There's Always Tomorrow
Top Model, actress and glamour girl
with a lovely smile just like a pearl
walked through Paris quite elegantly
with Scarlett O'Hara propensity.
Admiring glances flew quite freely on
the Avenue of the Champs Elysees.
But her feminine charm soon did wane
and had 'gone with the wind' and the rain.
Droplets fell down her beautiful face
mascara became a frightful disgrace;
those brunette locks were straggly
and wet - not one sweet glance
did she beget. Oh what humility
descended that morn on Scarlet O'Hara
lost and forlorn. But a voice from within
said secretly 'There's always tomorrow'
.......... 'fiddle-de-dee'..........
poem by Joyce Hemsley
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Related quotes
I'll be like Scarlett O'Hara-I'll think about it tomorrow.
quote by Ronald Reagan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Happy Birthday Scarlett (Belated)
I meant to write this yesterday,
because yesterday was your birthday.
Therefore, it’s better late than never
as the old saying says.
Now Scarlett when I first saw her name appear,
it reminded me of Scarlet O’Hara
in that famous book Gone With The Wind.
However, this Scarlett is nothing like her at all.
She is warm, friendly, charming and a friend to everyone.
As a good poet and a great friend
don’t worry about looking in the mirror
to find a wrinkle or two there,
from this side of the Atlantic there is none to be seen.
A belated Happy Birthday my friend.
I sincerely hope you had a happy one
surrounded with love from your family and friends.
Once again, I shall say
A BELATED HAPPY BIRTHDAY SCARLETT.
poem by David Harris
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Anti-heroine
I'd planned to be Heathcliff's Cathy,
Lady Brett, Nicole or Dominique or Scarlett O'Hara.
I hadn't planned to be folding up the laundry
In uncombed hair and last night's smudged mascara,
An expert on buying Fritos, cleaning the cat box,
Finding lost sneakers, playing hide and seek.
And other things unknown to Heathcliff's
Cathy, Scarlett, Lady Brett, and Dominique.
Why am I never running through the heather?
Why am I never used by Howard Roark?
Why am I never going to Pamplona
Instead of Philadelphia and Newark?
How did I ever wind up with an Irving
When what I'd always had in mind was Rhett,
Or someone more appropriate to
Cathy, Dominique, Nicole, or Lady Brett?
I saw myself as heedless, heartless, headstrong,
An untamed woman searching for her mate.
And there he is -- with charcoal, fork, and apron,
Prepared to broil some hot dogs on the grate.
I haven't wrecked his life or his digestion
With unrequited love or jealous wrath.
He Doesn't know that secretly
I'm Scarlett, Dominique, Nicole, or Brett, or Cathy.
Why am I never cracking up in Zurich?
Why am I never languishing on moors?
Why am I never spoiled by faithful servants
Instead of spraying ant spray on the floors?
The tricycles are cluttering my foyer,
The Pop Tart crumbs are sprinkled on my soul.
And every year it's harder to be
Cathy, Dominique, Brett, Scarlett, and Nicole.
poem by Judith Viorst
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Champs Elysee (live)
Je me balladais sur l'avenue
Le coeur ouvert l'inconnu
J'avais envie de dire bonjour n'importe qui
N'importe qui et ce ft toi
Et je t'ai dit n'importe quoi
Il suffisait de te parler pour t'apprivoiser
Aux champs lyses,
Aux champs lyses
Au soleil sous la pluie, a midi ou minuit
Il y a tout ce que vous voulez aux champs lyses
Tu m'as dit j'ai rendez-vous dans un sous-sol avec des fous
Qui vivent la guitare la main du soir au matin
Alors je t'ai accompagn
On a chant, on a dans
Et on a mme pas pens s'embrasser!
Aux Champs-Elysees,
aux Champs-Elysees
Au soleil, sous la pluie, midi ou minuit
Il y a tout ce que vous voulez aux Champs-Elysees
song performed by by NOFX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I had a dresser who literally squeezed me in like Scarlett O'Hara in Gone With The Wind.
quote by Glenn Close
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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London To Paris
Paris, the city of gaiety
Paris, oh city so bright
Paris, with girls continental
We are crossing the Channel tonight.
Euros we will spend by 'the plenty'
As soon as we step on your shore.
We love pretty girls continental
The shine in their eyes we adore.
We'll reach the top of the 'Eiffel'
Admiring the wonderful sight,
And we'll walk along the Champs Elysees
As we visit the City of Culture tonight.
poem by Joyce Hemsley
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God's Yield
In the field
Of God's Yield
You're the One that stood out!
You're not the prettiest
The tallest or the slenderest
Or the most graceful,
But my heart chose you
The way your mirror chose me
I never cared for my dull reflection
For with life's shades I've been darkened
But your light chose me
In this instant of neutrality
Made all the difference in you and me
There is no effort here
Just pure flow!
