A Grateful Man in the World of Women
I’m forty-three years old,
I’ve seen countless lovely women,
Some of them I’ve told
They’re beautiful.
If I cease to exist tomorrow,
How can I complain?
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Unique, Eccentric Things
Women over age forty complain they are invisible
to men, must appear young and lie about age for
attention - this problem does not exist for people
like me who never caught the male eye because
we never appealed by attending to them
It is hard work to idealise anyone and the loss of
cheap admiration seems to be an advantage as
fake charm to exploit a dame never held interest,
older women should rejoice that they are free
from false compliments courting their favour
Women who complain about this benefit must
have been used to wolf-whistles; since my pre-
occupations kept me safe from such practices
I don’t suffer losing superficial meaningless
things - I have little sympathy with
Feminine types who live for compliments, yet
I appreciate the variety they add to life; never
want individual ideas to be lost; I love unique,
eccentric things for the interesting contrast
they always provide through their being
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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You Are Indeed Beautiful
Beautiful, are you, as the flowers of the field.
Beautiful, is the sound of your voice.
Beautiful, is the touch of your hand.
Beautiful, are the eyes that speak of love.
Beautiful, is your understanding and kindness.
Beautiful, is the way you always consider others.
Beautiful, are the courage of your convictions.
Beautiful, are the silent, countless words of, I love you.
Beautiful, is the softness of your touch.
Beautiful, are the children that you hold dear.
Beautiful, is your faith, honesty and loyalty.
Beautiful, are the people, you bless with your love.
Beautiful, are you secret acts of charity.
Beautiful, is the goodness, you give to all.
Beautiful, is the way your never judge anyone.
Beautiful, is your never dreaming...that you are indeed so beautiful.
Beautiful, is your heart...your very soul.
Beautiful, is the way you have made this a better world.
Beautiful, is the helping hand, you extend to all.
Have I told you, you are beautiful in every way?
Have I told you, my beautiful one, that I love you?
Beautiful Are You...
Beautiful, are you, as the flowers of the field.
Beautiful, is the sound of your voice.
Beautiful, is the touch of your hand.
Beautiful, are the eyes that speak of love.
Beautiful, is your understanding and kindness.
Beautiful, is the way you always consider others.
Beautiful, are the courage of your convictions.
Beautiful, are the silent, countless words of, I love you.
Beautiful, is the softness of your touch.
Beautiful, are the children that you hold dear.
Beautiful, is your faith, honesty and loyalty.
Beautiful, are the people, you bless with your love.
Beautiful, are you secret acts of charity.
Beautiful, is the goodness, you give to all.
Beautiful, is the way your never judge anyone.
Beautiful, is your never dreaming...that you are indeed so beautiful.
Beautiful, is your heart...your very soul.
Beautiful, is the way you have made this a better world.
Beautiful, is the helping hand, you extend to all.
Have I told you, you are beautiful in every way?
Have I told you, my beautiful one, that I love you?
We are blessed to know, one who is as beautiful
as you, in so many ways.
P.S.
I love you.
Women are as beautiful as flowers when they are forty years old.
I Am Told
For forty four years now
Each morning I woke up
I go straight to prepare
A cup of coffee for my wife
It's a ritual that I do
For forty four years
Not that she asks for it
But it's what I love to do
Love is what commands me
To lit a kettle to boil a water
For she likes it when its so hot
A coffee she drinks quite early
Suddenly, now that it's our anniversary
I do the thing I 've been doing ever since
We got married for forty four years back
Yet for the first time I am told just so today
That the coffee I served her now tasted bad
poem by Marvin Brato Sr
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Have I Told You...
Beautiful, are you, as the flowers of the field.
Beautiful, is the sound of your voice.
Beautiful, is the touch of your hand.
Beautiful, are the eyes that speak of love.
Beautiful, is your understanding and kindness.
Beautiful, is the way you always consider others.
Beautiful, are the courage of your convictions.
Beautiful, are the silent, countless words of, I love you.
Beautiful, is the softness of your touch.
Beautiful, are the children that you hold dear.
Beautiful, is your faith, honesty and loyalty.
