Why I Would Follow Her Like a Puppy Dog Through the Streets
Wearing an ankle bracelet
On the steamy July afternoon,
She walks in the sunlight
On a stone-paved road
Along an ancient avenue
Of insouciant flowers.
Her bracelet shimmers
In the rising waves of heat;
Youth is a glorious sweet breath
Inhaled with connoisseur-like relish
And exhaled in the magical perfume of excitement.
One has to gaze at beauty
And live in that charmed essence vicariously
And be transported to past, joyous
Experiences of exultation.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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I have a microphone on one ankle and an ankle bracelet on the other, so I'm well balanced today.
quote by Martha Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Steamy Windows
(tony joe white)
Well I was thinkin bout parking the other night
We was out on a back road
Me and my lady was just gettin right
All systems on overload
Radio blasting in the front seat
Turnin out the music fine
We were snuggled up in the back seat
Makin up for lost time
Steamy windows
Zero visiblity
Steamy windows
Comin from the body heat
You can wine and dine a lady all night
With good intent
But theres something about a rendezvous on a back road
That gets mighty intense
Steamy windows
Aint nobody can see
Steamy windows
Comin from the body heat
Theres a sound outside the front door
And I know its just the wind
But it makes us wanna snuggle just a little bit closer
And it starts all over again
Steamy windows
Zero visiblity
Steamy windows
Comin from the body heat
Steamy windows
Zero visiblity
Steamy windows
Comin from the body heat
Steamy windows...
Steamy windows
Comin from the body heat
Aint nobody can see...
song performed by by Kenny Chesney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Steamy Windows
I was thinking about parking the other night
We was out on a back road
Me and my baby was just getting right
Our systems going overload
The radio blasting in the front seat
Churning out the music fine
And we was snuggled up in the back seat
Making up for lost time
Chorus
Steamy windows
Zero visibility
Steamy windows
Coming from the body heat
You can wine and dine with the men all night
With good intent
But theres something about the confrontation on the back road
Breaks down the defense
Chorus
Steamy windows
Zero visibility
Steamy windows
Coming from the body heat
Steamy windows
Aint nobody can see
Steamy windows
Coming from the body heat
Theres a sound outside the front door
And I know thats just the wind
But it makes him snuggle up just a little bit closer
Starts things happening again
Repeat chorus
song performed by by Tina Turner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bouquet and Bracelet
Bouquet said: “My floral ring
The homage of a heart encloses,
Whose thoughts to you go worshipping
In perfume from my blushing roses.”
Bracelet said: “My rubies red,
Though hard the gleam that each exposes,
Will last when flowers of Spring are fled
And dead are all the Summer roses.”
Beauty mused awhile, and said,
“Here’s poesy!” and sighed, “Here prose is
Bouquet! I choose the rubies red!—
In Winter they will buy me roses.”
poem by Victor James Daley
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Unforgiving Failure
I've spent so much time
Remembering the lightning flash of your eyes
And the inescapable excitement of your mouth
Caressing words in the dream-like afternoon
When I used to assume I meant something to you.
There was never a breath of yours that was a lie,
Never a hesitation that implored me to believe
I was a man to open your doors,
A lover to take your coat or hold your umbrella,
A gentleman with the privilege of protecting your honor.
I was drunk on the perfume of your essence,
I was staggering to feel your breath on my collar,
I wanted to write the ecstasy of your existence
On secretive ancient scrolls that deities would keep
Down through supernatural centuries,
I wanted a place in your history.
I thought I had the strength to withstand
Against the gates of jealousy
Whenever I saw you with another man,
That I could take a kick to my emotional stomach
And never whimper or wince,
Such was the state of my faithfulness and resolve,
I was a stone poet who could endure any indignity.
But the days have defeated me
And the decline of youthfulness
Has unseated me,
Any attempts at poetry seep away
Like air from a punctured tire,
My dreams and my heart are deflated,
There is nothing to accomplish,
No one will see you as I wanted them to see you,
This has been my unforgiving failure.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Love Is Seemingly Out of the Question
I was very much impressed
By her floral dress
When we met
In the empty church
By the votive alter,
But I was mystified
And my soul distressed
By her pale and melancholy face;
I was certain I saw it before
In an ancient wedding
From another lifetime
Or restful in a casket.
She can’t be
What she currently pretends,
A stranger or anonymous friend
Willing to extend her thin hand
Without preconditions
Too difficult to comprehend.
I stared at her
For a minute eternity
The way someone does
When they’re in love with you
Or seek your execution
But then I felt the anchor-like weight
Of her heartfelt reproach
And disciplined my eyes.
