Quotes about dimple, page 3
Benny & The Brooklyn Broads
Benny liked the broads
From Brooklyn best,
Especially Betty
With the big boobs
Bursting from her bra,
Or Delia
With the delicious dimple
And dark drapes
Coming down
To her sweet knees
Or Lisa
With the luscious limbs
And eyes like lamps,
But most of all
He liked Suzie
Who oozed sexuality
[...] Read more
poem by Terry Collett
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061810C breeze behind me
cold enough for wind breaker
but sea lovers can't be deter
strolling barefoot on the beach
looking up the hill out of reach
joyous crowd found themselves
screaming as golf ball rolls in
surfers doesn't mind waiting
surf are very shy they're hiding
thanks paddle keep 'em going
wind pick up, push dimple flight
veering left away from fairway
challenge and to fans' delight
poem by Manonton Dalan
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Why Underestimate Us
Why undestimate short people
they are not dull but simple
short or tall we will all have a pimple
although we wont have dimple
in different socities you call us different names'
although we all we play the same games
we all receive all the blames
we dont burn in flames
although we are short we are so good
we even grow your food
then you will start to reject us so soon
even though we will meet in the afternoon
poem by Tanaka Chirombo
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The past, present and future
I was the usual detainee who stood out of the class most of the time.
The lean English teacher who has a slight dimple on the chin when she smiles, once called me in and asked me to write three sentences the past, present and future tense.
I wrote them without any hesitation.
***************
1.They built massive bridges.
2. They build massive bridges.
3. They will build massive bridges for whom and where do you cross?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Without the face, no grace
The dimple in her elbow,
More hollowed by her flesh
Bulging on her upper arms,
The muscles on her hip,
Crippled by tight blouse,
To pinnate down below,
And the sturdy nape,
Under her thick plait of mane
Falling like the trunk of an elephant,
She showed her back
And tormented me to rush
Forward to ogle her face.
Her face was out of grace,
Those parts lost their base.
Without a face, there’s no grace.
21.10.2000
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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You Inspired This Sonnet
You inspired this sonnet
Laced with rhymes in harmony
I can sing it, blow it in a trumpet
Not one note will sound phony
Your physique tells the beauty story
In your dimple, lilies will flourish
At your smile in all its glory
The body quakes, my soul is nourished
The beauty in your inward soul is a wonder
The sole of your feet is crested
Whether here, there or for yonder
The tale of your beauty cannot be contested
Oh my lovely princess
Even thy shadow lives me breathless
poem by Ayandare Mayowa
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Apelles' Song
Cupid and my Campaspe played
At cards for kisses; Cupid paid:
He stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows,
His mother's doves, and team of sparrows;
Loses them too; then down he throws
The coral of his lip, the rose
Growing on's cheek (but none knows how);
With these, the crystal of his brow,
And then the dimple on his chin;
All these did my Campaspe win:
And last he set her both his eyes -
She won, and Cupid blind did rise.
O Love! has she done this to thee?
What shall, alas! become of me?
poem by John Lyly
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The Melodiuos Bullocky
'Tis of the Wild Colonial Boy [Come out of that saplin', Rat!]
Brought up by honest parents [Now, Strawberry, what are yer at!]
He robbed them lordly squatters and [Whoa Diamond! Dam yer hump!]
And a terror to Horsetralia [Now then, Nugget, you mind that stump!]
'Twas at the age of seventeen [Gee back there, Dimple! Gee!]
He never [Way there Baldy, [sich a cow I never did see!]
He was his father's only son [Gee back there now, Rob Roy!]
And fondly did his parents love the Wild Colonial Boy!
poem by William Thomas Goodge
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It knew no Medicine
559
It knew no Medicine—
It was not Sickness—then—
Nor any need of Surgery—
And therefore—'twas not Pain—
It moved away the Cheeks—
A Dimple at a time—
And left the Profile—plainer—
And in the place of Bloom
It left the little Tint
That never had a Name—
You've seen it on a Cast's face—
Was Paradise—to blame—
If momently ajar—
Temerity—drew near—
And sickened—ever afterward
[...] Read more
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Cupid and My Campaspe
Cupid and my Campaspe played
At cards for kisses;
Cupid paid.
He stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows,
His mother's doves and team of sparrows,
Loses them too; then down he throws
The coral of his lip, the rose
Growing on's cheek (but none knows how),
With these the crystal of his brow,
And then the dimple of his chin:
All these did my Campaspe win.
At last he set her both his eyes;
She won, and Cupid blind did rise.
O Love! has she done this to thee?
What shall, alas, become of me?
poem by John Lyly
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