Beautiful, are the people, you bless with your love.
Beautiful, are you secret acts of charity.
Beautiful, is the goodness, you give to all.
Beautiful, is the way your never judge anyone.
Beautiful, is your never dreaming...that you are indeed so beautiful.
Beautiful, is your heart...your very soul.
Beautiful, is the way you have made this a better world.
Beautiful, is the helping hand, you extend to all.
Have I told you, you are beautiful in every way?
He Told Me I Was Beautiful
He told me I was Beautiful,
And I was feeling so alone...
He told me I was Beautiful,
It was such a serious tone.
He told me I was Beautiful,
It must be a curse word!
He told me I was Beautiful,
And made sure that I heard.
He told me I was Beautiful,
And that he wanted to keep me.
He Told me I was Beautiful,
I felt trapped and wanted to flee.
He told me I was Beautiful,
But I do not love him.
He told me I was Beautiful,
You know what?
I really don't care....
Because when he kissed me,
I wished I wasn't there.
poem by Jessie Lima
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One Mans Opinion
Beautiful, are you, as the flowers of the field.
Beautiful, is the sound of your voice.
Beautiful, is the touch of your hand.
Beautiful, are the eyes that speak of love.
Beautiful, is your understanding and kindness.
Beautiful, is the way you always consider others.
Beautiful, are the courage of your convictions.
Beautiful, are the silent, countless words of, I love you.
Beautiful, is the softness of your touch.
Beautiful, are the children that you hold dear.
Beautiful, is your faith, honesty and loyalty.
Beautiful, are the people, you bless with your love.
Beautiful, are you secret acts of charity.
Beautiful, is the goodness, you give to all.
Beautiful, is the way your never judge anyone.
Beautiful, is your never dreaming...that you are indeed so beautiful.
Beautiful, is your heart...your very soul.
Beautiful, is the way you have made this a better world.
Beautiful, is the helping hand, you extend to all.
Have I told you, you are beautiful in every way?
©Joe Fazio
Beautiful Day
Tired of living like my days are bad
When I open up my eyes, I'm glad
And I can't complain 'bout yesterday
Cuz today's a brand new day
Comb my hair and though some like it wrong
Jump in my ride because it's on
And I'm gone, I'm gone
1 - I woke up this morning
Opened up my eyes and prayed, Lord
Cuz it's a beautiful day
No matter what nobody say
Even though it's cloudy
I can see the sun rays
Oh, cuz it's a beautiful day
No matter what nobody say
Cuz it's a beautiful day, a beautiful day
Life just can't get no better than this
Mother Nature's given us a kiss
Cuz tomorrow I'm glad I didn't miss
Let's take advantage of days like this
When the night time does finally hit
There'll be no reason for guns
It'll be fun, fun, fun, fun
Repeat 1
Everything is good because I'm living and I'm healthy
I'm not too concerned 'bout being poor or being wealthy
I feel really good about this blessing given to me
Nothing in this world could ever take all my joy from me
It's beautiful, it's beautiful
It's beautiful, it's beautiful
It's beautiful
A beautiful day, a beautiful day
A beautiful day, a beautiful day
Repeat 1
I don't have a complain in the world
I am doing so good
Without, without, without the money
Without, without, without the stress
Without, without, without the people, oh yeah
Repeat 1 until fade
song performed by by Mary J Blige
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tomorrow
Tomorrow
~
I’m always told to wait
That tomorrow it may come
To find me when I am lost
When my faith is spent
And I feel at my most afraid
Only tomorrow never comes
And I am alone each night
Counting stars and clouds
Counting my time away
Hoping tomorrow will come
When the sun rises in the sky
And the world is the same
I say the old tired worn line
Tomorrow is not today
Tomorrow never comes anyway
So while I’m waiting
What is there for me
That I keep getting told
Tomorrow, tomorrow it will come
Only tomorrow never comes
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Black rose for my beautiful black women
My beautiful black women take some time to relax, close your
eyes, and let my words rub your backs until your notions come to a
climax from the sensual stimulation in your spin.
My beautiful black women I respect the fact that how you react to men indirect acts and unconditional facts.
