Thine Handsome Face
Before i knew thine handsome face
Ignorant i'd been in the dark
Trembling finger tips caressed my weary brow
Leaving a golden embellished mark
For then what 'tis it- The firmament has?
That cannot be found within your Soul?
Into the Light of your pure handsomeness i am
And out i am from this abyss-like hole!
poem by Theodora Onken
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Related quotes
The Rover's Adieu
weary lot is thine, fair maid,
A weary lot is thine!
To pull the thorn thy brow to braid,
And press the rue for wine.
A lightsome eye, a soldier's mien,
A feather of the blue,
A doublet of the Lincoln green—
No more of me ye knew,
My Love!
No more of me ye knew.
'This morn is merry June, I trow,
The rose is budding fain;
But she shall bloom in winter snow
Ere we two meet again.'
—He turn'd his charger as he spake
Upon the river shore,
He gave the bridle-reins a shake,
Said 'Adieu for evermore,
My Love!
And adieu for evermore.'
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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A lady as sandhya
She had often exclaimed that I was like the night
A candle light cannot claim to explore whom,
A riddle, or perhaps a crossword without a guide.
She tried to fill me
sometimes the empty lanes across me
and sometimes those deserted downward directions.
She either tried to make a way
or find an escape.
She did not knew that
each mistake of her ink
was leaving a scar on my empty belonging.
The trembling of a night in pain
has a treaty with the crust of the earth
of that of secrecy...
She did not knew that the wounded
words were setting a pyre.
My love was instead looking for life
in little spaces like her finger tips
and the sunset on her forehead.
Slowly I began to love this web of her
roaming vocabulary, definition-less.
From whom the moon borrows the beauty of sadness.
A lady who spoke so soft
and smelled like an evening flower of my village.
Romance In The Dark
Sam coslow / g. nelsen
Romance in the dark with you
All at once I knew
Darlin love was near
I thrill to my finger tips
I could feel your lips
Darlin oh so near
The music was so entrancing
The lights all began to fade
I said to myself keep dancing
But only my heart obeyed
A flame grew from just a spark
When I found romance in the dark with you
song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Black Mammy
O whitened head entwined in turban gay,
O kind black face, O crude, but tender hand,
O foster-mother in whose arms there lay
The race whose sons are masters of the land!
It was thine arms that sheltered in their fold,
It was thine eyes that followed through the length
Of infant days these sons. In times of old
It was thy breast that nourished them to strength.
So often hast thou to thy bosom pressed
The golden head, the face and brow of snow;
So often has it 'gainst thy broad, dark breast
Lain, set off like a quickened cameo.
Thou simple soul, as cuddling down that babe
With thy sweet croon, so plaintive and so wild,
Came ne'er the thought to thee, swift like a stab,
That it some day might crush thine own black child?
poem by James Weldon Johnson
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Before A Gripping Hand Can Affix To It
I was told as a child,
That money did not grow on trees.
And as soon as I accepted the concept,
Of earning it...
I don't have it in my pockets long enough,
To get familiar with its presence.
If someone was to attempt to pick my pockets,
I am sure they would ask for tips...
As to how I have managed to survive,
On a fixed income...
That comes to go before I am aware of it.
And I appear as if i am the 'king' of abundance.
It's like this...
If something comes to go,
Before a gripping hand can affix to it to identify...
It becomes like a memory embellished.
And as time moves on to go by,
That which is embellished becomes one's reality.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I wait to meet her gaze then she will understand I will hold my breath and kiss her hand
I wait to meet her gaze then she will understand
I will hold my breath and kiss her hand
I will see her blush her cheeks red now
I will smell her hair and kiss her brow
It will bring me joy to hear her speak
I will take her hand and kiss her cheek
I will feel her skin beneath my finger tips
I will hold her face and kiss her lips
Our love's true passion can now begin
I will caress her form and kiss her skin
Our passion will flow like summer rain
Our love will be fulfilled as we kiss again
In the afterglow in fond embrace
We speak of love and I kiss her face
poem by Deep Dark Soul Poet
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for my Playa
I sit quietly and wonder why you are,
your need to cut so deep, leaving many scars.....
I've taken out emotion just to study you,
your thoughts, their thoughts, looking...
on how you do..
