Day In Day Out
in the morning you work
the work is dull till you see her
with hair as golden as the sun
a face that only compairs to the gods
the day gose quickly and you go home
though you only think of her
the worker known as the boss
you see her in the dark and
in the light but you are sleeping
next to your wife
the next day you go to work
though you find know one
that has a face that more
gorgeous as a god
or hair as golden as the sun
insted you find that the goddess
with the hair as golden as the sun
the face that makes even the god jelouse
never egsisted but in your mind
though when you get home
your eye go as wide as tho sun
when you see the face that make god jelouse
is the one that you married shes your wife
so you see her every night with flower in hand
for the ladie with the golden hair
poem by Daniel Thompson
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Related quotes
Day In Day Out
in the morning you work
the work is dull till you see her
with hair as golden as the sun
a face that only compares to the gods
the day goes quickly and you go home
though you only think her
the worker known as the boss
you see her in the dark and
in the light but you are sleeping
next to your wife
the next day you go to work
though you find know one
that has a face that more
gorgeous as a god
or hair as golden as the sun
poem by Aaron Dacey
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Her Golden Veil
She moves to kiss me from above,
her body over mine,
moves to brush back her hair,
to keep it from my face when,
stopping her hand,
I draw her closer and,
nearing me, her hair
falls around my head.
A curtain, golden, for us,
just her and me,
intensifying intimacy,
and concealing us,
just her and me,
in a golden dusk
that, as it closes,
disregards all the world,
but her and me.
Her face,
her lips,
her breath,
her mouth.
And me.
poem by Red O'Mara
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Man With The Golden Gun
The man
With the golden gun
Is waiting
Somewhere
Out there
For you
But you'll never see him
He'll be looking for you
Demand
For the golden gun
It's high priced
Precise
And true
But you'll never see him
He'll be looking for you
The man with the golden
Gun in his pocket, Oh, oh
The man with the golden
Gun in his case, Oh, oh
The man with the golden
Gun in your face
But you'll never see him
He'll be looking for you
You better believe
He'll be looking for you
He-e-e-e-e-e's, The man with the golden
Gun in his pocket
The man with the golden
Gun in his case
The man with the golden
Gun in his pocket
The man with the golden
Gun in your face
But you'll never see him
He'll be looking for you
You better believe
He'll be looking for yo-ou
He-e-e-e-e-e's, The man with the golden
Gun in his pocket
The man with the golden
Gun in his case
The man with the golden
Gun in his pocket
The man with the golden
Gun in your face
The man with the go-o-olden
Gun in his pocket
The man with the go-o-lden
Gun in his case
The man who gave you the golden gun
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Babe
She was wearing a white linen suit,
the skirt just above the knees.
Of course her hair was golden.
Of course those breasts were D's.
Her golden tresses framed a face
with eyes, Aeolian blue.
Those hips could launch a thousand ships,
if Helen's myth be true.
I slowed down for the orange light,
not my modus operandi.
My wife became suspicious-
then she spotted my eye candy.
“Don't be staring at that girl.'
she said, petulantly.
'What girl? ' I said,
the light turned red,
disingenuously
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Feri's Dream
I Had a little dog, and my dog was very small;
He licked me in the face, and he answered to my call;
Of all the treasures that were mine, I loved him most of all.
His nose was fresh as morning dew and blacker than the night;
I thought that it could even snuff the shadows and the light;
And his tail he held bravely, like a banner in a fight.
His body covered thick with hair was very good to smell ;
His little stomach underneath was pink as any shell;
And I loved him and honoured him, more than words can tell.
We ran out in the morning, both of us, to play,
Up and down across the fields for all the sunny day ;
But he ran so swiftly--he ran right away.
I looked for him, I called for him, entreatingly. Alas,
The dandelions could not speak, though they had seen him pass,
And nowhere was his waving tail among the waving grass.
The sun sank low. I ran; I prayed: ' If God has not the power
To find him, let me die. I cannot bear another hour.'
When suddenly I came upon a great yellow flower.
And all among its petals, such was Heaven's grace,
In that golden hour, in that golden place,
All among its petals, was his hairy face.
poem by Frances Darwin Cornford
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What Happen To The Angel?