My beautiful black women, I understand your pain and your strain, for the day you birth, us men had gained.
My beautiful black women, speak loud, speak proud for all men to understand that you are profound, and endowed.
My beautiful black women, that is dexterous and need not extras, thank God for your beautiful soul for it was told a woman’s love is greater than a man that is why we as men should be glad to hold your hands.
Written by James Brown
poem by James Brown
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Its A Lovely Day Tomorrow
Its a lovely day tomorrow,
Tomorrow is a lovely day,
Come and feast your tear-dimmed eyes on tomorrows clear blue skies,
If today your heart is weary,
If every little thing looks gray,
Just forget your troubles and learn to say,
Tomorrow is a lovely day.
song performed by by Irving Berlin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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She Stands By Her Son
He is a serial killer and awful things he has done
But his mother says he is not guilty and she stands by her son
A jury found him guilty but with their verdict she does not agree
She says my son is innocent i believe what he told me
That he did not murder those women the jury got it wrong
For him forty years in prison is forty years too long
For one completely innocent of any serious crime
The jury they erred badly they got it wrong this time
Though human blood and hair found on the bodies of the victims of foul play
According to the lab technicians did match his D N A
But there must have been a mix up and grieved am i to say
that for the crimes of some evil one my innocent son must pay
And all others say he is guilty she is the only one
To say that he is innocent she won't forsake her son.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Old Man's Saddest Story
We sat about the fireplace listening to the old man's tales
Of the youthful years of life he spent in lovely Alder Vale
He told some happy stories but he told some sad one's too
And the saddest story that he told I will relate to you.
'Twas the story of young Joaney Ryan who died whilst in her prime
When the fruits were ripe for picking in September's harvest time
She died at twenty three years old the valley beauty queen
And a fairer maid since her time the old man has not seen.
She was the most beautiful maid the old man ever knew
With sheeny hair of raven black and sparkling eyes of blue
Yet for all of her splendid beauty she did not show conceit
A better mannered girl than her no man could wish to meet.
Beauty it can take a woman quite a long, long way
But beauty quickly withers like the flowers that bloom in May,
You cannot judge a woman by her beauty or her dress
You can only judge a woman by the manner she possess.
He must have loved this lovely maid he must have loved her so
Who died in September forty six years ago
For as he told her story a tear showed in each eye
And it seemed quite clear to all of us that he was near to cry.
She died in a hospital this lady like woman
From Leuchaemia a disease that greatly curtail life's span
On the tenth day of September her remains were put to earth
Twenty three years and thirty six days from the day of her birth.
In each human's life story there is some share of woe
And the old man's saddest thoughts are of a maid he used to know
Who died of Leuchaemia whilst only in her prime
When the fruits were ripe for picking in September's harvest time.
poem by Francis Duggan
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How Many Women Are Out There?
How many women are out there,
That are looking for a man?
That would fight for what he believes in,
And would do whatever he can.
How many women are out there,
That wish that they could find?
A man that looks at future.
Not the things that are left behind.
How many women are out there,
That seek a man who's true?
When the situation arises,
It's the right thing he will do.
How many women are out there,
Looking for a man with determined heart?
To change the things he needs to change,
To make a brand new start.
How many women are out there,
That are looking for a friend?
One that would always be there for you.
On him you could depend.
How many women are out there,
That are looking for a lover?
To hold you hand when you walk around,
And hold your heart under the covers.
How many women are out there,
Think this man does not exist?
A figment of your imagination.
Is it one you can't resist?
How many women are out there,
That this is your desire?
This is the man you're seeking.
The one who'll light your fire.
How many women are out there,
They think that this man could be?
I'll let you know he does exist.