Hurtful, but still I'm stuck like glue,
a playa,
ha who knew.
The person I thought you could never be,
is laying in bed...staring at me!
Smooth words,
sweet lips,
gentle touch of your finger tips.
Is this all worth,
I'm sure it's not.
But play away,
for my own scars...
I've forgot.
Sweetest Sin
Can you imagine us,
Making love..
The way you would feel the first time that we touched,
Can you think of it..
The way I dream of it,
I want you to see like im seeing you..
It's a picture of perfection,
The vision of you and me..
Your lips upon my lips,
Can you just picture this..
Your finger tips on my finger tips,
Your skin upon my skin..
Would be the Sweetest Sin,
Would be the Sweetest Sin..
All night I lie awake,
Cause it's to much to take..
Dreamin' about the love that we could make..All day,
I think of scenes..
To get you next to me,
I want you so bad that I can barely breathe..
It's a sign of my obsession,
That I can't stop thinkin bout'
Your lips upon my lips,
Can you invision this..
Temptation that I could never resist,
Your skin upon my skin..
Would be the Sweetest Sin,
That would be the Sweetest Sin..
It would feel so good,
To be so bad..
You don't know how bad.. I want that,
I would do anything to feel your love..
Your lips upon my lips,
Can you just picture this..
Your finger tips on my finger tips,
Your skin upon my skin..
Would be the Sweetest Sin,
That Would be the Sweetest Sin..
Your lips upon my lips,
Can you invision this..
Temptation that I could never resist,
Your skin upon my skin..
Would be the Sweetest Sin,
Would be the Sweetest Sin..
Your lips upon my lips.. would be the Sweetest Sin
song performed by by Jessica Simpson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Canyons Of My Mind
The sands of time.
slip
through my finger tips.
leaving particles
behind.
Memories of someone
who doesn't exist.
except in the canyons
on my mind.
poem by Heather Burns
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The Key-Board
Five-and-thirty black slaves,
Half-a-hundred white,
All their duty but to sing
For their Queen's delight,
Now with throats of thunder,
Now with dulcet lips,
While she rules them royally
With her finger-tips!
When she quits her palace,
All the slaves are dumb-
Dumb with dolour till the Queen
Back to Court is come:
Dumb the throats of thunder,
Dumb the dulcet lips,
Lacking all the sovereignty
Of her finger-tips.
Dusky slaves and pallid,
Ebon slaves and white,
When the Queen was on her throne
How you sang to-night!
Ah, the throats of thunder!
Ah, the dulcet lips!
Ah, the gracious tyrannies
Of her finger-tips!
Silent, silent, silent,
All your voices now;
Was it then her life alone
Did your life endow?
Waken, throats of thunder!
Waken, dulcet lips!
Touched to immortality
By her finger-tips.
poem by William Watson
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A Passing Hail
Let us rest ourselves a bit!
Worry?-- wave your hand to it --
Kiss your finger-tips and smile
It farewell a little while.
Weary of the weary way
We have come from Yesterday,
Let us fret not, instead,
Of the wary way ahead.
Let us pause and catch our breath
On the hither side of death,
While we see the tender shoots
Of the grasses -- not the roots,--
While we yet look down -- not up --
To seek out the buttercup
And the daisy where they wave
O'er the green home of the grave.
Let us launch us smoothly on
The soft billows of the lawn,
And drift out across the main
Of our childish dreams again:
Voyage off, beneath the trees,
O'er the field's enchanted seas,
Where the lilies are our sails,
And our sea-gulls, nightingales:
Where no wilder storm shall beat
Than the wind that waves the wheat,
And no tempest-burst above
The old laughs we used to love:
Lose all troubles -- gain release,
Languor, and exceeding peace,
Cruising idly o'er the vast,
Calm mid-ocean of the Past.
Let us rest ourselves a bit!
Worry? -- Wave your hand to it --
Kiss your finger-tips and smile
It fare well a little while.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Edward
HEAVY is my trembling heart, mine own love, my dearest,
Heavy as the hearts whose love is poured in vain;
All the bright day I watch till thou appearest,
All the long night I dream of thee again.
