More Submissive
She held my hand as we climbed
The magnificent staircase of the art museum,
it was a summer holiday and we were slightly tipsy
From afternoon wine in the flower garden.
She touched my lips and spoke,
'Nothing more for you to drink,
I don't want the curator to dismiss you as a drunk
Who would fail to appreciate this sacred place
With landscapes of Delacroix and Renoir'
I was only inebriated enough to be happy in the moment
Of our footsteps intimately keeping pace with each other;
I felt indebted to the Greek gods Dionysus and Pan
That I was alive and wrapped in her perfume.
She would point to paintings or ancient pots
But I would smile and say, 'I only want to gaze
Quietly into the mystery of your eyes.'
But I could tell she was becoming irritated
that I wasn't taking in the scenery of my surroundings
More completely, so I became more submissive
and less outwardly in love.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Related quotes
The Touch Of Your Hand
On the day that you were born
I touched your hand so chubby and warm.
I touched your hand when you were one
and helped you walk my beautiful son.
I held your hand when you were two.
We ran, your favorite thing to do.
I held your hand when you were three
as you climbed on my lap and smiled at me.
I touched your hand when you were four
as the ocean touched our toes at the shore.
I touched your hand when you were five
walking you to school but when we'd arrive
I felt the tug of your hand from mine
and I knew that we had crossed a line.
I looked at you and released your hand
and said'it's okay I understand.'
As I walked back home I cried some tears
thinking of all our hand holding years.
Holding your hand became sporadic now,
when you were feverish or I felt your brow.
I held your hand a few times as a teen
but always alone so it wouldn't be seen.
I held your hand after you said, 'I do.'
We danced together just me and you.
After some years went by my son
you held the hand of your little one.
And so the times of your life turn around
and now that my hand is old I've found
you take my hand and help me walk
and as you do we intimately talk.
And it takes me back to that bright early morn
when I held your hand so chubby and warm.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Village of Tayport and Its Surroundings
All ye pleasure-seekers, where'er ye be,
I pray ye all be advised by me,
Go and visit Tayport on the banks o' the Tay,
And there ye can spend a pleasant holiday.
The village and its surroundings are magnificent to be seen,
And the shops on the High Street are tidy and clean,
And the goods, I'm sure, would please the Queen,
They cannot be surpassed in Edinburgh or Aberdeen.
And the villagers' gardens are lovely to be seen,
There sweet flowers grow and gooseberries green.
And the fragrant air will make you feel gay
While viewing the scenery there on the banks of the Tay.
Scotscraig is an ancient and a most charming spot,
And once seen by visitors will never be forgot.
'Twas there that Archbishop Sharp lived long ago,
And the flower-garden there is a very grand show.
The flower beds there are very beautiful to see,
They surpass the Baxter Park flower beds in Dundee,
And are all enclosed in a round ring,
And there the bee and the butterfly are often on the wing.
Scotscraig farm-house is magnificent to see
With its beautiful rich fields of wheat and barley,
And the farm-house steading is certainly very fine,
And the scenery is charming in the summer time.
The Serpentine Walk is a secluded spot in Scotscraig wood,
And to be walking there 'twould do one's heart good.
There the lovers can enjoy themselves in its shady bowers
By telling tales of love to wile away the tedious hours.
There innocent rabbits do sport and play
During the livelong summer day
Amongst the ivy and shrubberies green,
And screened all day from the sun's sheen.
Then, lovers of the picturesque, off and away
To the village of Tayport on the banks o' the Tay,
And ramble through Scotscraig wood,
It will, I'm sure, do your bodies good.
And, as ye walk along the Serpentine Walk,
With each other ye can have a social talk,
And ye will hear the birds singing away,
Which will make your hearts feel light and gay.
And while walking underneath the branches of the trees,
Ye will hear the humming of the bees.
Therefore, pleasure-seekers, make no delay,
But visit Scotscraig wood on a fine summer day.
There visitors can be shaded from the sun in the summer time,
While walking along the secluded Serpentine,
By the spreading branches of the big trees,
Or from the undergrowth ivy, if they please.
Do not forget to visit the old Tower,
Where Archbishop Sharp spent many an hour,
Viewing the beautiful scenery for miles away
Along the bonnie banks o' the silvery Tay.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Bacchus
Who was Bacchus
and why
was he
the most
celebrated of the gods?