Love is truly blind
We know not why we love
But when our eyes locked
It's bliss beyond measure
You're the Sun of my moon
I am the Moon of your sun
You're the romance of my love
I am the love of your romance
I cannot exist without your light
My mirror would be a very desolate place
You're my Paris, my Champs-Élysées, my Tour Eiffel
You are the sparkle in my eyes
That lights up my Paris, my Champs-Élysées, and my Tour Eiffel
Let love flow freely
My river opens in the arms of your ocean
The more my Poem will glow
Vive L'amour!
poem by leaking Pen
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Mrs O’Hara’s Bathtub (Fun Poem 39)
Rub-a-dub-dub,
Mrs O’Hara’s bathtub,
a towel gone for a drink,
fell into the tub.
What is the poor lady to dry herself with now?
Oh, dear what can she do,
the robe she thought,
give it a tug,
but it fell into the tub.
Now what was she going to do?
Call for her husband.
A yell, a scream is heard,
as he rushes in like a buffalo herd.
“What is the matter, dear? ” he says,
and then slips up on a bar of soap.
Rub-a -dub-dub,
Mrs O’Hara, towel, robe, and hubby all in the tub.
19 April 1979
poem by David Harris
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Like Scarlett O'Hara, I won't be broke again.
quote by Toni Braxton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Saving Face.
.
i die honourably.
committing hara kiri
erases my disgrace.
only a coward
evades responsibility
for his past actions.
honour demands
I must voluntarily
draw my blade across.
cut from left to right
die slowly in agony
suffer stoically.
.until a good friend
strikes off my head: sets me free
from my misery.
seldom seen today.
but in the past the only way
to correct mistakes.
to die honourably
committing hara kiri.
erases all disgrace
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Paris with Her
What would it be like to go to Paris
on a whim with a woman
who is as mystical and magical
as the city of Love
What would it be like to sit at a Café
drinking our wine eating our cheese on
Avenue des Champs-Elysées but seeing only her
What would it be like to hold her hand
strolling over Pont Neuf to the Eiffel Tower
her hair swirling in the wind, d'issay Miyake
clouding my mind
What would it be like to hide in a corner
of Notre Dame Cathedral
and kiss her passionately her eyes holding mine
what would it be like to make love under a Paris moon
on the green grass of Champ de Mars with the woman I love
It would be Heaven.
poem by Barry Renee
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Frog wishes the Well
hear me oh rain! play with me in the pond,
come with full posture where the beautiful
Lilies dances with the Dragonfly and the
sweet voice of the Bees swings off, where
the Butterfly lay down, as they renders there
most waited acrobatic of romance of the day
splash loudly the smooth surface, where
my heart and soul love to swim, such a
lovely faces of droplets invite my arm and
feet to jump like a great Sea Leon in the
Pacific Ocean, please laid my splendid sleep
beneath the Tendering surface of calm deep
well
the cool chamber invites my warm day to
flash my whole stays; paddling where I want
to ease my pain, come little droplets and
pour out the Well, dive and jump as you
freely cried to full the smiling bucket, and the
rain will never come again
go leave me not oh rain, patiently cascade
the stream with full of gain, the cylinder still
calling your sweet flees and let the Well say
that the cool splash makes the best for this
little day with me
icon my droplets of rain, the chamber want
more to cool …..
poem by Antonio Liao
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Free Man In Paris
If I had my way, Id walk thru that door and wander
Down the champs elysees
Going from cafe to cabaret
The way I see it, I just cant win it
Everybodys in it for their own game
You cant please them all
Theres always somebody callin you down
And I do my best and I do good business
As a lot of people asking for my time
Theyre trying to get ahead
And try and be a good friend of mine
I was a free man in paris, I was unfettered and alive
There was nobody to call me up for favours
Noones future to decide
You know Id go back there tomorrow
But for the work Im taking on
? ? ? star makin machinery
Behind the popular song
I deal in dreamers and telephone schemers
Lately I wonder what I do it for
If I had my way, Id walk thru that door and wander
Down the champs elysees
Going from cafe to cabaret
Thinkin how I feel when I find
That very good friend of mine
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Scarlett O'Hara didn't think she was manipulating. That's just the way she got what she wanted.
quote by Donna Mills
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Postcards From Paris
postcards from paris
Dear friend of my mine
The weather's fine
Today i saw some ruins of the roman world's decline
And i climbed all those spanish steps
You've heard of them no doubt
But rome has lost its glory, i don't know what its about.
I wish you were here
When the shadows fall and all the rushing traffic's still
I wish you were here
When the bells are ringing on the seven hills
I make my way to a small cafe, i wonder what you did today
Wish you were here
Dear one at home.
