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I watched you saunter down the sand:
Serene and large, the golden weather
Flowed radiant round your peacock feather,
And glistered from your jewelled hand.
Your tawny hair, turned strand on strand
And bound with blue ribands together,
Streaked the rough tartan, green like heather,
That round your lissome shoulder spanned.
Your grace was quick my sense to seize:
The quaint looped hat, the twisted tresses,
The close-drawn scarf, and under these
The flowing, flapping draperies -
My thought an outline still caresses,
Enchanting, comic, Japanese!
poem by William Ernest Henley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Legend of The Corrievrechan
Prince Breacan of Denmark was lord of the strand
And lord of the billowy sea;
Lord of the sea and lord of the land,
He might have let maidens be!
A maiden he met with locks of gold,
Straying beside the sea:
Maidens listened in days of old,
And repented grievously.
Wiser he left her in evil wiles,
Went sailing over the sea;
Came to the lord of the Western Isles:
Give me thy daughter, said he.
The lord of the Isles he laughed, and said:
Only a king of the sea
May think the Maid of the Isles to wed,
And such, men call not thee!
Hold thine own three nights and days
In yon whirlpool of the sea,
Or turn thy prow and go thy ways
And let the isle-maiden be.
Prince Breacan he turned his dragon prow
To Denmark over the sea:
Wise women, he said, now tell me how
In yon whirlpool to anchor me.
Make a cable of hemp and a cable of wool
And a cable of maidens' hair,
And hie thee back to the roaring pool
And anchor in safety there.
The smiths of Greydule, on the eve of Yule,
Will forge three anchors rare;
The hemp thou shalt pull, thou shalt shear the wool,
And the maidens will bring their hair.
Of the hair that is brown thou shalt twist one strand,
Of the hair that is raven another;
Of the golden hair thou shalt twine a band
To bind the one to the other!
The smiths of Greydule, on the eve of Yule,
They forged three anchors rare;
The hemp he did pull, and he shore the wool,
And the maidens brought their hair.
He twisted the brown hair for one strand,
The raven hair for another;
He twined the golden hair in a band
To bind the one to the other.
He took the cables of hemp and wool.
He took the cable of hair,
He hied him back to the roaring pool,
He cast the three anchors there.
The whirlpool roared, and the day went by,
And night came down on the sea;
But or ever the morning broke the sky
The hemp was broken in three.
The night it came down, the whirlpool it ran,
The wind it fiercely blew;
And or ever the second morning began
The wool it parted in two.
The storm it roared all day the third,
The whirlpool wallowed about,
The night came down like a wild black bird,
But the cable of hair held out.
Round and round with a giddy swing
Went the sea-king through the dark;
Round went the rope in the swivel-ring,
Round reeled the straining bark.
Prince Breacan he stood on his dragon prow,
A lantern in his hand:
Blest be the maidens of Denmark now,
By them shall Denmark stand!
He watched the rope through the tempest black
A lantern in his hold:
Out, out, alack! one strand will crack!
It is the strand of gold!
The third morn clear and calm came out:
No anchored ship was there!
The golden strand in the cable stout
Was not all of maidens' hair.
poem by George MacDonald
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Do The Strand
there's a new sensation, a fabulous creation
a danceable solution to teenage revolution
do the strand, love, when you feel love
it's the new way, that's why we say
do the strand
do it on the tables, quaglino's place or mabel's
slow and gentle, sentimental
all styles served here, louis seize he prefers
laissez-faire le strand
tired of the tango, fed up with fandango
dance on moonbeams, slide on rainbows
in furs or blue jeans, you know what i mean
do the strand
.....