There are times when
your brain goes in reverse.
This is the time when
you want a good nurse.
One that has the looks of an angel,
with long golden hair,
and eyes like deep pools of blue.
The ones that you could swim
around in them forever.
Suddenly the brain
kicks into forward drive.
You blink and blink again
at the vision stand there.
A grumpy face
that is weathered fine.
Black spots for eyes,
hands callused and ruff
married in with a voice gruff.
What happen to the angel,
the one with the long golden hair?
She is gone in the dream
and you’re left with an angel in reverse.
Your brain now tries
to think of a resolution.
However, I’m going to leave it here
for you to make up your own conclusion.
poem by David Harris
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Brilliantine
This hair,
They never looked her way,
Never understood from where she came
And digressed on the story of the grease
In her hair.
There was none.
They never touched her face,
Looked her way,
Nor saw importance in the moment
When she needed one
To hold her hand.
Or take the time for her
When it was called for.
It was the glossy brilliantine.
And the hidden styling.
The face again,
Which had the tendency to glance away.
And the hair which had no grease.
The clear hair that shone of cleanliness
In the light of the dirty windows.
The brown hair
Giving importance to the chrome
Of her eyes.
But they never looked away,
Digressing on the story of the grease
In her hair.
poem by Sammy Edrisi
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Prairie Wedding
We only knew each other by letter,
When I met her over the train,
When the smoke cleared and the dust was still,
She was standing there speaking my name.
I guarantee she looked like an angel,
I couldnt think of what I should say,
But when Adam saw Eve in the garden,
I believe he felt the selfsame way.
I handed her up on the wagon,
And I loaded up her trunk behind,
She was sitting up there with the gold in her hair,
I tried to get a hope on my mind.
You think that you could love me, Mary? ,
You think we got a chance of a life,
Do you think that you could love me, Mary?
Now you are to be my wife.
We finally headed out of the station,
And drove up my home trail,
And when we came to the farm she laid a hand on my arm,
I thought my resolution would fail.
Now froze as she stepped thru the doorway,
And I stood there as still as could be,
I said: I know, it aint much it needs a womans touch,
Perhaps she turned around and looked at me.
Do you think that you could love me, Mary? ,
You think we got a chance of a life,
Do you think that you could love me, Mary?
Now you are to be my wife.
We had a prairie wedding,
There was a preacher and a neighbor or two,
I gave my golden thing, a gold wedding ring,
And the both of us said I do.
Now when the sun is going down in the prairie,
And the golden hair is a flame,
I say do you really love me, Mary?
I hold her and I whisper her name.
Do you think that you could love me, Mary? ,
You think we got a chance of a life,
Do you think that you could love me, Mary?
Now you are to be my wife...
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love's Own.
Ah, that hair no age can dye
That is golden in Love's eye,
And that face time cannot touch
On which Love has gazed so much.
Other hair and faces may
Take on changes and decay:
Hers, if Love endures, must be
Sure of immortality,
Since no changes can occur
In the dream he's made of her.
poem by Robert Crawford
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Want More Hair?
I'd love
I think
more hair
more hair
like a big
old grizzly bear
more hair makes
you manly
more hair
makes you tough
more hair feels
like carpet
more hair keeps
you rough
more hair
for pretty ladies
to rub their faces on
more hair for
guys to jealous of
and more locks that can
be flung
I think more hair would be awesome
but I wouldn't wanna overdo it
because too much hair would make
me like a little furry blanket
and I couldn't cover both of us
just you and that ain't fair
more hair!
poem by John W. McEwers
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Three Flower Petals
When saw I yesterday walking apart
In a leafy place where the cattle wait?
Something to keep for a charm in my heart-
A little sweet girl in a garden gate.
Laughing she lay in the gold sun's might,
And held for a target to shelter her,
In her little soft fingers, round and white,
The gold-rimmed face of a sunflower.
Laughing she lay on the stone that stands
For a rough-hewn step in that sunny place,
And her yellow hair hung down to her hands,
Shadowing over her dimpled face.
Her eyes like the blue of the sky, made dim
With the might of the sun that looked at her,
Shone laughing over the serried rim,
Golden set, of the sunflower.