I just flew in from rome,
Paris is a postcard all decked out in colour chrome
And so i climbed the eiffel tower
And prayed at notre dame
But i just can't find the romance
And i wonder why i came
Wish you were here
On the champs elysees lovers walk hand in hand
Wish you were here
They take one look at me and seem to understand
This city of light is a lovely site, the first bright star i see tonight
Wish you were here
Now i write this from the plane
Drinking cheap champagne
And wondering why two people got so far apart
Wish you were here, here in london where the rain the pouring down
Wish you were here
On this airplane headed back to new york town
I'll never leave you alone again. i'm coming home but until then
Wish you were here
I wish you were here
Wish you were here.
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wake Of Tim O'Hara
TO the Wake of O’Hara
Came company;
All St. Patrick’s Alley
Was there to see,
With the friends and kinsmen
Of the family.
On the long deal table lay Tim in white,
And at his pillow the burning light.
Pale as himself, with the tears on her cheek,
The mother receiv’d us, too full to speak;
But she heap’d the fire, and on the board
Set the black bottle with never a word,
While the company gather’d, one and all,
Men and women, big and small:
Not one in the Alley but felt a call
To the Wake of Tim O’Hara.
At the face of O’Hara,
All white with sleep,
Not one of the women
But took a peep,
And the wives new-wedded
Began to weep.
The mothers gather’d round about,
And prais’d the linen and laying out,—
For white as snow was his winding-sheet,
And all was peaceful, and clean, and sweet;
And the old wives, praising the blessed dead,
Were thronging around the old press-bed,
Where O’Hara’s widow, tatter’d and torn,
Held to her bosom the babe newborn,
And star’d all around her, with eyes forlorn,
At the Wake of Tim O’Hara.
For the heart of O’Hara
Was good as gold,
And the life of O’Hara
Was bright and bold,
And his smile was precious
To young and old!
Gay as a guinea, wet or dry,
With a smiling mouth, and a twinkling eye!
Had ever an answer for chaff and fun;
Would fight like a lion, with any one!
Not a neighbor of any trade
But knew some joke that the boy had made;
Not a neighbor, dull or bright,
But minded something—frolic or fight,
And whisper’d it round the fire that night,
At the Wake of Tim O’Hara.
“To God be glory
In death and life,
He’s taken O’Hara
From trouble and strife!”
Said one-eyed Biddy,
The apple-wife.
“God bless old Ireland!” said Mistress Hart,
Mother to Mike of the donkey-cart;
“God bless old Ireland till all be done,
She never made wake for a better son!”
And all join’d chorus, and each one said
Something kind of the boy that was dead;
And the bottle went round from lip to lip,
And the weeping widow, for fellowship,
Took the glass of old Biddy and had a sip,
At the Wake of Tim O’Hara.
Then we drank to O’Hara
With drams to the brim,
While the face of O’Hara
Look’d on so grim,
In the corpse-light shining
Yellow and dim.
The cup of liquor went round again,
And the talk grew louder at every drain;
Louder the tongue of the women grew!
The lips of the boys were loosening too!
The widow her weary eyelids clos’d,
And, soothed by the drop o’ drink, she doz’d;
The mother brighten’d and laugh’d to hear
Of O’Hara’s fight with the grenadier,
And the hearts of all took better cheer,
At the Wake of Tim O’Hara.
Tho’ the face of O’Hara
Look’d on so wan,
In the chimney-corner
The row began—
Lame Tony was in it,
The oyster-man;
For a dirty low thief from the North came near,
And whistled “Boyne Water” in his ear,
And Tony, with never a word of grace,
Flung out his fist in the blackguard’s face;
And the girls and women scream’d out for fright,
And the men that were drunkest began to fight:
Over the tables and chairs they threw,—
The corpse-light tumbled,—the trouble grew,—
The newborn join’d in the hullabaloo,—
At the Wake of Tim O’Hara.
“Be still! be silent!
Ye do a sin!
Shame be his portion
Who dares begin!”
’T was Father O’Connor
Just enter’d in!
All look’d down, and the row was done,
And sham’d and sorry was every one;
But the Priest just smil’d quite easy and free—
“Would ye wake the poor boy from his sleep?” said he:
And he said a prayer, with a shining face,
Till a kind of brightness fill’d the place;
The women lit up the dim corpse-light,
The men were quieter at the sight,
And the peace of the Lord fell on all that night
At the Wake of Tim O’Hara.
poem by William Cosmo Monkhouse
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Une Nuit A Paris
Part one: one night in paris
Bonjour monsieur
Paris really welcomes you
Its the best room in the house
Its forty francs a night, alright.
Its crazy, it isnt worth a centime
Ill take it!
