night she kills him and then she turns to see her 6 year old daughter and kills herself and leaves her daughter alone. hope that helps, and I hope you like the poem)
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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This Woman Of The Night
she softly turns toward my heat
snuggles cose and tight
this woman of the night
her lips i kiss with soft caress
my hand strokes a nipple
with gentleness
she moves closer yet
toward my heat
this woman of the night
caresses from both sides
as we move within the night
two bodies move as one
in the stormy night
lips locked tight
hips locked tigher
hands exploring
hidden depths
this love of a
woman and me
as finally we both
break free as
souls sigh into
the night.
poem by Graham Russell
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Rover Chronicle
The rover leaves his home
Leaving his father with right hand
Leaving his mother with left hand
Leaving his brother with right foot
Leaving his childhood with left foot
He moves forward and release the burden
Put the cushion from his back
Put the robe from his shoulder
Put the wine from his waist
The rover goes and sacrifices all
Sacrifice his fellowship
Sacrifice his lover
Sacrifice his soul
He still moves forward though lost everything
The Gods condemn him
All mothers wail over him
Because the rover keeps moving forward
Leaving tears
Leaving past
Looking for redemption
For everything he left
When he moves forward
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Entangled in Her Hair
Her hair
covers my face
she
kisses my mouth
kisses my kisses.
She chuckles.
I stroke her hair.
She sways &
...moves.
Her hair
covers my chest.
She
titillates a nipple
...it tickles.
I run my fingers
through her hair.
She sashays &
...moves.
Her hair
covers my navel
& there...&
there...abouts!
I…almost beside myself
neither...here...nor... there...
Lost in the anywhere
of an everywhere.
I clutch
her hair.
She shimmies &
...moves.
Her hair
covers my crotch.
She
licks it
into shape.
She
goes to say
something
it’s on
the tip of
her tongue.
But, she says nothing
only: “Mmmmm...! ”
& smiles
...smiles.
I close
my eyes.
My hands
entangled in
her hair.
*******
TREAD SOFTLY
We rest on the bed
your head rests against my head
sharing the same dream.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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A Picture Of Papa
here is papa's picture
before he died
30 years ago
beside his izuzu pick-up
carrying a bottle of gin on one hand
and a gun on his holster
his right hand holds
the waist of a young woman
in white shorts
he has a pipe on his mouth
a smoke over his head
and he is grinning like a
macho lover
that young woman is not my mother
he says she was his true love
but she was taken away
by the rebels
mother died when i was six
but i already understood what was really going on
papa was very proud of me
he liked my drawings and my
games
i am the only boy
i do not smoke and i do not drink
and i married
the only woman that i really love.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Love Has A Mind Of Its Own
Think about me and you
Think of all the changes weve
Been through
The laughter an the tears, the
Years together
Little did we both know
When we fell we gave up all control
Though times get hard
Were strong enough to carry on
cause
Love has a mind of its own
It moves in its own circles
And it roams where it will roam
Love has a mind of its own
It holds our lives together
Youre my heart, youre my home
(I) stayed awake last night
Told myself that this time we were
Through
That passion wasnt pair, my heart
Had changed
But then in the morning light
The feeling cut me like a knife
And then I knew
I couldnt walk away from you
cause
Love has a mind of its own
It moves in its own circles
And it roams where it will roam
Love has a mind of its own
It holds our lives together
Youre my heart, youre my home
We can drive ourselves so far apart
The world gets in between
Before you know, the distance grows
Till never we lose sight of the dream
But the wonder of it all
Is how love will survive
It never fails to keep us going
It never fails to keep us alive
cause
Love has a mind of its own
It moves in its own circles
And it roams where it will roam
Love has a mind of its own
It holds our lives together
Youre my heart, youre my home
Love has a mind of its own
It moves in its own circles
And it roams where it will roam
Love has a mind of its own
It holds our lives together
Youre my heart, youre my home
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When Her Brothers Were Away.
When Monica asked
if she could go with you
and her brothers
bike riding
her mother said
no you're too young
or if she asked
to go with you
and Jim and Pete
to the cinema
to see the latest
Elvis flick
her mother said
definitely not
it's not for young girls
and Monica'd storm indoors
slamming the door
shouting I hate you all
but when you called one day
and her brothers were out
(gone to see their big brother
about some old motorbike)
her mother said
yes come in and wait
and Monica was
pleased as Punch
especially when
her mother said
you could stay to lunch
and I can show you
over the place
Monica said
and after lunch maybe
we can go for a bike ride
along the small lanes
and maybe you
could show me
some judo moves
and her mother said
we'll see I'm not sure
Benedict will want
to do those kind
of things with a girl
and went off
to make lunch
and Monica showed you
all over the house
whose room was whose
and up in the attic
she said
this is my room
and took your hand
and took you
to the window
and said
see the view I've got?
Isn't it the best?
and you said
yes it's good
and you took in the view
and looking around
the room you saw her bed
and the big pink elephant
there by the wall
staring at you
and she said
that's Pinkie
isn't she great?
sure
you said
and she took you
down the stairs
to the kitchen for lunch
and her mother
chatted away
about her sons
and Monica sat there
gawking at you
her eyes studying
each aspect of you
her eyes large
as saucers
blue and beautiful
and after lunch
you showed her
a few judo moves
which she loved
especially when
your hands moved her
and you sensed
her almost ready
to burst with joy
and just before
you were ready
to go for a ride
on the bikes
her brothers came
and shooed her away
and she went off
giving them the evil eye
but you she gave
the young girl wink
the we know
what they don't smile
and off you rode
with her brothers
but she kept
those moments with you
(to herself)
as if you were
Romeo and Juliet
fond lovers.
poem by Terry Collett
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Big Fat Woman
You big fat woman get your fat leg off of me
You big fat woman get your fat leg off of me
You feel so good
Scare the hell out of me
You got a great big leg
Got a whoppin' thigh
Great big leg
Got a whoppin' thigh
Now oooh
You got a great big leg
Got a whoppin' thigh
And every time you move make my temperature rise
That fine lookin' woman got a great big leg
Fine lookin' woman got a great big leg, Yeah
Big fat woman with a great big leg
Big fat woman got a great big leg
And every time she moves
Moves like a soft boiled egg
So big fat woman get your fat leg off of me
Now you obese woman get your fat leg off of me
You feel so good
Scare the hell out of me
song performed by by Jim Croce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The virtue
A nice girl and a nice woman,
A nice wife, mother and grandmother,
A woman has been all her life,
With lust and passion set to fire.