That man is simply me.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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04. Beautiful Women
young women, old women
in their heart
despite the years
the yearning to be beautiful
young women, old women
they look at each other
one with envy
the other with fear and contempt (of the wrinkles, old age)
young women, old women
they look into each other
one for a mother
the other for a daughter
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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These Lost, These Come At A Cost Women
I see these city lights and flashy cars
These beautiful women lost under stars
These daughters and sisters and mothers
These lost women
These come at a cost women
Given a glance then a dance
Given the means to live by the fiends of these beautiful women
Lost in a daze of green
A daze I've seen
Spotlights on these beautiful women
Eyes on these and cheers for these beautiful women
Lies in these and fears in these lost women
These come at a cost women
Show, bought and ready to go
At a price higher then they know
These women worth more then gold
Priceless
But still sold
Oh these lost women
Don't you know your beautiful
Not hot women
That your beautiful
Not meant to be bought women
Beauty needs to be taught in these women
Instead of this that is not
Left in them to rot
Oh these beautiful women
These I've seen
Women whos pupils are all green
Men whos eyes are gazed in between wide thighs
Silent cries eventually taking its toll
Night after night eventually breaking the soul
I see these city lights and flashy cars
These beautiful women lost under stars
These daughters and sisters and mothers
These lost women
These come at a cost women
Don't you know your beautiful
Not hot women
That you’re beautiful
Not meant to be bought women.
poem by Bikramjyoti Kashyop
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In Front Of Me
In front of me
In her wide, terrace home
She sat on the old rattan chair
Her body was thin
Her hollow eyes to muse in the sky
She wants tell a definite story
Which keep a more forty years ago?
With fear and apprehensive, under the old bones
Because of politic rumors and propaganda,
To lead astray and bring misfortune,
To day, In front of me, a grand ma told me her story
Story of her husband, which she keeps a more 40 years ago
Who had been arrested by military regime?
Because mismanagement, same name
But different person
One is my father friend,
And the other one, a teacher who became member of PGRI Non Vacsentral
Under bow of Indonesian Communist Party
I am and so your mother, both is member
Of democrat women, under bow of PNI Party
But because mismanagement under military regime,
My husband arrested,
As PKI members,
Without any explanation
Where my children need schooling, food for eat
And cloth, house for protect them in growth
However, to day, after forty years she feels free
After told all what happened
Of her husband and all of their suffering
In front of me
All of her depression
All of her oppress
Was free, like butterfly flying on the flower
Of her new gardens
In front of her home terrace
Bogor,11/01/06 15: 33: 34
poem by Prasetya Utama
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These Lost, These Come At A Cost Women
I see these city lights and flashy cars
These beautiful women lost under stars
These daughters and sisters and mothers
These lost women
These come at a cost women
Given a glance then a dance
Given the means to live by the fiends of these beautiful women
Lost in a daze of green
A daze I've seen
Spotlights on these beautiful women
Eyes on these and cheers for these beautiful women
Lies in these and fears in these lost women
These come at a cost women
Show, bought and ready to go
At a price higher then they know
These women worth more then gold
Priceless
But still sold
Oh these lost women
Don't you know your beautiful
Not hot women
That your beautiful
Not meant to be bought women
Beauty needs to be taught in these women
Instead of this that is not
Left in them to rot
Oh these beautiful women
These I've seen
Women whos pupils are all green
Men whos eyes are gazed in between wide thighs
Silent cries eventually taking its toll
Night after night eventually breaking the soul
I see these city lights and flashy cars
These beautiful women lost under stars
These daughters and sisters and mothers
These lost women
These come at a cost women
Don't you know your beautiful
Not hot women
That you’re beautiful
Not meant to be bought women.
©Copyright 2008
poem by Regan Mackenzie
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Your Psychopathic Mother
Your psychopathic mother told you
You were beautiful
Just not beautiful enough
I know why you give yourself away
Cause they make you feel special
But you never feel special enough
And I can still feel your skin
Still warm from the hot desert sky
Here, right now is all there is
Yesterday is dead, tomorrow never comes
Right here, right now is all there is
Was it something that I said?
You just went numb
Your disinterested father taught you
That a mans attention is precious
And you never called his bluff
I gave everything I could to you
Cause i think you're precious
I could never make you feel precious enough
And I could still breathe you in
Oh Layah I won't even try
Here, right now is all there is
Yesterday is dead, tomorrow never comes
Right here, right now is all there is
We laughed until we bled
It felt so dumb
Your psychopathic mother told you
You were beautiful
Just not beautiful enough
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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