Ever Fairest
Her wires fairer are
Than straightest blonde
For they take many shapes,
Her hair it does.
There is unusual beauty
In the form
That pretty norm I calculate
As foul
Then foul comes with all
Established beauty.
But her rare hair to me
Is ever fairest.
poem by Luis Estable
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Related quotes
Foul play
Foul play not good
Foul players destroy themselves.
Foul play means play with injustice
Foul play means neglect justice.
Foul play I do not like
Foul play I do not like.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Trailing Voices
A million cried
Help! Help! Help!
Another million yelled
Foul! Foul! Foul!
Before an unfeeling
Sovereign! In vain! !
And a billion populace
That raised the reign
Remained maimed!
Letting quietly its body
To be eater away
By its own organelle! ! !
poem by Sathya Narayana
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For at least another hundred years we must pretend to ourselves and to every one that fair is foul and foul is fair; for foul is useful and fair is not. Avarice and usury and precaution must be our gods for a little longer still.
quote by John Maynard Keynes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Y - hole- 8
Back at another hole.
Just not feeling that bold.
MAYBE getting old.
JUST THAT WATER HOLE.
Can't have no water.
FOUL-FOUL-FOUL-MAN-no water.
GO! ! ! Have a soda dude....or who ever.
Just want water man.
WE ONLY GOT - ACID RAIN - water.
DON'T need that trip.
But that is it.
100.00 dollars for a cool cup.
MAN-I said-MAN-WE GOT NO WATER.
YOU JUST OUT OF LUCK.
500 million cars are right.
EVERY DAY I NEED WATER.
DIE MAN-that's it # 8
1/18/2007 Joe Poewhit
JESUS SAVES
poem by Joe Poewhit
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Foul Mouths Shouting
This magic we hold...
Comes from deep 'withinside' of us.
The moment our hearts began to beat...
That magic of life,
Began
To sweep us up in its wonder....to keep,
In wonder.
And so ungrateful we become,
Soon after that's done.
With a so too often shown...
Disrespect to be allowed.
And foul mouths shouting...
In someone's house.
And so ungrateful we become,
And soon after that's done.
Foul mouths shouting...
In someone's house
To cuss it!
For what it is,
And what it is not!
Soiled from the beginning.
And spoiled to aggrevate and annoy!
A lot!
Until there is conflict.
And it does come.
And so ungrateful we become,
And soon after that's done.
Foul mouths shouting...
In someone's house
And we re-act the way we've been taught,
To defend ourselves.
From those 'bad guys'.
With their differences...
Few make attempts to hide.
Foul mouths shouting...
In someone's house rise.
And we spy on 'them'...
To undercover their weak spots!
Making it easier to do them in.
To cuss it!
For what it is,
And what it is not!
Soiled from the beginning.
And spoiled to aggrevate and annoy!
A lot.
Until there is conflict.
And it does start!
And so ungrateful we become,
And soon after that's done.
Foul mouths shouting...
In someone's house
To cuss it!
For what it is,
And what it is not!
Soiled from the beginning.
And spoiled to aggrevate and annoy!
A lot.
Until there is conflict.
And it comes to start again!
Foul mouths shouting...
To cuss it!
For what it is.
Foul mouths shouting...
To cuss it!
For what it is.
Foul mouths shouting...
To cuss it!
For what it is.
To cuss it!
For what it is.
To cuss it!
For what it is.
Cuss it!
For what it is.
To Cuss it!
For what it is.
Cuss it!
Cuss it!
Cuss it!
Cuss it!
Cuss it!
For what it is.
To Cuss it!
For what it is.
Cuss it!
For what it is.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Spring Gathering
I'm wondering with my soul prepared feeling off and on
breeze within the springtime glare.I have met in my
mind a woman more fair-fairer than the bending green
of brooks, rare is her beauty never misunderstood.
Fairer than the mist over hills and mountains.
Fairer than sunshine on water when it sparkles.
Fairer than the sound of birds calling, mating.
Fairer than rapture of rivers running full force.
Fairer than trees with leaves of gold.
Fairer inside those dark brown eyes.
Fairer than raindrops falling from rooftops.
Fairer than a breathing bed of flowers.
Fairer than the most enchanting pools of the jungle.
Fairer than the sky in a radiant blue.
