A Gorgeous Phantom
I witnessed a woman lovely enough to make blind eyes see a raven haired beauty her hair hung long in curls in eyes of blue I saw the wonder of the world clarity of the big picture in the small package of a simple girl but sadly it seems she only exists in my dreams.
poem by Isiah On a Corner in the Thundering Darkness
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My Little Brown Haired Girl
I keep a looking for my little brown haired girl
I've searched, I've looked all over the world for her
I've even been to county down
and even though you know how that story goes
mines different cause I had her
I lost her and now can't find my Rose.
I keep a looking for my little brown haired girl
I have the words I didn't express
the importance of you to me I did not stress
instead I did let my stress stop me from loving you my best
so I'm saving to buy a car, and I'm a heading a west.
I keep a looking for my little brown haired girl
cause when you are a boy, you know all boys wanna be men,
thinking of the time when we first met
the times together I will never forget them
I can't help but wonder if I'll ever look into your green eyes agen.
I keep a looking for my little brown haired girl
I'm dressed in my Sunday clothes
but I just look like a somebody nobody knows
when I was in county down I couldn't find you so I got you a rose
so if I knock on the door of your room please don't keep it closed.
Because I keep a looking for my little brown haired girl
there are many familiar in this world, but none like her
cause if you wanna walk towards me without her smile
I'll be telling you for more than a mile, you can run on
because when I see my little brown haired girl
I see she is now a young brown haired woman.
poem by Daniel McCann
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Vagabond Of The Western World
I could tell you the story of a vagabond
A playboy of the western world
One day by chance he came upon
A fair young maid, a country girl
He told her that he loved her
And he took all of her silver
He told her that he needed her too
He said hey baby, you got eyes of blue
But he was a vagabond
Blue eyes, oh baby blue, oh blue eyes
The kind of eyes that say I do eyes
Oh baby blue, oh blue eyes
Oh baby blue, oh blue eyes
He roamed around the cities
Searching for his fortune and fame
No lady ever got to know his name
Shame, but that was his game
Gave a girl a baby boy
He said this child is my pride and joy
Im busy running wild and free
Make sure he grows up like me
And Im a vagabond
Blue eyes, oh baby blue, oh blue eyes
The kind of eyes that say I do eyes
Oh baby blue, oh blue eyes
Oh baby blue, oh blue eyes
Oh I could tell you a story of a vagabond
He was a playboy of the western world
He wore an earring in his left ear
You see his father he was a gypsy
You just might meet him upon the highway
Pretty fine dancer too
But hes leave you blue, hed leave
Hed leave you woman
song performed by by Thin Lizzy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sitting With Gran.
Gran half blind stares at the sky.
Her snow-white hair bushes out
In an explosion of curls. I used
To sit here with you on my lap,
She says, and rocked you to sleep
While your mother went to the shops
Or off to work. You sit beside her
In your brand new suit and short cut hair,
Listening to her words as they hang in the air.
Your father was never much good at work
Or things that mattered, she says, knowing
He’d let her down, despite her brand of love
And concern. Don’t be like him, lad, be one
To be counted on, to be aware of others
Than yourself, don’t be blinded by self-love
Or what counts for you or your own
Small world. She looks at you with her blue
White eyes wherein a long ago world slowly dies.
poem by Terry Collett
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Picture Of A Little Boy
I have a lovely picture
Set in a golden frame;
A picture of a little boy,
I do not know his name.
He's sitting by a waggon,
Upon an old car-tyre;
To know just what he's thinking
Would be my heart's desire.
He seems so small and helpless,
And troubled in his mind;
But one, more cute than he,
I doubt that you could ever find.
His hair is blonde and beautiful,
His eyes the deepest blue;
He sits there like 'The thinker'
Debating what to do.
I love this little picture
That's hanging on my wall;
This picture of a little boy
So young and very small;
He looks a perfect mixture
Of two boys that I once knew;
Just sitting in time's window,
And I am looking through.
