Poems on the topic: woman

Poems on the topic “woman” on Poets.by.

ContemplativeRisa Bear

Ninety-Eight

When did she become, and so suddenly, this woman, talking of young men?
SadRisa Bear

Ninety-Four

I look to see if she's still in there — but nothing doing. What will it take to bring us both to life again?
ContemplativeHans Ostrom

At Gate 17

An old woman in an airport, sunken cheeks, turns toward a window where sky comes in and we can see metal villages take off, glide down. Her face suggests she knows how society got this frenzied, worried, driven to vacate. She may know too where each of us is going, returning from, and why airports reek of grief— her face is a rare manuscript of grief. Her years spiral slowly in memory like a galaxy. Her attachments drift aboard
DreamyGerry Stewart

Soap

I watch her body wet and dry her moods at dusk at dawn she sips lemon tea lemon shampoos blonde hair lemon slice between glass and blue eyes, a goddess of love night and day. Beautiful clothes shape silken breasts swaddle golden child intelligent conversation in business in bed unmarried then wed unavailable but saleable relationship with her one hour a day which is everything, or nothing, or love.
CheerfulW. H. Davies

A Greeting

Good morning, Life--and all Things glad and beautiful. My pockets nothing hold, But he that owns the gold, The Sun, is my great friend-- His spending has no end. Hail to the morning sky, Which bright clouds measure high; Hail to you birds whose throats Would number leaves by notes; Hail to you shady bowers, And you green fields of flowers. Hail to you women fair, That make a show so rare In cloth as white as milk-- Be't calico or silk:
InspiredStella Benson

Two Women Sing

FIRST WOMAN Oh woman--woman--woman,-- Shall I to woman be a friend? I deal with man, and when I can Reclaim with interest all I lend. Who but a witless gambler plays For farthing stakes these golden days? No, woman--woman--woman-- Must only play the game that pays. SECOND WOMAN Oh woman--woman--woman,-- To-morrow woman shall awake. She shall arise, and realise The goodly value of her stake. And she shall lend her loan, and claim Her rightful interest on the same.
ContemplativeSara Teasdale

The Old Maid

I SAW her in a Broadway car, The woman I might grow to be; I felt my lover look at her And then turn suddenly to me. Her hair was dull and drew no light And yet its color was as mine; Her eyes were strangely like my eyes Tho' love had never made them shine. Her body was a thing grown thin, Hungry for love that never came; Her soul was frozen in the dark Unwarmed forever by love's flame. I felt my lover look at her And then turn suddenly to me,-- His eyes were magic to defy The woman I shall never be.
InspiredLouise Morey Bowman

Prayer in Scarlet and White Paint

There is a marvellous washing creamy and snowy-white hung high on lines stretched from upper and lower balconies in the back-yard, across the narrow lane behind my rusty apple-tree and dusty lilac hedge; and a great splendid ‘woman-by-the-day’ comely and fat, with a bronzed skin and tumbled blue black hair, and an ugly and joyous scarlet gown, is hanging out the clothes ... wet heavy clean white clothes ... soft liquid splashes of light amidst dull dusty trees and sombre dirty bricks. The laden lines begin to ripple seductively
ContemplativeGeorgia Douglas Johnson

Query

Is she the sage who will not sip The cup love presses to her lip ? Or she who drinks the mad cup dry, And turns with smiling face — to die?
DreamyFrank Oliver Call

Caged Birds

There are yellow birds within the cage; Beside its gilded bars there stand the women Whom the Great Prince loves to honour. They wear silken robes and jewels in their hair, And live in a pretty pink and yellow house. But the women look not at the captive singing-birds, Nor listen to their song, Their eyes follow the flight of two white-breasted doves, Winging their way towards the wind-torn clouds.

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