Fairer in heart than I could have ever imagined.
poem by William Blackman
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I knew it was gonna go out. It was just a question of it being fair or foul. The wind must have carried it 15 feet toward the foul pole. I just stood there and watched. I didn't want to miss seeing it go out.
quote by Carlton Fisk
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Crazy Jane Talks With The Bishop
I met the Bishop on the road
And much said he and I.
'Those breasts are flat and fallen now,
Those veins must soon be dry;
Live in a heavenly mansion,
Not in some foul sty.'
'Fair and foul are near of kin,
And fair needs foul,' I cried.
'My friends are gone, but that's a truth
Nor grave nor bed denied,
Learned in bodily lowliness
And in the heart's pride.
'A woman can be proud and stiff
When on love intent;
But Love has pitched his mansion in
The place of excrement;
For nothing can be sole or whole
That has not been rent.'
poem by William Butler Yeats
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All existing things are really one. We regard those that are beautiful and rare as valuable, and those that are ugly as foul and rotten The foul and rotten may come to be transformed into what is rare and valuable, and the rare and valuable into what is foul and rotten.
quote by Chuang Tzu
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Her Name Rhymes With Mindy
Shes the one you see.
What more can I say?
Got the voice of an angel.
Perfect in every way.
From two till six,
we talked, we kissed.
The night was perfect bliss.
And I never felt like this.
Holding hands with her through the night.
I was scared, everythings all right.
I know I'm young.
She's smart, I'm dumb.
We leaned in for a kiss.
And I never felt like this.
This is for the girl who defines beauty
with her long blonde hair,
I can't see why everytime I see her,
I go weak in the knees.
Her name is Lindy and she want me.
As I think in my room of the feelings I have spawned,
I remind myself in two months you were gone.
My time with you my dreams came true,
and with you I can't miss.
And I never felt like this.
This is for the girl who defines beauty.
With her long blonde hair,
I can't see why everytime that I see her,
I go weak in the knees.
Her name is Lindy and she wants me.
I wrote this song to get you out of my mind.
But since I did, I think about you all the time.
This is for the girl who defines beauty.
With her long blonde hair,
I cant see why everytime I see her,
I go weak in the knees.
Her name is Lindy and she wants me.
She wants me and I want her.
song performed by by All American Rejects
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Foul Shots: A Clinic
for Paul Levitt Be perpendicular to the basket,
toes avid for the line.
Already this description
is perilously abstract: the ball
and basket are round, the nailhead
centered in the centerplank
of the foul-circle is round,
and though the rumpled body
isn't round, it isn't
perpendicular. You have to draw
'an imaginary line,' as the breezy
coaches say, 'through your shoulders.'
Here's how to cheat: remember
your collarbone. Now the instructions
grow spiritual -- deep breathing,
relax and concentrate both; aim
for the front of the rim but miss it
deliberately so the ball goes in.
Ignore this part of the clinic
and shoot 200 foul shots
every day. Teach yourself not to be
bored by any boring one of them.
You have to love to do this, and chances
are you don't; you'd love to be good
at it but not by a love that drives
you to shoot 200 foul shots
every day, and the lovingly unlaunched
foul shots we're talking about now --
the clinic having served to bring us
together -- circle eccentrically
in a sky of stolid orbits
as unlike as you and I are
from the arcs those foul shots
leave behind when they go in.
poem by William Matthews
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Find Satan
Forging a mail has in this world a finder,
A remark so foul that lords and ladies shall arrive.
In that border is a line or a wall,
And evil is the good of this wall.
Why does the Cocoon be strong to crack,
And then Sweden shall award a million?
A book is written of divine beauty,
It carried a solitude of ugly levers.
Hounds of distress are bent towards the stars up above,
Wolves of stone and ice, that dwell among the night.
Their boundaries are now immediate
And their entrails are foul.
Strength is the criminal feed, it is Satan!
poem by Naveed Akram
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Falstaff: By the Lord, a buck-basket! rammed me in with foul shirts and smocks, socks, foul stockings, greasy napkins; that, Master Brook, there was the rankest compound of villanous smell that ever offended nostril.