When the whisp'ring summer breeze is waving o'er me lightly,
When the moaning winter winds their wail of sadness make;
Then dearest, then, thine image riseth brightly,
I am weary of my life, for Edward's sake.
When in the halls of light, all bright and happy faces,
Smiling turn to greet a friend, and wander on
Far through the distant crowd, my heart thy proud form traces,
My eye is sadly fixed on thee alone.
When that dear, familiar voice, some careless word hath spoken,
When thy brow a moment bends, a cold farewell to take;
Then, dearest, then, my heart is well nigh broken,
I am weary of my life, for Edward's sake.
Oh, Edward! dark my doom!--this heart will love for ever,
Though thou wilt never share its joy or pain,
Thine eye will turn to mine, and meet its glance, but never
Beam fondly back on hers who loves in vain.
But when weary life is o'er, and in the grave I'm lying,
(Silently a woman's heart should hide its love and break; )
Then, dearest, then, some voice shall tell thee, sighing,
How weary was my life to me, for Edward's sake.
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Behind Her Eyes
The pain she felt was behind her eyes
The eyes that were once the clear blue skys
Her face is clouded and dark
You can tell sorrow has left it's mark.
He left this pain in her face,
Left her clothed in faded lace,
He told her she wasn't worth it,
Wasn't worth the house he lit.
The pain was left with her, in her mind,
If you look past her eyes sorrows all you'll find.
She knew he'd do this, destroy her will to live,
She knew this would be all he would give.
The pain, she knows, will never pass,
It cuts through her like broken glass.
Her face is clouded and dark,
You can tell sorrow has left it's mark.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Death of Dusk
The sun resigns,
bleeds out the vestiges –
remnants of the day.
Exsanguination edges into twilight:
red-brown hangs;
upwards darkens:
blue-brown,
blue-black,
death-black,
disquiet – furtive,
like ghoul-ridden fog.
A sombre moon assumes its role,
gushing silver-white lymph upon the muted scape –
a prequel of supernatural undertones
to chill the scene,
ice the spine,
kill the brain –
we have unnerved the very firmament.
But now a shadow closing down the globe:
dinosaurian cloud shrouds the moon glaze,
claims the late hour –
declared in a dying crow caw.
I, the hidden owl
– nemesis of claustrophobic minds –
awake! for mammal flesh –
fresh, jerking out its warmth in dance of death.
Rock-still I perch in sculptured oneness
with my crooked night-tree,
emanating nocturnal allure.
Together we scowl
together we play the dark
upon the land and sky
and mind
while you lie as dead in your box.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
dark dark dark dark night dark dark dark dark night
dark dark dark dark night
dark dark dark dark night dark dark
dark dark dark dark night dark dark dark dark night
dark dark dark dark night dark dark
dark dark dark dark night
dark dark dark dark night dark dark dark dark night
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Put The Finger On You
I put the finger on you
My hands all out of control
I cant stop it getting down on you
Its moving on its own accord
Yes, Ive got fire in my finger tips
Radiating onto you
I cant control it, cant even hold it
Its knocking on your door
And you know what its for
Chorus:
I put the finger right on you
I put the finger right on you
You put your finger on me too
Then I put the finger, I put the finger
Yeah I put the finger, I put the finger
I put the finger on you for sure
Its the key to unlocking your door, dont you know
Ive broken through your security
My hands aint tied no more, you better watch out
I cant control it, cant even hold it
Speaking up for pleasure
You can feel it on your ankle
Feel it on your knee
Feel it on your thigh
Can you feel me?
Chorus
I cant control it, cant even hold it
Sneaking up on your front door
You can feel it on your ankle
Feel it on your knee
Feel it on your thigh
Can you feel me?
Put it - right on you
Ill do it if you want me to
Can I put it?
I put the finger on you
I hit the spot
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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(Choices Poem) All Yours
Let my finger tips do the talking
I am crawling
I am walking
I am marching
If only for a little while
To rise up, to rise against
To show the weakness in man
I am but a contradiction in words
I am a man of many masks
One each for a different task
I think way too fast
Just slow it down bit
What's the hurry to go nowhere
We are already here.
Standing before you
Ready to ask
Ready to question
Demanding answers
Debated and already hated
You have just been emasculated
I'm your worst enemy.
I'm your best friend
I'm as you make it.