Bacchus is the Greek name
of the Roman god Dionysus
the god of the vine
the god of inspiration
bestower of ecstasy
and ecstatic liberation.
What was sacred
to Bacchus?
The grape, ivy and rose
were sacred to Bacchus.
Why was Bacchus so popular?
Bacchus
the god of wine
was worshiped
with orgiastic
ecstatic rites.
Yes people still love
a party excessive
indulgence in
activity emotion
the pleasure palace
of delight still entices
as Bob Dylan said
'everybody must get stoned'
reality escape ever popular
"sacred drugs of society
changing with cultures
throughout cultures
throughout history"
What became of Bacchus
in the later Hellenistic era?
As Dionysus he was
the most loved of the gods
the greatest deity
of the later Hellenistic world.
Why?
Because
he supposedly
taught men
to escape
the confines
of their personalities
in an age before
Sigmund Freud.
How?
By yielding
to the ecstasy
of natural forces
which permitted
people to know
the deepest mysteries
of their gods.
Ha. Sounds like
another hallucinogenic
drug trip
orgy free sex festival
like remembered
1960s hippy stereotypes.
I shall harken back
through more ancient
pages of memorial time
to Genesis
book of Prophet Moses
as revealed by
the One True God
Creator of Heaven and Earth
who wrote the fabric of design
through DNA laws of physics
upon this his immense
awesome universe
everything is his creation.
See also the poems ‘Latest Drugs On The Street' and ‘Dregs Have Flown'.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Drunken Wedding
Ring the bell, ring the bell
Don’t forget your diamond ring
Cover the bride, tight the groom
It is spring times calling
Hey, just ring the bell please!
If only love can make you drunk
Then drunk with wine and kisses
No wedding without a bit late of madness
You can sing badly in front your guest
You can dance hot in front your family
And nobody care because they busy with the meal
Hold your hand for the night
Enjoy the flower and perfume
Don’t let your smile freeze
And change my honey lips
Let’s done and over it
Cheers!
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Saturday Morning 1961
Jane climbed off
the Saturday bus to town
her black hair ruffled
by the wind
her eyes
looking over at you
her mother close by
you standing by the wall
having climbed from the bus
a few moments before
your mother stood
and spoke to others
you watched as Jane buttoned up
her coat against the winter cold
her fingers turning blue
then she moved over to you
and said
I saw you by the water tower last night
as we drove by
my father visiting
a parishioner in the village
I was watching the sun
moving beyond the Downs
you said
like some giant moving
away to sleep
she smiled
and surreptitiously
she touched your hand
her mother's head
looking the other way
talking to your mother
of her husband's work
of church or of weather
or whatever
you gazed at Jane's eyes
the turn of head
the smile on lips
the way her hands touched
oh to be with her
away from others
to talk and walk
and capture each moment
with her closeness
but then her mother
moved away to shop
and Jane followed
just behind
and as she walked away
you painted her figure
and beauty
in your mind.
poem by Terry Collett
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Beautiful Rothesay
Beautiful Rothesay, your scenery is most grand,
You cannot be surpassed in fair Scotland.
Tis healthy for holiday makers, to go there,
For the benefit of their health, by inhaling the pure air
And to hear the innocent birds, on a fine Summer day,
Carolling their sweet songs, so lively and gay,
Therefore, holiday makers, be advised by me,
And visit beautiful Rothesay, by the side of the Sea.
Then sweet Jessie, let us go,
To Scotland's garden of Eden O!
And spend the lovely Summer day,
In the beautiful village of Rothesay.
There you can see the ships, passing to and fro,
Which will drive away dull care, and woe,
And, the heavens breath smells wooingly there,
Therefore, let's away dear Jessie, to inhale the balmy air.
The mansions, there, are most beautiful to be seen,
Likewise the trees, and shrubberies, green.
Therefore, we will feel happy and gay,
Walking hand in hand, together the live long day.
Along the beautiful walks with our hearts fu' cheerie,
My dear love! Until we grow weary.