Laughing, for token she gave to me
Three petals out of the sunflower;-
When the petals are withered and gone, shall be
Three verses of mine for praise of her,
That a tender dream of her face may rise
And lighten me yet in another hour,
Of her sunny hair and her beautiful eyes,
Laughing over the golden sunflower.
poem by Archibald Lampman
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I Dreamt You
I dreamt you
last night
After years that I thought
that my dreams were dry
as I remember
all those days
before I lost my I
Your face clear in the crowd
your hallow curly hair
the innocence of childhood still
no stains beyond repair
I dreamt you
in a middle
of another dream.
Just standing
looking forward
with that look upon your face,
without a smile
without a tear
in golden shining innocence
Your face was like the moon
in full glow but of cold
as if the preview of your life
when your dreams will grow old
I dreamt you
in a riddle
of an unknown golden mean.
Teasing me
with your eyes wide
your gaze so true
in holy hue
a lie could not avail
no passenger in this old ride
but captain of the sail
I dreamt you
last night.
I awoke in comfort and at ease
a master of my life and
in my hands I hold the keys.
I woke refreshed and energised
with certainty I knew
that all is well and there is hope
for I am still just you.
poem by Boaz Zippor
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And you still do not care
Your golden eyes,
Your golden hair,
Your golden voice
I always hear.
I say these words
With such a fear
And you, my dear,
You still don't care.
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Illusion
Illusion
Don´t mention the moon, but it looks
like a rocking chair made gold platted
by lovers restless hands and dreams.
Park benches soft as duvet when you
hold around her not trying to blow
cigarette smoke in her hair.
Moonlight has made her face forgiving,
you know she has been married twice
and has two grown up children.
Yet you love her tonight
while the moon paints her hair golden.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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I've Got a Golden Ticket
I never thought my life could be
Anything but catastrophe
But suddenly I begin to see
A bit of good luck for me
'Cause I've got a golden ticket
I've got a golden twinkle in my eye
I never had a chance to shine
Never a happy song to sing
But suddenly half the world is mine
What an amazing thing
'Cause I've got a golden ticket
It's ours, Charlie
I've got a golden sun up in the sky
I never thought I'd see the day
When I would face the world and say
Good morning, look at the sun
I never thought that I would be
Slap in the lap of luxury'
Cause I'd have said it couldn't be done
But it can be done
I never dreamed that I would climb
Over the moon in ecstasy
But nevertheless, it's there that I'm
Shortly about to be
'Cause I've got a golden ticket
I've got a golden chance to make my way
And with a golden ticket, it's a golden day
Good morning, look at the sun'
Cause I'd have said it couldn't be done
But it can be done
I never dreamed that I would climb
Over the moon in ecstasy
But nevertheless, it's there that I'm
Shortly about to be
'Cause I've got a golden ticket'
Cause I've got a golden ticket
I've got a golden chance to make my way
And with a golden ticket, it's a golden day
poem by Roald Dahl
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The Sermon in the Stocking
The supper is over, the hearth is swept,
And in the wood-fire's glow
The children cluster to hear a tale
Of that time so long ago,
When grandmamma's hair was golden brown,
And the warm blood came and went
O'er the face that could scarce have been sweeter then
Than now in its rich content.
The face is wrinkled and careworn now,
And the golden hair is gray;
But the light that shone in the young girl's eyes
Has never gone away.
And her needles catch the fire's light
As in and out they go,
With the clicking music that grandma loves
Shaping the stocking's toe.
And the waking children love it too,
For they know the stocking song
Brings many a tale to grandma's mind
Which they shall hear ere long.
But it brings no story of olden time
To grandma's heart tonight,--
Only a ditty quaint and short
Is sung by the needles bright.
'Life is a stocking,' grandma says,
'And yours is just begun;
But I am kniting the toe of mine,
And my work is almost done.
'With merry hearts we begin to knit,
And the ribbing is almost play;
Some are gay-colored, and some are white,
And some are ashen gray.
'But most are made of many a hue,
With many a stitch set wrong,
And many a row to be sadly ripped
Ere the whole is fair and strong.