we're playing our tune by the pale moon
we're incognito down the lido
and we like the strand
had your fill of quadrilles, the madison and cheap thrills
bored with the beguine, the samba isn't your scene
if you feel blue look through who's who
see la goulue and nijinsky
do the strandsky
weary of the waltz, mashed potato schmaltz
the sphinx and mona lisa, lolita and guernica
rhododendron is a nice flower
evergreen it lasts forever but it can't beat the strand power
do the strand
song performed by by Alphaville
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Do The Strand
(ferry)
Theres a new sensation
A fabulous creation
A danceable solution
To teenage revolution
Do the strand love
When you feel love
Its the new way
Thats why we say
Do the strand
Do it on the tables
Quaglinos place or mabels
Slow and gentle
Sentimental
All styles served here
Louis seize he prefer
Laissez-faire le strand
Tired of the tango
Fed up with fandango
Dance on moonbeams
Slide on rainbows
In furs or blue jeans
You know what I mean
Do the strand
Had your fill of quadrilles
The madison and cheap thrills
Bored with the beguine
The samba isnt your scene
Theyre playing our tune
By the pale moon
Were incognito
Down the lido
And we like the strand
Arabs at oasis
Eskimos and chinese
If you feel blue
Look through whos who
See la goulue
And nijinsky
Do the strandsky
Weary of the waltz
And mashed potato schmaltz
Rhododendron
Is a nice flower
Evergreen
It lasts forever
But it cant beat strand power
The sphynx and mona lisa
Lolita and guernica
Did the strand
song performed by by Roxy Music
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Skin Hair…
Skin Hair…
Where else does the earth rise?
settle down with a fall,
cover with strand...
after other strand,
of hair curl,
loom adversely,
along the length,
along the breadth....
of a man, woman
where it is delicate, where it is private...
pronounced an' concealed.
on the face above the eyes,
like a brush of feathers,
above the lip,
a moustache…
eloquently trim,
tweezed eye browses,
hair flock grace the neck,
onto the back.
Along the shin,
Along the skin,
Smooth touch rendered,
Chill rising the hair follicles,
Desire burn,
In the shower wet with soap,
Silk fiber strand,
Run through fingers of a lover,
Relishing the sensations erect,
Tiny hair, almost as fur…
Souring along the back,
Trough upon the skin,
Collect scent of a love scene.
The skin here dark,
Chocolate born,
Wind caress these, both hair an' skin
Creature so supreme,
Conquer all but this, delicate
Feather brush of skin against skin,
Hair rise here thin,
Space of a love gaze seen,
Hair on skin….
poem by Merlin Mwaura
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Skin Hair
Skin Hair…
Where else does the earth rise?
settle down with a fall,
cover with strand...
after other strand,
of hair curl,
loom adversely,
along the length,
along the breadth....
of a man, woman
where it is delicate, where it is private...
pronounced an' concealed.
on the face above the eyes,
like a brush of feathers,
above the lip,
a moustache…
eloquently trim,
tweezed eye browses,
hair flock grace the neck,
onto the back.
Along the shin,
Along the skin,
Smooth touch rendered,
Chill rising the hair follicles,
Desire burn,
In the shower wet with soap,
Silk fiber strand,
Run through fingers of a lover,
Relishing the sensations erect,
Tiny hair, almost as fur…
Souring along the back,
Trough upon the skin,
Collect scent of a love scene.
The skin here dark,
Chocolate born,
Wind caress these, both hair an' skin
Creature so supreme,
Conquer all but this, delicate
Feather brush of skin against skin,
Hair rise here thin,
Space of a love gaze seen,
Hair on skin….
poem by Merlin Mwaura
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Grand-stranding
With little success at hair retention
I've one strand left of small dimension
Scalped this way, I'm not enthralled
One-stranded now, I'm follicle-y bald
It's hair raising to feel alone and bereft
Deserted by all it's brothers who left
This ordeal has the hair standing there pining
Atop my bald scalp, so hairless-ly shining
The lonesome strand just keeps on grieving
Missing its mates, since their mass leaving
So soulful and sad, it can't seem to find
On the scalp of this lad, a hair-piece of mind
My dome once covered with hair-filled density
Has no foreseeable future-tense-ity
For so loyally standing hair-ly at hand
I'll always be grateful to that one last grand strand
poem by Stanley Cooper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Turning Japanese
Ive got your picture
Of me and you
You wrote, I love you.