Then, return home at night, with our spirits light and gay,
After viewing the beautiful scenery of Rothesay.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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At that Moment
At That Moment
When you looked into my eyes
When you held my hand tight
When you smiled so bright
Time seemed to slow down... Time seemed to stop somehow,
At that moment
You moved closer to me, and I moved closer to you
I felt the warmth of your lips, so soft, so beautiful
As they gently touched mine
At that moment in time
I had dreamed and imagined of that moment
Never knowing if it would be, could be, should be
But now I know without fear
That my dreams and my imagination
Were like looking at A waterless tear
like looking at a colorless photo so old
A moonless night so dark and cold...
Compared to the moment
Your lips gently touched mine
That beautiful moment in time,
So amazing, So beautiful, So wonderful.
If you could see a feeling,
Oh the colors, the sounds you would see
Of that very first moment
Of that very first beautiful kiss
What a beautiful gift, That beautiful first
KISS
poem by Daniel lee Davis
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Memorable
I remember your eyes and your smile,
I remember the beauty of your face,
I remember where I thought about taking you,
I remember imagining that special place,
I remember how you would laugh
And bring your hand up to your lips,
I remember the gentle touch of your skin
When you touched me with your fingertips,
I remember how you held me close
When I asked you if I may have a dance,
I remember when we talked about
How we were brought together by chance
I remember when I would look up at you,
I remember how you would smile at me,
I remember how nervous I would get
Whenever it was you that I'd see,
I remember how our eyes would lock
And neither of our heads could turn away,
No, I can forget what I remember,
I'll remember it all until my dying day.
poem by Alex F. Chavez
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Memorable
I remember your eyes and your smile,
I remember the beauty of your face,
I remember where I thought about taking you,
I remember imagining that special place,
I remember how you would laugh
And bring your hand up to your lips,
I remember the gentle touch of your skin
When you touched me with your fingertips,
I remember how you held me close
When I asked you if I may have a dance,
I remember when we talked about
How we were brought together by chance
I remember when I would look up at you,
I remember how you would smile at me,
I remember how nervous I would get
Whenever it was you that I'd see,
I remember how our eyes would lock
And neither of our heads could turn away,
No, I can forget what I remember,
I'll remember it all until my dying day.
Alex F. Chavez
poem by suchul Jin
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Oh Yeah
Oh Yeah she was taking me over
Oh Yeah it was the start of the summer
On warm June evenings
She would come to my house
Still in her school skirt
And her summer blouse
Talking too long as the night came on
It was the best time of my life
Her bee stung lips
Kisses sweeter than wine
The things she whispered
With breathless sighs
The summer air was soft and warm
Her eyes were making silent demands
As her hair came undone in my hands
Oh Yeah she was taking me over
Oh Yeah it was the start of the summer
Driving her home after midnight
I felt so good everything was alright
Her thoughts seemed so lost in the night sky
I remember everything
I don't know why these things ever send
I sometimes wish it was that summer again
I still see her in my sleep
And hear the sighing of the summer wind
Still I don't regret one thing
Oh Yeah she was taking me over
Oh Yeah it was the start of the summer
Oh Yeah she was taking me over
Oh Yeah it was the start of the summer
It felt just like it was the start of forever
Oh Yeah it was the start of the summer
song performed by by Ash from 1977
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Friendship Is But A Flower
A friendship is but a flower
Growing out in Gods garden
Helping out the fellow man
Not knowing should they get a pardon
A friendship is but a flower
Waiting to bloom in the spring
Waiting with a helping hand or an ear
To help or listen to most any ol thing
A friendship is but a flower
That God lends to us for a while
To help us along our way
And give us a reason for a smile
A friendship is but a flower
Leaving impressions on our hearts
Never knowing when it might end
But, always happy to see it start
A friendship is but a flower
Sent with guidance from above
The friendship must be based on trust
But, like the flower, it's started with Gods love
Friendship is but a flower
Sent down for all of us to share
So pass on your bit of friendship
Show someone just how much you care
A friendship is but a flower
And this friendship I pass on to you
So please take my flower and friendship
So you can pass it on to others too
wrote 3/3/2009 by Norman Hale Jr
poem by Norman Hale
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Nothing Anymore
When I once looked into your eyes,
I saw honesty lying there.
When I once looked into your eyes,
I saw loyalty with love and care.
When I once looked into your eyes,
I saw life and love forever more.
