Riding In
raven hair
held by
a silver pin
something turn
of century about
the elegant curve
of cheek
the way she
turns easily
away her small
hand gripping
the bright chromium
pole a raspberry
scarf wound
loosely round
her neck she
will say
nothing I
will say
nothing back
as she moves
through the door
a lovely
white boat lifted
by a gentle wave
gently further out
poem by Elliot Figman
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Related quotes
Raspberry Beret
1 2 1 2 3
Yeah
I was working part time in a five-and-dime
My boss was mr. mcgee
He told me several times that he didnt like my kind
cause I was a bit 2 leisurely
Seems that I was busy doing something close 2 nothing
But different than the day before
Thats when I saw her, ooh, I saw her
She walked in through the out door, out door
She wore a
Raspberry beret
The kind u find in a second hand store
Raspberry beret
And if it was warm she wouldnt wear much more
Raspberry beret
I think I love her
Built like she was
She had the nerve 2 ask me
If I planned 2 do her any harm
So, look here
I put her on the back of my bike
And-a we went riding
Down by old man johnsons farm
I said now, overcast days never turned me on
But something about the clouds and her mixed
She wasnt 2 bright
But I could tell when she kissed me
She knew how 2 get her kicks
She wore a
Raspberry beret
The kind u find in a second hand store
Raspberry beret
And if it was warm she wouldnt wear much more
Raspberry beret
I think I love her
The rain sounds so cool when it hits the barn roof
And the horses wonder who u are
Thunder drowns out what the lightning sees
U feel like a movie star
Listen
They say the first time aint the greatest
But I tell ya
If I had the chance 2 do it all again
I wouldnt change a stroke
cause baby Im the most
With a girl as fine as she was then
(raspberry beret)
The kind u find (the kind u find)
The kind u find (in a second hand store)
Oh no no
(raspberry beret)
(and if it was warm)
Where have all the raspberry women gone? (she wouldnt wear much more)
Yeah (raspberry beret)
I think i... I think i... I think I love her
(raspberry beret)
No no no
No no no (the kind u find)
(in a second hand store)
(raspberry beret)
Tell me
Where have all the raspberry women gone? (and if it was warm she)
(wouldnt wear much more)
(raspberry beret)
I think I love...
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dr's Waiting Room
Silver grey hair
wrinkles like hiways on a map
a floral pattern on her dress
must have been made in 1932
she sat waiting
Silver white hair
wrinkles like ditches by the roadway
white t-shirt, blue suspenders-no belt
tan slacks
he sat waiting, with her
She reached over
kissed his cheek
he held her hand...
in their ninety's....
young lovers
poem by Joe Howell
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Not Always What We Seek
After you'd got on
the school bus
and sat down
in one of the side seats
Jane said
who did you fight with
in the playground
lunchtime?
Woolgar
you said
he pushed me over
against the wire fence
and I got up
and went for him
she looked disappointed
I didn't think
you could be violent
she said
I'm not usually
but it was an automatic
response to being
pushed over
you said
my daddy said
one should turn
the other cheek
especially if you're a Christian
she said softly
the school bus
started up
and took off down
the school drive
sorry
you said
but the creep
got under my skin
and if you let them
get away with it once
they'll always do it
she gazed at you
then out
of the window
at the passing shops
and buildings
of the town
were you watching?
you asked
yes I saw you
from the girl's playground
she muttered
not looking round
guess it looked
kind of bad
yes it did
she turned
and looked at you
but at least
you don't do it
all the time
she said
and touched
your hand
with hers
and you felt sad
inside that you'd
made her feel like that
and you saw
how lovely her
dark eyes were
how there seemed
to be a mini universe
in them with their own
galaxies and stars
and moons
next time I'll think twice
you said
before hitting
the other boy
she nodded
and smiled
and her hand
squeezed yours
her skin soft and warm
her hair black
and drawn back
into a ponytail
sitting there
beside you
her grey school skirt
and jumper
and white blouse
the neck open
the sight
of her throat
and you wanting
to kiss but not doing so
her neck
her skin
the feel
of her hair
against your cheek
sometimes
you thought
we can't have
what we seek.
poem by Terry Collett
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When We Dance
When we dance
I take your hand
and dizzy you round-
your eyes flash by-
each twirl a twinkle light,
now here
then round
and twinkle again.
