Quotes about heady, page 13
Perfume 'A La Larissa
“A La Larissa” perfume has appeared!
The fragrance of it is great and neared.
It’s just for your elegance and intelligence.
It’s not for the masses!
It’s for the women in the evening dresses.
It’s for the ladies of extra classes.
This perfume is an explosion of warmth,
It gives you real sexual storms.
It gives you the enveloping notes,
It rises up your best emotes,
It’s a heady memorable ode,
It’s the mode of a highly sort of perfume.
You’ll feel comfortable with it at any ballroom.
It’s eccentric smell will make you feel so well.
When you are in the evening gown,
It will turn all heads on its own.
This perfume is really the best.
The best and… out of the rest!
Just a dropp of it and…you are on the top.
And a dropp and …you’ll be for sure the pop.
[...] Read more
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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The Rose
This immortal rose that lovers seek
will be glimpsed by all in youthful peak
for her presence will be on every corner.
And those who confuse that heady perfume
with a lust for love,
will only find winter in an unknown heart
for beauty was always a fragile thing.
We who have seen this gift from above
will always get burned by its light.
The poet and the painter
have perfumed our existence
with loves testimony to this.
The pain and tears fall on empty shield
for love will break your heart
but when we reach out to hold the rose
picked from these fields of hope,
a moment in life unfurls,
[...] Read more
poem by Steven Cooke
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Passion
Some have won a wild delight,
By daring wilder sorrow;
Could I gain thy love to-night,
I'd hazard death to-morrow.
Could the battle-struggle earn
One kind glance from thine eye,
How this withering heart would burn,
The heady fight to try!
Welcome nights of broken sleep,
And days of carnage cold,
Could I deem that thou wouldst weep
To hear my perils told.
Tell me, if with wandering bands
I roam full far away,
Wilt thou to those distant lands
In spirit ever stray?
[...] Read more
poem by Charlotte Brontë from Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (1846)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Juno Gave the Summer
A sun for hearts – tempered rhythm in her flares;
The naked tan – bikini line a cry for stares;
Gregarious green, beguiled by colours en rapport –
The park’s alive! So what’s to hanker after more?
Children scream while parents dream their fantasies,
Igniting under brilliance –
They think they share resilience to the
Ultraviolet hues;
To lie displayed au naturel
Is what they’d rather choose!
And Helios peers at lovers in their
Heady worlds: vibrant leas to
Roam in hand; calming seas –
Satin sand insensible as
Water runs her ripples cross the
Shore – so like the park, it really
Cries for very little more!
[...] Read more
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Bard and The Brewer
Mid the middle ages, lived a middle-aged bard,
earning middle wages spinning fables and canard.
Running short of cash one day and feeling parched and stale,
he gambled on poetic sway to win a pint of ale.
The brewer, amazonic woman, also middle-aged,
wore an inharmonic scowl, her countenance was caged.
The bard surveyed her muscled bulk, his eyes flicked left and right,
pausing at her sulky hulk and downcast mouth clamped tight.
The bard assumed a winsome charm, he'd done so half his life.
The day before, he'd fast disarmed the cake-armed baker's wife.
He said, ‘I came for ale my dear, but find my thirst suppressed'.
'From drinking in your visage clear, my needs are reassessed'.
'May I just say I'm blessed, for you are Venus in a vest'
and hope it won't transgress if I should compliment your chest'.
[...] Read more
poem by Diane Hine
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A View of the Zoo
I think I'll stick my neck out, decided the Giraffe,
But if I do than everyone will surely start to laugh,
It really is no picnic up here at these heady heights,
It can get extremely windy and very cold most nights.
I shall do lots of walking and stalking, the Lion said,
There are many things I'm fond of so I must gently tread,
I am quite a slinky fellow, who knows his way about,
And I think with my persona, I carry lots of clout.
I'm a Rhino Sir, I'll decide who I will charge today,
And if I start to face you, you had better run away
For with this great big horn that is positioned on my face,
I could send you jetting off to virtually any place.
Consider me a snappy chappy, said the Crocodile,
I really am quite wonderful, when you behold my smile,
I'm very good at camouflage, you wouldn't know I'm there,
I'd creep up on you silently. Ignore me if you dare.
[...] Read more
poem by Ernestine Northover
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The Nyro Poems - Majestic
for His Winking Majesty
1
'Tornado spawn, ' he said,
gesturing to ourselves and
laughing, 'chapter and verse,
'The storm darkens us around.'
We took cover from God under a
broad-leaf, low-lying rhododendron,
hunched over a hand-rolled cigarette
thumbs could touch but not each
other. Shivering every toke all
reaches curtailed beneath chaste hail.
In mud gulch, percussive rain on
sheltering leaves, we sang Nyro
[...] Read more
poem by Warren Falcon
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Medieval English Cathedral
Once I had this fanciful idea of recording
the silence in each great cathedral
and marketing these...
As you pull open the worn and squeaky door
there's a strange moment of apprehension as if
you're not sure what will greet you - a fullness
or an emptiness; a football-stadium roar
or a silence; an earfull of praise or
a mindfull of questions...
but the first step inside, and a silent gasp -
it's bigger inside than outside...
and the sound of your steps soars to the high
indescribably glorious roof like a
small bird looking for an escape.
so that you'd like to sing a note or two
to hear them repeated by those
invisible angels of the echo, waiting poised
[...] Read more
poem by Michael Shepherd
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0009 Medieval English Cathedral
Once I had this fanciful idea of recording
the silence in each great cathedral
and marketing these...
As you pull open the worn and squeaky door
there's a strange moment of apprehension as if
you're not sure what will greet you - a fullness
or an emptiness; a football-stadium roar
or a silence; an earfull of praise or
a mindfull of questions...
but the first step inside, and a silent gasp -
it's bigger inside than outside...
and the sound of your steps soars to the high
indescribably glorious roof like a
small bird looking for an escape.
so that you'd like to sing a note or two
to hear them repeated by those
invisible angels of the echo, waiting poised
[...] Read more
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Black Kate
KATE, they say, is seventeen—
Do not count her sweet, you know.
Arms of her are rather lean—
Ditto, calves and feet, you know.
Features of Hellenic type
Are not patent here, you see.
Katie loves a black clay pipe—
Doesn’t hate her beer, you see.
Spartan Helen used to wear
Tresses in a plait, perhaps:
Kate has ochre in her hair—
Nose is rather flat, perhaps.
Rose Lorraine’s surpassing dress
Glitters at the ball, you see:
Daughter of the wilderness
Has no dress at all, you see.
Laura’s lovers every day
In sweet verse embody her:
Katie’s have a different way,
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poem by Henry Kendall
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