I love you, too
I sit there staring when theres nothing else to do
Oh, its in color
Your hair is brown
Your eyes are hazel
And soft as clouds
I often kiss you when theres no one else around
Ive got your picture, got your picture
Id like a million of em over myself
I want a doctor to take your picture
So I can look at you from inside as well
Youve got me turning up, Im turning down, Im turning in, and Im turning round
Im turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Ive got your picture, Ive got your picture
Id like a million of them over myself
I want a doctor to take your picture
So I can look at you from inside as well
Youve got me turning up, Im turning down, Im turning in, and Im turning round
Im turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
No sex, no drugs, no wine, no women
No fun, no sin, no you, no wonder its dark
Everyone around me is a total stranger
Everyone avoids me like a cyclone ranger
Everyone
Thats why Im turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
(think so, think so, think so)
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
Turning japanese, I think Im turning japanese, I really think so
(think so, think so, think so...)
song performed by by Liz Phair
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Behind
I saw an old man like a child,
His blue eyes bright, his white hair wild,
Who turned for ever, and might not stop,
Round and round like an urchin's top.
'Fool,' I cried, 'while you spin round,
'Others grow wise, are praised, are crowned.'
Ever the same round road he trod,
'This is better: I seek for God.'
'We see the whole world, left and right,
Yet at the blind back hides from sight
The unseen Master that drives us forth
To East and West, to South and North.
'Over my shoulder for eighty years
I have looked for the gleam of the sphere of spheres.'
'In all your turning, what have you found?'
'At least, I know why the world goes round.'
poem by G.K. Chesterton from The Wild Knight and Other Poems (1900)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Sir John de Vere
Sir John de Vere has took a quill
And set himself to sit and write
The sweetest love that is of men
To take unto his heart's delight.
And he has took a damsel fair
That flitteth by, beseemingly,
And with a strand of golden hair
Begun to weave her mystery.
The hair it flows from quill to sheet
In whorls and ripples it doth flow,
In twists and bends it eddies forth
To settle on the sheet below.
The hair is sweet in light perfume,
The quill it flows from page to page,
The lady's love has settled there
For all to read and all to know.
The lady's hair has bound her love
With golden tresses to the line,
Her heart is caught, it knows not where,
But may not move, and may not go.
Her skin, that of the lightest hue
Is soft to touch and soft to dare,
Sir John de Vere reveals anew
The secrets of her every where.
The more the pen skims on the page
The tighter are the bonds that bind,
The lady swoons in righteous rage
At whorls and eddies in her mind.
In whorls and eddies it doth flow
The golden hair, a flowing stream,
The cheek is caught and now the thigh,
Imprisoned for the world to know.
'You've made my love a whore', said she
'For all to come and take their sup,
My mind is open, disarrayed,
And so my thighs, my kirtle's up'.
Sir John heard not his lover's plea
But worked from day to night his joy
And took another golden strand
To work his quill another ploy.
And so his muse grew forth apace
His verse became a mighty work
And when his quill had run him dry
He went to seek his lover's face.
He sought and searched him far about
But never no sight of her did see,
Then mused apace before he turned
To seek the pages of his creed.
Among the parchment of his room
He found his love within the scrip',
And all the art and all the grace
He'd taken from his lover's lip.
And all the life and all the joy
Imprisoned on the churley sheet
To leave the shadow of his love
Bereft, and for the world to meet.
Sir John de Vere took on the thread
And pulled it from the final line,
That words that tumbled from his head
Should never not, nor now to bind.
And as the muse its thread was broke
A sigh came from his shadow love,
And colour caught in both the cheeks
And life came back in all the blood.
The arms he loosed then gripped him fast
And lips that whispered him to hear,
He will not write his love at last
Nor never again, will John de Vere.
25 April 1978
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Flick
The Flick
The blond girl had turned her back to the beach
head in hand her guitar flung aside, I think she
was crying. A man walked his dog another one
jogged, birds in V shape flew towards the eye of
the twilight; and no scientist saw the weeping girl.