13.03.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Supernatural
Interplanetary
Interplanetary
Supernatural
Supernatural
Supernatural
Lookin for that big honey
Youll find only in a dream
I searched around and still cant find her
? ? ? to extreme
Turned around, she caught my eye
Tell me am I seein things
Just might be imagination
? ? ? and hauntin me
This woman (supernatural)
The way she looks (supernatural)
The way she moves her body (supernatural)
Everything about this honey is so supernatural
Supernatural
As I watch her move in closer
Perfect beauty she exceeds
Never question mother nature
Shes an angel without wings
Her extension fills my body
I reach out to hold her hand
Tried to grab it, cant get a handle
The girl is gone, she was never here
This woman, yeah (supernatural)
The way she looks, uh-huh (supernatural)
The way she moves her body (supernatural)
Something about that woman that makes me feel so good
(supernatural)
The way she looks (supernatural)
Supernatural baby, yeah (supernatural)
Everything about this honey is so supernatural
Im tired of this cloud
Takin over the invisible force
Are they controllin me
Naw, thats a corny way I think
I take two beasts out to rethink
Im takin each in my dream
This is kind of extreme
Yo ron, help me out
You know what I mean
Yeah, biv
Its not that deep
Come go with me
And out that ghost to sleep
(? ? ? ) how shes possessin me
(? ? ? ) shes meta physical, super irical
(? ? ? ) might be imagination
(? ? ? ) cause everything about this, honey, I love
Alright
(supernatural) the way that she moves, mmm
(supernatural) theres no doubt about it, yeah, yeah
(supernatural) oh, I know heaven must have sent you from above
(supernatural), yeah...
(supernatural) ooh...hoo...hoo...ooh...
(supernatural) say, baby, say, baby
If Im dreamin, if Im dreamin please dont wake me up, yeah
(supernatural)
(supernatural) see, I just wanna keep dreamin
(supernatural) everything I want in a woman
(supernatural) and I love her, and I love her, and I love...
(supernatural)
(supernatural)
(supernatural)
song performed by by New Edition
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Watching Her Walk
Her presence moves
frail bent, head down
with a bow-strung gait
eyes fixed to pavement
Stopping, darting eyes
see something bothersome
a crack; a cautious step
moves her forward again
At first, heads turned
eyebrows cocked, curiously
watching her walk
watching that walk
A respectful 'hello Mary'
is usually heard
aging fast each year
less attentive
forgetful, slow
its a small town
people know.
Occasionally, a ride is offered
turned down... fearfully so
for dim eyes see strangers
if a familiar voice is heard
still, rides are waved off
with a polite, 'no thanks'
Now its just a kick of a can
to fourth Street and Beaver Avenue
where the once alluring presence
of the shapely young Slovak
with enchanting eyes
once played and walked
Back then, heads turned
captured eyes stared...
appraisingly
watching her walk
watching that walk
A relishing 'Hello-Mary'
was frequently heard
prettier each Year
un-assuming
un-forgetful
its a small town
young men know
Since then
much water has flowed
now she prays... always
praying and walking
especially...since Pete's gone
now up there...waiting
for her, she knows
Mary without Pete
This small town knows
She prays for us all
fervently
she prays for herself
un-knowingly
For the air, even
thanks are greatly given
by breathing deeply
Thank you Lord
for your air
that I breath
without knowing
each breath in
moves the right foot
each breath out
moves the left
A rhythmic cadence
a Prayer walking
is what is odd
This peculiar
gritty gait
is what
people
see.
Pete watches
from up there
looking down
watching her walk
watching that walk
His 'Hello My Mary'
is nearer each year,
Her presence is a bit
closer each year
Her tireless gait
takes that narrow way
up that well trod path
walk, un-forgetful
in a small mill town
its a small town
a town God knows
poem by George Vuyakovich
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Why Does My Faith...
I sang in the choir when I was young,
In surplice, ruff, and gown,
I bent my head to the cherubim
And cast my eyes to the ground,
I read your word in the Holy Book
And swore to be good and true
While living in fear of an Awe-ful God,
A life spent, looking for you.
My mind was full of heaven and hell
And the things that I shouldn’t do,
But the world seemed bent on a wayward course
All done in the name of You…
For ‘Christ Almighty’ I heard on lips
That shouldn’t have breathed their sin,
And ‘Jesus Christ’ is a dirty word…
But why does my faith grow thin?
The world has turned to greed and lust,
To hate, to me for mine,
And life is cheap on the empty streets
Where drugs are the bottom line,
Where children murder their parents
And the parents murder their young,
Where everyone has a mobile phone
But none with your number on.
It’s long since I tossed heaven and hell
To rot in a garbage bin
But still maintained my faith in you,
Your pain in an earthly skin;
I still believe in an afterlife,
And I know that you’ll see us in,
I’m closer to you than I’ve ever been
So why does my faith grow thin?
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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