I was surprised
And smiled
When she scraped
Some latent thought
Beneath the surface
Of my mind and said,
“I would make love to you tonight,
But you would want my bracelet
Or some other keepsake
As if the perfume of my essence
Wasn’t sufficient for your memory.”
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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As Beautiful As Joni Mitchell
Charming ghosts idly float in my brain
And smile as they twist around
All my poetic thoughts
Like a curving, foggy road.
My heart is not pure like a King James psalm,
But you can hear and see me weep to God
When the predawn streets are empty
Except for broken beer bottles and myself.
I’m a crazy coyote in love, and sometimes
Every girl looks as beautiful to me
As Joni Mitchell singing
Something lyrical, tenderly and sweetly.
Uriah, gaze into the face of God with praise,
Exquisite happiness is on the way,
Shortly you will kiss a delicate feminine wrist
Wearing a golden bracelet as a mystical amulet.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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A Summer Poem
tokyo summer, the blazing sun heats up
the air, the road and the beach opening up
the avenues and lanes for new friendships
a riotious crowd have stamped a mishmash trail
of excitements and robust spirits of adventures
a young sun rising on the horizon of our gaze
is witnessed by another matching alluring pair,
the azure sky and sea
with the looseness of the sand at our feet
the crispness of our breath and the
the tightness of our grasp
we we look into each other's eyes and
feel the heat of many more summers
rising and touching our hearts
the surging waves leading
us to somewhere divine
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Black Rings
Black rings around my ash black eyes
Red rings of fire around my waist
A bracelet loose around my wrist
A ring of dark ash silently cries
A ring of fire someone will taste
A bracelet loose swallowed by mist
Do follow the trace of day forsaken spheres
In each melody sung it silently appears
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The Aging Process
It is good to sing songs
Or walk the boulevard path
Of a parade,
To read a book beside flowers
In the calming sunlight,
To fall completely in love
With one, magical, charming woman.
The aging process
Is when one fails to find
The perfume of beauty
Wafted into his existence
And then fades away.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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For Keeps Lover
So Time I thread through
the needle eye
and stretch it like taffy
across my life,
and weave it like a tapestry.
You are embroidered there;
major needle work here
and your smile
beams on my quilt
which
covers me in sleep.
So it is the little things-
which like statuettes
parade across
my double mirror dresser;
mementos
I guess
but more to me like monuments;
your friendship ring;
the tennis bracelet,
the prom corsage
and of course the photographs.
I see the nightclub print,
the holiday scene
and, of course, our oldest's
graduation.
You know
we too
are each other's memories
of times past
and our youthful youth;
when you,
the Handsome You
and I a Beauty
wallowed in the unconsciousness
youthfulness enjoys
oblivious to their own
beauty
or maybe not.
But nonetheless
nothing's changed inside of us
I'm still nineteen
in my own
minds eye
and wonderfully
also in yours.
That is to me
is the miracle.
Nothing changes
from Beauty's Eye
and in the eye
of one's
For Keeps
Lover.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Her Face.
There is a something in her face
Which in no other I can trace,
And feelings sweet as music stir
When I gaze in her dreamy eyes,
And breathe a perfume, as it were,
From flowers in Paradise.
At morn, at noon and night it seems
As if I moved by faery streams,
A strange light on the leaves and grass;
As if her life-breath were the air
Through which the magic moments pass
In her dream-beauty there.
It is thought's paradise which she
Inhabits like a mystery,
Through which my feelings come and go
Like tunes which to her pulses stir;
And my life day by day, I trow,
Is one sweet dream of her.
poem by Robert Crawford
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Remembering Her Birthday
Someone plays a love song
On the ancient radio
And my heart is stung
With a romantic thought
That never fades
Like singing birds at dusk
Serenading the sunset.
Her flirtatious scarf is swaying
On a clothesline in the melancholy afternoon,
But later I’ll be drunk
As a tall girl walks in the moonlight
Alone on the beach.