When we dance
my hand settles round
the neck's nape
and gentle falls
to your shoulder blades
meandering then
to the magic
spot
in the small of your back,
where time stops
from that simple touch
and your twirl
ends
when your bosom breasts
make their touch;
my chest
heaves
like an ocean wave
which first retreats
then comes crashing back
upon your soft shore.
You breathe
lifting me it seems
with the shear
heat
your breathing brings.
When we dance
there is
too, too
much
to miss;
we do
it over
and over
again.
My leg
entwines
yours
for luck.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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In The Arms Of My Angel
I'm in the arms of my angel being lifted high in the sky.
my angel won't release me i'm being held really tight.
when i get to where i'm going i will be sat down very gently.
a gentle wave, a great big smile, my angel will softly say
goodbye.
being held in my angels arms i'm as happy as can be
knowing that i'm extremely safe when my angel has ahold
of me.
poem by Barbara Richard
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Incantation
A white well
In a black cave;
A bright shell
In a dark wave.
A white rose
Black brambles hood;
Smooth bright snows
In a dark wood.
A flung white glove
In a dark fight;
A white dove
On a wild black night.
A white door
In a dark lane;
A bright core
To bitter black pain.
A white hand
Waved from dark walls;
In a burnt black land
Bright waterfalls.
A bright spark
Where black ashes are;
In the smothering dark
One white star.
poem by Elinor Morton Wylie
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Dunne Studying.
Dunne watches her mistress sleep.
There is the flickering of the eyelids
As if in dream. She gets out of bed
And with soft tread walks to her
Mistress’s bed side and looks down.
She holds her breath. She takes in
Each aspect of the face and neck
And how the hair is spread upon
The pillow. She wants to lean down
And kiss the lips, put flesh to flesh.
She hovers like some hawk waiting
To fly down and take her fine prey.
She breathes out slowly. She watches
The rise and fall of her mistress’s breast.
She moves out a hand to lay it there
But does not touch. She imagines so.
Imagines also climbing into the bed
And snuggling up close and kissing
The nape of neck. Her hand lingers
Over the breasts. Her eyes greedily
Study the soft cheek. She breathes
In deep. Her heart pounds within her
Breast. So near so near. She imagines
Lying within those arms and feeling
The hands caress her back. Her mistress
Stirs and she moves away. Walks back
To her own bed to await the light of day.
poem by Terry Collett
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Silver Lining
My muffins are in the toaster
I got my raspberry jam
My grandfather was a sailor
That came onto this land
And he was looking for gold,
A pretty hand to hold,
Or some cards to fold.
At least, thats what I was told.
Silver lining
Silver lining, whered you go?
Turn on my tv
They got talking heads in space
Used to be so easy
To have a little faith
I used to rely on luck
I didnt feel so stuck
Could earn an honest buck
Without lookin round, like jon kruk.
Silver lining
Silver lining, whered you go?
I used to have hope
Now we got soap on a rope
I used to have dreams
Now we got overplayed baseball teams
We got grocery baggers, grafitti taggers,
Golf-ball shaggers, go team go.
Silver lining
Silver lining, whered you go?
My landlord knocks upon my door
Hes got that payday face
I swear to God he should be payin me
To live inside this place
Its filled with sharks and fins
Whose double chins say
Thicken your skin, child
If you want to win
Silver lining
Silver lining, whered you go?
I fix myself some herbal tea
Cause its healthier they say
Well, healthier aint half as fun
I take a cold beer anyday
I used to have dysfunctional fun
In the cancerous sun
With my co-dependent hon
Eatin greasy greasy hotdogs on a buttered up bun
Silver lining
Silver lining, whered you go?
Silver lining
Silver lining, whered you go?
[scat solo]
Repeat refrain. (x2)
song performed by by Jewel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Buried By Time
the earth
turns round and round
feeding on time
on and on
second upon second
minute upon minute
hour by hour
year by year
decade by decade
century by century
burying me
till i am nothing
more than
a fraction
of a millionth
of second
a fragment of
bone, small
as dust
a mere breath of air
and too small
for anybody
to give a thought to
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Leather and Silk
It was a dance
at least I think it was
the silk scarf
drawn across her face
til only her eyes were revealed
having in them that playful gleam
only love play brings.
She took the scarf
allowing it to play
across her hips
which moved unseen behind the silk
making the scarf move
buffed by unseen promises..
It slithered up between her breasts
languishing upon her shoulders bare
then suddenly twirling
about her head
her laughing
a crystal laugh
spinning
round
wrapping her self in the silken wave
a twirling dervish
of light and perfume.