Written Oct 1994
poem by John Carter Brown
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Every Woman Has A Name
You were so beatiful
Like a child so young and full of life
Seems a hundred years ago
You saw everything
So much more tragedy than good
You eaven watched the world blow cold
And eaven when you're world was shaking
Eaven when you're breath was taken
Eaven when you're blue eyes turned to grey
Small town debutants and queens
Every woman has a name
Cocktail waitresses with dreams
Every woman has a name
And every girl who's loves survives
A broken heart to stay alive
You signed you're picture in the frame
Every woman has a name
You had your love affair
Some were perfect but most of them we're pain
Seems a hundred years ago
It took you to the highest hill
Left you standing frozen in the rain
But you still feel the afterglow
And eaven when you're world was shaking
Eaven when you're breath was taken
Eaven when you're blue eyes turned to grey
Housewife's crying on the phone
Every woman has a name
Sacred sisters all alone
Every woman has a name
And eaven on the coldest day
When the kids are gone, moved away
It's loneley now, there's noone there
To hold you're hand and play
I see it written on the grave
Every woman has a name
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A story true at times (in answer to Marge Piercy)
Remember the farmer
whose raven turned
into a lovely black haired woman?
Her hair shone with a metallic bluish sheen
and there was warmth in her lovely dark eyes
and her voice had a sweet melody
and she was very intelligent, sociable
and highly adaptable to farm life,
but just after their wedding,
she urged her husband for more and more jewels
loved precious stones, anything gleaming
and with time her manners became
increasingly material, wanting more, raving,
wanting a better house,
as if on the lookout
to be better than the neighbours
she started storing up seeds and nuts,
fruit, the meat of small animals and mammals
in the pantry
and went out to walk, to climb on the high cliffs
peering up at the highest trees
and her voice started to grow more hoarse
and when he got home one day
after labouring under the hot sun
the house was shattered
and everything pulled apart in shreds
and he saw a raven flying away
screeching before disappearing in the blue
and the truth remains
that although courtship turns birds into ladies
marriage, maturity
and age turn them back into old mad crows.
[Reference: A Story Wet as Tears by Marge Piercy.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Natalie
Eyes as blue as a tranquil sea
and just as brilliant as they can be.
These are the eyes of Natalie
with dark raven hair to frame for thee
a beautiful picture,
a work of art
to be remembered
in the heart of passersby
that are graced with the chance
to see her eyes.
Natalie, with eyes that captivate,
Oh the wonders that await
whatever it is you look upon
as you open your lids
on each new dawn.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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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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On A Good Night
(paul nelson/don cook/larry boone)
On a good night I could hop in my truck
Round up my friends and with any kind of luck
We could end up howling at a harvest moon
On a good night I could put on my hat
Head down to the honky tonk and dance
But on a real good night I meet a women like you
Brown hair blue eyes once in a life time countrified kind of girl
Heart-breaking chance-taking wild little love making
Shaking up my world
Hey on a good night I can picture the day
All my dreams come true
But on a real good night I meet a women like you
On a good night I can drive to the lake
Turn on the radio and find george strait
Then go play a little game of eight ball pool
On a good night I might be found
Draggin with the boys cross town
But on a real good night I meet a women like you
Brown hair blue eyes once in a life time countrified kind of girl
Heart-breaking chance-taking wild little love making
Shaking up my world
Hey on a good night I can picture the day
All my dreams come true
But on a real good night I meet a women like you
Brown hair blue eyes once in a life time countrified kind of girl
Heart-breaking chance-taking wild little love making
Shaking up my world
Hey on a good night I can picture the day
All my dreams come true
But on a real good night I meet a women like you
song performed by by Wade Hayes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beautiful Ladies
small or tall, little or big
short to long hair, let it flow
green to brown to blue, eyes to adore
frowns to to smiles, grins from cheek to cheek
slender to chunky to heavy set, size no matter
their gentle touch, the voice so soft
their hearts so big and brains so smart
their tears so sad, cries so bad
they are all the same in side and out
spirits and souls for us to enjoy
never forget who they are
a soul mate for someone, like you and me
look be on the cover, there is more to enjoy from the soul
beauty is the eye of the beholder
blind we are for the beauty might be in our eyes
and the smiles might turn to kisses
love them who there are, not for dreams we want
before we lose the one we love
poem by Michael Peterson
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Snowed Under
There's a cold voice on the air
You've been looking everywhere
For someone to understand your hopes and fears
Well I've thought about that for many long years
So I walk through Mansers Shaw
I don't see you anymore
We love to think about the way things were
But the time has come and I'm glad it's over
I don't know why I waste my time
Getting hung up about the things you say
When I open my eyes and it's a lovely day
You know sometimes I feel like I'm
Getting snowed under with the things you say
When I open my eyes and it's a lovely day
Now you think that you're alone
So you make your way back home
I'd love to greet the weary traveller
But your time has gone and I'm glad it's over
I don't know why I waste my time
Getting hung up about the things you say
When I open my eyes and it's a lovely day
You know sometimes I feel like I'm
Getting snowed under with the things you say
When I open my eyes and it's a lovely day
I don't know why I waste my time
Getting hung up about the things you say
When I open my eyes and it's a lovely day
You know sometimes I feel like I'm
Getting snowed under with the things you say
When I open my eyes and it's a lovely day
song performed by by Keane
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Woman Means Beauty
To say that she is a beauty is not correct
In a sense, woman herself is a beauty.