And I want to see her again
In a special place
When the time is right
To tell her how I feel,
When I have the power
To convince her
Of the unique beauty
Of her essence.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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To A Friend Who Likes To Have Beauty In Her Hands
you do not gather the flowers
that easily from the sides of the hill
where you were never there
once
planting the seeds
nothing comes by chance or random
nothing sprouts just like magical seeds
using the lighted wand of your
fairy godmother
the flowers grow and bloom there
because someone took the burden
of seeding, transplanting, watering
and pruning them
these flowers are taken cared of
by loving hands
do not think that there is no sweat at all shed from the brows
for something so beautiful to land in your hands
or even by an accidental gaze hovering in the
retina of your eyes
he spent the sleepless nights watching the flowers
he bowed down to earth as though asking for the mercy
of the gods
he prayed and worked hard then beauty comes
in the grandeur of its petals in the dignity of its perfume
arrayed by the pearls of the dews
and salted by the power
of his tears.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Musing
Thoughts come
rising
without warning
traveling
through rich scented earth
and wet grass
inhaled, slowly
way down to my feet
and out through
my deeply embedded toes
that throw off
shimmers of dew
that glisten on trees
and alight the horizon
Copyright ©2005
poem by Adryan Rotica
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My Return To The Magical Mystery Tree
Many kids run through the grass
Playing whatever game they've chosen
Passing them by
I walk up to the magicial mystery tree
I've paid a visit to the magicial mystery
tree before
And some have said that they can see
on the tree, a door
And some have said that they never saw
anything on the tree
I can see the door
But it's locked up tight
And try as I may
I can't unlock it
Not even with the help of the sunlight
Some say there's a whole different world
inside the magical mystery tree
Some say that only fairies and their friends
live inside the magical mystery tree
But no one knows for sure
So
After a few minutes in thought
Thinking of what I should do in the meantime
at the magical mystery tree
I decide to leave some very small gifts behind
for the fairies and their friends
Leaving behind some flowers and jewels
for the fairies and their friends
I certainly hope they'll enjoy them
I place near the door of the magical mystery
tree
After that
I realize I'm all done here
I gaze at the magical mystery tree for a few
moments
Until I realize it's time for me to be on my way
Looking at the magical mystery tree one last
time
I smile
Then I turn and walk away
Enjoy the gifts I've left behind
Fairies and friends
poem by Justin Gildow
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Little Bird
Beauty is a rare perfume
Precious, yet doesnt last long
Youth is but a playful breeze
That blows our way once then moves on
Love is a hidden treasure
Some never find where it lies
And memory is a little bird
Flies through life, live or dies
Chorus:
Little bird
Take me aboard your beautiful wings and let me fly
Fly me away back to yesterday
And drop me off there awhile
Let me smell the rare perfume of the sweet flower of beauty again
Let me run in the playful breeze of youth long gone with the wind
Let me sit for awhile by the place where I found the treasure of love
Then sing me a song as you fly me along on our long last journey above
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Sacred Meeting in the Universe
Drinking Friday night spirit myth,
Dreaming of poetic youth,
Where you can dance with magical breath,
Cherish every moment that follows next,
Musical escapades in the moonlight,
Burning the midnight oil,
Joyous sleeplessness,
We embrace the imagination,
We live in fluid fantasies of happiness.
You have my phone number now,
I’ll obtain yours at least by the next lifetime,
Nikki, we may be lovers yet!
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Lorne
Where the road's white bracelet runs
Round the cliff 'twixt bush and sea,
Gleaming 'neath the summer's suns
There she rests delightfully
There she rests, a jewel set
In the bracelet's shining band
Far from all the stress and fret
Of the markets of the land.
Summers come and summers go:
There she beckons pleasantly
By the gentle ebb and flow
Of her blue, eternal sea.
Where the Ocean Road dips down,
There she greets, the Southern Queen,
Weary men from mart and town,
Seeking strength from her bright scene.
Wooded slope and waterfall,
Mountain path and shining sand,
Bush and beach - she offers all
Offers with a generous hand.
All the gifts for which men sigh,
Seeking ease and soft release.
And the summers, drifting by,
Bring her loveliness increase.
In the light of Loutitt Bay,
There she smiles, the Southern Queen,
Lending to a summer's day
Grateful rest and mood serene.
Lady Lorne, the lovely one,
Jewel of uncounted price
Friend of the children of the sun,
The honeymooners' paradise.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The new day started wonderful
This morning it felt
as if I was going to ride
into the red ball of the sun
while the wind
knifed strong past me
and the blue Honda motorbike
quickly eated up Soutpansberg Avenue.
There’s something magical and enchanting
to a rising sun
that is just hanging halfway
above the black tar road
and the colour of that red ball
still stays with me.
I drove with power
up the hillock of Gordon Street
and the rays of the sun
was at my side
and the caboodle of cars
couldn’t bother me
and the new day
Started wonderful.
We do not always realise,
how much we have to be thankful.
We are just too much set
in the here and now,
while the greatness
of God’s love
are all around us.
poem by Gert Strydom
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