I rise
my back straight
fixing her gaze
advancing
hypnotized by her eyes
fixing me
capturing me
inside her now close breath
exhaling;
scarf thin is the space
between
and we both breathe shared air
inhale and exhaled waves
mutually taken in;
we both now light of head
with heat
and intoxicating oxygens
diving deep with
lung cavities
where they dance and swirl
exhale
and set themselves to receive
new incoming
exhilarations.
The eyes now closed
the scarf comes up again
circling my neck;
she taking both ends
drawing me close
eyes never leaving mine
frozen time
her body
was now my body
and I hers.
We two
now at short scarf length
twirl
my belt
now in play
encircling her neck;
my leather;
her silk;
joined
as our hearts play.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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An Open Boat
O, what is that whimpering there in the darkness?
'Let him lie in my arms. He is breathing, I know.
Look. I'll wrap all my hair round his neck' - 'The sea's rising,
The boat must be lightened. He's dead. He must go.'
See - quick - by that flash, where the bitter foam tosses,
The cloud of white faces, in the black open boat,
And the wild pleading woman that clasps her dead lover
And wraps her loose hair round his breast and his throat.
'Come, lady, he's dead.' - 'No, I feel his heart beating,
He's living, I know. But he's numbed with the cold.
See, I'm wrapping my hair all around him to warm him.' -
- 'No. We can't keep the dead, dear. Come, loosen your hold.
'Come. Loosen your fingers.' - ' O God, let me keep him!' -
O, hide it, black night! Let the winds have their way!
And there are no voices or ghosts from that darkness,
To fret the bare seas at the breaking of day.
poem by Alfred Noyes
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The Touch Of Your Hand
On the day that you were born
I touched your hand so chubby and warm.
I touched your hand when you were one
and helped you walk my beautiful son.
I held your hand when you were two.
We ran, your favorite thing to do.
I held your hand when you were three
as you climbed on my lap and smiled at me.
I touched your hand when you were four
as the ocean touched our toes at the shore.
I touched your hand when you were five
walking you to school but when we'd arrive
I felt the tug of your hand from mine
and I knew that we had crossed a line.
I looked at you and released your hand
and said'it's okay I understand.'
As I walked back home I cried some tears
thinking of all our hand holding years.
Holding your hand became sporadic now,
when you were feverish or I felt your brow.
I held your hand a few times as a teen
but always alone so it wouldn't be seen.
I held your hand after you said, 'I do.'
We danced together just me and you.
After some years went by my son
you held the hand of your little one.
And so the times of your life turn around
and now that my hand is old I've found
you take my hand and help me walk
and as you do we intimately talk.
And it takes me back to that bright early morn
when I held your hand so chubby and warm.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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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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Relationships--of all kinds--are like sand held in your hand. Held loosely, with an open hand, the sand remains where it is. The minute you close your hand and squeeze tightly to hold on, the sand trickles through your fingers. You may hold onto some of it, but most will be spilled. A relationship is like that. Held loosely, with respect and freedom for the other person, it is likely to remain intact. But hold too tightly, too possessively, and the relationship slips away and is lost.
quote by Kaleel Jamison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Journey In Blue Sea
with all its seplendour rise the sun,
throws its crimson radiance over the ocean,
feeling myself as bright as sun,
getting in to flower covered boat,
on the surface of silver bright water for having fun.
wearing glittering fairy dress,
my bright glances wants god' bless.
seems to tremble sunny rays,
falling on the floating waves.
melting music softly rise,
gentle sounds play along the waters towards the sky.
very smoothly water flow,
very gently light breeze blows...........
Janice and You and the Spider
You stood
in the playground
of St Jude's school
which was really
the basement
of a bombed out house
which had been gutted
and the basement tarmaced
and the walls
were still there
where kids climbed up
and around
the thin ledge
when Janice
put her hands
over your eyes
and said
guess who?
and you put
your hands
into the pockets
of your short trousers
and said
Miss Murphy
or Miss Ashdown?
no
Janice said
it's me
and she removed
her hands
from over your eyes
and you turned around
and looked at her
and she had
her red beret on
and a pink scarf
around her neck
to keep out
the cold
you must
have known
it was me
she said
who else
would put their hands
over your eyes?
her eyes were bright
and you thought
you could see yourself
in them
as if they were small mirrors
Jupp might do
or maybe Carmody
you said smiling
she didn't smile back
but pulled her lips
tight in a line
then she took your hand
and pulled you
along the path
that led
to the school toilets
and pushed you
inside a cubicle
and shut the door
behind you both
and said
don't you love me?
there was a large spider
hanging from
the cistern chain
close to
her red beret
and it hung there
suspended
swaying back
and forth
and you said
of course I do
right down
to your white socks
but there's a spider
above your head
and she looked up
and screamed
and a voice
outside the door
asked
are you all right
in there?