'There are long plain stretches without a break,
That in youth are hard to bear;
And many a weary tear is dropped
As we fashion the heel with care.
'But the saddest, happiest time is that
We court and yet would shun,
When our Heavenly Father breaks the thread,
And says our work is done.'
And the children come to say good-night,
With tears in their bright young eyes;
While in grandma's lap, with broken thread,
The finished stocking lies.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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Golden Autumn Day
Well I heard the bells ringing, I was thinking about winning
In this God forsaken place
When my confidence was well, then I tripped and I felt
Right flat on my face
Now Im standing erect, and I feel like coming back
And the sun is shining gold
Put a smile on my face, get back in the human race
And get on with the show
And Im taking in the indian summer
And Im soaking it up in my mind
And Im pretending that its paradise
On a golden autumn day, on a golden autumn day
On a golden autumn day, an a golden autumn day
In the wee midnight hour I was parking my car
In this dimly lit town,
I was attacked by two thugs, who took me for a mug
And shoved me down on the ground
And they pulled out a knife, and I fought my way up
As they scarpered from the scene
Well this is no new york street, and theres no bobby on the beat
And things aint just what they seem
And Im taking in the indian summer
And Im soaking it up in my mind
And Im pretending that its paradise
On a golden autumn day, on a golden autumn day
On a golden autumn day, an a golden autumn day
Who would think this could happen in a city like this
Among blakes green and pleasant hills,
And we must remember as we go through september
Among these dark satanic mills
If theres such a thing as justice I could take them out and flog them
In the nearest green field
And it might be a lesson to the bleeders of the system
In this whole society
And Im taking in the indian summer
And Im soaking it up in my mind
And Im pretending like its paradise
On a golden autumn day, on a golden autumn day
On a golden autumn day, on a golden autumn day, golden autumn day ...
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Girl Of Mine
(words & music by l. reed - b. mason)
When your asleep beside me, I watch you lying there
Your hand upon the pillow and moonlight in your hair
I get the warmest feeling, so good I almost cry
I kiss your sleeping lips and say Ill love you till I die
Oh girl of mine you make my day
One sunny smile and all the clouds just roll away
Eyes deep as the sea seem to say to me
Our love will always be
So girl of mine turn out the light
And in my arms together well make sweet love tonight
Down lifes golden road and youll always know
I love you ... girl of mine
Sometimes I know I hurt you when things aint goin right
I walk away and leave you to face the lonely night
I wouldnt blame you darlin if you walked out on me
But I return to find you there still waiting patiently
Oh girl of mine you make my day
One sunny smile and all the clouds just roll away
Eyes deep as the sea seem to say to me
Our love will always be
So girl of mine turn out the light
And in my arms together well make sweet love tonight
Down lifes golden road and youll always know
I love you ... girl of mine
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Manami
I am Sorry. I am sorry those are the only words I can put to effort I am sorry I was not there to tell you good night, I am sorry that I wasn't there for your recitals. I am sorry I was not there to brush your hair, or get you ready for prom, I am sorry that I was not at you graduation that balmy June day. I am sorry that I was not at your wedding, to your dark haired handsome husband now that I look back and wish I could brush your blonde hair or to see your smiling face but, only in my dreams no more will I see the face of my young. I am sorry that I am your mother and for not being there when you need me the most so forgive me my sweet brown eyed blonde hair and with light tanned skin. Manami. I am Sorry.
poem by Raine Uchiha
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A wet slobbery kiss
I was sat dozing in the chair
enjoying my afternoon siesta
quickly I fell into a deep sleep
and into my thoughts came Esther.
She was someone from the past
and she was my very first love
she looked just like an angel
with wings like a heavenly dove.
I was mesmerised by her beauty
and by her long golden hair
and when she whispered my name
I began to float through the air.
She took hold of my hand
and said we're together at last
we don't need the present
we can return to our past.
Then we floated to the ground
and both of our bodies did glow
but a loud voice proclaimed
it's time for you to go.
Esther said before I depart
we must have one final kiss
my heart had been shattered
once again by this beautiful Goddess.
But as I embraced her into my arms
I woke up in my living room chair
with Esther my overweight Labrador
licking my face and chewing at my hair!
poem by Kevin Halls
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