Merci monsieur
Rouged lips in the gaslight
A great view of the hall
Thats the way the croissant crumbles after all
Paris is only one step away
Les girls are out on bail
Tres bien theres love for sale
Oh my cheri, wish you were mine
And Ill show you a wonderful time
For the price of a cheap champagne
Ill show it you once again
One night in paris
Is like a year in any other place
One night in paris
Will wipe the smile off your pretty face
One girl in paris
Is like loving every woman
One night in paris
One night in paris
One night in paris
May be your last!!!
Part two: the same night in paris
Is he gonna buy?
You wanna little culture?
Is he gonna pay?
Maybe monsieur is into photographs, non?
Or is he gonna fall in love
The all american way?
I got a watch wiz a beautiful swiss movement
Is he gonna buy?
Forget the watch, Ill show you a good time!'
Is he gonna pay?
Le connoisseur, want something different?
Or is he gonna fall in love
The all american way?
Oh you know you aint no casanova
You cant even do the bossa nova
Or the tango or the samba!
Though you are so very charming
No you aint no casanova
Is he gonna buy?
Is he gonna pay?
Or is he gonna fall in love
The all american way?
Sometimes I think he will
But then again........................
One night in paris
Is like a year in any other place!
One night in paris
Will wipe the smile off your pretty face!
Try a girl in paris
But try one of mine
Each night in paris
Each night in paris
Each night in paris
Each night in paris
May be your last!!!
Part three: later the same night in paris
Forty-two, quarante-deux
Rue de saint jacques
All our girls are how you say
Good in the sack
I was a stripper
On the champs elysees
He was a gendarme
In the gendarmerie
Going oh la la la
Oh la la la la
He was a pimp
In a black beret
But he was an artiste
In his own way
Oh la la la
Oh la la la la
When they raided my club that night
They ruined my act with the leather umbrella
The chief de police got a fright
He was up in my boudoir with some other fella
Its only routine
But I got this feeling
It aint good for business
Then the floor cleared
A woman screamed to herself
Henri...though youre not the toast of paris
I love you, although you bed and beat me
Henri, leave it alone,
For the gendarmes just doing his job
Paris is only one step away
Murder is only one step away
Notre dame is ringing her bells
Another gendarme has gone to hell
Notre dame is ringing her bells
Another gendarme has gone to hell
Gone to hell
Gone to hell
One night in paris
Is like a year in any other place
One night in paris
Will wipe the smile off your pretty face
One girl in paris
Is like loving every woman
This night in paris
This night in paris
This night in paris
This night in paris
May be your last!!!
song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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His Mother's Best Friend
O’Brien fancied his mother’s best friend,
Mrs O’Hara, she with the daughter
Who showed her panties to boys for sixpence.
How are you, Micheal? She asked, as she sat
With legs crossed in the kitchen between sips
Of milky sweet tea. I’m fine, he replied,
Studying her legs, trying to pursue
With his greedy eyes, the length of her thighs.
How old are you now? Her soft voice inquired.
Fourteen, he replied. He lifted his sight
To her weighty breasts, picturing his head
Wedged tightly between. Don’t sit their gawping,
Go get to your play, his plump mother said.
He took a last look, trying to capture
Mrs O’ Hara with her legs and breasts
And what lay beneath, for his nightly dreams
In his sweaty bed, be they wet or dry,
And gave her a smile and wink of his eye.
poem by Terry Collett
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Her Beautiful Face
' HER BEAUTIFUL FACE'
The first time that he saw her it was her beautiful face,
He fell in love at first glance though he was very young
He spoke to her and found out that she was beautiful within,
A friend he had made for life with that beautiful face,
So slim and innocent the girl with the beautiful face,
She gave him three wonderful children the girl with the beautiful face,
As years went on she became the sole love of his life,
A wonderful Mother was the girl with the beautiful face,
Grandchildren were so deserved for the girl with the beautiful face,
As he took his last few breaths in life, the last thing he saw was her oh so beautiful face.
Dave Bennett
poem by David Bennett
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In Paris With You
Don't talk to me of love. I've had an earful
And I get tearful when I've downed a drink or two.
I'm one of your talking wounded.
I'm a hostage. I'm maroonded.
But I'm in Paris with you.
Yes I'm angry at the way I've been bamboozled
And resentful at the mess I've been through.
I admit I'm on the rebound
And I don't care where are we bound.
I'm in Paris with you.
Do you mind if we do not go to the Louvre
If we say sod off to sodding Notre Dame,
If we skip the Champs Elysées
And remain here in this sleazy
Old hotel room
Doing this and that
To what and whom
Learning who you are,
Learning what I am.
Don't talk to me of love. Let's talk of Paris,
The little bit of Paris in our view.
There's that crack across the ceiling
And the hotel walls are peeling
And I'm in Paris with you.
Don't talk to me of love. Let's talk of Paris.
I'm in Paris with the slightest thing you do.
I'm in Paris with your eyes, your mouth,
I'm in Paris with... all points south.
Am I embarrassing you?
I'm in Paris with you.
poem by James Fenton
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