Gradations take place with in that.
The woman’s beauty transcends colour and creed.
She is the truth, the essence, the genius,
The exuberances and the bliss
And what not, to a man’s eyes?
But she is man’s pawn.
Her fashion is in man’s power designs.
In some places, her feet were made shrunk.
In some periods, her hair was slashed,
Sometimes curls, sometimes short or close cut.
Fabrics in reduction and then in
Abundance and to be cyclic.
A beautiful woman is a distorted woman.
18.11.2002
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A Colorado Girl
A Colorado girl captures my eye,
Such a beauty I have come by.
Eyes as blue as the lovely sea,
Hair as blonde as blonde can be.
I wish I knew this Colorado girl,
Who knows what emotions we could unfurl.
If only I could hear her voice,
That alone would make me rejoice.
A Colorado girl too far away,
A distance that leaves me in utter dismay.
If only she could hear my plea,
For love that may forever never be.
poem by Adam McKim
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Reading The Brothers Grimm To Jenny
Jenny, your mind commands
kingdoms of black and white:
you shoulder the crow on your left,
the snowbird on your right;
for you the cinders part
and let the lentils through,
and noise falls into place
as screech or sweet roo-coo,
while in my own, real, world
gray foxes and gray wolves
bargain eye to eye,
and the amazing dove
takes shelter under the wing
of the raven to keep dry.
Knowing that you must climb,
one day, the ancient tower
where disenchantment binds
the curls of innocence,
that you must live with power
and honor circumstance,
that choice is what comes true--
oh, Jenny, pure in heart,
why do I lie to you?
Why do I read you tales
in which birds speak the truth
and pity cures the blind,
and beauty reaches deep
to prove a royal mind?
Death is a small mistake
there, where the kiss revives;
Jenny, we make just dreams
out of our unjust lives.
Still, when your truthful eyes,
your keen, attentive stare,
endow the vacuous slut
with royalty, when you match
her soul to her shimmering hair,
what can she do but rise
to your imagined throne?
And what can I, but see
beyond the world that is,
when, faithful, you insist
I have the golden key--
and learn from you once more
the terror and the bliss,
the world as it might be?
Submitted by David Shackelford
poem by Lisel Mueller
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Mysterious Girl
There is a girl
With long black hair
With her big grey eyes
People can’t help but stare
Her beauty leaves a trace
Every time she walks by
She’s filled with magnificence
Such splendor you cannot deny
With her tall and fit body
She can blow fire off
As she walks past a crowd
Others can’t help but scoff
Her loveliness is admired by everyone
But her charm is envious by most women
By the way she dresses and walks
Her features are adored and gleamin’
Everything about her is stunning
She’s every girl and woman’s wanna be
Yet people did not know
That that girl with long black hair
And big grey eyes
Is me...
poem by Marria Attar
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Girl O' My Dreams
Here we go, 2 .. 1, 2, 3!
I want a woman like Marilyn Monroe
The kind of woman that'd never say no
The kind of woman that'd make U scream
"That's the girl o' my dreams!"
I want a woman that'll treat me right
Give me good lovin' all through the night
Take her on a date, she's my machine
That's the girl o' my dreams
CHORUS:
Oh, the girl o' my dreams
Oh, listen people, that's the girl o' my dreams
I want a woman like Lauren Bacall
Old and wrinkled but knows it all
Got all the little tricks that'll make me cream
That's the girl o' my dreams
I want a woman that'll wash my hair
Even wash my underwear
Always smilin', never mean
That's the girl o' my dreams
CHORUS
I would say that U're a chauvinist
No, I just got a lot of things that are on my list!