When I now look into your eyes,
I see darkness, and nothing anymore.
When I once held onto your hand,
I felt compassion, kindness and love.
When I once held onto your hand,
I felt the warmth from GOD above.
When I once held onto your hand,
I felt a joy from the person I adored.
When I now hold onto your hand,
I feel coldness, and nothing anymore.
When I use to listen to your voice,
I once heard it with vigor and excitement.
When I use to listen to your voice,
I once heard it with warmth and fulfillment.
When I use to listened to your voice,
I once heard it with truth which I swore.
When I now listen to your voice.
I go dumb, as I hear nothing anymore.
When I once looked upon your face,
I would always look with pride and a smile.
When I once looked upon your face,
I would always thank GOD your with me now
When I once looked upon your face,
I would always be there to open your door.
When I now look upon your face,
I go blind, as I see nothing anymore.
When I once kissed your lips,
I tasted myself and also your flavor.
When I once kissed your lips,
I tasted life as you were my savior.
When I once kissed your lips,
I tasted excitement and your love in store.
When I now think of kissing your lips,
I now bite them shut, I taste nothing anymore.
poem by Randy McClave
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Beautiful Balmerino
Beautiful Balmermo on the bonnie banks of Tay,
It's a very bonnie spot in the months of June or May;
The scenery there is charming and fascinating to see,
Especially the surroundings of the old Abbey,
Which is situated in the midst of trees on a rugged hill,
Which visitors can view at their own free will;
And the trees and shrubberies are lovely to view,
Especially the trees on each side of the avenue
Which leads up to the Abbey amongst the trees;
And in the summer time it's frequented with bees,
And also crows with their unmusical cry,
Which is a great annoyance to the villagers that live near by.
And there in the summer season the mavis sings,
And with her charming notes the woodland rings;
And the sweet-scented zephyrs is borne upon the gale,
Which is most refreshing and invigorating to inhale.
Then there's the stately Castle of Balmerino
Situated in the midst of trees, a magnificent show,
And bordering on the banks o' the silvery Tay,
Where visitors can spend a happy holiday.
As they view the castle and scenery around
It will help to cheer their spirits I'll be bound;
And if they wish to view Wormit Bay
They can walk along the braes o' the silvery Tay.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Breaking point
Sometimes mere moments do linger,
when your eye catches mine intimately and honest
then I am simultaneously both scared and happy,
sometimes mere moments do linger,
when your eye catches mine intimately and honest,
when you linger with me without words,
sometimes then our love is pure
when your eye catches mine intimately and honest,
when you linger with me without words
and you wait that I tell you about my day,
about the glory and hell of work,
when you linger with me without words,
and you wait that I tell you about my day;
when I rather want to know more about you,
when I want to forget the rush, the distress
and you wait that I tell you about my day,
when I rather want to know more about you,
when a moment comes to a breaking point,
then sometimes I am surprised by your beauty,
when I rather want to know more about you,
when a moment comes to a breaking point,
sometimes mere moments do linger,
when we both remove our own masks,
when a moment comes to a breaking point;
sometimes mere moments do linger,
when your eye catches mine intimately and honest
then I am simultaneously both scared and happy,
sometimes mere moments do linger.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A Face With No Future
I look in the mirror,
and what do I see?
A face with no future,
stares out at me.
On the table, a glass and a bottle,
of my favourite poison.
When I was young,
I drank to be alive.
Now all I do,
is drink to survive.
My eyes bloodshot,
filled with vacant stare.
My face goes unshaven,
but what do I care?
My bottle is now empty,
quickly replace with one full.
Soon it will be empty,
just like this fool.
Family and friends fled.
My eyes were blind.
All they could see,
was another drink,
in front of me.
My legs get unsteady.
I stagger instead of walk.
A bottle wrapped in paper,
gripped tightly by my hand.
My clothes grow dirty,
as days and nights combine.
A smile is frozen,
on this face of mine.
My arm flex out,
when I stumble to the ground.
Faces look down at me,
expressions display my waste.
I just hold my smile,
as I lay there in their midst.
At least my bottle,
didn’t break,
on my fall from grace.
Time for another drink,
raise bottle to my lips.
Liquid trickles down my throat,
and still my smile remains,
as silly as it can be.