Night, on a strand of sand that faced the mighty
Pacific Ocean I so often had crossed on my way
to the land of the setting sun. A girl alone and me
on a beach of forget us not, I walked over to tell
her go home; the girl was a heap of golden sand,
her fine guitar was flotsam of a blue fishing boat
and her bikini a tattered plastic shopping bag.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mind Dance
I caught my reflection in the mirror
It was my own hand that ran through my hair,
I listened as my favorite artist crooned
Closed my eyes
Imagined your touch
There in the warmth of your lap,
I rest my head
My eyes stay closed
Your hand
The hand of love and warmth
Gently caresses my face,
My mouth
And slowly
Your fingers run through my hair
From the base of my roots
to the tips of the strand
You touch me,
And I am whole.
poem by Nancy Fischer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Perfect Murder
Move inside my daydream
Like fingers in a glove
Twisting round and round and round
Round and round and round with love!
The meeker sleeker circle girls dressed in docile white
Spinning on a hill they follow the dracula kite
The first idea flew thin and uninvited from the sky
I reached out my hands and held the knife of ice
Very thin red water flowed underneath my skin
I turned their eyes blue children
The perfect murder
Wait until the darkest coldest summer nights
Thats when it starts
But if you blink you'll miss the fun
You'll lose their pretty hearts
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blushing Beauty!
As enchanting as the Moon
As vast as the Sky
As vibrating as the Peacock
As lustrous as the Pearl
As deep as the Ocean
As radiant as the Sun
As innumerous as the Stars
As conspicous as the Cherry
As fresh as the morning Dew
As enormous as the green Grass
As still as the dark Night
As lively as the flowing River
As occupying as the Moutain
As soothing as the cool Breeze
As rhythmic as the drops of Rain
As happy as the Flowers!
poem by Manjeshwari P MYSORE
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Twenty-Second Of December
Wild was the day; the wintry sea
Moaned sadly on New-England's strand,
When first the thoughtful and the free,
Our fathers, trod the desert land.
They little thought how pure a light,
With years, should gather round that day;
How love should keep their memories bright,
How wide a realm their sons should sway.
Green are their bays; but greener still
Shall round their spreading fame be wreathed,
And regions, now untrod, shall thrill
With reverence when their names are breathed.
Till where the sun, with softer fires,
Looks on the vast Pacific's sleep,
The children of the pilgrim sires
This hallowed day like us shall keep.
poem by William Cullen Bryant
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Coarse Morning
OH the yellow boisterous sea,
The surging, chafing, murderous sea!
And the wind-gusts hurtle the torn clouds by,
On to the south through a shuddering sky,
And the bare black ships scud aloof from the land.
'Tis as like the day as can be,
When the ship came in sight that came never to strand,
The ship that was blown on the sunken sand—
And he coming back to me!
Oh the great white snake of foam,
The coiling, writhing, snake of white foam,
Hissing and huddering out in the bay,
Over the banks where the wrecked ship lay,
Over the sands where the dead may lie deep!
There are some in the churchyard loam,
Some two or three the sea flung to our keep:
Their mothers can sit by a grave to weep,
But my son never came home.
Never, never, living or dead—
Oh, never, Willie, living or dead,
Could you keep your word and come back to me!
Oh, my darling! As like this day as can be,
When the ship came in sight that came never to strand,
When the ship came rounding the head,
Close to the haven and close to the sand.—
And their graves are long green that were tossed to land.
Ah, 'Sure to come back,' he said!
poem by Augusta Davies Webster
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Throwing me away
As missing the world sent away
I begin beckoning
Missing the world
The boring world came closer one strand by one strand
That one strand and one strand pierce me
I just start to beckon, though
Since I can't hold my heart
I struggle toward that world with trembling heart
Until the whole world is mine
You have to be mine
poem by Chulsoo Kim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Inside a Private Gate (Somewhere in Fantsayland)
When I open a private gate,
Getting excited I can't
wait.
To step inside a wonder
land,
Everything at my command.
Velvet carpet, ever so green,
Atmosphere, peaceful, serene.
A touch of magic in the air,
Flowers blooming, everywhere.
