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Bonnie Dundee in 1878

Oh, Bonnie Dundee! I will sing in thy praise
A few but true simple lays,
Regarding some of your beauties of the present day
And virtually speaking, there's none can them gainsay;
There's no other town I know of with you can compare
For spinning mills and lasses fair,
And for stately buildings there's none can excel
The beautiful Albert Institute or the Queen's Hotel,
For it is most handsome to be seen,
Where accommodation can be had for Duke, Lord or Queen,
And the four pillars of the front are made of Aberdeen granite, very fine,
And most beautiful does shine, just like a looking glass,
And for beauty and grandeur there's none can them surpass.
And your fine shops in Reform Street,
Very few can with them compete
For superfine goods, there's none can excel,
From Inverness to Clerkenwell.
And your Tramways, I must confess,
That they have proved a complete success,
Which I am right glad to see ...

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poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Orophernis

The figure on this four drachma coin
who seems to have a smile on his face
his beautiful, delicate face
this figure is Orophernis, son of Ariarathis.

A child, they threw him out of Cappadocia,
out of his great ancestral palace,
and sent him to grow up in Ionia,
to be forgotten there among foreigners.

Oh those exquisite Ionian nights
when fearlessly, and entirely in a Greek way,
he came to know sensual pleasure totally.
In his heart, Asiatic always,
but in manners and language, a Greek;
with his turquoise jewellery, his Greek clothes,
his body perfumed with oil of jasmine,
he was the most handsome, the most perfect
of Ionia's handsome young men.

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poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Jim Carew

Born of a thoroughbred English race,
Well proportioned and closely knit,
Neat, slim figure and handsome face,
Always ready and always fit,
Hardy and wiry of limb and thew,
That was the ne'er-do-well Jim Carew.
One of the sons of the good old land --
Many a year since his like was known;
Never a game but he took command,
Never a sport but he held his own;
Gained at his college a triple blue --
Good as they make them was Jim Carew.
Came to grief -- was it card or horse?
Nobody asked and nobody cared;
Ship him away to the bush of course,
Ne'er-do-well fellows are easily spared;
Only of women a sorrowing few
Wept at parting from Jim Carew.

Gentleman Jiim on the cattle-camp,

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poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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To Every Girl

To every girl that's said, 'Sex CAN wait'
To every girl that's said, 'You're handsome.'
To every girl that was never too busy to drive across town to see him.
To every girl that gives flowers and a card when he is sick.
To every girl who has given him flowers just because.
To every girl that said she would die for him.
To every girl that really would.
To every girl that took time to do what he wanted to do.
To every girl that he cried in front of.
To every girl that holds hands with him.
To every girl that kisses him with meaning.
To every girl that hugs him when he's sad.
To every girl that hugs him for no reason at all.
To every girl who would give their jacket up for him.
To every girl that calls to make sure he got home safe.
To every girl that would sit and wait for him for hours
just to see him for ten minutes.
To every girl that would give her seat up.
To every girl that just wants to cuddle.
To every girl that reassured that he was handsome

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poem by Eliot Perez
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I'm The One Your Mother Warned Against

I'm the one your mother warned against
'Beware she said 'of slow-moving intimacy
and a handsome, intense look
something a young girl longs for.'

'Beware, ' she said 'of a man's talking about his dreams
cause you find yourself buying a ticket to the moon
on a space ship that don't exist.
Beware of dark handsome eyes
because they hypnotize
and make you go all melty inside.

'I didn't listen' she said 'and married my Johnny Dangerous
but your father and I are the exception to all this.

'I'm the one your mother warns against' said Dad
'but you see she doesn't know what she is talking about.'
But you won't listen just like she didn't will you? '

I hop the back fence just below your bedroom window

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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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As Fourteen He Touches!

Mother’s day’ and came a gentle voice with innocence so manly...
‘Biggy thank you for loving me’ his heart spoke so lovingly’
and Of course its my best ‘gem’ rare, he is my wonderful grandson
A gift a real blessing, a heavenly strength under god’s son
A grandson is a joy the greatest treasure from the sky above.
As His thoughtfulness, concern special is filled with sincere love.
Gracefully he’s grown, a young adult a big man, my teenager!
As the precious memories replay of those inescapable stages.
Of sticky gentle hands wrapped around me in a warm embrace.
His variable fears and his innocent tear streaked messy face.
Bundle of happiness ‘I recall’ holding him in my then strong arms.
Twinkling eyes, face aglow, filled my heart with much charm.
The golden glow of bright sunshine he filled each dawning day.
A guiding light, successfully never failed to shine all the way.
And Today I awake to see, now taller than me, a handsome man
As he touches fourteen holding my ageing and wrinkling hand.
Spreading a rainbow of happiness to everything in sight.
Smiling away many a sorrows to make the tomorrows bright.
A Journey into the past, recollecting dreams that did not unfold.
Many pleasant days we share of the same path that I once strolled

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poem by Shirani Ibrahim
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Mairi Laghach

Chorus.—Hey, my winsome Mary,—
Mary fondly free !
Hey, my winsome Mary,
; Mary, mine to be !

Winsome, handsome Mary,
Who so fair as she ?
My own Highland lassie.
Dear as life to me !w^
130 MacColl's Poems.
Long ere in my bosom
Lodged Love's arrow keen,
Often with young Mary
In Gleiism'^oil I've beeii ;
Happy hours ! succeeded
By affection true,
Till there seem'd 'neath heaven
No such loving two !
Cnoiius.— Hey, my &o.
Often I and Mary

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poem by Evan MacColl
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Ask for self and justify

I ventured to ask self and justify
It did not give me any reason to satisfy
I never attempted or tried to defy
I felt so remorseful and tried to cry

I felt from inner most soul
There must be something wrong or foul
How an outer beauty can have so much importance?
It created confusion in mind at once

I was praised with many words
They even added it was blessing from the lord
I had seen many people with ugly faces
They were liked by many and in very good race

It baffled me day and night
Was my assertion very right?
Did it really matter with pretty look?
Or was it gimmick played by crook?

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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Human phenomenal Human, Buddha!

Handsome men wonder, what was in you!
Never was Handsome, nor well built,
You couldn't be a male model nor equal the physique of lowest male model!
But set to billions and billions moral and model! you are legend, and your words that become sweeter than vedas!

They called you an atheist, still you became God to others!
You said it is in us to get away the pain!
You said it is within the reach of our hands,
in span of our chest!
everyone ran after you,
Because you are a human Phenomenally,
Phenomenal human,
That's thou art!

When you walked into streets, men stood or were on their knees, women, were at your feet, taking the dust of your feet on their forehead, and children came and surrounded you like bees sit around honey!
Magic was their in your curly hair and curling lips!
The silent song that your heat sung took everyone to realms of ecstasy!
The radiant heart emanated peace and joy made every one to fly into heaven!

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poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Boadicea..a different view.

Boadicea revels in her womanhood, attributes overly blessed
Her voluptuous form is excited, but her hair is a mess
This covert and dangerous clandestine meeting
Allows no niceties or extended greeting
To cavort with this legionnaire
Would cost her kingdom, but love is never fair
She will lead her army, come daylight, against the Romans
But history makes no mention of the turmoil she as she indulges this romance

She will wield her sword well
And send this occupying force to the bowels of hell
She hopes in the throes of battle, not to have to have to face this handsome foe
Let someone else have that honour if it is so to be
This disciplined nation must be chased back across the sea

She envisions being burnt at the stake
this affair is a mistake
The urges of the flesh driven by the heart overcomes all rational decisions
She will make herself face the approaching legions

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poem by Brian Roy Skyers
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