The faces disappear.
Everyone has gone now.
Like family and friends,
they all desert.
I lay there on my own.
For no one wants to take,
a drunk home.
25 Jan 2007
poem by David Harris
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God
In the ancient days, when the first quiver of speech came to my lips, I ascended the holy mountain and spoke unto God, saying, 'Master, I am thy slave. Thy hidden will is my law and I shall obey thee for ever more.'
But God made no answer, and like a mighty tempest passed away.
And after a thousand years I ascended the holy mountain and again spoke unto God, saying, 'Creator, I am thy creation. Out of clay hast thou fashioned me and to thee I owe mine all.'
And God made no answer, but like a thousand swift wings passed away.
And after a thousand years I climbed the holy mountain and spoke unto God again, saying, 'Father, I am thy son. In pity and love thou hast given me birth, and through love and worship I shall inherit thy kingdom.'
And God made no answer, and like the mist that veils the distant hills he passed away.
And after a thousand years I climbed the sacred mountain and again spoke unto God, saying, 'My God, my aim and my fulfilment; I am thy yesterday and thou art my tomorrow. I am thy root in the earth and thou art my flower in the sky, and together we grow before the face of the sun.'
Then God leaned over me, and in my ears whispered words of sweetness, and even as the sea that enfoldeth a brook that runneth down to her, he enfolded me.
And when I descended to the valleys and the plains, God was there also.
poem by Khalil Gibran
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Sad Flower
I was walking through a flower garden
and this beautiful flower laid over looking so sad.
It drew me closer i just had to know why?
As bent over and put the flower in my hand
my eyes got rushed with this intense light!
Then i could see with pure delight
what made the flower so sad.
A lady name rush was there before me
and held the flower in her hand
and give a kiss and told the flower i love
you.
Then she was gone
with a mighty rush of wind
for the beautiful flower has been dethrone
poem by Randy Hogan
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Santa Got Drunk For Christmas
A little too much
Holiday cheer
Twas the night before
His wedding anniversary
And he wakes up
In trouble
Next to a ho, ho, ho
Not so jolly now
Cos he's got
Such a awful hangover
Went a bit overboard
Santa got drunk for Christmas
The elves wanted to party
How could he say no?
They had all worked so hard
Making those toys
So off they went
To the local North Pole bar
To sing and dance
Eat, drink, and be merry
Then oops things got
Just a little out of hand when
Santa got drunk for Christmas
Got tipsy
Underneath the mistletoe
Oh how he made them all
Wanna throw up
When Santa did his dance
Swung his candy cane all around
Scared them to and fro
With a belly
That made it clear
Someone had had too much jelly
On the night Santa got drunk for Christmas
Uh oh
Santa's on the naughty list now
Cos Mrs. Claus just found out
Tonight closing those legs
Tells old Saint Nick
You ain't getting none
It's sleeping on the couch and AA for you
Don' t wanna ever catch you
With that vixen again
Such a sad case
Too bad
This is his story
Of one holiday
Gone so very wrong
The night
Santa got drunk for Christmas
poem by Ramona Thompson
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First Love (Love Poem)
Do you remember when she first held your hand?
Thirty seconds that seemed like thirty minutes,
The first kiss thrills with a scrambled egg feeling,
You simultaneously slightly drunk and flying high.
Never forgotten, never repeated, frozen instants,
The forever moment, now forever lost in time,
Unless she said yes and that faint reminder,
Of your first love, is a morning coffee smile.
poem by Ian Beckett
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Ah, the Exquisite Years of This Desire
I’ve been lost on friendless streets
Wanting to cry and paralyzed at stop signs;
But I feel like I’m evolving into delicate beauty,
Becoming a flower or a Shakespeare sonnet.
If you were with me today,
It would be moonlight music on romantic avenues
And sauntering in the sun kissing your shoulders;
I have a restless heart in love with your eyes
And dreaming of your arms.
We were never really lovers,
But the one time you casually removed your blouse
In front of me like you were a runway model,
I was mesmerized by the Dior fragrance of your skin
And drunk on the loveliness of your essence.
I have no desire beyond a glass of wine
On a Parisian boulevard in the afternoon
And to eternally capture you
In a Renoir canvas worthy of your soul
And the splendor of your face.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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