Resting beside a silent stream,
Sunlight began to gleam.
Upon a fairy playing there,
Golden threads hung, for her
hair.
Haunting eyes, misty they seem,
Upon a rose, she did lean.
Watched her dance in fairy
land,
Her lover came, touched her
hand.
Strolled away into the night,
Embracing in the pale moon-
light.
poem by Heather Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Woman & A Man
I took a walk today
To where the ocean meets the sky
I thought about the way
They always say love never dies
And as the sun went down
I saw a lovers silhouette
A woman and a man
In a dance I envied them
I thought of you
I loved you so
I dont know why
I let you go
A woman and a man
A love so close
Walk hand in hand
While Im alone
A woman and a man
A love embrace
He turned his head
I saw his face
Could it be you
Yes, it was you
A woman and a man
I had to turn away
I hoped you wouldnt see me there
I thought about the way
You used to say I didnt care
And as you walked on by
I pulled my scarf across my face
And I began to cry
For all the love Id thrown away
But there you were
Like in a dream
You were with her
And not with me
A woman and a man
A love so close
Walk hand in hand
While Im alone
A woman and a man
A love embrace
He turned his head
I saw his face
Could it be you
Yes, it was you
A woman and a man
A woman and a man
A woman and a man
A woman and a man
We were so close. baby
Guess you never know
Just how precious love is
til youve had it and held it
And let it go
A woman and a man
A love so close
Walk hand in hand
While Im alone
A woman and a man
A love embrace
He turned his head
I saw his face
Could it be you
Yes, it was you
A woman and a man
A woman and a man
A woman and a man
A woman and a man
song performed by by Belinda Carlisle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Im Not The One
Im not the one
That youll be shootin for
Im not the one
Whos coming back for more
(you know why)
Weve been through this so many a-times
(you know why)
Its never clear its pantomime
Goin round and round
(round and round)
cause you cant get on your feet
Goin round and round
(round and round)
Still takin all the heat
Goin round and round
(round and round)
Never lettin down
Im not the one
Whose memory you still keepin
Im not the one
Whos talkin in your sleep
(you know why)
I dont have to tell you twice
(you know why)
Knew you when you werent so nice
Goin round and round
(round and round)
cause you cant get on your feet
Goin round and round
(round and round)
Still takin all the heat
Goin round and round
(round and round)
Never touchin down
Im not the one
That youll be breakin in
And Im not the one
That youll be takin in
(you know why)
Tried and tried to crack the shell
(you know why)
When you fake its hard to tell
Goin round and round
(round and round)
cause you cant get on your feet
Goin round and round
(round and round)
Still takin all the heat
Goin round and round
(round and round)
cause you cant get on your feet
Goin round and round
(round and round)
Still takin all the heat
Goin round and round
(round and round)
(round and round)
Goin round and round
(round and round)
(round and round and round and round)
Goin round and round
(round and round)
(cause you cant get on your feet)
Goin (round and round)
(still takin all the heat)
(round and round)
(cause you cant get on your feet)
(round and round)
(still takin all the heat)
(round and round)
(cause you cant get on your feet)
(round and round)
(still takin all the heat)
[fade]
song performed by by Cars
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Orpheus In The Underworld
Curtains of rock
And tears of stone,
Wet leaves in a high crevice of the sky:
From side to side the draperies
Drawn back by rigid hands.
And he came carrying the shattered lyre,
And wearing the blue robes of a king,
And looking through eyes like holes torn in a screen;
And the distant sea was faintly heard,
From time to time, in the suddenly rising wind,
Like a broken song.
Out of his sleep, from time to time,
From between half open lips,
Escaped the bewildered words which try to tell
The tale of his bright night
And his wing-shadowed day
The soaring flights of thought beneath the sun
Above the islands of the seas
And all the deserts, all the pastures, all the plains
Of the distracting foreign land.
He sleeps with the broken lyre between his hands,
And round his slumber are drawn back
The rigid draperies, the tears and wet leaves,
Cold curtains of rock concealing the bottomless sky.
poem by David Gascoyne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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