line from The Merry Wives of Windsor, Act III, Scene 5 by William Shakespeare (1602)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Suicide Blonde
(a farriss & m hutchence)
Suicide blonde
Suicide blonde
Suicide blonde
Suicide blonde
Suicide blonde
Was the colour of her hair
Like a cheap distraction
For a new affair
She knew it would finish
Before it began
Something tells me you lost the plan
Chorus
You want to make her
Suicide blonde
Love devastation
Suicide blonde
You want to make her
Suicide blonde
Love devastation
Suicide blonde
She stripped to the beat
But her clothes stay on
White light everywhere
But you cant see a thing
Such a squeeze
A mad sad moment
Glory to you
Glory to you
Take me there
Take me there
Got some revelation
Put into your hands
Save you from your misery
Like rain across the land
Dont you see
The colour of deception
Turning your world around again
Chorus
song performed by by INXS
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Sad Story About A Plight Of A Woman On The Other Side Of The World
he is talking to
a woman on the other side of
the world
a world that he cannot
feel
because he never saw
it
neither is the woman
since
she is on the other side
of the world
he was never there
he knows a lot
about her
he was told by so many
who tell him
that she lives with them
for a while
he hears everything about
those foul things about her
but he never smells them
can foul be foul when he only
hears it?
can a sense of smell be simply
heard?
while they were talking on the phone
she hints about how her lover
rejected her
about how her father abused her
how her mother abandoned
all of them
for another man
how their house was foreclosed
and how they have to move
to another place
again and again
how she had to sleep with other men
to make a living
etcetera etcetera
it was a long conversation
and it was then that he felt her
a madness not of her own causing
but of society as a whole
when she was finished
he nodded, for now
he understood.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dumb Blonde-It Seems True
People call me a dumb blonde
sometimes it seems true
i trip over my own feet
and i cant find the answer to an easy math problem
can the color of your hair change how you act?
if its true ill dye my hair pink
green
red
blue
silver
anything but blonde!
i love how it looks but i dont wanna be stupid!
Dumb Blonde?
I guess so
poem by Izzy Barnwell
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An Artist Of The Beautiful
GEORGE FULLER
Haunted of Beauty, like the marvellous youth
Who sang Saint Agnes' Eve! How passing fair
Her shapes took color in thy homestead air!
How on thy canvas even her dreams were truth!
Magician! who from commonest elements
Called up divine ideals, clothed upon
By mystic lights soft blending into one
Womanly grace and child-like innocence.
Teacher I thy lesson was not given in vain.
Beauty is goodness; ugliness is sin;
Art's place is sacred: nothing foul therein
May crawl or tread with bestial feet profane.
If rightly choosing is the painter's test,
Thy choice, O master, ever was the best.
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Sin (II)
O that I could a sin once see!
We paint the devil foul, yet he
Hath some good in him, all agree.
Sin is flat opposite to th' Almighty, seeing
It wants the good of virtue, and of being.
But God more care of us hath had:
If apparitions make us sad,
By sight of sin we should grow mad.
Yet as in sleep we see foul death, and live:
So devils are our sins in perspective.
poem by George Herbert
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The Second Voyage
1903
We've sent our little Cupids all ashore --
They were frightened, they were tired, they were cold:
Our sails of silk and purple go to store,
And we've cut away our mast of beaten gold
(Foul weather!)
Oh 'tis hemp and singing pine for to stand against the brine,
But Love he is our master as of old!
The sea has shorn our galleries away,
The salt has soiled our gilding past remede;
Our paint is flaked and blistered by the spray,
Our sides are half a fathom furred in weed
(Foul weather!)
And the Doves of Venus fled and the petrels came instead,
But Love he was our master at our need!
'Was Youth would keep no vigil at the bow,
'Was Pleasure at the helm too drunk to steer --
We've shipped three able quartermasters now.
Men call them Custom, Reverence, and Fear
(Foul weather!)
They are old and scarred and plain, but we'll run no risk again
From any Port o' Paphos mutineer!
We seek no more the tempest for delight,
We skirt no more the indraught and the shoal --
We ask no more of any day or night
Than to come with least adventure to our goal
(Foul weather!)
What we find we needs must brook, but we do not go to look,
Nor tempt the Lord our God that saved us whole.
Yet, caring so, not overmuch we care
To brace and trim for every foolish blast,
If the squall be pleased to seep us unaware,
He may bellow off to leeward like the last
(Foul weather!)
We will blame it on the deep (for the watch must have their sleep),
And Love can come and wake us when 'tis past.
Oh launch them down with music from the beach,
Oh warp them out with garlands from the quays --
Most resolute -- a damsel unto each --
New prows that seek the old Hesperides!
(Foul weather!)
Though we know their voyage is vain, yet we see our path again
In the saffroned bridesails scenting all the seas!
(Foul weather!)
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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