Yeah, if she couldn't hang, would U give her the fist?
No man, I'd sit her right down and give her a little kiss!
Oh, I need a woman like Lena Horne
Knowed she was funky since the day she was born
Lena's mama say "Doc, is it a girl?"
Doc say "And how!"
Lena smiled, slapped the doctor and said
"Sucker I'm runnin' things now!"
CHORUS
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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James Dean
(dieter bohlen)
Producer for bonnie: dieter bohlen
Grew up together in the neighbourhood
She never noticed that he looked so good
He told her all I do is dream of you, oh yeah
No she had never seen in her wildest dreams
Blue eyes that gleam - just like james dean
Big plans they made in a small hometown
No chance to leave would really bring him down
A crazy rebel with a cause - he was for sure, oh yeah
Oh she had never seen in her wildest dreams
Blue eyes that gleam - just like james dean
He writes her letters from a round the world
Says he loves her and shes still his girl
Maybe hell come back, dont know when
Oh shell never see her baby again
Hes got the whole world in his hands
And she was alice in his wonderland
Oh they had dreams, but now he has it all, yeah
No she had never seen in her wildest dreams
Blue eyes that gleam - just like james dean
She was the diamond of his eyes
And she would always be right by his side
But good guys only win in the movies, yeah
Oh she had never seen in her wildest dreams
Blue eyes that gleam - just like james dean
He writes her letters from around the world
Says he loves her and shes still his girl
Maybe hell come hack, dont know when
Oh shell never see her baby again
song performed by by Bonnie Tyler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Simple Woman
Simple woman who does not put make-up
Doesn't follow in fashion, the way she dress up
Long skirt and blouses, covered from bottom to top
Never been seen her fine good skin
But she is a woman with good lookin.
Simple woman who captured my heart
Though I can only see her from afar
My eyes sticked and don't blink apart
With black long hair and smile she makes
That feels me like going for a race.
Simple woman I'm dreaming every night
Wants to hold her and hug her tight
Sometimes imagine her in a dim light
Dancing with me till midnight
With love song and romantic candle light.
Simple woman is what I need in my life
'Coz I'm sure she would be a faithful wife
Has pure heart and sincere love that reside
Oh! woman I need you by my side
Wish you love me, and be mine.
poem by Judith Kempis
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Even More Domineering
I love Rudi’s protectiveness, Juliette says
I’m a disgrace to all feminists, I love his
jealousy while Juliette points out that she
is the great beauty, not I, she has the hair,
seriously beautiful hair, long legs and big
blue eyes; while I have soft hair, light-sen-
sitive eyes and short legs and a non-sexy
smile, Juliette has been crowned first
princess in a beauty pageant
She mockingly threatens to steal Rudi from
me, he’s much too handsome and I’m much
too clinging, she says, but I disagree, I asked
him could he have chosen Juliette if he had
met her first, he burst out laughing and said
not on your life, I don’t care for eyes, legs and
hair, but about what’s inside, I asked him if
he loved what’s inside me more
than the outside –
He replied, I love what’s inside AND I adore
the package in which you arrived, he kissed
my non-glamorous hair and my light-sensitive
eyes and said he liked the fire that lived inside,
he kissed my non-sexy smile and said the love
in the line of my lips drove him wild, I asked him
about my being too dependent and forcing him
to be domineering, using Juliette’s arguments;
he decided then and there
To become even more domineering instead
and marched me off to bed…
poem by Louise Tredoux
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Moonlight On Her Hair
Once long ago I saw moonlight on her hair.
It captivated my senses and I could not stop my stare.
It created a picture that would always stay.
I prayed that this scene would never fade away.
The silken strands were gleaming
for the moonbeams that were streaming
and that picture is with me every day.
When I find I'm lonely because she's not here
my mind comes alive and the picture is clear,
Of all the things of beauty that have graced my eyes,
none could be more wondrous then the moonlit skies.
For it gave me a gift that always stays with me.
When I close my eyes it's her hair that I see.
Oh that I could touch those shining strands again
I'd know that heaven was with me and she'd understand
that moonlight for me is a picture of her
and when I see it shining all else becomes a blur.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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