Be careful with that vase you just might break it
I'm here to send you to hell or help
Take it or don't
The choice is all yours
All yours
Let my finger tips do the talking
I am crawling
I am walking
I am marching
If only for a little while
To rise up, to rise against
To show the weakness in man
I am but a contradiction in words
I am a man of many masks
One each for a different task
I think way too fast
You make your claims to be of evil man
Like the invisible ghost
Most don't see you
But I do
You look like you might just be in trouble
If you need some help
Just ask
Forgive me if seem kinda of mean
Cruel and unjust
It's just the way I see things
The way I was raised
The way this has been staged
Let my finger tips do the talking
I am crawling
I am walking
I am marching
If only for a little while
To rise up, to rise against
To show the weakness in man
I am but a contradiction in words
I am a man of many masks
One each for a different task
I think way too fast
When my words are spoken
They sometime are misspoken
A slip of a letter or two and it all comes undone
What was fun, oh it becomes
An ugly face, full of disgrace
But I tell you that was never my intent
And with its time to reinvent
The scientific, and fantastic.
Star gazing under a moon lit sky
Perplexed by them all.
An endless number that never be counted
forms and shapes cascade.
Let my finger tips do the talking
I am crawling
I am walking
I am marching
If only for a little while
To rise up, to rise against
To show the weakness in man
I am but a contradiction in words
I am a man of many masks
One each for a different task
I think way too fast
So it all yours
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Over My Shoulder
Shut your mouth, and watch my lips,
Can you feel her healing finger tips,
Coming down, on you like rain,
So tell me now where do we remain,
Over my shoulder it goes,
and where it lands, you don't want to know
I used to work, night and day,
Nobody listened to a word I'd say,
I didn't care who knew me then,
and someone stupid asked if we were friends, well,
Over my shoulder it goes,
Back to a bar, we both used to know.
Shut your mouth, and watch my lips,
Can you feel her healing finger tips,
Coming down, on you like rain,
Tell me now where do we remain,
Over my shoulder it goes,
and where it lands, you don't want to know
Over my shoulder it goes,
and where it lands, you don't want to know
song performed by by I Am Kloot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Thought For A Lonely Death-Bed
IF God compel thee to this destiny,
To die alone, with none beside thy bed
To ruffle round with sobs thy last word said
And mark with tears the pulses ebb from thee,--
Pray then alone, ' O Christ, come tenderly !
By thy forsaken Sonship in the red
Drear wine-press,--by the wilderness out-spread,--
And the lone garden where thine agony
Fell bloody from thy brow,--by all of those
Permitted desolations, comfort mine !
No earthly friend being near me, interpose
No deathly angel 'twixt my face aud thine,
But stoop Thyself to gather my life's rose,
And smile away my mortal to Divine ! '
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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Following Those Hollow
And those who say they knew him,
Did not know him from within.
They knew of his accomplishments...
And some with him embellished them.
While others were contented,
To show how much of him they resented.
He would listen with a sensitivity...
From depths unexplained,
Or could tell what they meant!
From a divine philosophy sent.
And when he passed away from them,
His life seemed to have more purpose 'then'.
Since he was validated for not wasting his wishes...
Instead of dismissing 'gifts' tormenting him to fits!
Unlike those who sat...
To gather in chats,
About what he had accomplished...
Despite their unwarranted jealous attacks!
And what he left behind were discovered facts.
Leaving them shocked and amazed,
He had spent his days...
Protecting their backs!
While they made efforts to stop him in his tracks.
Leaving them stunned and in a daze...
To discover he was the martyred one,
And they scrambled in a maze quite crazed!
Friends,
They say!
As thick as thieves,
They say!
And these,
They say...
Will never betray!
They say!
As long as they...
See themselves,
Following those hollow!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Lyric song [Romanţă]
On his crutch leaning walked alone
Along the empty road
And gently, weary to the bone,
At barrel organ played a known
And mellow tune of old.
I knew I heard it at my place
One evening, long before...
And on the pane I stuck my face
Feeling an urge to start to race
To be at home once more...
So many things crossed through my mind
While it caressed my ears!
But when the old man's head inclined
The song was over and I sighed
And burst into sad tears...
poem by Ştefan Octavian Iosif, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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