Janice's eyes widened
and she watched
as the spider
moved up the chain
and she said
yes it's all right
Miss Murphy
just a small spider
and you stood there
next to Janice
wondering what
Miss Murphy
would say
if she saw you
and Janice
in the lavatory
together
and the voice said
ok as long
as you
are all right
and the footsteps
moved away
and Janice took
your hand in hers
and you sensed
how cold it was
slightly blue
and it was just
9 year old Janice
and the big spider
and 9 year old you.
poem by Terry Collett
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The Boat and The Sea
I will tell you, my Dear
Story of the Boat and the Sea
'Since the unknown time
The Boat heard the call from the Sea
Wings of Gull, blue waves
Took Boat traveled everywhere, all ways
The Boat's soul's filled with hopes
And the Sea's boundless love
Boat went far, further no tiresome
The Sea was still far...so far
Those nights the moon was gentle
The sea was like a girl, who's little
She whispered, she sent her thoughts
Round the boatside, waves elapsed
Sometimes, causeless
The Sea, its waves, pourred impetuously in the Boat
(Because of Love, for all times, ever was just imovable?)
Only the Boat understood
How boundless the Sea was
Only the Boat knew
Where the Boat went to, back to
The days without meeting
The sea was with white head, with missing
The days without gathering
The Boat was broken - crack
If already seperated from the Boat
The Sea only remained the wind and waves
...up and down, a craze'
If having to be separated from you
I just only remain storms
(composer: Xuân Quỳ nh, traslator: Hanh My Nguyen)
poem by Hanh My Nguyen
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The Silken Tent
She is as in a field a silken tent
At midday when the sunny summer breeze
Has dried the dew and all its ropes relent,
So that in guys it gently sways at ease,
And its supporting central cedar pole,
That is its pinnacle to heavenward
And signifies the sureness of the soul,
Seems to owe naught to any single cord,
But strictly held by none, is loosely bound
By countless silken ties of love and thought
To every thing on earth the compass round,
And only by one's going slightly taut
In the capriciousness of summer air
Is of the slightlest bondage made aware.
poem by Robert Frost
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Variation On The Word Sleep
I would like to watch you sleeping,
which may not happen.
I would like to watch you,
sleeping. I would like to sleep
with you, to enter
your sleep as its smooth dark wave
slides over my head
and walk with you through that lucent
wavering forest of bluegreen leaves
with its watery sun & three moons
towards the cave where you must descend,
towards your worst fear
I would like to give you the silver
branch, the small white flower, the one
word that will protect you
from the grief at the center
of your dream, from the grief
at the center I would like to follow
you up the long stairway
again & become
the boat that would row you back
carefully, a flame
in two cupped hands
to where your body lies
beside me, and as you enter
it as easily as breathing in
I would like to be the air
that inhabits you for a moment
only. I would like to be that unnoticed
& that necessary.
poem by Margaret Atwood
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I Knew a Woman
I knew a woman, lovely in her bones,
When small birds sighed, she would sigh back at them;
Ah, when she moved, she moved more ways than one:
The shapes a bright container can contain!
Of her choice virtues only gods should speak,
Or English poets who grew up on Greek
(I'd have them sing in a chorus, cheek to cheek).
How well her wishes went! She stroked my chin,
She taught me Turn, and Counter-turn, and Stand;
She taught me Touch, that undulant white skin;
I nibbled meekly from her proferred hand;
She was the sickle; I, poor I, the rake,
Coming behind her for her pretty sake
(But what prodigious mowing we did make).
Love likes a gander, and adores a goose:
Her full lips pursed, the errant notes to sieze;
She played it quick, she played it light and loose;
My eyes, they dazzled at her flowing knees;
Her several parts could keep a pure repose,
Or one hip quiver with a mobile nose
(She moved in circles, and those circles moved).
Let seed be grass, and grass turn into hay:
I'm martyr to a motion not my own;
What's freedom for? To know eternity.
I swear she cast a shadow white as stone.
But who would count eternity in days?
These old bones live to learn her wanton ways:
(I measure time by how a body sways).
poem by Theodore Roethke
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